18
Believ
I barely manage to stifle a scream of terror but let out a ragged breath that reverberates through the corridor.
Something just moved the curtain!
Hold your breath. Hold your breath.
How could someone come this way and I didn”t hear them move? Are they levitating or something?
I can”t go back any farther, compressed between the wall and an impassive Virgin. If someone draws the curtain, I”ll be discovered.
Please, let him go on his way. Make him...
You would have to be pretty desperate to say a prayer that has no chance of being heard!
I don”t even have time to finish my sentence when a shiver goes through me. Or rather, my stiff, who collapses lifeless through me.
Damn, he doesn”t look good...
“Ember!” I call out to him, in a rather indiscreet whispered shout.
How can he understand that I”m talking to him? He doesn”t even know his name!
“The ghost!”
And if not, does anyone have a mouth-to-mouth or cardiac massage method for spectra? What’s happening to him?
“Ember. Your name is Ember Crow,” I stammer, hoping my words will reach him despite his apparent unconsciousness.
He gradually comes to and emits a grunt of discomfort.
“Are you all right?”
“Wonderful!” he scoffs in a quavering voice. “We have to leave now.”
“We have to stay!” I protest a little too loudly. “I got the confirmation we came for, Ember. You”ve been tricked! I don”t know why, but the members of this order are trying to make you disappear.”
“Ember...”
A strange gleam crosses his pupils, as if the mere mention of his name is enough to revive a part of his memory.
“Do you remember?”
“I remember the name, but I can”t quite associate it with myself.”
I imagine that amnesia is hard to live with and must, at times, have an aftertaste of schizophrenia.
“And that”s not all. Not only is your body not deteriorating as it should, but it looks like you have the means to resuscitate!”
He writhes before me, tested by a spell that has no effect on me. If he can”t move, how can we find his remains and bring him back to life?
“I”ll take you back to the tunnel. I”ll investigate on my own and come back for you when I”ve found something.”
“Believ... It”s too dangerous.”
“How do you intend to proceed? You”re not going to drag yourself through the corridors. You”re going to...”
What, in fact? Technically, he”s already dead...
“I refuse to let you suffer when there”s another option. Just stay there.”
He seems to consider the question but remains silent. It”s never easy for a man to rely on a woman. The fact that I”m a Sin Eater makes no difference. Unable to support him physically, I offer encouragement, while trying to remember the way back to the tunnel. This building is a labyrinth, especially the basements, which seem to spread out even farther than the abbey above ground.
From alcoves to nooks and crannies, we reach the passageway that conceals our exit door. Now that I”ve wandered these corridors a little, I realize that it”s just like the dozens of others that line this place.
“Wait for me here, and I”ll come back for you. Do you understand me?”
Ember, who seems to have regained his composure, responds with an annoyed grunt.
“I won”t be long.”
I don”t know why I feel the need to justify myself and brood over him. I agree that he”s dead, but I”m not responsible for his fate. I can”t help it, as if his future now depended on mine.
Before walking away, I grab the Swiss Army knife-shaped key-ring where the key to my motorcycle hangs and trace a small cross in the bottom of the door, a discreet way of distinguishing it at a glance in case of emergency. I”ve hardly taken a few steps when my heart sinks. What if I fail? What will happen if the monks succeed in destroying his body? Will he disappear with it?
I slip into the still deserted corridors, taut as a string, on the lookout for the slightest noise that might betray a presence. For the moment, the monks are still asleep, but for how much longer? As far as I know, they”re the kind of people who get up before the sun. But from where I”m standing, it”s impossible to see the slightest ray of it. And, of course, I don”t have a watch handy.
Suddenly, I freeze. Footsteps sound on the cobblestones. I brace myself against the wall and move away as they approach, accompanied by a flickering light: a lantern. Really? Couldn”t they have installed electricity? That said, it”s picturesque and immersive, a surprising return to the roots of my profession.
A door opens.
I venture a peek, hoping to detect a clue to the visitor”s destination. What I see stuns me: a dozen men are lined up in front of the door. One by one, they step inside after uttering what I imagine to be a password. The appearance of the last of them catches my eye: like me, he”s dressed in an ordinary leather outfit for a biker. But that”s not all! From his neck to the back of his skull unfurls an undulating tattoo: the mark of the Sin Eaters!
What”s he doing here? Why go undercover like that and take such ill-considered risks? He”s walking into the lion”s den here!
When the door closes, I move closer. I”ve got to find out what”s going on here!