35
“At first, the Apostles were little more than a group of individuals committed to a life of simplicity and sinlessness. Before long, however, they began recruiting. Why should they not share their way of life? Why should they not save those who were deprived of the knowledge of the Savior’s truest form? ”
The next day I hear Slade, Emeric, and Ceri before I see them.
I slept surprisingly well after Slade left, which I sort of resent. My muscles are both sore and loose at the same time. It’s midmorning before I venture out into the hall, intending to join the trio. Strange, the way I’m starting to feel like I belong here.
I pause around the corner from the living room, frowning. Now that I’m closer, I can hear that the three of them are conversing in low, furtive voices. It’s the kind of voice you use when you don’t want to be overheard. I decide not to go any farther, instead straining to hear their conversation.
“…supposed to do then?” Emeric is saying, the latter bit of a question I didn’t catch the start of.
“I hadn’t given it much thought.”
The second voice is Slade’s—it sends a prickle across my skin. For some reason his words make Ceri laugh, though the sound holds little humor.
“Don’t lie, Slade. I guarantee you’ve been thinking about it since the moment you let her rope you into this plot.”
I stiffen, trapping my breath between my teeth.
They’re talking about me. About the plan to kill Gabriel.
I wonder how much Slade has told them—whether they know he promised to make me a diabolist. Whether they’re in support of it.
I’m not the kind of person who allows myself to form connections easily, but I feel an absurd flicker of hope.
Once I’m free of Gabriel, free of the Bloodrot, will they let me… stay?
The hope is promptly extinguished by what Slade says next.
“I didn’t think this would happen. That I would care. What am I supposed to do now?”
“I don’t know,” Ceri replies impatiently. “But you have to tell her the truth.”
“And risk her running back to Gabriel?”
“I don’t think Talin would do that.”
“She decided to betray Gabriel the moment I had something she wanted. It’s in her nature.”
The floor seems to lurch beneath my feet. Although they shouldn’t, Slade’s words sting. He’s right, isn’t he? My allegiances did change quickly. But it’s still unpleasant to hear it said aloud, especially in front of Ceri and Emeric, who are steadfast in their loyalty.
Emeric’s deep voice cuts in. “I thought she came to you before you made the promise.”
“She did,” Slade concedes. “But I suspected when one of my followers confronted her that she couldn’t be trusted. If Darva wanted Talin dead, it’s because she was trying to protect me.”
“So what did you do?”
“I killed her. Darva, that is.”
“Why?” Ceri’s voice is horrified.
There’s a lull before Slade says, too softly, “I don’t know. In that moment, I needed Talin more.”
“Oh, Slade.”
“I knew I had to make her an offer she couldn’t turn down. She wants to live. Desperately. You’ve seen the state of her.”
“But you never truly intended to make her one of us.”
“No. I’m not Augustus, Ceri. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
Her reply is fierce. “Don’t bring him into this.”
The force of my anger makes the edges of my vision blur. I think I’m going to be sick. Slade was never going to save me. He doesn’t even know how. The only man who did—the man who transformed Ceri—is presumed dead. Slade lied to ensure my loyalty and used my desperation against me.
You never truly intended to make her one of us.
It feels as though a yawning chasm has opened in my chest. I can’t believe I thought for a single moment that I could be part of the strange but meaningful life they’ve cultivated.
I have no business being part of any us.
There is them, and there is me. That’s the way it’s always been.
How foolish, to hope that things would be different.
How pathetic, that this should steal the air from my lungs.
It’s all the more embarrassing because I’m surprised. I shouldn’t be. I knew exactly the type of person Slade was. When he promised me life, I should never have believed him.
Salvation is not for girls like me.
“I’m shocked she fell for it at all,” Emeric says a moment later. It’s hard to gauge his tone—I can’t tell whether he’s disapproving or simply disbelieving. “She doesn’t seem the trusting type.”
“Talin believes what she wants to believe,” Slade replies. “And I’m fairly certain she wants to believe most of what I tell her.”
He doesn’t reference what we did last night, but the implication is heavy in his voice. As though I’m foolish enough to be easily duped, all because he fucked me once. Is that truly what he thinks of me? Is that what they all think of me?
Ceri heaves a drawn-out sigh. “What is she going to do while you’re in the Sanctum? You know she’ll want to be part of things.”
“I’ll station her at the exterior door with you,” Slade decides. “Make her feel useful.”
My face pulls into an automatic frown. They already have a plan for tonight.
A plan that doesn’t involve me at all. And now they’re discussing how to appease me, to give me a false sense of importance, like a child that needs to be kept busy.
I lean against the wall, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of my nose.
The floor creaks quietly beneath my feet.
“What was that?” Emeric asks in a hushed tone.
There’s a stretch of silence in the room beyond. I hold my breath as Slade says, “Nothing. I don’t think she’ll wake for a while yet.”
I repress a scoff. He’s an idiot. He doesn’t know a thing about me, how long I sleep, or what I’m capable of. To him, I’m only human, and therefore weak.
“If tonight goes successfully, you’ll have to tell her the truth,” Ceri points out, also lowering her voice. “Maybe if you just—”
Slade cuts her off. “I don’t think Talin is the forgiving type. But don’t worry, I’ll deal with it.”
Deal with it. Deal with it. I feel like the hallway is tunneling in around me. A memory surfaces unbidden: Vicar Johannes speaking to my parents outside the temple, his voice a low, reassuring croon. Don’t worry about your eldest. We’ll deal with it.
I can’t bear to hear another word. I wince as I push away from the wall, relieved when the floor doesn’t creak again.
Then I tiptoe back to my room, throw on my coat, and wrench open the window.
The early-morning air is cool against my burning cheeks.
The streets are deserted, and the outline of the Citadel spears the horizon in the near distance.
I may have missed my chance to scout out the Prophet’s Sanctum last night, but I can rectify that easily enough. I won’t need long inside, and I’m confident I can get there and back without being seen.
I am, after all, a ghost.
* * *
My back is damp with sweat by the time I pull myself back through the window.
The frame snags on the back of my jacket, making me curse, and the fabric rips as I let myself drop to the floor.
I peel the jacket off and hurl it into the corner of the room.
Then I shower quickly, knowing the sound of running water will alert the others to the fact that I’m awake.
My heart is a snarled thing in my chest as I throw on clean clothes.
If Slade can’t turn me into a diabolist, I’m left with two choices: kill him or let the Bloodrot kill me.
I wonder if the madness has already begun to set in.
If that’s why I feel this icy, unsettling sense of resignation.
I may be selfish, and I may change allegiances as it suits me, but that’s why I’m going to live.
I’m always going to live.
I’m wrenching a brush through the tangled black ends of my hair when there’s a knock on the door. Nausea rises in my throat, but I force myself to calm.
“Talin,” Slade says once we’re face-to-face. He looks too serene, too confident, that accursed tilt of his mouth dimpling one cheek. I have the powerful urge to slice through the facade the way I sliced the skin of his abdomen.
My grip is painfully tight on the doorknob, the cool metal turning hot beneath my sweaty hand. “Slade.”
“You look well-rested,” he says, as if he hasn’t just been discussing me behind my back.
The furious energy at my core spikes. I’ve let him reel me in far too many times. I’ve let him lie to my face and manipulate me, just as I did Gabriel. At least this time I can see things for what they are.
“I feel well-rested,” I tell Slade, arching a suggestive brow. It’s that first night at the speakeasy all over again: both of us playing our own little game. “Do you?”
“Most definitely. Can I come in?”
I stand aside to let him enter, then shut the door and turn to face him.
He’s already seated on my bed. His legs are crossed as he leans back on his hands, that cool gaze traveling up my body.
He’s wearing black again, a button-down shirt with the sleeves cuffed and the neck open.
I hate that I want him. I hate that he does this to me, even now.
I’ve taken so many lives, and yet Slade Markovich might be my greatest sin.
“I was just telling Ceri and Emeric about last night,” he says with ease. “Everything that happened at the Citadel, and what lies beneath the Sanctum.”
Liar. He’s such a fucking liar. But I arrange my expression into one of grim amusement. “I hope you didn’t tell them what happened afterward.”
He likes that. His smile is wicked. “Of course not. Although it’s a story I’d very much like to share. Mainly we discussed my brother’s intentions—the strange little performance he’s setting up. Emeric received a personal invitation to the Sanctum tonight too.”
An unwelcome jolt of alarm travels through me. “What? Why?”
“I can only assume the Prophet wants an audience.”
Of course he wants an audience. Why Emeric would be part of that audience, though, is another matter.
Does Gabriel know of Ceri and Emeric’s connection to Slade?
We avoided them at the reception, but we have been staying in the same house.
A deeply foolish move, in this place where eyes could be anywhere.
Gabriel might have revealed the cure, but he didn’t tell me everything he’s planning. I’m more certain of that fact now than ever.
“I told Emeric not to come,” Slade continues, extending his fingers aggressively enough that his knuckles crack. “But arguing with him is futile once he’s set his mind to something.”
It feels unnatural, hovering in the middle of the room while Slade is seated, but I’m not sure where else to go. “It could be a trap.”
“Yes. I made him promise he’ll leave if things start going to shit. To let me die before he gets himself into trouble.”
“He’s not going to do that.”
“I know,” Slade says heavily, a bleak note to his voice.
For a flicker of a moment, I almost waver. I almost see the boy whose own family betrayed him. The man who would do anything for his friends. The diabolist who promised to save me if I wanted him to.
But then I remember what he’s doing here. That this is his way of dealing with the problem I present.
“The Sanctum has an interior door and an exterior door,” Slade continues. “Emeric believes my brother will enter through the interior one in the Citadel. I’ll already be inside, lying in wait, while Emeric remains by the door. He’ll shut it after Gabriel arrives, barring anyone else from entering.”
“We don’t know how many people Gabriel invited,” I remind him evenly. “What if some of the attendees use the exterior door?”
“That’s where you and Ceri come in. You’ll be stationed by that entrance posing as guards. You can have the uniform I took from that sailor, and if Ceri wears one of Emeric’s chaplain uniforms without the collar, she’ll look fairly close to an agent.”
“And we’re supposed to…what? Intercept people?”
“To the best of your ability, yes,” Slade says. “Turn them away. Tell them Gabriel canceled the meeting. We want as few other people as possible to be in the Sanctum tonight.”
I foresee several different problems with this plan. I might have told Slade as much, had he deigned to include me in their conversation this morning. Since I have a plan of my own, though, it doesn’t really matter. I force myself to nod. “Okay.”
“Just listen to Ceri and you’ll be fine.”
Right. Because stationing me at the door with her is nothing but a way to keep me busy. Because I’m fragile, and useless, and need to feel important even if I’m not. It’s almost amusing—this intimate little performance he’s putting on just for me. “I can do that.”
“Good girl. Come here.” Slade beckons with a finger, and I have no choice but to oblige.
The moment I’m within reach, he pulls me into his lap, holding me tight around the waist. A shiver travels up my neck as my body responds in kind.
I wish I didn’t want to relax into him just as much as I want to hit him.
“I’m not going to let you die,” he says softly into my ear. “Do you understand? Either way, I’m not going to let you die. Promise me you’ll remember that.”
My throat constricts. I nod again, biting hard on my tongue.
“Promise, Talin.”
“I promise,” I mutter. What difference does it make? My word, just like his, means next to nothing.
I may die tonight regardless, and there’s nothing Slade will be able to do about it.
Because I’m going to burn that Sanctum to the ground with him and Gabriel inside.