36
“The Regiment’s control of the military was the ultimate catalyst. No conflict, however, was needed—the prior government stepped down.
The Regiment stepped up, at this point equipped to fully take over regulation of industry, railroad, and public utilities.
Religious subdivisions were done away with and replaced with state-sanctioned worship of the Savior. ”
Night has swallowed up the Reaches once more, lending a familiar sense of urban claustrophobia. Ceri walks at my side, uncharacteristically silent. Her hair is drawn back in a severe knot that accentuates the angles of her somber face.
I could see the unease in her eyes when she kissed Emeric goodbye a few minutes ago. She didn’t beg him not to go though. She didn’t urge him to let Slade deal with his brother alone.
I don’t understand it. If I loved someone the way Ceri loves Emeric, I would sacrifice anyone to keep them safe.
I would let the world fall apart around us.
In fact, I would initiate the collapse myself.
Ceri’s love, though, is pure. She understands that Gabriel’s death is for the greater good.
She understands that she needs to support her partner in his choices.
My love, I think, is like Slade’s: Obsessive. Oppressive. Destructive.
That he and I didn’t get to explore anything close to it is a blessing to the rest of the world.
The wind from yesterday is gone as Ceri and I make our way up the hill toward the Citadel.
Everything is still. Silent. A bead of sweat trickles down my back, and I keep my gaze trained on my feet as a Regiment agent hustles past us in the opposite direction.
He barely affords us a glance, and Ceri breathes a sigh of relief once he’s gone. “I thought we were in trouble.”
“They see the uniform and don’t think twice,” I say. “We might as well be invisible.”
That might be true as we traverse the streets, but I know it won’t apply when we reach the Citadel.
I can see the building now—its golden spires seem to cleave the sky ahead in two.
Ceri’s gaze darts back and forth before she leads the way across the road, her chin ducked against the harsh glow of a slowing vehicle’s headlights.
I hurry to match her longer stride. The sailor’s gray uniform is far too large on me, but Ceri helped me pin it in several places, and now it just looks a bit sloppy as opposed to utterly absurd.
We’ve reached the Citadel now, and we round the side of the building in order to reach the Sanctum.
The area is familiar to me, both from the reception last night and my visit earlier today.
I’ve already seen one temple burn down. And I know two facts for certain about the temples in Sundbourg: First, each is paneled floor to ceiling in lacquered wood, and that lacquer is solvent-based.
Second, you can bar the doors from the outside—a feature left over from when chaplains used to perform exorcisms on unwilling participants.
I have everything in place thanks to my earlier visit.
It wasn’t difficult to enter through one of the windows, given my considerable experience doing just that.
From there I made sure the other windows were shut and locked—there weren’t many—and I located a couple of kerosene lamps.
Defying all logic, most temples still have these too, given the Regiment’s reluctance to update religious buildings with modern conveniences like electricity.
I was able to carefully and methodically empty the kerosene onto the floor in the places I thought it would best work as an accelerant.
If the Regiment were only more willing to depart from tradition, their temples might not burn with such terrible ease.
My plan is as simple as it is insane: Once both Gabriel and Slade are in the sanctum, I’ll sneak inside and set the fire.
Then I’ll escape through the door Emeric’s meant to be guarding, hopefully convincing him to accompany me.
If killing a diabolist really does cure the Bloodrot, then Gabriel’s death shouldn’t send me barreling into madness.
And if it doesn’t… Well. That’s nothing I haven’t already anticipated.
I’m counting on Slade and Gabriel to occupy each other’s attention, thereby not noticing the rapidly spreading blaze until it’s too late.
Slade might be able to break a door down, assuming he reaches one in time, but he’s also terrified of fire.
Gabriel and any men he might have with him are almost certain to die either way.
I try to ignore the tiny part of me that hopes Slade does escape. I need him dead, or I’ll be lost to the Bloodrot. It’s quite literally his life or mine, and he’s made it clear mine means little to him. So why should I care about his?
I don’t. I can’t. The girl who might have grieved his loss needs to die with him.
“Look,” Ceri says, pulling me into the shadows as we near the Sanctum.
A light fog shrouds most details from view, but I can make out the guard stationed in front of the entrance.
He’s facing two approaching figures, gesturing at them in small, sharp motions.
I recognize one of the newcomers as they draw into the light—Nielssen.
He’s with an older man who must be a fellow chaplain.
I curse under my breath. “Why are they here so early?”
“I don’t know.” Ceri’s tone is panicked as her nails dig into my arm. “They shouldn’t be.” It’s fine, I reassure myself. If they have to die too, so be it.
We watch, tense, as the guard ducks into the Sanctum. A moment later he returns with an armful of what looks to be dark fabric. I squint through the fog, perplexed, as he hands the fabric to Nielssen and the second man in turn.
Ceri makes a sound of surprise. “They’re robes.”
She’s right, I realize as Nielssen pulls the fabric over his head.
They are robes. Long black ones, with a hood that drapes to shroud most of the wearer’s features.
Something about the sight makes my stomach turn over.
It seems like some kind of…ritual wear. What kind of service is Gabriel holding, that the attendees have to cover their faces?
The two men enter the Sanctum, leaving the guard alone once more. It’s nearly midnight, and urgency has settled in my bones. Gabriel said he would involve me when the time was right, yet gave no indication as to how. Was he lying? I feel as though I’m missing some crucial piece of the puzzle.
“Let’s move,” Ceri hisses, and I’ve barely registered her words when she does just that.
She launches herself out of the shadows toward the guard, swift as a predator and twice as deadly.
She approaches from behind, and when she reaches him, she snaps the man’s neck with as much ease as Slade did Darva’s.
It’s brutally efficient. I realize just how lucky I was that Ceri didn’t do anything worse than hurl my own knife at me after I stabbed her.
My footfalls are soft against the cobblestones as I join her. “That was quick.”
Ceri frowns. The lantern hanging above the Sanctum’s entrance casts her expression in various shades of orange. “I don’t like killing.”
“You could have let me do it.”
“I didn’t think it would be prudent to risk firing a gun.”
She’s right, of course. Even with my silencer, the shot would almost certainly draw unwanted attention.
“Let’s get him out of the way,” I say, indicating the guard.
She nods, and together we maneuver his body out of the light. When Ceri straightens, her mouth is still a tight line. “I’m worried.”
I don’t tell her that she should be. I don’t know what to tell her.
It’s obvious that she’s confiding in me to seek some sort of reassurance.
Part of me wants to yell at her. To ask why she bothered pretending to be my friend.
She was the first woman to speak so openly with me since Ilse, though of course she’s not a thing like my sister.
I feel a pang in my chest and do my best to shove it back down.
I don’t have time for any of this—I need to get inside the Sanctum as soon as possible.
I just don’t know how to convince her to let me go.
Then, suddenly, I do. All I have to do is…tell the truth.
Sort of.
“Ceri,” I whisper. “Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that Gabriel invited both Slade and Emeric to this meeting? The robes, the hoods…the men who just entered didn’t seem at all surprised to receive them. Almost as if they’ve done this before.”
“So?” Ceri says.
“If they’re part of some existing group, it’s clearly a well-kept secret. Slade was invited for obvious reasons, but why would Emeric have been invited unless Gabriel knows the two of them are associated?”
A shadow passes over Ceri’s face as the color drains from it. “Don’t tell me you told him, Talin. Do not tell me I was wrong about you.”
“Of course I didn’t tell him,” I snap. “But you don’t know Gabriel like I do. He always has more information than you think. Not to mention he has eyes all over the Reaches.”
She blanches, and that’s when I know I was right: She doesn’t know Gabriel like I do.
Most people know him only as the Prophet, the Savior’s mouthpiece, the personification of everything the Regiment preaches.
They don’t know him as the clever, conniving man with whom I’ve become intimately acquainted.
“So you think this is a trap,” Ceri says, almost inaudible.
“I don’t know. But you have to let me find out.”
Her brows shoot up as she realizes my meaning. “You are not going into the Sanctum by yourself. It’s dangerous, and besides, Slade would kill me. I’ll go.”
“Ceri!” I hiss her name with enough urgency that she starts. “Listen to me! Who do you think will be more likely to make Gabriel see reason? The partner of a chaplain he believes is in league with a diabolist, or the girl he thinks is on his side?”
“And what if you can’t make him see reason, Talin? At least I’m more difficult to harm.”
I shake my head. “Gabriel won’t hurt me.”
“Why would you possibly think that?”
“Because…” I trail off, licking my lips. I need to hurry this along. “Because he cares about me more than he should, Ceri. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I swear it’s the truth. At least let me go in to gauge the situation. I promise I won’t show myself unless I have to.”
She glances toward the door, indecision stark in her features. “Slade told me to keep you safe. I don’t think you understand how much he cares about you.”
Oh, I understand, all right. I understand that he cares enough to help me escape from one cage only to lock me in another. He cares enough to lie through his teeth while using my fears against me.
“Slade could be dying as we speak,” I snarl. “Would you rather he be angry with you, or dead?” At Ceri’s bewildered distress, I make an effort to soften my voice. “Please. I’m the only one who can do this, so let me. For Slade. For Emeric.”
Eventually her posture softens in reluctant capitulation. She nods, her lips pressed together so tightly they’re tinged white. “Okay. I’m trusting you, Talin.”
As she opens the door to the Sanctum just enough to let me slip inside, her parting words settle on my chest: I’m trusting you, Talin.
She shouldn’t have.