33. CONSECRATED
CONSECRATED
JACEN
Jacen walked down to the lake alone. For the first time that he could remember, he wore none of the Church’s trappings. From a distance, he might have passed for any random denizen of the Shrouded City.
Gossamer curtains of steam skimmed the surface of the water, below which bioluminescent flora glowed white and gold. Jacen knelt on the beach, running a hand through the coarse black sand and letting it fall between his fingers.
His mind had come unmoored, like a sparrow caught in a gale.
The telkaan root’s effects had faded as they had taken hold, sudden as a thunderclap, but something still lingered.
He kept reliving the memories of all he’d seen at the Gate, turning it over and over in his head to make sense of it—this glimpse of the numinous, rendering all he’d known before so small in comparison.
That elusive transcendence he’d searched for all his life, embodied as cosmic power.
What were the odds that such power manifested in the nephew of the man he’d loved for so long? In a way, which sent a deeper chill through Jacen’s marrow, this even felt like providence.
They balanced on a precipice, and on one side lay annihilation. On the other side lay something he could never have dreamed of, never dared pray for.
It wasn’t quite hope.
Jacen stared into the water for a time, until Seth found him.
“There you are,” Seth called, walking toward him. “I was getting worried.”
Jacen stood and brushed sand off his clothes. “I needed somewhere quiet to think.”
Seth nodded, as though this were to be expected. “I know that look.”
“What look?”
“Your priest look. As if you’re contemplating the mysteries of the universe”—Seth swept a hand dramatically overhead—“which the likes of me could never understand.” There was levity in his tone, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen it.”
They faced one another.
“You have to perform the exorcism, Jace.” There it was. Jacen’s stomach twisted.
“I don’t mean now,” Seth clarified. “I understand our predicament, believe me, though I dearly wish I didn’t. But you cannot let Neri integrate. Once this is over, you have to set him free.”
“I don’t know if I can,” Jacen said quietly.
“I know you’re looking for something to believe in.
I’m only asking that you consider this with a healthy amount of skepticism.
” Seth had a rein on his patience, but Jacen sensed it fraying.
“And if you won’t . . . You take so much on faith.
Might you also take it on faith that we can win the fight ahead without sacrificing Neri?
Is that so much more difficult than to believe whatever we unleash, should he integrate, won’t destroy us all? ”
When Jacen did not reply, Seth sighed. “I was afraid of that.” His brow furrowed. “What if you performed the exorcism and someone else, someone better prepared, took on the demon?”
“It wouldn’t work.” Jacen spoke gently but firmly. “Naxal would not have accepted just any host. Neri is unusually—maybe uniquely—suited to this.”
“Yes, Ysira’s demon. I’ve heard. But we seem to be confusing suitability with immunity. Neri is not himself. Something is very wrong, Jacen, and it terrifies me.”
“If there were any other way, any other host, they’d have tried already. Exorcism requires the host’s consent. And . . . you raised him, Seth. If you were in his position, what would you do?”
Seth had the look of a man who knew he fought a losing battle, hanging on out of sheer dogged principle. He understood as well as anyone the brutal calculus at hand—all that their world stood to lose.
Jacen admitted, “I’m afraid too.” He met Seth’s eyes. “It’s not faith alone that guides me. I’ll take your words to heart.”
Seth nodded to himself, accepting where they’d landed—for the moment, at least. His expression softened. “There you are.”
“What do you mean?”
“The look’s gone now. You’re . . . a person again.”
Jacen exhaled a laugh. “I’m always a person. Even when I’m a priest.”
It was something he thought he always would be, whether his vows held or not—something he’d have been in any lifetime, with this part of him that would always wonder, and fear, and ponder the great mysteries. The part of him that looked up and saw never the stars but the void between them.
“You know what I mean.” A wan smile touched Seth’s lips. “In all honesty, sometimes you terrify me.”
Though the words were spoken lightly, Jacen sensed truth in them.
His chest tightened.
Seth was close enough that Jacen felt the heat of his body, the steadiness of his presence. He did not want it gone. So much was on his mind, so much that had changed in so little time—and yet, there remained everything he’d never said to Seth.
Perhaps he would spend all his days like this, torn between faith and love, between the ephemeral and the eternal. But as he gazed along the deepriver, into Esh’s impenetrable darkness, he realized: where there was no light, the intimate and the cosmically vast felt exactly the same.
He swallowed hard. “I never properly apologized for what I said in Ogden’s clinic. I—”
Seth squeezed his shoulder, shutting him up. “Enough with the apologies. We’ve been over this.”
“No.” Before reason could return to him, Jacen caught Seth’s hand. “I need to say something.”
But what words could possibly be enough?
Jacen held Seth’s hand tighter and raised it to his temple.
Seth’s first instinct was confusion, but then he understood.
He raised his other hand to Jacen’s opposite temple.
They stood face-to-face, and for once, Jacen was not a priest at all but a supplicant at confession. He let down the barriers of his mind.
“It’s hard to explain,” he murmured. “So, I’ll show you.”
Seth closed his eyes, and Jacen drew him in. Tentative at first, then in a torrential rush, he showed him. Everything he’d suppressed and held sacred for more than a decade, the words he should have said years ago.
Not I’m sorry. He was not sorry, not for one thing they had endured together, not for a moment he’d spent at Seth’s side.
I love you.
He showed Seth himself as he appeared to Jacen: brave in a way most could never feign, a man with nothing to prove.
The way Seth challenged Jacen even as he defended him to others.
The violence of which he remained more than capable but held firmly in check, so the first thing he showed the world was always gentleness.
Jacen feared Seth might recoil, but then—the pressure of callused hands against his temples. He opened his eyes. Seth’s remained shut, and tears pooled in the crinkles of his lids. Jacen did not dare speak, only stood there, breathing in the moment.
Seth opened his eyes, warm as the russet earth of the Scar, and the tears slipped down into his beard unrestrained. He said nothing, but there was no need. He wrapped a hand around the back of Jacen’s head, making him lean down so they were forehead-to-forehead.
And then it was like gravity. No telling who moved first. Seth’s fingers knotted in Jacen’s tunic as their lips crashed together.
His hand loosened from a fist, stroking down the plane of Jacen’s chest, around to the small of his back.
Jacen grasped Seth by the neck and pulled him closer, closer, until he felt Seth’s heart thudding against his ribcage.
Seth caught Jacen’s shoulders, maintaining a sliver of distance between them. “Are you sure?”
Jacen shut him up with another kiss. He was not sure of much these days, but this? It required no thought at all.
Much later, in a secluded room somewhere in the library, Jacen lay against Seth as they held each other. He listened to Seth’s heartbeat, breathing in his scent of woodsmoke and citrus, absently tracing his fingers over the hair on his muscled chest and rounded stomach.
“Gods.” Seth stroked Jacen’s head with an astonished little laugh. “I think I might understand why the Church doesn’t let telepaths fuck. That was . . .” He trailed off, at a loss.
In the afterglow of pleasure, though, Jacen sensed something else: a subtle thrill of fear.
In all honesty, you terrify me.
He sat up, suddenly self-conscious as reality came rushing back. He’d done what he’d been told all his life he could not, and now he felt far too much.
Seth straightened in turn. “What’s wrong?” He touched Jacen’s shoulder, and the tender familiarity of the gesture sent a flare of warmth through him.
“Nothing you did.” But Jacen couldn’t stop himself from blurting, “Does what I am bother you?”
Seth raised his eyebrows. “A priest?”
“You know perfectly well that’s not what I meant.”
“Argumentative? Taller than me? Strangely intolerant of spicy food? All flaws, yes, but I’ve managed to forgive you for them.” He looked around the room, then pointedly down at his naked body. “I thought that was obvious.”
“Please be serious,” Jacen snapped. “It doesn’t bother you that I’m not entirely human?”
“Right. Sorry.” Seth cleared his throat. “Of course not. You’ve met
my family. I’d be a hypocrite and a fool to judge anyone by their bloodline.”
Jacen had to ponder how he might reply and did not get the chance. He sensed an approaching presence. He swore and tripped over himself as he scrambled for his clothes. “Someone’s coming.”
He was rather sore. Was he moving normally? Gods, would everyone be able to tell? This was humiliating. He was far too old for this. He should have gotten this over with as an adolescent, like every other person he knew—
The presence drew close enough for Jacen to identify. He let himself breathe again. “It’s Ysira.”
Seth was grinning, perhaps about to say something, when Ysira shoved through the door with alarming force. Not so much as a knock. Her black eyes skated over them both, betraying mild intrigue, but her shoulders were tense. She was breathing hard, as if she’d run there.
The three of them stared at one another for a moment before Ysira cleared her throat and pointed behind her. “I just heard from the Gatekeeper. It’s urgent.”
Something had shaken her. It made the hairs on the back of Jacen’s neck stand on end.
Seth deflated a little. He grumbled to himself but began to pull on his clothes.
“What happened?” Jacen asked as he yanked on his boots.
“We received a communication from outside the Shrouded City.” Ysira swallowed. “It’ll be easier to explain when you see.”
They entered the library together. Two Disciples on guard bowed to Ysira and directed them to the table where, just yesterday, the demon priests had showed Neri an ashek.
The boy now sat opposite Eneva and Urien, who hunched over a blocky metal device.
Ogden hovered behind them, frowning more intently than usual.
Eneva stood and smoothed her robes. “There you are.”
Neri had been crying, eyes bloodshot and swollen. He looked as though he were having the worst time of his life, and a fresh surge of guilt enveloped Jacen.
“He can rest now.” Ysira beckoned her son forward. “Then we can talk.”
Seth pointed at the metal apparatus. “And maybe explain that.” “It’s a radiotelegraphy device,” said Eneva. “One of our militia patrols made contact. They were attacked by individuals wearing heavy environmental suits.”
Urien—still intently focused on the device—tapped his own helmet.
With a sinking feeling, Jacen understood.
“Shit,” said Seth, as Ysira interjected, “When? How far?”
“Too close.” Eneva’s lips formed a thin line. “But we left no survivors. Our patrol had help.”
“From who?” Ysira demanded.
“Half a dozen knights of Zivora,” Ogden answered for Eneva, his tone grim. “Led by Ged Semira.”
At the sound of his father’s name, Neri’s shoulders hunched. “Shit,” Seth said again, louder. He went to Neri, reaching out a comforting hand. Neri barely noticed. He sank deeper into his chair, staring blankly ahead.
Ysira ground out, “Do not give him this location.”
“Do you think I want to?” Eneva rounded on her.
“I’ve allowed more than enough outsiders in these sacred halls.
But this attack was close enough to Otavok that we have to consider the possibility the Firstborn have found us.
We are in no position to refuse aid.” She turned to Neri.
“Var Naxal, I urge you to give the order.”
Neri stood abruptly. Perhaps he’d meant to speak, but he swayed as though dizzy. He leaned against the table, breathing hard.
“Gods, no, enough.” Seth took another step forward and caught Neri by the arm.
Seth winced as if something had bit him.
He paused and looked down. Jacen followed his gaze to the floor, where he’d stepped on an oblong rock the size of a man’s fist. The ashek—the spare that must have been left there after Neri dropped it.
Seth snatched the weapon up with rough disregard, like he meant to hand it to Eneva.
Tendrils of white light coiled around the ashek. Seth’s hand spasmed. He dropped it.
Too late.
A ragged gasp escaped Eneva. Urien looked up from his machine and Ysira went rigid. The Disciples drew their weapons.
Seth’s fingers tightened around Neri’s arm. Jacen’s mind worked furiously, pieces falling into place one by one.
No. It wasn’t possible.
“Run,” Ogden said to Urien. The healer did not move, did not look away from Seth. “Now. Warn the others.”
“You’re valak,” Eneva breathed. “How?”
The voice that came from Seth’s mouth, then, had Seth’s pitch. But its cadence, its tone, the mannerisms that had suddenly taken hold of his body . . . those were not Seth’s at all.
“Not valak,” he said. “Not quite.”
He drew his sword and ran Eneva through.