XV
A PRINCE OF FOREVER
‘WE PREPARED AS best we could in the time we had. Which is to say, terribly. ‘I’d fought a half-dozen sieges before, but never with so little. We had holy water in abundance, and that was welcome news. An elaborate pump ran down the cliff to the depths of the Volta, used by the monks for their daily needs.
Bellamy turned the crank as fast as he was able, while Rafa called down blessings on the water, and the courtyard fountains besides. I’d found a little chymist’s workshop in the distillery, scattered phials of salpêtre and sulphur – enough to mix up a few handfuls of black ignis, at least. ‘Saoirse hauled barrels and bottles up from the distillery below. It smote my black and shrivelled heart to waste liquor as sharp as this, even if it was fucking vodka. But still, we soaked the battlements and forecourt around the gates, sluicing the stone with the stink of high-grade spirits, adding a sprinkle of sawdust from the monastery’s coopery for punch. We used all they had, emptying every drop. And yet, I saved myself a single bottle, downing it all to dull the pain of my ever-growing thirst. ‘The dark sun was setting now, only a few minutes of feeble light left before night fell like a headsman’s blade. I glanced around the company, broken glass in my belly. Saoirse and Rafa looked steady, Bellamy and Chloe a little shaky.
Dior was stone. ‘“Right,” I said. “If that Liathe bitch spat any kind of truth, Danton has gathered every wretched for miles to his side. They’ll go where their bloodlord wills them, which means they won’t come mindlessly this time. Saoirse, you and I keep them off the walls as long as we’re able. But when they break through, and they will, Bellamy lights the spirits with his bow, and we fall back to the cathedral. It’s not holy ground, but most of the windows are too narrow to crawl through, and there’s only two passages in and out.” ‘Dior chewed a ragged fingernail, then spat. “Maggot trap.”
‘Dior chewed a ragged fingernail, then spat. “Maggot trap.” ‘“You what?” I asked. ‘“It’s a grift I thought up with my friends back in Lashaame,” the boy mumbled. “You get a pretty girl, have her flash around a heavy purse in a seedy taverne, leave after one drink. Some prick’s bound to follow with intent of relieving her of her coin, probably more besides. But the girl leads the fellow down a blind alley, where you and your crew are waiting. And you roll him hard and take everything he’s got, then go to sleep content you stomped a bastard who deserved it.” Dior shrugged. “I called it a maggot trap.” ‘“And you did this for recreation?” Rafa asked. ‘“We did it to eat. But there’s nothing wrong with enjoying your job.” ‘“In military terms, it’s called a bottleneck,” I said. ‘The boy sniffed. “My name’s better.” ‘“As you like it.” I sighed, waved to the circular building behind us. “Now, bad news is, after dousing the battlements, there was only enough vodka left to soak one passage into the cathedral. The westward one. Good news is, in a nice enclosed space like that and with time to evaporate, spirits that strong will burn like a trencherman’s fart in a candleshop. So when you fall back, fall back through the westward doors. The wretched will follow. And Dior will be waiting
with the spark.” ‘“And after that?” Chloe asked. ‘“With fortune, we thin their number enough for me to get my hands on Dant —” ‘I gasped, bending double as a spasm of pain ripped through my belly. I could feel my nails stirring at the tips of my fingers, my fangs in my gums. The thirst was all I knew for a moment – the warmth, the scent of the company around me, the thudding pulse of that luscious, hot crimson beating just below their skin …
‘“Gabe?” Chloe asked. “Are you aright?” ‘“I’m f-fucking w-wonderful …” ‘“Ye look like puddled shite, Silversaint.” Saoirse lifted Kindness, her face grim. “Leave the bonny Prince of Forever to me. It’s not my fate to die today.
Nor tomorrow, neither.” ‘Bellamy nodded, grim. “I will not go to my grave with my song still inside me.” ‘“Blessings to you all,” Chloe said, watching me with wide, worried eyes.
“May God and Mothermaid and all the Martyrs bring us victory over this evil.” ‘I looked to Dior, my stomach still burning. “You be ready for my signal,
boy.” ‘“I’ll be ready, hero.” ‘I looked to Rafa. “Do me a favour, Father?”
‘I looked to Rafa. “Do me a favour, Father?” ‘“Ask it, Silversaint.” ‘“If you should happen to meet our Maker tonight, kick him in the cock for me.” ‘Saoirse, Bellamy and I took to the walls, wreathed in the stink of evaporating vodka. Rafa and Chloe stood in the bailey’s guttering torchlight, Dior hidden in the cathedral. The cliffs at our flanks meant there was only one path by which Danton could approach, but as darkness deepened, thick and frozen, I’d no clue if we had strength enough to stop him. ‘And the thirst … Great Redeemer. I was so fucking thirsty … ‘“Remember,” I hissed. “Retreat through the westward passage into the cathedral. The doors for the dead.” ‘“Poetic,” Bellamy muttered. “If we live through this, there’s a hell of a ballad in it.” ‘Saoirse’s jaw clenched, her grip tightening on Kindness’s haft. “They come.” ‘I looked into the dark, saw a multitude swarming up the hill. Fangs bared, I drew my sword from her sheath, that silvered dame on the hilt ever smiling at
me. ‘“Good fortune, Ash …” ‘Die not on me n-now, Gabriel. We’ve bastards seven to slay, to s-slay. ‘They charged towards San Guillaume, dark figures rushing through the falling night. I counted a hundred or more wretched, but against our little company, they may as well have been an army of thousands. And somewhere in the dark, their grim general awaited. I couldn’t see him yet, but I could feel him, like a shadow at my back. I’d fought things like him most of my life, and still, a part of me found the thought of Danton Voss utterly horrifying. Not frightening,
mind you. Just … horrifying.’ ‘Why?’ Jean-François asked.
Gabriel shook his head. ‘I used to wonder what it was that drove people like him to become the monsters they became. If it was a consequence of all that time, maybe – the need to indulge ever-darker desires, just to stave off the crushing boredom of forever. But you live long enough, you look into the mundane murk of people’s souls often enough, you see Danton didn’t really become anything. He’d just had the shackles of consequence removed. Give someone the power to do anything they want, and they’ll do exactly that. That’s the horrifying part – the only thing holding some folk back from the worst atrocities they can imagine is the fear they might not get away with it. ‘His wretched came on, half rotten and all silent. I watched them, tipping my last few flakes of sanctus into my pipe. Inhaling red smoke, I closed my eyes, listening to the feet coming through the snows, feeling tiny snowflakes melting
listening to the feet coming through the snows, feeling tiny snowflakes melting cold upon my skin, the faint notes of death and blood in the air, Saoirse’s
leathers, Bellamy’s fear— ‘“Gabriel …” ‘—the song of the wind above and the waters below, the weight of the sword
o— ‘“De León!” ‘I opened my eyes, found Bellamy staring at me incredulous as the enemy came on, ever closer, dead eyes and rotting tongues and— ‘“Should you not be silverclad? If never before, we need the aegis now! At the siege at Tuuve, your faith burned so bright, the Dead were struck blind. At the Battle of Báih Sì—” ‘“Have ye not figured it out yet, Bel?” Saoirse asked. ‘“Figured what out?” ‘The slayer glanced to me and sighed. “What worth all that pretty ink? What use a conduit for faith? If a man has no’ a drop of faith left inside him to give?” ‘And then the Dead were on us, and there was no more time to talk. Some crashed into the gates and began battering, others flowed up the stonework like water. I lit an ignis bomb and tossed it over the wall, the powder igniting, nails and scrap metal ripping through the coldbloods. Saoirse and Bellamy rose up, letting fly with holy water and burning crossbow shots, and wretched began to fall. But others yet were climbing, dead eyes and hungry mouths, and soon enough, they began spilling over the walls. ‘It was bladework then, and miles of it, running back and forth across the highwalk in a desperate attempt to stem the tide. Bellamy backed off along the eastern walk, no longer shooting flame for fear of igniting the liquor beneath us, Saoirse and I cutting into the Dead. A wizened old man, a skinny lad, a rotten mother with a belly still swollen from the babe she’d been carrying when she was murdered – all fell under Ashdrinker’s edge. But an ill feeling was growing in the back of my mind, darkening with every moment. ‘Where the hell was Danton? ‘Bellamy gasped, hand to brow. “I … I can f-feel him … i-in my head …”
‘“Force him out, Bel!” Saoirse cried.
‘“I-I can’t …”
‘“Mothermoons, where is he?” ‘“GABRIEL!” ‘I turned at Chloe’s scream, heart sinking. And there I saw him, like a shadow, perched behind us atop the western battlements. A host of wretched were scrambling up the stones around him, dozens of them. And with sinking heart, I realized the Dead had used their unholy strength to simply crawl around the
realized the Dead had used their unholy strength to simply crawl around the cliffs on our flank, completely avoiding the firetraps we’d laid. ‘“Clever bastard …” I whispered. ‘“Back!” Rafa raised his wheel, burning silver in the dark. “Back now!” ‘The foulbloods began spilling down into the bailey, but Chloe and Rafa stood tall, the sister brandishing her silversteel, the wheel in the priest’s hands burning like flame. Phoebe pounced upon the first wretched to touch the courtyard stone, tearing it apart as Chloe sliced another off at the knees. I cut down a foulblood on the wall, roared to Saoirse, “We’re outflanked, fall back!” ‘Bellamy lit his crossbow shot, raising his bow. “He was in my head, he—” ‘“LIGHT IT, BOUCHETTE!” ‘Saoirse leapt off the battlements to the stone below. The gates began to buckle, more wretched spilling up over the walls as Bellamy fired at the highwalk under my feet. The liquor and sawdust burst into flames, bright and seething. Wretched fell, flesh catching like tinder, a few hissing in agony as they crashed among their fellows below and set more ablaze. But yet more came on, a relentless, starving flood. And so I turned away, eyes upon their general. Fire rising at my back, I charged along the western highwalk, set to slay this dark
shepherd and watch his sheep scatter. ‘“DANTON!” ‘He turned to face me as his flock spilled into the courtyard below. Clad all in black, frockcoat and ruffled sleeves, cravat stained with the blood of the last poor wretch he’d killed. The strength of murders centuries deep unfurled in his
veins and coiled behind his eyes. ‘Lay b-but one hand upon him, Gabriel … ‘He raised his sabre, met Ashdrinker on his blade and turned her aside. I was dimly aware of Bellamy on the eastern walk, firing flaming shots into the courtyard below now. Silver light burned in Rafa’s hands as Chloe and Saoirse fought side by side. But I had eyes only for my enemy. Our blades sang as we crashed across the highwalk, fury twisting my lips into a snarl. Danton’s blade sliced my arm, and I felt not a thing. Another blow carved my cheek to the bone, and I didn’t even blink.
‘“Ye look thirsty, halfbreed,” he hissed. ‘“You look frightened, leech,” I spat. ‘“I like thy new nun. A little shorter than the last one. How does she taste?” ‘His strike sent me skidding back across the boards, fangs bared. ‘“No, tell me not,” he smiled. “I shall learn for myself soon enough.” ‘I heard Chloe scream, Bellamy cry out. More wretched had flanked us, cresting the eastern walk now. The soothsinger was struck from behind, dropping his bow. The Dead came at him from both sides, and in desperation, he slung his lute off his back, dipped that beautiful bloodwood into the burning barrel beside him, and started swinging it like a club. ‘“Back, you bastards! BACK!” ‘They were overrunning us now, too many, too clever with this leech lord pulling their strings. Desperate, I threw myself at him, Danton’s sword piercing my belly and bursting out my back as at last, at last, my hand closed about his
throat. ‘Yesssss … ‘Danton seized my wrist, my fingers brushing his skin. I lunged, snarling, but bloated with the kill, lips red, eyes flooded, the bastard was just stronger than I.
And as I felt my bones grinding beneath his grip, I realized how terrible my folly was. ‘I was starving. Weak. And he, the son of a Forever King. Shoulders crowned with all night’s mantle, all his strength, all his power at his command. ‘“Not tonight,” he smiled. ‘My wrist snapped like a twig. The blade inside me twisted. I heard Rafa roaring Bellamy’s name, “Run! RUN!” the soothsinger crying out as his burning lute broke across one corpse’s shoulder, and a multitude of Dead bore him down.
The necklet he wore snapped, musical notes spinning into the night as they sank
their teeth into his skin. ‘“BELLAMY!” Chloe cried. ‘I gasped in agony as Danton flexed, lifting me off the ground, his sabre hilt pressed against my belly, his blade buried in my bowels. ‘“Blood is owed thee, de León. And blood shall be rep—” ‘An axe crashed into the side of the vampire’s neck, landing with the song of splintering stone. Danton snarled, and turning on the spot, he slung me with all his strength. I heard Chloe scream as I slid off his blade and flew across the courtyard, weightless, tumbling, crashing into the mosaic floor and smashing it like glass. I felt ribs break. Tasted blood. Black stars in my eyes. ‘Saoirse faced Danton on the battlements, the slayer tearing Kindness from the vampire’s skin. Her blow would have lopped an ordinary head from its
vampire’s skin. Her blow would have lopped an ordinary head from its shoulders, split a tree to its roots. But the Beast of Vellene was an ancien Ironheart, his flesh like stone. Still, his throat was shattered, cracks spreading across his skin like veins through pale marble. And fury lit his eyes as Saoirse slammed her shield into his face and her axe into his belly. ‘The highblood staggered as the slayer came on, furious, fearless. They crashed atop the highwalk as Chloe reached my side, bloody silversteel in hand, crying, “Gabriel, get up!” She dragged me to my feet, my left arm broken, Ashdrinker barely clutched in my other hand. Above us, Rafa had gone to save Bellamy, wheel held out, the wretched hissing and scattering as the priest reached the soothsinger’s bloodied body. My ribs were grinding under my skin, blood in my mouth. But I watched Saoirse twirl, strawberry-blonde braids spinning in the air about her as she swung Kindness at Danton once more. ‘“Nae man can kill me, vampire!” The slayer grinned, feral, face spattered with his blood as she buried her axe into his shoulder. “And nae devil would dare try!” ‘Danton’s hand closed around Saoirse’s like a vice, her fingers pinned tight on the haft of her axe. “No man nor devil, I,” the vampire said. ‘He battered her shield aside, drew back his other hand. ‘“I am a Prince of Forever.” ‘And lashing out with clawed fingertips, he tore out Saoirse’s throat. ‘Blood sprayed, crimson, brilliant. Phoebe looked up from a wretched’s torn body, the lioness roaring as her mistress staggered. Chloe reached out across the gulf towards Saoirse, screaming, Rafa watching in horror as Danton threw back his head, laughing as twin fountains of the slayer’s blood gushed across his skin. ‘Saoirse stumbled to her knees, leathers drenched red. Her hands were pressed to her sundered throat, her eyes wide with disbelief. Phoebe roared in impossible fury, bounding up the highwalk stairs towards her mistress. Rafa had his wheel raised, screaming as he retreated towards the cathedral. ‘“Chloe! Back! Get back!” ‘Turning, I saw that the gates had crumbled, wretched charging on through.
Yet more dropped off the eastwalk atop me, claws and fangs tearing my skin. As I fought, desperate, punching and stabbing, I heard a scream of animal terror, and something heavy flew past me, smashing the oncoming wretched aside – Jezebel, whipped into a panic by the Dead and the flames. The dray had kicked free from the stables, charging like a spear now, through the wretched and out the broken gates. I couldn’t fault her for fleeing, thinking at least one of us might make it through the night alive. But she’d bought me precious moments at least, enough to climb to my feet and stagger back towards the cathedral. ‘“Good luck, girl. Should’ve g-given you a better name …”
‘“Good luck, girl. Should’ve g-given you a better name …” ‘Chloe hauled me backwards, hacking with her silversteel. I followed, gasping, swinging Ashdrinker and taking a wretched’s head off its shoulders, slicing another’s hands free of its arms, and with a twist, splitting its torso from its hips. ‘I stumbled, pushing Chloe away from me. “Get to the cathedral!” ‘I hurled my last ignis bomb at the gates, rewarded with a deep roar as the spirit-soaked stones caught fire. Chloe joined Rafa in dragging a bleeding, blood-soaked Bellamy towards the doors for the dead. The young soothsinger was holding his torn throat, whispering, “I … I will not … will n-not go to my
…” ‘“Phoebe!” I roared. “Get BACK!” ‘But the lioness paid me no heed, moving in a blood-red blur along the westwalk. Danton lifted his head from Saoirse’s ruins, drenched in the slayer’s blood. Reaching up, he tore Kindness from his shattered shoulder, the axe wicked-sharp and beautiful in his hand. And as Phoebe leapt at him, bloody claws and fangs bared, the Beast of Vellene hurled that axe with all his unholy strength. ‘The blade sheared through the air, whooshing as it came, everknots gleaming upon the bloodstained steel as it tumbled over and over and slammed into Phoebe’s chest. The she-lion roared and spun midair, crashing to the boards, a long trail of gleaming gore in her wake as she skidded along the highwalk. ‘“Oh, shit …” I whispered. ‘The lioness came to rest at Danton’s feet, her mistress’s axe buried in her ribs. She tried to rise, claws scrabbling at the polished tip of Danton’s boot. The Beast of Vellene seized the lioness by her throat, hauled her up to dangle, limp and twitching before him. And with casual brutality, he wrenched Kindness free in a gout of blood and flung the fated blade off the cliff at his back. And raising Phoebe high into the air, he hurled the lioness into the courtyard below, her body shattering on the stone. ‘I could barely walk, arm and ribs broken, guts hanging from the slice in my belly. Rafa and Chloe dragged Bellamy through the doors for the dead, me behind, all Danton’s wretched on our tails just as we planned. I could smell sharp vapour, praying Dior was ready for our little maggot trap. Staggering against the cathedral doors, I turned to watch as Danton leapt down from the walls, soaked in Saoirse’s and Phoebe’s endings. ‘He smiled at me, black eyes in a mask of crimson. ‘“Fool ye must think me, de León, to fall for so simple a ploy.” ‘He lifted a hand, like a conductor before some unholy orchestra. And at his unspoken command, the wretched veered away from our pursuit. Instead of
unspoken command, the wretched veered away from our pursuit. Instead of following us mindless through the western entrance, they surged eastwards, towards the dawndoors. Smashing against them now, timbers splintering as they spilled inside; a starving, clawing, flood of dead meat rushing into the tight corridor beyond. ‘And Dior Lachance stood at the end of it, a lit cigarelle in hand. ‘“Bonsoir, maggots,” he whispered. ‘The boy flicked the smoke into the liquor-soaked still and slammed the door behind him. Vapour exploded, white-hot and roaring through the corridor. The cathedral doors were blown inwards, Dior thrown to the stone as a long gout of flame scorched the air over his head, burning corpses flailing, falling.
Incinerating Danton’s wretched in an instant.’ Gabriel leaned back and cracked his knuckles. ‘Just as I planned.’ Jean-François ceased his writing, raised one eyebrow. ‘You said the western corridor was the one set to burn.’ ‘That’s what I told the others.’ Gabriel shrugged. ‘You don’t live for centuries by charging in blind. I knew Danton would get inside one of their heads before he struck us. But the ability to read minds isn’t so useful when those minds have been filled with lies. So, save for Dior, I told my comrades what I wanted my enemy to think.’ The historian tapped his lip, gave a grudging nod. ‘Rather clever, de León.’ ‘Danton didn’t think so. The Beast of Vellene roared in rage, fangs bared as he stalked across the courtyard. His forces were in charred tatters, but the prince himself was barely scathed. And though Ashdrinker hung bloodied in my hand, I’d nothing left inside. ‘Back, Gabriel. B-back now back back back now. ‘And so I turned, and staggered into the cathedral’s belly. ‘It was circular, surrounded by pews, a stone altar at its heart. Stained-glass windows ringed the space, only a few inches wide, save one – a lifesize portrait of San Guillaume in the northern wall, tome in one hand, burning torch in the other. Rafa, Chloe, and Dior were knelt around Bellamy, the boy’s hands soaked with blood. The soothsinger’s throat and wrists and thighs were all torn, Dior
pressing red hands to the wounds. ‘“Bel?” he pleaded. “BELLAMY!” ‘The soothsinger’s eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. And though the Redeemer’s blood had saved him once before – might bring a soul back from the very edge of death, in fact – that same blood seemed of little use once the soul had flown. And looking into Bellamy’s empty eyes, I knew.
‘“No,” Chloe whispered. “No …” ‘“Rafa,” I gasped, staggering into the room. ‘“Oh, God,” he breathed, looking over my shoulder. ‘Danton stood behind me, swathed in shadow. The priest rose to his feet, face grim and spattered with blood. And though he stood years past sixty, his back bent and skin wrinkled, Rafa seemed a fucking giant then. Beyond the faith in him, I saw fury, burning like heaven’s fire as he raised the wheel in his hand.
Light flared, silver-bright, and I staggered past the priest, falling to my knees in a puddle of Bellamy’s blood. The thirst roared within me, and for a moment, just for a second, it was all I could do not to press my face to the stone and lap it up, like a beggar to breadcrumbs. ‘Dior rose up from Bellamy’s corpse, spitting at Danton. “You fucking bastard!” ‘The boy took a step forward, held in check by a desperate Chloe. “Dior, no!” ‘The Beast of Vellene loomed before us, backlit by the glow of burning corpses. Old Rafa stood tall, dauntless, bathed in the power of his god. They watched each other, priest and vampire, light and dark, flame and shadow, each
the other’s match. ‘“Impasse,” Danton breathed. ‘“To a fool’s eyes,” Rafa replied. “And you certainly have those.” ‘The vampire smiled, red and sensuous. All I could see of him was his face, vulpine, that black widow’s peak swept back from his brow, and his hands, ghost-pale and bloodstained as he reached up and straightened the cravat at his throat. ‘“I see them in thy mind, priest. With these fool’s eyes.” ‘Rafa refused to answer, standing with his wheel burning before him. But Danton drifted around the edge of the glow, like a hungry wolf circling ancient firelight. ‘“All those dead brothers,” he whispered. “Alfonse and Jean-Paul. Old Tariq and little Jamal. Flayed and left for the crows. If thou hadst not set out in search of the Grail, if thou hadst but stayed here among thy little books, thy tiny words, the Inquisition would never have been unleashed upon thy brethren.”
‘The vampire sighed sadly. ‘“They are dead because of thee.” ‘But the old man shook his head, defiant. “Speak not their names. Speak not a word to me. I am deaf to all but the voice of the Lord our God. I am his hand upon this earth, and my faith in his love shall waver not an inch at the deceits of a wretched worm like you.” ‘The priest stepped forward, and I watched in wonder as Danton wavered.
‘“Go back,” Rafa spat, his voice rich with righteous fury. “Go back to the abyss that suckled you, to the loveless father that birthed you, and tell him he may send a hundred sons to test me and I shall best them all. The Lord is my shield unbreakable. He is the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins. And you have no power over me.” ‘The Beast of Vellene narrowed his eyes, slicked back his hair with one bloody hand. ‘“Thou hast nothing to fear from me, priest?” ‘“Nothing at all, vampire.” ‘Danton smiled then, dark and poisonous. “Then cast thy wheel aside.” ‘Rafa blinked. His gaze shifting from the monster before him to the holy circle burning in his hand. I looked between them, bleeding, broken, dread uncoiling in
my belly. ‘“Rafa …” I whispered. ‘“The Lord is thy shield unbreakable?” Danton hissed. “Surely then, he will not allow a wretched worm to touch thee? So throw it aside, priest. Face me upon even ground. Show me true power. Show me a god who will not let his
beloved servant die.” ‘“Oh, Mothermaid …” Chloe breathed. ‘Rafa glanced back to the sister, eyes meeting hers. And then and there, the old priest made his mistake. If he had done it – if he’d cast that wheel away and stood undaunted, unafraid, I’ve no doubt in my mind Danton would have broken like glass. The wheel was just a thing. It was Rafa’s faith that mattered. ‘But the priest hesitated. He doubted. He feared. ‘And the glow in the wheel began to die. ‘Just a flicker at first, like a shadow across the black sun. But the priest’s eyes grew wide. A tremor passed through his hand. And he looked up to the vampire and saw him, not cowering now, but standing tall, a hungry smile on ruby lips. ‘“Stay back!” Rafa cried. “In the name of God, I command you!” ‘And hollow, drenched in blood, Danton threw back his head and laughed.
The vampire took one step forward, and Rafa one step back, and with each step, the light in that wheel dimmed further and further still. Chloe moaned in terror, Dior cursing softly as that pale light died. And my heart sank as I saw the last of our hope die with it. ‘The Beast of Vellene reached out and closed long, clawed fingers around the wheel in Rafa’s hand. Pale flesh sizzling on silver, Danton closed his fist, and the metal crumpled. Rafa opened his mouth, perhaps to pray, perhaps to curse, but the Beast’s other hand snaked out, seizing the priest’s shoulder, and as Rafa cried, “Save me, God!” the vampire opened his maw and sank his fangs deep into the holy man’s throat.
into the holy man’s throat. ‘“Rafa!” Chloe screamed, and “NO!” Dior roared, and mouth filled with blood, teeth gritted, I dragged myself to my feet. Our last bastion had fallen, the priest groaning as the kiss took hold, lifting his arms and throwing them, like a drowning man to driftwood, about the shoulders of the thing that was murdering him. Chloe raised her silversteel, screaming in rage, but I grabbed her, stopped her from throwing herself onto that same pyre. ‘“Chloe, he’ll kill you!” ‘I looked about us, to San Guillaume’s window in the wall behind us, and with the arm that still worked, I hurled Ashdrinker, shattering the glass to splinters. ‘“Go!”’ ‘Dior grabbed Chloe, dragging the sister away, me limping behind. The boy scrambled through the window, pulling Chloe through, and I left a trail of blood as I hauled myself after them, shredding my skin. Chloe was gasping for breath, eyes wide with terror and madness as I picked up Ashdrinker … ‘FLY, GABRIEL! ‘… and slipped the blade back into her scabbard. We had nowhere to run, yet I grabbed Chloe’s hand and run we did, dragging Dior away from the broken window where Danton now stood, drenched in Saoirse’s and Phoebe’s and Rafa’s blood. ‘“I told thee I could follow forever, de León!” ‘We backed up the stairs to the monastery walls, the highwalk running the edge of the cliffs. The drop loomed behind us, jagged rocks like teeth, a hundred and fifty feet down into lightless black. Danton was on the stairs now, smiling, a
single breath away. ‘“W-we have to,” Chloe whispered. ‘“It’s too high,” the boy breathed. “The rocks … I can’t swim!” ‘I gritted my teeth. “Take my hand, boy.” ‘And gripping tight, wincing in agony as Chloe seized my broken wrist, I dragged them both up onto the battlements. The dark opened its arms below us, Dior’s eyes wide with terror, Danton coming at us like a black wind. Kicking off the railing, I jumped far as I could, Chloe holding one hand, Dior the other. Out into the windswept night, weightlessness and vertigo, the scream rising in Chloe’s throat suddenly cut short as a pale hand reached into the brink and seized the collar of Dior’s fine magik frockcoat. ‘The boy wailed as Danton’s fist closed tight, jerking us to a halt. I roared in agony, wounds tearing, broken bones grinding. Chloe shrieked, both our hands slicked with blood. My muscles screamed as we hung, suspended in a chain, Chloe holding onto me, me onto Dior, and Danton onto us all. My hands were full – there was naught I could do as, with a triumphant smile and the strength of
full – there was naught I could do as, with a triumphant smile and the strength of bloody centuries, the Beast hauled us back up. ‘In a second, he’d have us. ‘In a second, it’d be over, everything for nothing. ‘And in that second, Chloe looked up into my eyes. Burning with familiar fire. ‘“Dior is all that matters, Gabe.” ‘And letting go of my hand, she plunged down into the dark. ‘“CHLOE!” Dior roared. ‘No time to think. No time to mourn. Time only to reach up, broken hand and bloody fangs, taking hold of that ridiculous coat and the waistcoat and shirt underneath and seizing a fistful, agony flaring down my shattered arm as I ripped seam and thread, silvered buttons spinning into the night as, magik or no, the coat slipped away from his arms, my weight dragged him down, Danton spitting a black curse as he staggered back, left only with a torn coat of midnight-blue and silver curlicue in hand.
‘Rushing wind in my ears. ‘A screaming boy in my arms. ‘And down, down into the dark, we fell.’
