‘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 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-Fran?ois 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.”