‘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.
‘“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 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.’
XVI
THE ONE THING
‘WHEN I WAS a lad, I used to play a game with my sisters, Amélie and Celene. It was named Elements. You close your hand, count one, two, three, then form your hand into a shape. Fist for wood. Fingers upturned for fire. Flat palm for water. Water beat fire. Fire beat wood. Wood beat water. Having fallen a hundred and fifty feet into it, it’s now my official position that water beats just about anything.
‘It felt like stone as we hit it. I’ve been punched by ancien of the Blood Dyvok, taken silverbomb explosions to the chest, been inside a chymical still as the mad bastard who ran it blew it sky high, and I tell you now, I’ve never felt anything like it. If I were an ordinary man, I’d have been dead. Story finished. Song sung. But broken and bleeding as I was, I was still paleblood, and like old Master Greyhand used to assure me as he cut me to ribbons every night at spar, palebloods don’t die easy. The impact was deafening, rocking my brain inside my skull, turning black to blinding white. I lost consciousness, I’m sure of it. But only for a second. The cold snapped me back into my body like a bowstring.
‘All was freezing black, above and below. But as I opened my eyes, tumbling in the water, I saw him. Ashen hair adrift around his face, hanging limp as a boned fish. And hurting as I was, still I lunged, slipping my good arm around his waist and kicking desperately, piercing the surface with a ragged, bruised-bone gasp.
‘“Lachance?” I roared. “Lachance!”
‘He made no reply, eyes closed, head lolling on his neck. But miraculously, somehow, he was breathing. I looked around, desperate, bellowing over the river’s rush.