‘Aaron spoke truth; I could see the dark silhouettes of Greyhand and Talon converging on the wrought iron fence surrounding the estate. And so, I drew a boiling red dose into my lungs, momentarily overcome with the rush of it, the thrum of it, uncoiling along my edges and filling every inch of me. And then we were moving, past the astonished merrymakers, burning torches and silversteel in hand as we reached the estate doors and blew them in like storm winds.
‘Bloodstains on the carpet. Spatters on the wall. A dead servant lay on a chaise longue, our torchlight glittering on crystal chandeliers as we swept through the house. Greyhand and Talon were silverclad, tunics and greatcoats stripped off, but I could see no light in their inkwork, nor feel any heat in my own aegis. Greyhand descended into the cellar while Talon combed the lower level. Side by side, Aaron and I climbed the grand staircase.
‘We split up, fanning out across the landing. I burst into what looked like the master boudoir, saw an elderly woman in the bed, red spatters on silk sheets. I knew she’d been slain earlier – that there was nothing I could’ve done to prevent this carnage. But the monsters who’d murdered these people were still at large. With every passing moment, the certainty that they’d eluded us was growing, and guilt over the ones they’d kill tomorrow night, the nights after, weighed heavier on me with every step.
‘I heard a cry from Aaron, a thumping crash. I spun on my heel, dashing down the hall and bursting into a luxurious study. De Coste was on the floor, wrestling with a broad Sūdhaemi man. The fellow was twice Aaron’s weight, and obviously a thrall – even with a dose of sanctus in him, de Coste was struggling. I put a kick into the big man’s head, locked up one of his arms as Aaron seized his throat. And looking into the fellow’s eyes, de Coste hissed.
‘“Be still now.”
‘The thrall groaned, trying to throw off the compulsion, but by then, Greyhand and Talon had arrived. The man was brought to heel, Talon and I leaning on his arms as Greyhand sat atop his chest, a silver dagger to his throat.
‘“Get off me, godpig!” the man roared.
‘“Where is your mistress?” Greyhand growled, pressing with his dagger. “Speak!”
‘The man hawked a mouthful of spit into Greyhand’s face. Our master broke his nose with his dagger’s pommel, glanced to de Coste. “Find her.”
‘Aaron nodded, kneeling beside the thrall’s head. The man tried to close his eyes and turn away, but Aaron held him still. “Tell us where your mistress is.”
‘At the same time, Talon put his hand across the man’s brow, eyes narrowed as he forced his way into the fellow’s thoughts. I felt that familiar jealousy – seeing bloodgifts at work while I stood there, useless as balls on a priest.
‘The thrall bucked and hissed, the blood from his broken nose lighting up the thirst inside me. He tried his best to resist – if Aaron and Talon were mere inquisitors with something as mundane as a rack or wheel, I’m certain the thrall would never have broken. But in the end, the Blood won through.
‘“The bridge,” Talon said, looking up. “They’re at the Falls Bridge.”
‘“Why?” Greyhand demanded. “Why not simply flee?”
‘“Because you’re too late!” the thrall roared. “All that needs be known is known! The Master comes, you fucking godpigs! And blood and fire shall mark his passing!”
‘Greyhand’s fist crashed into the thrall’s jaw, leaving him slack and senseless.
‘“This riddle makes no sense …”
‘“We’ll learn the truth of it,” Talon spat, “when we bring this unholy beast to ground.”
‘The four of us flew into the streets, barrelling down packed thoroughfares. Aaron led us like an arrow, past dancing revellers and wandering lovers, towards the river cutting the city in two. Grey snow tumbled from the skies, Archer cut the dark with a piercing cry.
‘Aaron slipped his coat from his shoulders, tearing off his tunic and leaving his tattoos bare. I stuffed Astrid’s portrait into my britches and followed suit. All four of us were silverclad now, but the sanctus kept the chill away, the thought of what was to come rushing like fire through my veins. As we reached the Falls Bridge, I glanced at Greyhand and saw that glow in the silver on his skin; the telltale sign that evil was near and God rode with us.
‘The waterfall was a rushing roar now, but above it, I heard laughter in the crowd ahead. My heart was pounding a hammersong as we pushed through the mob and finally, miraculously, saw our prey before us. The vampire we’d stalked since Skyefall.
‘Marianne Luncóit.
‘The Falls Bridge was dark stone, the railings lined with brass statues of saints and angels. She stood among them, all in red, her child Adrien at her side. A mob of drink-sodden feastgoers were gathered about her, cheering as she opened her hand like some corner magician and released a white raven into the air. The bird was beautiful, cutting down into the freezing spray and back up into the night. Three cages were lined up along the rail, two already empty. Squinting into the sky, I saw more birds winging westwards over Raphael’s peak. And my heart sank in my chest as I realized what they were.
‘“Messengers …” I breathed.
‘A sharp cry split the air, and a thrall with a battleaxe came at me through the crowd. I met the blow with Lionclaw, the mob about me screaming. Blood sprayed as I struck back, kicking the fellow in the chest and tumbling him across the cobbles. A swarthy lad with lank hair was hewing at Talon with a broadsword, Aaron whipping out his wheellock and unloading into the face of a Sūdhaemi man charging him with punching daggers. The crowd roared again as the shot rang out, Greyhand bellowing over the panic.
‘“Fly! For the love of God and the sake of your souls! Fly!”
‘The crowd scattered as I plunged my sword into the big thrall’s belly. All the world was moving as if in a dream, the sanctus rushing in my veins. The thrall’s axe cracked the cobbles as I stepped aside, his jaw broke loose as I buried my pommel into his face. As the blood and teeth flew, I wondered if this man even understood what he was doing. If the poison he’d swallowed from his dark mistress’s wrist allowed him the luxury of fear or regret, or simply made him a slave to her ancient will. Dying for the only God that mattered.
‘But die he did, gasping his last at the end of my sword as the Maximille’s Day revellers fled screaming, leaving only us and two monsters in the middle of the Falls Bridge. Grey snow swirled about us in freezing eddies, grey water rushed below us, over that frozen edge. Marianne Luncóit opened her hands again, releasing yet another white raven into the night, and I saw a small scroll of parchment tied to its leg with a bow of black ribbon.
‘Her cages were empty now. Her stare too, as she turned to us, perilous and beautiful. Long flaming hair framed her face, somehow untouched by the howling wind. Her skin was white and hard as marble. And perhaps it was a trick of the light, but looking to the cobbles beneath her, it seemed she cast no shadow at all.
‘“Too late art thou, oh children,” she said. “All that needs be known is known. And now he shall know it too.”