‘The ruins had stopped smouldering by the time we arrived. The scent rising on the horizon, and my sobs already trying to claw loose from my throat. I leapt into the fresh-fallen snow and tasted air like ashes, choking me as I roared into the emptiness.
‘“Mama? Celene!”
‘Only fat crows answered, staring at me with black and hungry eyes. The corpses lay where Laure had left them; a great multitude in the town square, thrown atop one another like broken dolls. I saw familiar faces among them, horror freezing my heart. Luc and Massey, my childhood friends. My sweet Ilsa, crumpled as if she were made of sticks and rags. The bodies of dead babies scattered like rose petals across the snow.
‘“Almighty God,” Aaron breathed, making the sign of the wheel.
‘Baptiste’s eyes were full of sorrow. Behind him, I saw the chapel’s walls were intact, stone blacked by flame. Looking up through my tears, I saw the roof was gone and realized at once what had happened – the godly folk of Lorson had fled to sanctified ground or barricaded themselves inside their homes, where an uninvited coldblood could not enter. And the Wraith in Red had set fire to their roofs, leaving them a simple choice: flee the inferno and into her waiting arms, or stay within and burn.
‘I walked among the charred pews of God’s own house, searching the dead. My mind shied away from the horror that must have been their final moments. I recognized very few, their bodies ashen. But in the church’s heart, I saw a figure crouched before the altar’s wreckage. Burned almost beyond recognition. A priest.’
‘Good Father Louis,’ Jean-Fran?ois murmured.
‘Oui.’
‘You prayed he’d die screaming, Chevalier.’
Gabriel glanced up, eyes grey as steel. ‘Oui.’
‘And your famille?’
Gabriel exhaled, holding his breath with no air in his lungs. He seemed a smaller man, then, broad shoulders hunched under the weight of years and loss.
‘I looked at Father Louis’s remains, there on the hallowed ground that hadn’t saved him. And my heart sank as I saw another figure, cradled in his arms as if to shield it from the flames. It was charred like firewood, charcoal skin stretched over kindling bones. But I could tell it had been a girl. A candlemaid.
‘“No,” I whispered. “No, no …”
‘My baby sister. My little hellion. My Celene. Her hair was black straw and dust, and her fingers burned to sticks. And I sank to my knees in her ashes and screamed so hard I felt my voice crack, reaching out to touch her cheek and watch the skin flake away in the cold winter wind. I’d never taken the time to answer her letters, I realized.
‘And now I never would.
‘I walked like a man to the gallows. I was aware of the men who’d come with me only as ghosts. I remember someone trying to bar my way, shoving them aside and spitting fury. And I stumbled through the ashes and snow until I found it. My stepfather’s house.
‘They were in the yard. Of course they were. Once they saw the church burning with my sister inside, they’d never have remained locked behind closed doors. My stepfather lay with his old warsword a few inches from his hand. He’d seemed so huge to me when I was a boy. A giant, ever casting his shadow upon me. He’d never been the finest man, nor the finest father, and yet he’d stood as mine for his part. And the sight of him lying broken and bloodless just a few feet from the forge he’d given his life to …
‘But it was nothing. Nothing compared to what came next. If the sight of my sister’s body had gutted me, the sight of my mama shattered me like glass. Her hand was outstretched towards the chapel. Her eyes frozen in her skull. And the look on her face was not one of fear or pain or anguish. It was rage. The rage of the lioness she’d been, trying to get back to her burning cub.
‘I’d known fury the day Amélie came home, coldblood. I’d known hatred. But now I felt it wash over and through me like holy water. Like the fires of heaven sent. And I tell you now and tell you true, the boy I’d been died that day. Died as if he’d burned in that church with his sister. I was dismantled. I was unmade.
‘The last son of Lorson.
‘Greyhand sat with me as soldiers piled the bodies and put them to the torch. I watched the flames consume my mama’s dark curls, my stepfather’s hands, the smoke and sparks rising up into the daysdeath sky as Greyhand patted my shoulder, awkward, like a father who’d never had any desire to be one.
‘His face was streaked with ashes, ravaged with scars, a strip of leather covering the hollow of his stolen eye. I stared up into the dark, the smoke of those pyres, wondering if this was all some nightmare from which I’d wake if only I prayed hard enough.
‘“I’m sorry, Greyhand,” I said. “I’m sorry for what I let her take from you.”
‘“It is God’s will, de León. Who are we to know the mind of the Almighty?”
‘I hung my head. “This is his will then? My baby sister burned like tinder? My mama butchered like cattle? How can it be so? How can he want this?”
‘“My mama died when I was a boy,” he told me softly. “She was all the stars in my sky. I remember wondering, if I loved her more than life itself, how could I go on living with her gone? But that is what we do, Little Lion. We carry the greatest burdens not on our shoulders, but in our hearts. But those taken from us never truly die. They await us in the light of God’s love.”
‘He leaned close and sought my eye.
‘“That is true immortality. Not the dark counterfeit to which our enemy lays claim. Eternity lies in the hearts of those who cherish us. Love them, Gabriel. And know they await your arrival at the throne of the Almighty. But not yet.” He shook his head. “Not yet.”
‘I looked at my old master, and through my tears, I saw the truth of his words. There is a time for grief, and a time for songs, and a time to recall with fondness all that has been and gone. But there is a time for killing too. There is a time for blood, and a time for rage, and a time to close your eyes and become the thing heaven wants you to be.
‘“I will love them.” I licked the ashes on my lips. “And I will avenge them.”
‘I heard silver-heeled boots scuffing snow and char. Looking up to find Aaron and Baptiste, side by side. Their faces were drawn with grief and horror, but they stood tall, together. Brothers I’d risked my life besides. Brothers I loved.
‘“Will you return with us to San Michon?” I asked.
‘Baptiste looked to Greyhand. “Would we be welcome?”
‘Our old master sighed. “The Testaments are clear, Sa-Ismael. The word of God is law. The sin is yours to own.”
‘“I felt him on that mountainside, Greyhand,” Aaron said. “Bathed in his holy light. God stood with us, Baptiste and me, as we faced down a dark that seeks to consume all men. All men. And if your God would name my love a sin, then he’s no God I know.”
‘“Where will you go?” I asked.
‘“South perhaps?” Baptiste shrugged. “You could come with us, Little Lion.”
‘“No.” I smiled, though my chest was aching. “I have monstrous things to slay.”