‘“Except you didn’t smell of it like Greyhand did. Your eyes weren’t flooded because of the pipe. They were flooded because you’d just fed. Like you fed on Aoife the night she died.” I rose from my chair, stalking towards him. “I wondered when Aaron warned me that you’d slipped into his head. I wondered why you’d want rid of him, and me. And then I remembered. Greyhand was out cold, but Aaron and I both heard what Laure said to you on that bridge: I would promise you pleasures no chaste and holy brother could dream of. But you’re already ours, paleblood. And when she mentioned Aoife’s name, you charged at her headlong like an idiot. Not because you were angry. Because you wanted to stop her from saying more in front of Aaron and me.”
‘“You little bastard …” Talon hissed.
‘“How long?” I demanded. “How long were you feeding on Aoife? How long were you sleeping with her?”
‘Talon’s eyes grew wide with rage. “How dare y—”
‘“I saw her in the Cathedral the night she died! On her knees before the Mothermaid, arms around her belly. Is this a curse or a blessing you’ve gifted me? she asked. But it wasn’t until I talked to Kaveh that I learned the truth. Dreamweed isn’t the only herb he can wrangle on his supply runs to Beaufort. Sister Aoife asked him to get her honeywell. Rowanwhite and rainberry. You’re a master of chymistrie, Talon, so tell me! Why would a young woman want herbs of that ilk?”
‘Talon met my eyes, his own welling with furious tears.
‘“You’ve no idea what it’s like, boy,” he hissed, hands in fists. “You are young. The sacrament still sates you. You do not know what it is to lie awake and feel the sangirè inside you, spreading like flame. But you will. Already you hear that whisper, gentle as spring rains, but oh, it grows, boy. It grows with every sunset until its scream is all you can hear.”
‘“She was pregnant, you bastard!”
‘Talon dragged his fingernails across his stubbled scalp, a snarl at his lips. He took a step towards me, and every inch of me bristled with threat. The beast I was prowled back and forth behind the cage of my ribs, my teeth now sharp as razors.
‘“You killed her,” I spat. “And the child you put inside her.”
‘“It was not a child, it was an abomination! Its ending was mercy!”
‘“And the maid you killed in Coste? What mercy did you give her? You murdered two innocent girls, and all because you didn’t have the stomach to face the Red Rite as Yannick did! You shame that sevenstar and all who wear it, you fucking coward!”
‘Talon snarled and lunged at me, and we collided in a hateful embrace. The seraph was older, stronger, but my old friend rage was at my back, willing me on. We crashed against the shelves, timbers splintering, parchment flying as his hands closed around my throat. I pummelled him with my fists as his fingers crushed my larynx. My knuckles crashed against his jaw as he buried his knee in my crotch. As I squealed and doubled over, his knee smashed my nose to sauce, and I found myself flying, crashing through another shelf and sending the ancient tomes tumbling.
‘“I told you, boy,” he spat, sitting astride my chest. “I earned my aegis when you were still a dribble in your unholy father’s cock.”
‘I clawed his eyes, and he grabbed my wrist. I screamed as his fangs sank into my flesh. Blood sprayed as I tore my hand loose, but as that red touched his tongue, I saw the monster surface in Talon’s depths – that hunger to which he’d found himself a slave. His face twisted, his strength terrifying, a bloodshot scrawl spreading across the whites of his eyes as he seized my neck. I roared as his fangs sank into my throat, punching and bucking even as the kiss took me: that bliss, that horror, that awful, bloody wanting bid me be still, be still, to close my eyes and hold my breath and pray it didn’t end too soon.
‘A kick crashed into Talon’s ribs, so hard I heard bone splinter. With a bloodied cry, the seraph rolled free, tumbling across the scattered pages. I gasped for breath, pressed a hand to the ragged gouges he’d ripped in my throat. Looking upwards, I saw silver-heeled boots, an empty sleeve in a leather greatcoat, a pale green stare.
‘“I didn’t believe it when the boy told me,” Greyhand growled. “Not Talon, I thought. He’d have the courage to do what was right when his time came.”
‘“Greyhand …” The seraph smiled and tried to rise. “Let me explain, old frien—”
‘Talon gasped as Greyhand’s sword sank hilt-deep into his chest, out through his back, red and bright. The seraph’s bloodshot eyes grew wide as Greyhand twisted the silversteel blade up through his ribs, cleaving his treacherous heart.
‘“Better to die a man than live a monster.” Greyhand wrenched his sword free and sighed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t spare you that, old friend.”
‘Talon collapsed on the floorboards in a widening pool of blood. His chest was split by silversteel, heart sundered. Bloody fangs bared, his eyes fell on me.
‘“You w-will understand one day, b-boy.” His chest rattled with one final gasp, sticky and red. “I-I will await you in h-hell …”
‘I lay on my back in a slick of dark red, hand pressed to my savaged throat. My nose was smashed across my cheeks, legs shaking, blood thick on my fingers. Looking at that bastard’s body, I could feel nothing close to pity after what he’d done. But I did feel a cold horror at the thought that a silversaint so high had fallen so very far. If a brother so dedicated could succumb to the madness of the thirst, anyone could.
‘Anyone.
‘“Can you walk?”
‘I looked up into Greyhand’s eye, his face as ever stone. “I th-think so.”
‘The silversaint offered his good hand. “Let’s get you to the Infirmary, Little Lion.”
‘I met his hand with mine, my other still staunching the blood. “Merci, Master.”
‘“I’m not your master any more, Chevalier.” He slung my arm around his shoulder, thin lips twisting. “In fact, technically, you probably outrank me now.”
‘I nodded to the corpse behind us. “He might have killed me if you hadn’t been there to stop him. It seems you’ve still a few lessons to teach.”
‘“Know no shame, Little Lion.” Greyhand shook his head, the ghost of a smile at his lips. “Old age and treachery can always overcome youth and skill.”
‘“I’ll remember that.”
‘“I’m sure you will.”
‘We shuffled from the Library towards the Infirmary, blood running down my throat and chest, red footprints behind us as Greyhand sighed. “I’ve known him since I was your age. I’d not have believed it unless I heard it from his own lips. Not Talon.”
‘I shook my head, sticky hand pressed to my bleeding neck. “If we spend all our lives in darkness, is it any wonder when darkness starts to live in us?”
‘“Mmm.” Greyhand looked to the heavens above. To the one watching over us. “Nothing is certain in this, save the love of God. Life is not a story you can tell, de León. It’s only a story you can live. The bright news is, you get to choose what kind yours will be. A story of horror, or a story of courage. A story of indulgence, or a story of duty. The story of a monster. Or the story of a man.”