‘“You must learn to better guard your thoughts, my dribble-chinned gibbercuck,” Talon warned. “Or Voss’s kin will pluck them right out of your shit-witted head.”
‘I blinked hard, realizing Talon’s father must have been one of these Ironhearts, and that his son had claimed their gifts as his own. I wondered again about my own father, then. Who was he? What boons had his accursed blood bestowed upon me? I was unnerved Talon could simply force his way into my mind if he chose, but at the same time, a part of me felt a thrill that such a gift might also be mine.
‘The seraph pointed to another banner, embroidered with two black wolves and two ornate red circles – the twin moons, Lánis and Lánae.
‘“Blood Chastain. The Shepherds. These coldbloods exert their will over denizens of the animal world. See through their eyes. Control them like puppets. The eldest can even assume the forms of the darker creatures of earth and sky. Bats. Cats. Wolves. Trust no beast when you hunt a Chastain, boy. For the eyes of the night are theirs to command.”
‘The seraph nodded to a third banner; a heart-shaped shield set with a beautiful weave of roses and snakes. “Blood Ilon. The Whispers. A line more dangerous than a sackful of syphilitic serpents. All vampires can bend the weak-hearted to their will. But the Ilon can manipulate all manner of emotion. Heighten rage. Provoke fear. Inflame passion. And the hunter who cannot trust his own heart can trust nothing.”
‘Talon whipped his switch at the final banner; a blue field adorned with a white bear and a broken shield. “Blood Dyvok. The Untamed. Possessed of a strength even the other foul bastards of the night would shit their unholy pantaloons over. These creatures can tear apart full-grown men with their bare hands. Their ancients can smash down castle walls with their fists, and make the earth quake beneath their boots. Even other coldbloods look like helpless children beside them.”
‘My mind was swimming as Talon turned to the young woman next to him.
‘“Good S?ur?”
‘Aoife opened her oaken box, producing an ornate silver pipe. It was fashioned in the guise of Naél, the Angel of Bliss, her hands cupped to form a bowl. As I watched, Talon poured a tiny measure of sanctus into the angel’s palms.
‘“Now, the monster who bellied up your mother belonged to one of these four lines. And you will possess his bloodgift, albeit in a lesser form. Do you recall the first time you exhibited some strange ability? Did you show an affinity for animals as a boy? The knack of constantly getting your way? Perhaps you knew what others would say before they spoke?”
‘I chewed my lip. “My sister Amélie. She was murdered by a coldblood and returned to our village as one of the wretched. I fought her off with my bare hands.”
‘“Mmmn.” The thin man nodded. “Dyvok, perhaps. The same accursed blood as flows within our abbot. Very well. We shall begin there.”
‘I looked to the bleachers, where Khalid met my eyes and nodded. The thought I might be the same bloodline as a man so mighty set the butterflies loose in my belly once more.
‘Talon beat his cane upon the ground three times. I heard the oiled grinding of stone upon stone, and saw the centre of the sevenstar opening wide.
‘Rising up on a plinth of dark granite was the very same wretched that Greyhand had hauled to the monastery from Lorson. Its flesh was a wasteland, blotched and grey; its mouth, a pit of razors. A silver chain bound it to the floor, metal sizzling where it touched that rotten skin. Looking into the wretched’s empty eyes, I found myself back in my village, the day my sister came home.
‘Other segments of the sevenstar opened, and on the rising plinths, I saw a pack of rough-bred mongrels – half wolf, half dog – held fast by steel chains. They were going berserk, snarling at the wretched in the centre of the star. But the monster stared only at me, eyes filled with an endless, ageless hunger.
‘Talon lifted the long-stemmed silver pipe towards my lips.
‘“Breathe deep,” he advised. “As San Michon caught the Redeemer’s blood upon the wheel, and turned the sin of his murder to God’s own holy cause, so too do we remake our own sin. From the greatest horrors are the greatest heroes forged.”
‘I glanced to my master, then to Sister Aoife, still uncertain. Her brilliant blue eyes met mine, and beneath her veil, I saw the sister’s lips moving. Mouthing the very same words Greyhand had spoken to me:
‘Heed the hymn.
‘My heart was beating quick. Fear in my belly. But if this was a testing, I was determined not to fail it before the eyes of every luminary in the Order. Seraph Talon placed the pipe on my lips, striking his flintbox and bidding me breathe, breathe.’
Jean-Fran?ois was sketching in his book, his voice a low murmur.
‘The first taste is ever the sweetest. And the darkest.’
‘So Greyhand promised,’ Gabriel nodded. ‘If only I knew then what I know now. I would have run until I reached my mama’s arms, slamming the door on the dark and the monsters who haunted it and these men who walked it with silver heels. Because it wasn’t a hero Talon forged that day as I breathed that beautiful poison into my lungs. It was a chain. And one I shall never break.
‘I saw it begin in that angel’s silvered hands. A thin wisp of scarlet, dancing on my tongue. I felt it crash upon me, heavy as lead and light as feathers, all of me aflame. And inside it, I heard the first notes of a symphony, bright as heaven and red as blood.
‘Heed the hymn, Little Lion.
‘“Oh, God,” I gasped. “Oh, sweet and blessed Redeemer …”
‘I know not how long I lost myself. Fighting to ride that bloody wave, to bring my scattered senses to bear, awash in boiling crimson. I only remember the sound that finally dragged me up and out of it. Beneath that blood-red symphony, another noise was building, sharp enough to shake me, loud enough to wake me. Metal on stone.
‘I opened my eyes and saw it. My heart dropping and thudding in my chest.
‘The wretched was charging right at me.’
X
BLOOD OF THE FRAIL
‘SERAPH TALON AND Sister Aoife were nowhere to be seen. I was alone. Unarmed. Minutes were hours, moments were minutes, the monster running at me with fingers curled like claws. The mongrels were barking, driven mad in the coldblood’s presence. My heart was racing. And in the palm of my left hand, a fire was burning, silver bright.
‘I’d been raised deep in the One Faith. I’d gone to chapel every prièdi as a boy, still said my prayers before I slept every night. I loved God. Feared God. Worshipped God. But for the first time in my life, I could actually feel God. His love. His power, made manifest in me. And I moved then, as if my shoulders were crowned with angel’s wings. The wretched’s mouth was agape, tongue swollen between its fangs. But I twisted aside from its grasping hands, and the monster stumbled past, ploughing into the wall.
‘I snatched up the silver chain still wrapped about the wretched’s neck, cracking it like a whip. The creature turned, and I felt its unholy strength as dead hands closed about my throat. But I found myself just as strong – as strong as I’d been the day Amélie came home. I rolled my arm, once, twice, wrapping that silver chain around my fist. And drawing back, I smashed it right into that monster’s black fucking maw.