‘I glanced over my shoulder to a gasping, bleeding Chloe. “She with you?”
‘“God Almighty, no,” she replied, retrieving her fallen blade.
‘The newcomer offered one slender hand to Dior. Her voice was soft as pipe smoke, but she spoke with a strange, hissing lisp. “Come with usss, child. Or die.”
‘’Ware this one, Gabriel. She f-feels … wrong.
‘Ashdrinker’s whisper rang in my mind as I stepped between the vampire and the others. For the first time, the highblood turned eyes towards me. Her irises were bleached like old linen. The air around us was freezing, my breath spilling over my lips in pale clouds.
‘“Stay back,” I warned.
‘“Ssstep assside,” she commanded, soft and venomous.
‘But even as her will came down on my shoulders like lead, I stood my ground. “I’ve hunted your kind since I was a boy, leech. You’re going to have to try harder than that.”
‘Her eyes roamed my body then, lingering on the broken blade in my hands. “We heard you were dead, Silversssaint.”
‘“Who’s we, you unholy bitch?”
‘The highblood scoffed softly, as if I’d said something amusing. She turned dead eyes back to Dior, sharp fingernails glinting as she beckoned. “Come with uss, ch—”
‘A fierce light stabbed through the trees. Ghostly and bright. Looking over my shoulder, I saw the old priest stumbling towards us, the wheel he’d worn around his neck now in his fist. He held the holy symbol aloft, spitting scripture like a sailor spat curses.
‘“I am come among thee as a lion among lambs!”
‘Light was spilling from his wheel as if from a mirrored lantern. The highblood flinched as it struck her, death-pale eyes narrowed against the flare. I was awed for a moment, remembering the nights when my faith shone as bright as this priest’s did, when the sight of the ink on my skin was enough to burn the Dead blind. And as the old man ran towards us, a roar rang through the woods. I saw that red lioness from the taverne barrel out of the darkness, scarred face twisted as she bared her fangs. The Ossian slayer ran through the snow behind, antlered helm on her head, that beautiful battleaxe in her fists.
‘At the sight of the she-lion, the priest’s burning light, the highblood hissed. Her pale gaze was still fixed on Dior, but fear of that holy man was overcoming her will, the chill in the air fading as the priest finally crashed into the clearing, wheel held high.
‘“I banish you!” the old man bellowed. “In the Almighty’s name, away!”
‘“Wretched priessst,” the thing spat, hand up against the light. “You d—”
‘“And I say to you, my children, I am the light and the truth!” The old man stepped forward with the wheel in his wrinkled fist. “You have no power here!”
‘Another hiss spilled from behind that cold, painted mask. The lioness roared again, charging closer, and the coldblood’s body seemed to tremble at its edges. And as the beast leapt towards her, claws outstretched, the vampire swept her coat about her and dissipated into a storm of tiny wings – a thousand blood-red moths spilling into the darkness and vanishing up into the falling snows.
‘I swallowed hard, the taste of dust and bones in my mouth.
‘It was over.
‘I looked around the gathering. Chloe clutched her arm where the wretched had bitten her, face twisted with pain. The soothsinger knelt beside her, pale with worry. The slayer stared at me, her axe glinting in the fading light of the old priest’s wheel.
‘But I had eyes only for the boy. He was crouched in the muck, his burning brand still held in one white-knuckled fist, a smoking cigarelle hanging from his lips.
‘Lackwitted strumpet-stain, ye almost s-saw us killed. What in Gods’ names w—
‘I slipped Ashdrinker into her scabbard to quiet her. Looked the lad up and down. There seemed nothing particularly odd about him. But still, and despite what my blade might have said, I was no one’s fool.
‘“So what’s your fucking story?”’
XI
OUT OF THE STORM
‘“SAY NOTHIN’， DIOR,” the clanswoman warned.
‘“I’d no plans to, Saoirse,” the boy replied, scowling at me.
‘“Sister, are you aright?” The young soothsinger knelt at Chloe’s side. “Is it deep?”
‘“It’s fine, Bellamy,” she replied, lifting her blood-soaked sleeve. “A scratch.”
‘One glance told me the wound was anything but. Chloe’s bicep was bleeding from a vicious bite, skin already bruising from that monster’s unholy strength.
‘“Wretched mouths are rife with rot,” I said. “That’ll fester if we don’t treat it. I’ve some kingshield and gut in my saddlebags. Strong spirits too.”
‘Dior dragged on his smoke. “We’d hate to part you from your revels, hero.”
‘“It’s medicinal alcohol, boy. You’d have to be thick as pigshit to drink it.”
‘“You just leave the door wide open, don’t you?”
‘“Look, who the fuck are you?”
‘“Perhaps introductions can wait?” Chloe winced, waving at the storm and carnage about us. “Stench of dismembered corpses notwithstanding, it’s getting worse out here.”
‘“A brave woman enjoys the wild’s kiss on her skin, Sister,” the slayer said.
‘“And a wise man knows to come in from the rain,” the priest smiled.
‘The soothsinger nodded to the ruined tower. “Let’s shelter inside.”
‘The company gathered their possessions, the rake helping Chloe stand while I went to fetch Jezebel. I found the mare a few hundred yards away, standing in the lee of a naked elm. I gave her a soft pat and a thorough looking over, but luckily she seemed none the worse for wear. And taking her reins, I led her back to the tower.
‘I got a better look at the ruin as I approached – three storeys high, dark stone, crowned with broken battlements. The walls were crawling with old lichen and new fungus, the mortar crumbling to dust. It’d stood for centuries, mostlike – built by Sūdhaemis back when Elidaen was still five feuding kingdoms, and San Michon began her crusade to bring the One Faith to every corner of the land.
‘The company was gathered within, sheltered from the rain as best they could. The slayer glowered in the shadows, twin interwoven lines inked down her brow and right cheek, clawing the braided hair from her face as that shelion curled about her feet. Dior was brushing the snow from his fine stolen coat. The priest and rake gathered around Chloe, cleaning her bloodied arm. I shooed the pair away, knelt beside my old friend, placing a small bottle of pure spirits and a phial of pale yellow powder on the stone.
‘“This’ll burn like a strumpet’s nethers when the fleet is in town,” I warned. “But it’s a fucksight better than gangrene.”
‘“Merci, mon ami,” Chloe nodded.
‘I set about the wound, my hands quick and sure, washing and sterilizing as Chloe hissed in soft agony. “Right, so who are you lot? Aside from a lodestone for the Dead?”