‘The coldblood turned to me, dead eyes glinting as he came on like a pistol shot. But I raised my left hand, rewarded with a hiss of agony as the light from my sevenstar pierced those cold, dead eyes. Months of training kicked in, and I drew a silverbomb from my bandolier, hurled it into the monster’s chest. A silver flash and a black scream split the air.
‘Greyhand tore his sword from the waif’s chest and with four mighty blows, hacked her head clean off her shoulders. But untended, the woman took her chance. She had no form, no training, but still, she struck with terrifying force, smashing me into one of the sarcophagi and shattering it like glass. I felt something inside me snap, collapsing in a tumble of broken stone and old bones. And with none left in her way, she dashed down the corridor I’d entered by, just a flash of silk and dark hair.
‘“Seven Martyrs, stop her!”
‘Greyhand drew his wheellock pistol and took a knee. Aiming carefully, he struck the spring and fired a burst of silvershot at the fleeing coldblood. He hit her leg but missed the bone, and she staggered on. Clutching my ribs, I fired off a crooked shot as Greyhand blew a long note on his horn. But even if he wanted to seal off the entrance, Aaron couldn’t now – I’d already lit the hellspark to cover my back. I just prayed God it was still burning.
‘My master turned, the fallen male crawling backwards as the frère came on. The vampire’s pale flesh was blacked from my silverbomb, his funeral finery a smoking mess.
‘“No,” he pleaded. “No, God, we did not ask—”
‘Greyhand struck at the thing’s throat. Though the force would have been enough to cleave steel, the vampire’s skin didn’t split, cracking like stone under a hammer instead. Another phial of holy water smashed against his face, and the coldblood howled as Greyhand struck again, finally opening up his neck. A part of me felt a whisper of pity for this thing, wed to the same thirst as murdered him. But I could see bloodstains on his cuffs, his scorched lapel – this monster hadn’t been idle in the nights since he Became.
‘The Dead feel as beasts, look as men, die as devils.
‘With one final effort, the vampire threw itself at my master. Heedless. Hateful. Greyhand stepped aside, spun and followed through, and with one final, terrible blow, the vampire’s head was loosed from his neck, the body collapsing in ruin.
‘My master dashed off in pursuit of the woman as I hauled myself out of the smashed sarcophagus. Limping and bloodied, I couldn’t keep up the chase, but I knew where it led. Reaching the exit, I saw the stairs were black and smoking, but the fire had died. And cursing myself for a fucking fool, I dragged my sorry arse into the dark daylight.
‘Greyhand was on his knees beside de Coste. My fellow initiate was sprawled on the cobbles, lips split, nose broken, thick blonde hair soaked with blood. He threw a look of pure murder at me as I climbed the stairs. Master Greyhand rose to his feet, and I saw his fangs had grown long with his rage. “You simple-minded, bullheaded lackwit.”
‘He flashed towards me, hand to my throat, slamming me back into the cliff face.
‘“I told you to stand your ground!”
‘“I th-thought I heard—”
‘“You thought? You thought you’d be a damned hero is what you thought! Your disobedience has cost us our quarry, and mayhaps another innocent life! Think on that!”
‘“I’m s-sorry, Master! P-please …”
‘He choked me a moment longer, then let me slither down the wall. De Coste rose to his feet, nose dripping blood. He shot me another glare of hatred.
‘“Did you find the de Blanchet boy, Master?”
‘Greyhand took a moment to find his calm, spitting on the cobbles.
‘“No. His tomb was empty. But he definitely stalks these streets. Along with the unholy daughter this fool allowed to escape.” Greyhand rubbed his pointed chin, scowling. “There was a dusting of grit in the boy’s tomb, a smell like blasting powder. He may be alternating between nests. De Coste, you and I will search the mines before the sun fails.”
‘“… What about me, Master?”
‘Greyhand turned on me, glowering. “Until you learn to act like a hunter, I’ll treat you like a damned hound. You will return to the alderman’s estate and stand guard by Mme de Blanchet’s bed until we return.”
‘He placed his bloody silversteel sword on my shoulder, gentle as first rains.
‘“And if ever I give an order to you that is not followed direct again, I vow by Almighty God and all Seven Martyrs, I will end you, boy. I will put you in your grave before I allow your impatience and glory-seeking to put an innocent in theirs.”
‘I hung my head, tongue thick with shame. “Understood, Master.”
‘Greyhand lowered his sword, offered me his hand.
‘“Now get up. You have bodies to burn.”’
V
A BEAUTIFUL VIEW
‘“TEA, INITIATE?”
‘Père Lafitte’s voice broke me from my reverie, and I glanced up from the fireplace. The sight of a little girl’s burning corpse was etched in my head. The stink was on my clothes, the horror fresh, and all had put me in mind of my sister again. Amélie’s death felt a lifetime ago now, and I’d thought the boy who’d watched her burn was just a ghost. And yet, I’d proved myself a boy again that day. Headstrong and foolish.
‘“No,” I replied. “Merci, Father.”
‘De Blanchet’s manservant nodded, placed the tray he carried on the mantel, and left the room. The pot was silver, the cups of finest porcelain. The tea’s scent was sweet, sharp, only half remembered from around my mama’s table in my childhood.
‘The sun had fallen outside, and my comrades still hadn’t returned. Wounded as she was, I knew the highblood who’d escaped us would be more dangerous in the dead of night. My fellows at deeper risk. For the hundredth time, I cursed my own stupidity.
‘“What troubles, my son?” Lafitte asked, sitting opposite me.
‘My seat was near Madame de Blanchet’s bed, Lionclaw within easy reach. The longue was red leather and plush velvet, large enough to lose myself in. I turned my eyes to the dame ensconced in her mountain of pillows. Her breath was shallow and rapid, her skin pale as paper. The alderman was at work in his study down the hall.
‘“Nothing worthy of note, Father,” I sighed.
‘“You look exhausted.”
‘I shook my head, knowing the bloodshot red of my eyes was only a residue from the sacrament. “I’ll not sleep this night.”
‘“I have heard only rumour of your holy order,” Lafitte remarked. “My papa met one of your number once. He said the man slew a witch who plagued his village as a boy. Tracked her down and nailed her soul into her body with a length of cold iron before setting her alight. I’d thought it stuff and nonsense, truth told.”
‘“I’ve met no witches, Father. But I have seen evil. And it walks now among us, doubt it not.” I swallowed. “There will be dark nights ahead.”
‘“The folk you found in the catacombs. They were … changed?”