‘Hatred.
‘Vivienne rose to face me, still dressed in her funeral finery. Her skin was grey, sunken and drained by that dreadful machine in the Foundry. Her wrists and lips were blackened by the silver that had kept her bound, dark eyes fixed on me, bloody tears spilling down her cheeks.
‘“You killed them,” she whispered. “You killed Eduard and Lisette.”
‘About us, the horses whinnied their distress, but Justice stood like a rock at my back. I’d no weapon save my shovel and the silver on my skin, but I’d taken down a highblood barehanded before. Again, I felt that burning in my palm and chest; the holy fire of God alight in the ink of my aegis. I raised my hand, sevenstar flaring bright, the vampire hissing a black curse as she turned her head.
‘“Get back, leech,” I spat.
‘“Leech?” she whispered, fangs glittering. “You holy men. You children of God. You bind us in silver and suck us dry and dare name me parasite!”
‘She circled the edge of my light, eyes cold and black with malice.
‘“How did you escape the Foundry?” I demanded, edging towards my wheelbarrow.
‘La Cour’s blackened lips curled in a smile then. “Mayhaps your holy kin do not love you so dear as they should, boy.”
‘I spat in the straw. “Dead tongues heeded are Dead tongues tasted.”
‘“Come taste it, then!”
‘She lashed out with her charred fist, and too late, I saw she’d manoeuvred closer to the chain holding those other wretched suspended above the pens. With a crack, the bracket snapped, and unmoored, the chain slithered free. The two wretched plummeted from the ceiling into the main pen, crashing in the midst of the now-shaken horses.
‘And just like that, it was three on one.
‘Vivienne flew at me out of the dark, burned hands twisted into claws. Still, her eyes were near blinded by my sevenstar, the lion upon my chest, and I stepped aside, bringing my shovel down across her skull. The haft snapped, the blade buckled like paper, but it was enough to stagger her, bloodied and gasping.
‘An unholy howl tore through the stables. The older wretched was loose from its chains, charging me. I raised my left palm, silver flaring bright as the monster brought its hands up to shield its face. And swinging overhand, I buried what was left of the shovel’s handle into its eye socket, the broken spar bursting out the back of the coldblood’s skull.
‘The second wretched was still trying to drag its way loose from the silver that bound it, and I leapt the pen’s fence and dashed past the now-rattled horses towards it. But Vivienne La Cour struck me out of the darkness again, slamming me into another pillar. She was strong as death, eyes closed against the light of my aegis as her mouth sank towards my throat. I pressed my palm to her cheek, rewarded with her unearthly shriek of pain. She reeled backwards and I kicked her hard, sending her crashing through the fence.
‘Free of his chains, the younger wretched came on now, mad with bloodlust. But he’d likely been a peasant boy when he died, and I’d trained at the feet of one of the finest swords of the Silver Order. I seized his arm, slinging him into the pillar beside me. His shoulder popped as I twisted, forcing him down into the straw. I hadn’t brought Lionclaw along to muck out the stables, but I realized I still carried silver wherever I went. And lifting my foot, I stomped up and down on the wretched’s head with my silvered heels until its skull burst like ripe fruit, rotten brains splashing the straw.
‘I was hit from behind, the other wretched smashing me face-first into the pillar, the shovel spar still rammed through its skull. My nose broke, my cheek split, and I roared as it bit into my neck. I might have ended then and there, but again, Justice came to my aid, and with a savage kick, the wretched was sent flying with a staved-in chest.
‘As my horse began stomping on the roaring monster, Vivienne struck like a serpent, hands knotted in my hair as she dragged my head back towards her fangs once more. Desperate, I tore myself away with all my strength, howling in pain as I left a thick chunk of ripped and bloody scalp dangling in the vampire’s fist. Rolling across the straw to my barrow, I snatched up the lantern and hurled it into La Cour’s chest. Glass burst. Oil sprayed. And the black scream that tore up out of her throat seemed born in the belly of hell.
‘Daylight. Silver. Fire. These were the banes of the deathless. La Cour tore out of the stables, a living torch lighting the dim dawn. The horses broke then, Justice with them, fleeing the flames that had sprung up in her wake. Crushing the other wretched’s skull under my heel, I followed La Cour out into the snow. The stink of burning meat and hair filled my lungs. Flesh scorched down to the bone, Vivienne wailed one last time – a cry more of sorrow than pain. And then she sank to her knees, skin popping like tinder as she collapsed, and the death she’d cheated came to claim her at last.
‘The stables were burning, other horses thrashing in their pens as the blaze grew fierce. And though my shoulder and throat gushed blood, my head had been peeled like fruit, I dashed back in to save them. I heaped the barrow with snow, flinging it onto the rising flames. Another barrow followed. And another. Smoke choking my lungs. Heat scalding my skin. But though wounded, I was still a paleblood, and by the time a baffled Kaspar and Kaveh arrived to begin their day’s labours, I was sitting amid the stink of burned flesh and straw and shite, my chest and shoulder and hair soaked red, the fire defeated, and all three vampires in fucking ashes.
‘“In the name of Almighty God …” Kaspar breathed.
‘Kaveh boggled, mute and wide-eyed as his brother knelt beside me.
‘“What happened, Little Lion?”
‘I nodded to La Cour’s ashes, still smoking in the new snow.
‘“Tried to kill me,” I slurred around my broken jaw.
‘The Sūdhaemi lads put the puzzle together in their heads, staring in wonder. Between the two of them, they hefted me to the sky platform. Dark hands soaked with blood, Kaspar pressed my tunic to the wounds those dead fangs had ripped as Kaveh went to round up the horses. Kaspar’s eyes lingered on the black stain of La Cour’s remains below as we rose up out of the snow.
‘“A miracle you bested them barehanded, mon ami,” the lad said.
‘“God be praised,” I murmured.
‘Kaspar made the sign of the wheel as I sank to my backside on the platform. Unable to feel the chill, let alone the bleeding tears in my flesh, the ache of my broken bones. Instead, I was reliving the words Vivienne La Cour had spat before she died.
‘Mayhaps your holy kin do not love you so dear as they should.
‘And though I knew the currency of the Dead was deceit, though I knew I could trust not a single word that unholy bitch had hissed, I couldn’t help wonder how the fuck she’d got loose from the Foundry.
‘I remembered that figure I’d seen sneaking from the Armoury doors.
‘Shrouded in black. Creeping like a thief.
‘Aaron de fucking Coste.
‘And I murmured again. Softer this time.
‘“Tried to kill me …”’
XII
A LETTER FROM HOME
‘THE INFIRMARY OF San Michon smelled of herbs, incense, and above all, old blood.