Page 91 of Terror at the Gates

And ran.

And ran.

At some point, I was aware of someone following me.

“Lilith, will you fucking stop?”

It was Zahariev.

Somehow, I found it in myself to run faster, and I didn’t stop until I was at Gabriel and Esther’s apartment building. I was hot. My hair stuck to my sweaty face. My lungs fucking burned, but I didn’t care. The pain of this day wasn’t so bad when all I could do was concentrate on breathing.

It wasn’t until I tried to punch in the code to the building that I realized I was shaking. Still I managed, and the door clicked open just as Zahariev approached. He reached for it and held it open. I didn’t look at him as I slipped inside. He followed me to the elevator, his arm brushing mine as he came to stand beside me. I resisted the urge to put distance between us. There was a part of me that wanted him to hold my hand the way he did last night after I’d returned from Archbishop Lisk’s, but he didn’t, and when we got on the elevator, we stood on opposite sides, watching each other.

“You don’t have to do this right now,” he said.

“There is only now,” I said.

Because later, I might not be strong enough to come back. I wasn’t sure I was strong enough now, yet when the elevator doors opened, I stepped into the hall and returned to Esther’s apartment.

When I entered this time, I recognized the smell. It wasn’t just spilled tea on the floor. It was myrrh.

Zahariev walked past me and bent to pick up the mostintact piece of the shattered mug, which just happened to be the part with the handle. He flipped it over, twisting it one way and then the other.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“The myrrh sticks to the ceramic,” he said and then showed me. Amber-colored rivulets clung to the surface.

“Do you think Lisk did this?”

It was a question I’d wanted to ask from the start, a suspicion I couldn’t shake. It didn’t seem like a coincidence that the archbishop had started to target dissenters, and now Esther was dead. Not that I’d ever heard her utter a word against the church, but maybe he’d killed her since he couldn’t kill me.

“No,” said Zahariev.

A hot wave of anger rose inside me at how fast he shut down my theory.

“Lisk wouldn’t risk being deposed by the commission,” he continued, “which is what would happen if he targeted anyone in my family.”

“Except that he thinks his power exceeds the commission’s,” I said. “He told me that.”

Zahariev placed the broken piece of ceramic on the counter, his gaze sliding to me. I got the impression he wanted his hands free, and I didn’t like that.

“He might have said it, but that doesn’t make it true. The commission appointed Lisk. The commission can remove him.”

“Talk to me like I’m fucking five, Zahariev. Why is it so hard for you to believe Lisk would do something like this?”

Zahariev turned fully toward me. “You are making this personal.”

“This is personal,” I gritted out.

“You think Lisk targeted Esther because of you,” said Zahariev. “But he has no reason to hurt her, even if she is important to you.”

I turned away from him, scanning the kitchen. “I hate when you defend him.”

“I’m not defending him, but you’re missing the mark.”

“I can’t listen to you anymore,” I said.

“It’s not like you do anyway,” he countered.