Page 26 of Blood and Moonlight

CHAPTER 11

“I don’t understand,” I whisper.

Simon regards me carefully. “Do you mean why you heard her but no one else did?”

Nodding numbly, I step away from the door.

“There are several possible explanations,” he says. “First, that the woman could be lying.”

I shake my head. “Why though? Shouldn’t she want the crime solved?”

Simon gestures for me to follow him up the street. “She doubts it will be, and for good reason. The less she’s involved, the better, especially if the provost’s son is implicated.”

I wonder if Simon considers the case equally hopeless. We continue knocking on doors, but no one admits hearing anything before I screamed and the woman yelled at me. Such disturbances are common in the area, and none bothered to investigate the commotion until the guard was called.

“Why else might no one have heard anything?” I ask Simon as we approach the last home within sight of the alley. “You said there were several possibilities.”

“The acoustic nature of the walls may have kept the noise from traveling out to the street but not from going up.” He pauses. “Do you know what that means?”

“Of course,” I say, feeling patronized. “Acoustics are a major part of the Sanctum’s design.” Though I was never able to grasp the geometry required, I understand the concept. Angles and curves of walls are used to reflect and amplify voices from the altar to all corners of the building. I’d also noticed that very effect when listening to him and Juliane from the roof, but I refrain from mentioning that. If Simon understands acoustics and the language of physicians, however, his education was on the same level as Remi’s—or better.

When no one answers the last door, we return to the alley. “Let’s start at the beginning,” Simon says. “What did you see as you looked in here that night?”

A pair of silver eyes lined with kohl catch mine from down the street. I freeze, but they’re gone before I can fully focus on them.

“Catrin.”

Simon’s face is close to mine, the flaw in his eye standing out like a dark knot in a plank of oak. I jump. “What?”

“Is something wrong?”

The person is gone—if they were ever there. “No, nothing,” I say quickly.

Simon wears the expression I recognize as not quite believing what I’ve said. “Very well, then.” He gestures into the alley. “What did you see that night?”

“Darkness,” I answer simply.

“And you went in?”

“There was…” I pause, trying to put myself back in the moment. “There was moonlight on the wall, and muddy footprints leading out. The smell of blood was very strong.”

Simon raises an eyebrow at me. “And you went in?” he repeats slowly.

I bristle. “Are you questioning my account?”

“I’m questioning your common sense,” he mutters, walking into the alley. I follow warily, recalling the smothering sensation as I stepped into the shadows that night. Simon stops by the bloodstain on the wall, half washed away by the rain. “This is what you saw first?”

A shudder ripples through me. The first place I saw it was actually at the Sanctum. “Yes. The moon was shining right on it.”

“Then what?”

“Well…” I hesitate, recalling the need to know if the wall felt as I impossibly remembered. “I thought those streaks looked like finger marks, and I reached out to touch them.”

That was what I’d forgotten: I’d reached for the wall.

It was when my fingers crossed into the moonlight that I abruptly saw everything. And not just saw, Iheardeverything,smelledeverything,felteverything with overwhelming intensity. I’d even heard Perrete’s thoughts, like they were hanging in the air with the scent of her perfume—and blood. But until that instant, there was nothing.

All the other moments, too—hearing Perrete’s scream, seeing her blood like it was mine, feeling my fingers drag across the rough wall, the clarity of the Selenae man’s voice and the face of the woman in the window—all were in moonlight.