Page 91 of Blood and Moonlight

Remi has returned with Simon, who’s carrying a lantern he probably got from the sister in the bell tower. “I found him in the orchard.”

Simon nods, oblivious to Remi’s scowl. “I searched the perimeter of the abbey,” he says. “There were fresh, muddy marks on the orchard wall, like someone climbed out there.”

Magister Thomas blinks. “Where did you come from, Remone?”

Remi folds his arms and glares at Simon. “I followed Cat and the good venatre here. They climbed the wall to get in, but I went around to the gate like a normal person. When Cat started screaming, I broke it down to get inside.”

“Why were you out tonight?” I demand, though I know.

He only raises an eyebrow. “Why were you?”

Simon holds his lantern over the blood-soaked grass. “Was there a body here?”

“Sister Marguerite,” I say. “But she was still alive.”

“Really?” Simon’s eyes widen. “Did she say anything?”

My hand clenches reflexively, and her blood silently whispers,I’m trying. I shake my head. “She was unconscious. They took her away.”

“I’ll want to speak to her if she wakes.” Simon looks past us to the sitting room. “And the prioress is in there? Dead?”

I choke. “Yes.”

He turns kind eyes on me. “You don’t have to accompany me if you don’t feel you can.”

Despite his offer, I follow him to the door, as do Remi and Magister Thomas.

Simon stops just inside to take in the room. Someone covered Mother Agnes with a sheet, which I know frustrates him as it likely means the body isn’t lying as the killer left it. “By the authority granted me as Venatre of Collis,” he says, his voice carrying a gravity I’ve never heard before, “I order everyone to leave now so I may investigate this crime.”

The sisters are nothing if not obedient, and they file past him silently, leaving several candles behind. Magister Thomas squeezes my hand and eases away. “I’ll go check on Sister Marguerite.”

I join Simon inside, but Remi remains in the doorway, arms crossed, watching me with an unreadable expression.

Simon rubs his face, sounding again like the man I’m used to.“I’m sorry about this, Cat. I know she meant a lot to you.” He exhales heavily. “You knew her and the abbey well, what do you think happened? How do you think he got in?”

I look around the room. The only disturbed furniture is the chair I tripped on. Mother Agnes’s feet are not covered by the sheet, allowing me to see her sandals. She also had her keys on her belt under her mantle, like she expected to use them.I always knew this day would come.“She was fully dressed,” I say. “And not far from the door. I think—I think she let the killer in herself.”

“Are you saying she knew him?” Remi asks.

“She was blind,” I snap. “She could easily have been fooled, especially if she was expecting someone.”

I pray Marguerite is the only other person who knew the prioress anticipated a possible visit from Magister Thomas.

Simon lifts the sheet to look at the body. “Same type of weapon,” he says softly to himself. “But she still has her eyes and hair.” He raises the cover higher. “Did anyone find—ah.” Simon reaches under and pulls out the braid which had fallen to the side. In the light it’s the dyed orange shade of Emeline’s hair. “I guess this settles it, though I’m not sure why he didn’t do anything else.”

“M-maybe Sister Marguerite surprised him,” I stammer. “She was outside like she was crawling away. He took her hair.”

Simon’s eyes dart to Remi and back. “Was anything else done to her?” he asks in a low voice.

“No, no.” I shake my head. “She was just hit in the side of the head.” It could have been the complete darkness of the room and the surprise of Marguerite’s arrival that changed his actions. “Why do you think he didn’t…” I choke.

“I don’t know yet,” says Simon. He lowers the cover and stands, absentmindedly scratching the dried scab on the back ofhis hand. “This could be another murderer trying to copy what ours has been doing. Maybe word of the hair got out.”

“You said he’d change the type of victims he would go after,” I say.

He nods. “Yes, and given the similar weapon used, I’m almost certain this is his work. I just wish I knew what he was using.”

“Perhaps it was that.”