Page 94 of Blood and Moonlight

He strides away, carrying the hammer within its bundling under one arm. Remi gently prods me to follow, but I can’t leave without saying goodbye to Mother Agnes. I drop to my knees and put my arms around her as best I can. “I’m sorry, Mother,” I tell her, as though she can hear me. “For all the times I disappointed you or made you worry.”

Tears drop like rain onto the sheet as I pull one hand out from under it and hold it against my cheek. Her skin is already cold as I kiss her fingers. “I know you loved me. I just hope you know I loved you, too.”

Remi gently pulls the prioress’s hand away and lays it on her chest. “We need to go, Cat. Now.”

He helps me to my feet and half-carries me out the door, past the sisters and down the passage to the gate. My mind is numb to everything around me as we step outside, facing an arc of people attracted by the commotion. A few Selenae watch fromone of the entrances to the Quarter, but none steps beyond the moonflower vines. Comte de Montcuir and Lambert are already here, speaking to Magister Thomas. The architect sees us and rushes to my side and puts an arm around me.

“Marguerite woke for a few seconds but is unconscious again,” he whispers in my ear. “They’ll tell us if anything changes, and I’ll bring you back to see her tomorrow afternoon.” He strokes my wet cheek. “It will be all right.”

No. No, it won’t. Simon is speaking in a low voice with his uncle, and I strain to hear his words.

“… certain this murder is connected to those I’m investigating,” he says.

The provost tugs on his mustache. “I’m getting the impression that you aren’t up to the task of finding this man.”

Simon’s free hand closes into a fist, but he maintains his composure. “If I hadn’t been forbidden from continuing the inquiry for almost two weeks, I assure you I would be much closer to stopping him.”

That doesn’t please the comte, but he waves his hand carelessly. “Very well, but my son will continue to assist you and keep me fully informed on your progress.” He raises his bushy eyebrows and gestures for Lambert to come forward. “I want no further mistakes.”

Lambert steps up, looking uncomfortable. “I will obey your order, sir.”

I know what’s coming next. I grab the magister’s robes. “We need to leave, now,” I whisper, but he shakes his head, as engrossed in what’s happening as everyone else.

“Do you have any persons of suspicion, Venatre?” the comte asks patronizingly.

“Magister, please,” I hiss. “We need to go.”

“I do, Your Grace.” Simon rotates to face us, his expression as flat and emotionless as the first time I saw him. The vulnerable young man who barely an hour ago whispered how much he needed me to stay sane has vanished; only the venatre with terrible responsibility remains. “Magister Thomas of Iscano, can you account for your location on this night and name witnesses?” he asks.

The people murmuring around us fall silent.Say something, I beg the architect with my eyes.Tell him where you were and who you were with. Prove your innocence.

But the architect’s eyes are not on the venatre. I follow his gaze to a figure beyond Simon, standing just inside the shelter of a narrow street framed by purple and white moonflowers. Even outside the glow of torches, lanterns, and candles, Gregor’s scarred face is unmistakable.

Magister Thomas then turns to look at me, his gray eyes full of resolve as he slowly shakes his head. “No, Venatre. I cannot.”

The crowd bursts into exclamations of shock, and I can barely hear the comte ordering his arrest. Magister Thomas pushes me into Remi’s arms—“Take care of her,” he says, “of your mother, of the Sanctum”—and I’m screaming and clawing at the guards as Remi hauls me back. The architect is marched away, men around him using pikes to restrain the crowd that shouts and spits at him.

When at last almost everyone has left, either following to the prison or heading back to their homes, I’m left facing Simon across the street. Remi holds me upright, blessedly not saying anything.

“Simon,” I plead hoarsely. “It’s not him. You have to believe me.”

He shakes his head, refusing to answer. “You should take herhome,” he tells Remi. “And keep her there for a while. The next few days will not be pleasant.”

Then he turns and walks away, the instrument of my betrayal under his arm, leaving me with the knowledge that I’ve only succeeded in ushering in everything I’d tried to prevent.