Page 8

“How do I look?” he asked, voice unrecognizable. He dabbed the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief from his pocket.

“Like a history tutor Lynette and I used to torture as children.”

Bastien’s new face grinned, more creases spreading across the weathered skin. “Just wait until you see what I’ve cooked up for you.”

With a bit of effort, I finally managed to sit upright, straining to catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. My skin was still pale, but the smooth complexion of my face was now riddled with pockmarks. The bend of my nose was crooked, and my hair hung into my eyes in greasy brown clumps.

I was someone else entirely. Running a finger over the bumpy flesh of my cheek, I marveled at the sensation. It felt real.

Lorelei eyed the two of us from the front seat. “Good work, Bastien. Once again, proving yourself to be even more useful than I imagined.”

“I live to serve,” said the disguised Bastien in a dry, mocking tone.

“What exactly is the plan here?” I asked, avoiding my reflection in the tinted windows. “Are we just going to waltz in and demand to speak with the Cardinal’s acolyte?”

“Yes, actually.” Lorelei flipped down the visor overhead using the small mirror to apply a fresh coat of blood-red lipstick. “I’m officially acting on behalf of Adoranda Greene, so there’s little they’ll do to stop me. All I have to do is drop your mother’s name, and they’ll bend over backward to make way.”

The logic was actually fairly sound. Mother’s name carried significant weight. It was a power that I frequently flaunted during my first life.

“You two stick close to me,” Lorelei continued, snapping the lipstick closed before opening the door and climbing out of the car. Her head appeared again through the opening to bark, “Get a move on!”

Bastien and I put our new forms in motion, clamoring out of the back seat and onto the sidewalk in front of the intimidating building. The Cradle Cathedral rose high above us. Dark stone spires jutted up into the sky, windows crafted from stunning stained glass adorning the front facade, and an arched entrance of grey stone that feigned humility.

Figures dressed in a familiar pale blue moved along the sidewalk, some in flowing robes while others wore more modern adaptations of vests and suit jackets emblazoned with the symbol of the Hallowed.

Lorelei was already on the move, heading up the stone steps to the main entrance of the Cradle. Bastien and I hurried after her, catching up by the time she hit the landing of the stone steps and pressed forward.

The doors swung up as we approached, beckoning us inside. As we entered, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being a fly fluttering directly into the maw of a carnivorous plant.

Once inside, a figure wrapped in draping fabric robes and sporting a mask of white porcelain addressed us, bowing as they did so.

“Good day, travelers. Have you come to commune? Our next service begins in?—”

“No.” Lorelei stepped forward, shaking her head hard enough to send her curls bouncing. “We’re actually here to speak with the Acolyte, Cirian. Could you please direct us to him?”

The figure hesitated, their head tilting to the side. “My apologies, but Master Cirian is currently in the presence of the Source. I’m afraid he’ll be unreachable for the foreseeable future. Perhaps I could summon one of the priests to come and?—”

Lorelei held up her hand to silence the attendant, then reached into her jacket pocket and produced a small, round emblem that she held up to eye level. “It’s in regards to the disappearance of Madame Greene’s daughter.”

The attendant’s shoulders slumped, and they bowed again. “Of course, my apologies. If you’ll please wait here for just a moment, I will contact His Grace.”

I snickered quietly as the attendant scurried away. The Greene family crest had always proven a reliable tool when it came to intimidation. I always preferred flattery and infatuation, but when a hammer was the only solution, a quick glimpse of that emblem would prove more than a convincing argument to anyone aware of its significance.

“This place drains the life right out of you,” Bastien muttered, pulling the edges of his coat tighter around him. He glanced up at the cavernous cathedral ceiling, his strangely-colored eyes reflecting the kaleidoscope of hues from the stained glass.

I wasn’t surprised to hear him say this. To a Reviled, stepping into a Hallowed space would be like entering a lion’s den.

“I enjoy its chilly severity,” Lorelei replied, her lips curling into a smile. “It reminds me of home.”

“That explains so much,” Bastien replied, still peering up at the splendorous sight.

Another of the robed individuals strode past, their pale eyes lingering on me long enough to trigger an unease in my stomach. “I’m starting to think that this was a bad idea,” I whispered, inching closer to Lorelei. “Do you know what will happen if they find out the truth about me?”

“They’ll destroy you, I’d imagine,” Lorelei answered plainly. “Incinerate you with holy fire, or perhaps tear you limb from limb to discourage any further resurrections. But don’t worry so much. I have full confidence in your former lover’s Veil. From what I can tell, it’s nearly seamless.”

I opened my mouth with a retort, but the attendant returned at that moment, offering us another timid bow. “His Grace is expecting you in his quarters. Please, follow me.”

The three of us trailed after the robed figure, Lorelei leading the way while Bastien and I kept a comfortable distance as we moved deeper into the Cradle. From the main cathedral, we maneuvered through a series of hallways that snaked their way in a dozen directions. The flat, grey stone walls blended in with the floor, leaving little to differentiate one path from another, yet the figure continued forward with an even, confident stride.

The longer we traveled, the more I couldn’t help but think that we were descending into the belly of the beast. Just as my anxieties reached their apex, we stopped in front of a simple wooden door, the swirling symbol of the Hallowed carved into the center of it.

Stepping aside, the attendant bowed once more, gesturing for us to enter. Lorelei moved first, wrapping a delicate hand around the knob and opening the door with a twist. Bastien gave me an encouraging nod before following her inside. I crossed to join them but stopped just shy of the door as the figure’s head snapped up, their pale eyes locked on me through the porcelain mask. A shiver shot down my spine as I hastened through to the other room, the heavy wooden door closing behind me with a resounding thud.

Releasing a deep exhale, I took in my new surroundings.

The acolyte quarters were sparse in their furnishings, certainly nowhere near as elaborate or ornate as Mother’s office back at Chateau Greene. A plain wooden desk devoid of clutter or technology. A simple highbacked chair, upholstered in a blue-grey. Rudimentary lamps mounted to the walls at regular intervals shed a pleasant, warm light. A shelf of tomes, each swollen to bursting with Hallowed knowledge hidden behind simplistic covers.

It was all so obscenely plain. Unsurprising for a Hallowed, I figured. Always ready to play the humble martyr.

“Well, where is he?” Bastien asked, standing behind one of the two modest seats opposite the desk.

“How the hell should I know?” Lorelei snapped, huffing a breath before lowering herself into the other chair. She pulled out her device, her lips curling into a sneer. “No connection. They must have powerful wards in place.”

“The disciple outside was staring daggers at me,” I said finally, running a hand through my alien, stringy hair. “Do you think they recognized me or something?”

“Your own mother wouldn’t recognize you right now,” Lorelei replied, tapping her foot against the stone floor. “Well, maybe your mother could, but you know what I mean. Bastien’s Veil is strong.”

“Was that another compliment?” Bastien asked, raising a wild eyebrow.

Her face twisted in disgust. “Don’t sound so surprised. I dish out compliments all the time.”

“You mean out loud?” I added, mirroring Bastien’s bewilderment. “That’s not exactly been my experience.”

Lorelei’s eyes narrowed on me. “Don’t presume for a moment that you know a single iota about me, Tobias Greene. If I’ve not complimented you, it is simply because you have yet to do anything worthy of commending. You should take it upon yourself to do better. Then again, knowing your reputation, maybe you’re already doing your best.”

Anger flashed in my gut as I stepped forward. “I just hope that we find Lynette soon because, at this point, I’m yearning for my grave?—”

The door opened behind me, and I swallowed down the rest of my tirade as a man sauntered in. Heat rose in my cheeks, spurred by the display of flesh. The man was every bit as handsome as he had been in the vision from my past, with crimson hair streaked with white pulled back from his face, though several strands had escaped from their bindings and fell to frame his angular face. He was bare from the waist up, the alabaster color of his skin disrupted by a pattern of brown freckles that trailed up along his chest and bloomed across both shoulders, which glistened with a sheen of sweat. His stature was lean, with wiry muscles pulled tight across his lithe frame, his movements equal parts grace and confidence.

“Apologies,” said the man, crossing quickly to the door in the corner of the space and pulling it open. “I did not intend to keep you waiting.” He removed a tunic of billowy fabric from the closet, pulling it on and fastening it at the waist. “The Source had already taken hold of me when Augustus informed me of your arrival. Once that happens, I’m afraid there’s no stopping my communing until the Source has spoken its piece to me.”

“It’s no trouble, Your Grace,” Lorelei spoke, any annoyance in her expression having evaporated. She smiled politely, crossing her ankles. Her posture was immaculately rigid, like a carved statue. “I appreciate you agreeing to see us on such short notice.”

Cirian turned to face us, shutting the closet behind him and taking his place at the desk. “The Council has been friends of the Church for centuries. I am honored to welcome you into the Cradle of the Source.” His dark eyes moved from Lorelei to Bastien, then finally landed on me. His stare carried a weight to it. A sort of pressure that butted against me and squeezed a bit of air from my lungs. “Who do I have the pleasure of addressing this fine afternoon?”

“My name is Lorelei Orion. These men are my associates. I am acting as a personal attaché to Madame Greene of the Adored. I have been tasked with the location and retrieval of her daughter, the presumed successor to Madame Greene’s position on the council. I’m sure you’ve heard of her recent disappearance.”

“Indeed, I have,” Cirian replied, a certain amusement lilting his voice. “It is a tragedy to lose such a bright light in this dark world. May the Source be with her.”

“I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me pertaining to the conversation the two of you had at her inauguration ceremony.”

Cirian’s expression darkened, the air in the room taking on a weight that settled against my skin. “I would hope, Ms. Orion, that you are not under the assumption that the Church had anything to do with the young Ms. Greene’s disappearance?”

Lorelei didn’t falter, her gaze remaining trained on the man. “I haven’t ruled out the possibility. However, your cooperation today would go far in proving the church’s innocence, should you provide the information I’m seeking.”

Tension swelled between the two of them, tangible as a sheet of fabric wrapped around me. A playful smile danced across Cirian’s face. “Ask away, Ms. Orion. You’ll find no ill intent here.”

I couldn’t help but be drawn back to the first time Cirian and I were introduced all those years ago and the pure vitriol I felt radiate from the boy when he spoke of my family. If those sentiments remained, I could only assume that he would have a plethora of his own reasons to be pleased about Lynette’s disappearance.

“What did the two of you discuss the evening of her ceremony, when you pulled her away from her brother’s company?”

Cirian’s eyes moved to me as he answered. “I was merely congratulating her on behalf of my master, the Cardinal, and assuring her that the Church of the Source would observe all previous agreements with Madame Greene.”

Lorelei’s pen scratched along the page of her notebook, filling the silence.

“You discussed nothing else?” she pressed, leaning forward in her chair.

“Not that I can recall,” Cirian replied, his attention shifting back to Lorelei. “Perhaps you should confirm these details with her brother? He was standing close by and should be able to corroborate.”

A shiver crept up my spine at his words.

“Unfortunately, Tobias Greene has been reported deceased,” Lorelei said, her tone even. “So, you understand the urgency by which we’re working to locate Lynette.”

Cirian didn’t betray an ounce of surprise from the statement. Instead, his eyes trailed between myself and Bastien. “Would you permit me a question of my own, Ms. Orion?”

“Just a moment, Your Grace. Now, when you say that you can’t recall, does it mean that you know for a fact that the conversation between the two of you didn’t stray to the topic of the Unseen Rebellion?”

Cirian blinked—perhaps for the first time since he entered the room—his lips pulling into a tight smile. “Once again, we discussed only her appointing, official council business, and nothing beyond.”

“And you’d be willing to swear by that statement?” Lorelei pressed, leaning over her notebook with a grin that bordered on threatening.

Cirian leveled his gaze at her, a twinge of icy coldness seeping into his answer. “With certainty.”

Another shiver shot through me, the air around Cirian crackling with the oppressive force of his magic. It rippled around the Veil Bastien had spun over the two of us, and I could feel Bastien’s posture tense with concentration as he held the edges of the glamour together, keeping them from fraying under the magical pressure.

Cirian’s power was not something to take lightly, though Lorelei seemed entirely unbothered.

“One last question from me, Your Grace,” Lorelei continued, oblivious to the invisible struggle taking place behind her. “When you spoke with Lynette, did you happen to confide in her the whereabouts of Rudderkin?”

Another flash of recognition moved across Cirian’s features like lightning streaking from behind clouds. “I do hope you understand the weight of such accusations, Ms. Orion. Even for someone in the position you find yourself. To insinuate the Church would have anything to do with the Unseen Rebellion is the ultimate blas?—”

“Not the Church,” interrupted Lorelei, rising to her feet. “Just to be clear, I’m not accusing the Church of the Hallowed for any part of this. Just you. There are certain rumors circling around your icy halls that suggest your loyalties may lie outside of the Church. As I see it, I’m merely giving you the opportunity to defend your good name.”

Cirian smiled coldly at her, a mask of pleasant indifference in place once more. “Rumors can hardly be trusted, even within these hallowed halls, Ms. Orion. Indeed, a woman of your stature would do well to remember that. But if it is my word you’re searching for, then by all means, take it. I am no traitor to the Church, nor do I conspire with the likes of Rudderkin and his pack of mongrels. To suggest such is to besmirch the holy name of the Source itself, and I will not tolerate such blasphemies within the Cradle.”

The room crackled once more with energy, pressing against my skin like a swarm of angry insects. Lorelei didn’t falter, her stony gaze trained on Cirian. “So, you deny the claims?”

“Deny doesn’t seem appropriate to the egregious nature of the accusation,” Cirian scoffed. “I rebuke it in the name of the Source. My loyalties are, as they have ever been, aligned with the Church.”

The pressure in the room shifted, causing my ears to pop.

“Then there is nothing left for us to discuss,” Lorelei concluded, her notebook closing with a snap . She moved from between the chairs, motioning for us to follow as she made for the door. She stopped short, turning to face Cirian again. “Good day, Your Grace.”

With a wave of Cirian’s hand, the door slammed shut in Bastien’s face. He reeled back, turning to face Cirian.

“You’ll indulge me with an inquiry of my own,” he said, moving slowly from behind the desk. Bastien stepped in front of Lorelei, but she quickly out-maneuvered him, seeming to relish in the opportunity to stand toe-to-toe with the taller man. “Tell me,” Cirian continued, “what exactly is Madame Greene playing at, allowing a Reviled and his unholy creation to defile this holy ground?”

A snap of his fingers, and I gasped as the Veil was ripped from my body. Bastien—his true form returned—shot me a worried glance before stepping in front of me, taking a defensive stance. I stared down at his arms and the spiraling black markings that wove their way from his wrist upwards till they disappeared under his sleeves.

Where did those come from?

“Ah, isn’t that better?” Cirian cooed, the edges of his lips curling into a wicked smile. “I do so appreciate when a Veil is torn and we can stop all this foolish galivanting.” His dark eyes found me, and the angle of his smile tweaked into a snarl. “The Madame’s corruption knows no limits. She sacrifices her own children like lambs on the altar of the false god.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I stepped forward, but Bastien was quicker, moving in front of me and blocking the path.

“Stand down,” Bastien warned the other man, the palm of his hand pulsing with an eerie green energy.

“And if I refuse?” Cirian questioned, voice pitched high with amusement. “It’s only by my grace that you still draw breath. The teachings would have me snuff the light from your eyes here and now, Necromancer.”

“You could try,” Bastien retorted.

“Enough.” Lorelei moved between the men. “You’re not going to hurt us, Your Grace. We both know you don’t have it in you. And if I were you, I would keep this little conversation of ours between the soon-to-be-three of us. If it makes you feel any better, as soon as we locate Lynette, Bastien here will be sinking the lesser of the Greene twins back into his early grave.”

I huffed a breath. That was uncalled for.

Cirian’s glibness faded as he straightened, arms lowering to his sides. “You’re nothing like they said you’d be, Truthsayer. Adoranda must love having you under her thumb.”

Bastien stiffened in front of me as Lorelei moved like a bolt, her fist gripping the fabric of Cirian’s tunic and dragging him down to her level. “I’m under no one’s thumb,” she seethed, her careful composure evaporating into a fiery rage. “You’ll do well to remember that.”

Cirian’s smile spread across his lips once more as he freed himself from her grip. “Oh, what wicked games we play. One with sword, the other with clay.”

Lorelei turned to me and Bastien, her steely resolve settled back in. Without a word, she pulled open the door, disappearing through it. Bastien gave me a withered look before following, and under the lingering stare of Cirian, I did the same.