The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith) (3 page)

BOOK: The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith)
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Blaise turned back long enough to reach out toward the door and lock it once more with a whispered Word. The door didn’t fight him this time, clicking in obedience of his will.

If the figure gave Blaise the slip and he had to hunt, at least the locked door would slow the fleeing human down a little. Blaise’s Speech wasn’t perfect; he wasn’t God, but few could open a door he didn’t want them to pass through. His prey would have to find another way to escape the cathedral.

If the servants and worshippers complained of a stuck door in the morning, Blaise would deal with it after the would-be thief was eliminated. He smiled.

The last time someone had gotten so far, they had spent hours exploring the maze of halls, chambers, altars, and small cloisters pocketing the cathedral. Blaise’s prey took the most direct route, ducking through empty hallways, skirting the three-storied library, and crossing the inner gardens before descending into the hive of rooms flanking the entry to the catacombs.

“Bishop,” the raspy voice of the steward greeted him.

Blaise slowed to a halt and forced a smile before turning to face the hunchbacked man clad in the simple brown robes of those who lived within the monastery adjacent to the cathedral.

“Steward Volas. God’s Blessing upon you,” he replied.

“You’re late,” Volas scolded before letting out several wet, heavy coughs. The perfume of blooming roses tickled Blaise’s nose and his smile faded.

“You should rest, old friend. You’ve done your duty well.”

The steward’s smile transformed the leathery, wrinkled visage into a thing of ancient beauty. “He descended into the catacombs where the Archbishop prays.”

Blaise reached out and brushed his fingers across the man’s forehead before dipping down to press his lips to Volas’s gray-haired head. “I will see to it. Rest well, Child of God.”

The steward bowed his head and shuffled away, and the presence of God’s roses clung to the old man in a shroud invisible even to Blaise’s keen eyes.

Blaise stared at the steward’s back and waited until the man was out of hearing before murmuring the prayer for the dead. When the Gates to God’s Garden opened in the middle of night or early morning, Blaise hoped He would guide Volas’s weary soul to peaceful rest until the time of rebirth.

A sigh escaped him, low and long, and Blaise couldn’t resist glancing toward the tallest spire of the cathedral housing the lone bell. He pressed his lips together in a thin line and abandoned his slow, leisurely pursuit for a purposeful, ground-eating stride.

It didn’t surprise him that his prey knew the Heart was held by the mortal Voice of God, the Archbishop appointed to rule over all of the Erelith churches. But how had the man known where to go?

Who had spoken of Alphege’s whereabouts? Few knew where the old man rested after sunset services until the midnight prayers.

Blaise descended the stairs leading to the catacombs. Not even dust dared to defile the plain sarcophagi inset in the walls from floor to ceiling. The sense of eyes watching him sent shivers through him as always, as though those interred within recognized that the deathless stood among their mortal remains, and glared at Blaise from God’s Garden

The tingle in his spine erupted into pain, stabbing through his back into his skull. Blaise’s bones burned, and his teeth clamped down on the tip of his tongue. The hot, metallic and sweet taste of his blood flooded his mouth.

A wordless cry thundered in his head. The tip of Blaise’s precious tail, severed over a thousand years ago to create the Heart of God—called out to him, and its rage pierced through him like a blade made of ice.

Someone other than Alphege touched the Heart, and the relic cried out at the violation. Blaise let out a growl from deep within his chest and obeyed the Heart’s call.

Taking the narrow steps two at a time, Blaise glared at the ancient doors barring his way to the Heart and Alphege. “Only through destruction may there be renewal, so Spoke God,” he hissed through clenched teeth, snapping his arm out to dismiss the barrier from existence. The stone trembled, and the ancient voices of the catacomb’s creators fought against him, but Blaise splayed his fingers and dispelled them with a snapped Word.

The door exploded in a cloud of dust. The shower of debris plummeted to the floor under the weight of his will, as if fearing the rage storming within him.

The intruder held the Heart of God aloft. At the man’s feet, the Archbishop was still. Alphege’s short-cropped, brown and gray hair masked his face. The red patterns on the Archbishop’s white robes resembled pools of blood.

Blaise forced himself to focus his attention on the Heart of God. The bone staff gleamed in the light of the red gem embedded in its center. It pulsed in the beat of a living heart. The Heart faltered, skipping several beats, and its cry hammered at Blaise until he let out a chiding hiss to silence it.

Within the gem, the final remnant of God’s Daughter obeyed and the blood-tinged glow dimmed. Blaise almost felt guilty at scolding her, but so little of Aurora remained that Blaise doubted she would remember after the unworthy released her staff.

“Give me that,” Blaise demanded, holding out his hand.

His prey jumped and whirled around. Dark green eyes were marred with glowing flecks of blue and red. Spittle clung to the man’s lips.

“Obsessed,” Alphege coughed out from the floor.

“So I see,” Blaise replied with a relieved sigh. “Most of them are.”

So much for his hunt. With the Archbishop’s keen eye on him, Blaise couldn’t afford to do more than Speak his prey into quiet submission and let the military deal with the unbeliever who had touched the Hand of God.

Not that there was much left of the man; madness lurked in his prey’s eyes, and the remnants of his tattered soul faded under the onslaught of Lucin’s influence.

“What do you want me to do with him, Archbishop?” Blaise asked.

“Ease his suffering, Child of God. I absolve you of your sin in His name.”

Blaise felt both of his brows rise to his hairline. Lifting a hand to brush away one of the golden locks falling in his eyes, he considered the ruined man holding the staff.

“You can’t have Her,” his prey rasped in the dry voice of Lucin. The last fleck of green withered away to nothing. “Mine! Mine!”

The staff was swung in a wide arc and caught Blaise across the ribs. Wheezing for breath, Blaise slapped his palm against the bone staff and took hold of it.

“Blaise!” Alphege screamed.

The staff burned at Blaise’s touch, and its rage joined with his. The crystalline squeal of the Heart drowned out the words tumbling from his lips.

A tingle swept through him. The catacombs vanished with a crackle and a flash of blue-white light.

 

 

Chapter 2

 

 

Sparks danced over Blaise in blue and white flashes. His clothes clung to his twitching limbs, and the touch of the soft material on his skin set his nerves on fire. The stench of burnt hair and charred flesh mingled with the fading remnants of fear without any hint of the perfume of God’s roses.

He staggered back, stirring the dust on the catacomb floor. The back of his heel cracked against the step. The Heart of God slid from Blaise’s numb fingers and clattered the floor. With aching bones creaking in protest, he sank down on one of the steps and struggled to catch his breath. His throat itched with the need to cough.

“Blaise!”

Alphege swept through the settling dust and smoke, the long hem of his frock coat trailing behind him. Flashes of blue and white arched between the paired silver, rose-shaped buttons, drawing Blaise’s eye to the flash of light and color. The Archbishop reached out with both hands.

The touch on Blaise’s shoulders startled him. He blinked and shook his head to clear it of the buzz in his ears.

“Blaise?”

“That was a little much,” Blaise admitted, unable to stop from coughing.

The urge to transform, to shed off his human form, if only for long enough to lick his wounds, roused as a hunger in his stomach, which threatened to drive away his reason.

His desire to feed faded beneath the force of Alphege’s scolding. “How many times must I tell you to control your Speech, son? Are you hurt?” Each word was accompanied with a shake of Blaise’s shoulders.

“Only my dignity and pride,” he replied with a scowl. At least his call of Divine lightning hadn’t struck the Archbishop.

The Church might’ve accepted Alphege’s death as an accident and necessary sacrifice to protect the Heart of God, but He didn’t look so kindly on the death of His mortal Voice.

Blaise shivered. Alphege frowned, shook his head, and stooped down to retrieve the Heart of God.

“All is well, then. I shall go pray for this lost soul’s deliverance to God’s Garden,” the Archbishop said. “Rest a while.”

Blaise struggled against the urge to reach out and touch the Heart of God. His bone, serving as Aurora’s vessel, cried out for him in his head, and its mournful wails accompanied by the murmur of the Daughter’s fragmented soul. It didn’t complain long, but it roused the phantom sensation of him having a tail when he was trapped within a body never meant to have one.

Alphege knelt beside the husk of the obsessed man, the prayer for the dead was whispered in so soft of a voice that Blaise struggled to make out the words. There wouldn’t be a warm greeting into the Gardens for a soul devoured by Lucin, but Blaise remained silent.

The humans didn’t need to learn the truth—not from him.

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” Alphege said, rising from the floor, tapping the Heart of God against the stone. “Why didn’t you just step back and Speak him to sleep?”

Blaise scowled and stared down at the dead man. “My apologies, Archbishop.”

“Do you need help to your chamber?” Alphege asked, reaching out to Blaise with a hand, but Blaise rose to his feet without accepting the assistance. The tingling in his fingers and toes remained, but the pain faded to a tolerable sting.

“It isn’t necessary. I’ll take care of his body.”

“Do see if there is any sign of who he was as you do so,” Alphege ordered.

“And if there isn’t?”

“Add a tally to the book of the nameless.”

Blaise stepped out of the Archbishop’s way and bowed his head, as was proper and expected. “Very well.”

“Report to my inner study at first light,” the man ordered. “I’ve an assignment for you.”

“Yes, your Eminence,” he replied. Alphege ascended the stairs and halted at the top. Blaise looked up to meet the man’s dark blue eyes.

“You did well protecting the Heart, Child of God. You always rise above your call of duty. I will pray that God’s smile is always upon you.”

Blaise acknowledged Alphege’s compliment with a nod. “May He smile on you as well.”

It wasn’t worth trying to convince the Archbishop that Blaise expected at least a scolding when he finally did return to God’s Garden. He hoped he counted as a little too old for a spanking, but He liked surprises.

Blaise hid his grin behind a cough. When Alphege vanished from sight, he turned to the corpse. “What am I going to do with you?”

His prey didn’t reply. A sneeze erupted from Blaise, so strong that he staggered back and fell on the stairs. Grumbling curses, he sniffled and tried to will the itch away.

Getting back to his feet, he walked to the body and knelt down. The Citizen’s soul was gone, and the Gates to the Gardens hadn’t opened. He shook his head.

“You really need to learn some moderation, Lucin. How many souls must you devour before you’re satisfied? Aurora’s gone. Mikael, too. Not even having the Heart will bring her back, and it isn’t going to lure your brother back to your side,” he muttered.

Blaise’s voice wouldn’t reach Lucin. It took so little of the divine’s power to destroy a mortal’s soul that Blaise doubted the other divine even noticed the mortal had been cursed with his obsession for God’s Daughter.

Sightless eyes stared at him; the right, one the same sky blue as Blaise’s, while the left was the crimson of fresh blood.

Lucin’s eyes.

“You could be more considerate of them,” Blaise chided, reaching out to close the dead man’s eyes.

Like so many times before, there’d be no funeral for a failed thief.

He didn’t spend long checking the body for something to identify who he’d once been. Those who touched the Hand of God belonged to the Emperor, and the Emperor was no fool.

Whispering a Word, Blaise summoned divine fire to purify the catacombs, leaving nothing behind on the stone, not even ash.

 

~*~

 

Blaise hungered, and gnawing on the bread and cheese pilfered from the pantry awakened his need for something more substantial. The bell in the tallest spire of the cathedral tolled once to mark the conclusion of the services he had skipped. He looked up at the ceiling with a scowl. Soon, those seeking sustenance to tide them over until dawn would invade his hiding place.

Gnawing on the crust of the driest loaf of bread he could find, Blaise considered his dilemma. His frustration boiled within him, spurring him to hunt, but he couldn’t reveal his true self, not yet. Forcing a neutral expression took all of his will.

If the few he passed in the halls noticed his hurried stride and his lack of elegance, he wasn’t sure that he cared. Blaise was content to let the mortals worry.

It might wake them to the truth that God wasn’t the only one watching them in the night. The desire to shed his disguise roused again, until his skin crawled with his need. Blaise wondered if it would be worth His wrath to see the expressions of the humans when they realized there was more than a little truth to the myths of the church.

Blaise swept down the halls to one of the side doors, glaring at the lock until it opened without him forcing it to do his bidding through the use of Speech. It door clicked locked behind him. Blaise’s stomach growled, and he wrinkled his nose. “Yes, yes,” he muttered.

His stomach didn’t listen.

One day, Blaise would have to find out who had come up with the fool’s notion that He didn’t approve of His clergy eating meat. Then he’d find that soul, pluck its rose from God’s Garden, scatter every petal across the mortal coil, and piece it back together after a hundred years.

BOOK: The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith)
9.07Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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