“I don’t think that sacrifice would’ve been enough though.” Aleximanus sat on the armchair, done pretending he was tough.
“Killing seven girls isn’t enough?” Hazel’s tone held a shocked note.
“He desecrated a church,” Tyon pointed out.
Aleximanus nodded. “It’s a start, but to gain the energy to kill the former sin-breathers’ master, the Hierophant must’ve sacrificed something personal. You have to offer something of yours for an energy-gathering ritual to work. The biggest sacrifice is the one that involves yourself or someone you love. He must’ve sacrificed someone he cared about, his mother, father, sister, best friend. Anyone.”
“Oh God.” She slumped back into the couch. “We’re facing a monster.”
Welcome into my world, princess. He bit down the comment or Tyon would probably start using him as punching bag again. “Let’s start with Rachel and try to find a connection to the West Hampstead massacre. Rachel’s killer is linked to the Hierophant and is our best chance at finding a knight. What do you want me to do?”
Tyon opened his jacket and produced a bundle of letters tied up together by a string. “These are letters Rachel wrote to a mysterious lover. One of them is missing, and we believe the killer has it. Can you find the missing letter?”
He took the bundle, unfastened the string, and focused on them. Psychometry wasn’t his best skill, but there were enough letters to start a search. With only one item, it’d be more difficult to track down another. But with twelve, it should be easy.
A vibe filled with lust burst from the lavender scented papers. If he pushed his focus deeper into the feelings coming off them, he could almost hear Rachel’s voice reading the letters. No, it wasn’t only lust, but love as well. Strong, deep love. Illicit, star-crossed love. Rachel had written these letters with deep, sheer love for her lover.
Oh yes, one of them was missing. He could sense a gap in the flow of words.
He dropped the letters onto the low table. “The vibe is strong. I think I can find the missing letter, using the others as a beacon, but I need to recover before trying.”
Tyon resumed his shifting and cleared his throat. “Do you need protection?”
“Are you offering?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “When your master learns you didn’t kill Hazel, he’ll kill you and Kaela.”
A small gasp left Hazel’s mouth.
Exhaustion and the brutal reality of Tyon’s words crushed Aleximanus’s chest like a hammer pounding against his heart. “Kaela needs protection. The Hierophant won’t kill me, not immediately at least. He’ll kill Kaela first and make me watch. Or worse, he’ll turn her into his bride.”
“Can you buy some time?” Tyon asked. “Tell him something to keep him quiet while we track him down? If we discover his identity, we can save Kaela. We can guess where he keeps her.”
Aleximanus stroked his jaw, excitement overcoming the pain. “The police have been working on the West Hampstead murderer for months and found nothing.”
“I’m not the police.” Tyon glanced at Hazel. “And I have a plan.”
~ * ~
“I DIDN’T FULLY understand your plan,” Hazel said while she and Tyon were in a cab, heading to West Hampstead. “I got lost when you and Aleximanus started using all those weird names.” A little frisson of fear sneaked through her. After their chat with Aleximanus, the idea of confronting someone evil enough to have killed a loved one sent shivers along her arms.
“Being a sin-breather, Aleximanus has the skill to follow traces left by goodness. His job is to corrupt goodness thus he possesses an affinity to identify it.”
“I see, while you have the skill to identify evil.”
He flashed a lopsided grin that brightened his eyes and turned his kissable mouth into a living temptation. “And evil like that spread by the Hierophant always leaves traces.” The smiled vanished. “But to chase this evil, I need to stand in the place where the sacrifice has been perpetrated, the church, and I need a good person’s help.” He stared at her.
She recoiled. “You mean, me? I don’t have any special power.”
“I think you do. You’re the hallow bearer. Only particularly sensitive humans are chosen by a hallow. I hope this helps find the Hierophant.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“We’ll find another way.” He gazed out of the window, the careless light in his eyes gone, replaced by the usual hard determination.
“The Hierophant ordered Aleximanus to take me to him.” She touched his hand, glad that physical contact wasn’t a problem anymore. An idea drilled its way through her. A dangerous, crazy idea. “What if . . .” She glanced at the driver and whispered, “I play the bait.”
“Are you joking?” he roared, and the cab jolted. “I won’t risk your life,” he added in a softer tone.
“What if it’s the only way to stop the Hierophant and save Kaela?” Fear chocked her words out of her mouth. Playing the bait was hardly something to look forwards to, but if it could save Kaela, she’d do it.
His muscles tightened like they always did when he wanted to close a conversation. “No. It’s out of the question.”
“Will you consider it?”
“No.” He folded his arms across his chest, straining the fabric of his jacket over his biceps.
She huffed. She’d try again to reason with him if the experiment in the church wouldn’t work.
The desecrated church rose from the middle of a copse like the jagged tooth of a wolf. A side of the roof was missing, and the black trails of humidity trailing down the smashed stained-glass windows seemed smeared make-up on an old woman’s face.
Hazel stopped in her tracks on the gravel path leading to the church. The uneven ground forced her to keep a slow pace. Weeds and grass were claiming the space, and contorted stems and gnarling roots crawled on rocks and cobbles. It was like staring at writhing, tortured bodies. Even the plants were warning her to stay away from the cursed place.
Tyon’s reassuring hand spread warmth on her shoulder. “If this is too much, we can leave.”
“I want to help. I want to do this.” The ground, walls, and even the trees reeked of evil. Her stomach churned as if she’d swallowed a piece of rotting fish. “Is this how it feels, how evil feels for you? Like you’re going to be sick?”
“My first year as sin-eater was the toughest. The disgust and nausea never went away, but I learned how to control them.”
“Goodness.”
A raven flew past, soaring above her head in a quick flutter of black feathers. She cried out and jumped back, smacking against Tyon.
He wrapped his arms around her. “I know. It’s hard, but I’m here for you. Don’t be nervous.”
She slouched against his solid body. His mere presence slowed her wild heartbeat, and breathing became easier. “Sorry. I’m a bit edgy.”
“It’s this place.” He held her hand, entwining his fingers with hers, and led her forwards.
Masonry littered the marble floor, and her boots crunched bits of stucco and shards of glass. The eyes of an angel statue had been poked out, and a grimace had been carved in place of its smile. She gulped when they walked on the aisle. Crimson stains marred the floor and the altar, shining bright red in the sunlight as if still fresh.
“Blood,” she whispered.
The air was thick with its coppery scent, but something else lingered, a flowery aroma like the perfumes that were all the rage among young ladies. She skidded to a halt. It was their scent, the slaughtered girls’ scent.
“Oh my God.” A sob swelled in her throat, choking her.
Tyon hugged her and tucked her head under his chin, rubbing soothing, slow circles on her back. “I know. I feel their presence too.”
She shuddered and buried her face in his shirt. It was safer in his chest. She didn’t want to experience that horror again. “Poor girls. Why is their scent so strong?”
He caressed her hair. “They haven�
��t left this world yet, not completely. When the Hierophant is caught, and justice is delivered, their spirits will be released.”
Hazel clenched her fists on his jacket, gritting her teeth in determination. “Let’s do this. I want to help them. I want to stop this maniac.”
“All right.” He took her face and held it firmly. His smouldering golden eyes were the only thing she could see. “I need you to focus on what you feel. You have to open yourself to the pain and suffering trapped in this place. It won’t be easy, and the evil will fight back, trying to overwhelm you. It won’t succeed if you trust me, if you stay with me.”
She licked dry lips. “How do I do it?”
“Close your eyes and seek the pain in this place. It’s the same thing I do when I eat a sin. I summon it to me. If it works, we’ll see the girls and their killer.”
Another tremor slithered through her like a cold blade between her ribs. “I’m ready.” She wasn’t, but it wasn’t just about the hallow or Rachel. It was about stopping an evil force that would cause more pain and destruction.
“Relax.” He brushed his lips on her forehead. “I’m here.”
She let her shoulders slump and her muscles loosen, leaning against him. With her eyes closed, she sought the feeling she’d experienced earlier, that crushing sensation squeezing her heart. It was like all the joy of the world had been sucked into a dark, deep chasm to never get out. Tears burned her eyes, but then another feeling wrapped around her, a warm soothing presence that whispered of love and safety. Tyon.
Two opposing forces mingled within her—pain and love, anger and calm, revenge and justice.
Fear and determination raged, enveloping her in tight spirals. An image formed, a white silhouette took shape, and light filtered through her closed lids. She clung to it, her pulse pounding.
The silhouette took a feminine shape with long flowing hair and a narrow waist. The ghostly girl floated closer, huge eyes peering at Hazel.
“He took me from the street,” the girl whispered. No, it wasn’t just the girl. Other feminine voices echoed, repeating the words.
Hazel suppressed the urge to scream her lungs out. She was here to help these girls, so she nodded encouragingly.
“He killed his wife.” The girl turned into a curl of smoke. Her image dissolved and reformed. “He killed his little girl,” the voices said. Some were whispering, others were shouting.
Cold bit into Hazel’s flesh. The Hierophant had sacrificed his family.
“Who is he?” That was Tyon, his tone soft and gentle.
The echo of a scream thundered. The girl shook her head in slow motion, her hair flapping around sluggishly as if she were underwater. The voices shut up, the girl dissolved, and the light faded into a distant glow.
Hazel opened her eyes, gasping. Tyon’s warm hands still cupped her face, and a cold gust of wind rushed inside from a broken window.
“I think I lost the contact.” Her voice sounded raspy.
“I lost it too. My power isn’t strong enough to chase this massive evil.”
“He killed his family.”
“Aleximanus was right.” He kissed her forehead. “Let’s leave this place.” Holding her hand, he strode towards the exit, but she tugged at his arm.
It might take months to investigate the girls’ murder. “Tyon.”
He stopped, his features hot with worry. “Yes?”
“I’m ready to try—”
“No.” He dragged her out of the church and into the sunlight that didn’t seem to warm her. “It’s not an option, and it’s not open to discussion.”
“But it’s the only way we have to find him.” She yanked again. He had to see reason. “And we don’t have time. The hallow will work for two more days only.”
“I’d rather wait for another hallow than risk your life.”
“What about Kaela’s life? And the lives of those poor girls?”
He shook his head. “Let’s go home.”
His usual commanding tone closed the conversation.
Chapter 20
TYON STIRRED THE fire with a poker. Watching the flames twirl and dance in the hearth brought him back when he’d camped in the middle of a forest, travelling from Avignon to Nicaea. He’d been so naïve back then, believing he could change the world and make it a better place. Even with his sin-eater powers, he hadn’t accomplished his mission, his knights were scattered, maybe even dead, the hallow had been contaminated, and he'd put in danger the most extraordinary woman he’d ever met.
Hazel strolled inside, wearing the frown that had creased her face since they’d left the church. Since he’d told her he wouldn’t use her as bait.
She plopped down in the armchair in front of him, her cheeks hollow and a cup of steaming tea clenched in her hands.
He propped his elbows on his knees. “Tired?”
“A bit. More than tired I’m worried and scared.”
He reached out across the low table separating them and squeezed her hand, savouring the small touch. “The first contact with primary evil is always hard to experience.”
“I just wish we discovered more.”
He trailed his fingertips on her skin and released her hand. “We have a start. Tomorrow, I’ll talk with Harrisons and search for a man who killed his family five years ago before the West Hampstead massacre.”
“Good.” She skimmed the copy of The Herald on the table. She perked up. “Leon has been appointed head of the Royal Archaeological Society after rumours on Sir Morris’s involvement with Rachel’s death have spread.”
He bent closer. The black and white picture of a dark-haired man with a tailored suit filled a corner. “So this is your friend Leon, the one you ran away from me for.”
“What do you mean? You met him.”
He studied the man’s face. “No, I don’t think so.”
“You visited him at the museum and asked him about me. This is how you found me.”
A sharp nagging cut at the back of his neck. “No. I’ve never met him, never asked him for anything. I found you because Aleximanus found you first. He told me who you were.”
“But Leon told me you went to his office and—” She sprang to her feet and paced, spilling some tea. “Oh no.”
He stood up too. “He wanted you to find me?”
“No, actually he advised me against accepting the job with you. He suggested going to Aleximanus instead. He wanted to be sure I was with a sin-breather.”
“Dammit!” He slammed a fist on the back of the couch, but a sudden surge of his power caused it to snap in two.
She halted, her bottom lip quivering. “He, he lost his wife and daughter in an accident a few years ago, but I wonder . . .”
“If he sacrificed them to become the new sin-breathers’ master.”
Hazel gripped the chair when she swayed. “I worked with him for two years. I trusted him. He supported me when I was sacked.”
“Sin-breathers are deceivers. I bet he’s the reason the Royal Archaeological Society dismissed you. He wanted you jobless to push you into Aleximanus’s arm.” Tyon paced to release some pent-up energy. “It’s clear now why Sir Morris’s aura kept turning evil. Leon fed it.”
“Oh.” She put the cup down and pressed her fingers against her temple. “The day we went to the museum searching for him”—she swallowed—“what if he didn’t show up on purpose? Because he didn’t want to meet you, or you would’ve understood who he was.”
“It’s possible.”
She hugged her midsection, cheeks turning a pasty-chalk.
He crossed the room and gathered her in his arms. “You’re safe now. He won’t hurt you.” He kissed the top of her head. “Aleximanus will be interested in this news. Now the Hierophant has a face and a name.”
The bell of the front door rang. Tyon released Hazel and shoved the curtain aside to peek at the porch. “And speaking of the devil. Aleximanus is here.” He kissed Hazel’s cold forehead and walked to the foyer.
&nb
sp; When he opened the front door, Aleximanus limped inside, groaning. His swollen face was a puzzle of bruises and cuts, and by the way he bent on a side, his ribs must hurt. “Good evening.”
Tyon shut the door with a foot. “You don’t look good.”
“You almost killed me,” Aleximanus said in a flat tone.
“I’m sorry.” Tyon offered a half bow.
Aleximanus shrugged his scarf off and stared at him, surprise widening his eyes. “I’m sorry too, Captain.”
Heavy silence lingered. There were too many things to say, but all of them sounded inappropriate, so Tyon simply put a hand on his chest in the ancient greeting of the knights.
Aleximanus removed his leather gloves and replied in the same fashion. “I need your help to track the missing letter.”
“We can’t work together. Our powers clash.”
“I only need your sitting room. Sin-breathers keep popping in my house. I can’t work there, and no one will look for me here.” He stomped into the sitting room and paused. “Hazel, I’m glad to see you well.” He bowed.
She replied with a nod. “We were talking about you.”
“Really?” He shed his coat and dropped it on an armchair as if he were a regular guest. “I hope you were saying juicy things about me.”
“We know who the Hierophant is.” Tyon shut his cocky talking.
Aleximanus stilled, only his mouth widened. “How . . . Who is he?”
Tyon tossed him the copy of The Herald.
He snatched it and skimmed it. “I don’t understand.”
“Leon Evans,” Hazel said. “I worked for him at the museum.”
As Hazel recounted how they’d come to the conclusion that Leon was the Hierophant, Aleximanus slumped into the armchair one inch at a time. Probably the first time Tyon saw him speechless.
“The sodding bastard has my daughter.” Aleximanus ran a palm over his shivering thigh.
His anger vibrated in the air strong enough that Tyon caught its vibe.
“We’ll get him.” Tyon glanced at the window as a flickering shadow slithered over the glass. “As soon as I find one of my knights.”
“That’s why he didn’t want to take Hazel himself,” Aleximanus muttered. “He was worried about blowing his cover in case something went wrong because you know him. He asked me to do the dirty job.”
The Pact of the White Blade Knights Page 21
