by Scott Hale
Leaning over the balcony, a balmy updraft running through her hair, Audra watched what she assumed must be Felix’s carriage. She hadn’t known him for long or that well, but she was sure he was scared. Word around Ghostgrave was that it was he who’d decided to come here, but the whole thing reeked of the White Worm. He was a prisoner, just as she’d been in his city, when Alexander Blodworth had smuggled her there from Eldrus. As soon as Felix’s feet hit the streets, the games would begin. He’d be offered anything, and they—Edgar, his mysterious cabinet of advisors, and of course, God—would, in time, take everything. No one could protect him here, not even Justine. Audra would be all he had.
“Father wouldn’t believe his eyes, seeing Penance in the city again,” Edgar said.
“He probably didn’t believe it when it was you who killed him,” Audra snapped.
Edgar sighed, said, “Amon killed Mother and Father,” and came up beside her.
He leaned over the balcony. His skinny, corded arms were painful to look at it. His face wasn’t much better. Malnourished and shadowed, it was constantly tinted vermillion from the veins he consumed hourly. Audra hadn’t told him this yet, but she would, when she knew it would hurt him most, and that he was starting to look an awful lot like a skeleton—maybe like the Skeleton, who he spoke about often, the same way fishermen share stories about the mythical fish that always slipped their hooks and nets. Her brother was decent enough to acknowledge the good the Skeleton had done for the Disciples by removing the Dread Clock from the Nameless Forest, which allowed the Vermillion God to come through, but still, she could tell he’d had such plans for the Marrow Cabal’s former figurehead. He was the one who’d got away.
“You’ve been here for a few weeks,” Edgar said, “and I’m still alive.”
Audra said out the corner of her mouth, “You disappointed?”
“Surprised.”
The shouting from below on the streets was growing louder and louder as Narcissus neared Ghostgrave. A suicide bomber went off a few miles out from the army. A red cloud lifted over the buildings, while vermillion veins stabbed into the nearby buildings. Edgar’s back stiffened.
“What’s that about?” Audra asked.
“That was near one of our pantries,” he said, through his teeth.
“It wasn’t one of yours?”
“We use coffin bombs, not human beings,” Edgar said. “Suicide bombers are the Compellers. It always has been. They’re trying to convince others we are doing it, but most people either believe it’s an addict who had too much seed, or they don’t care. Most Disciples don’t care what we do, as long as we’re the ones who’re winning.”
“Real quality religion you’ve got there.”
“Means to an end.”
Audra glanced over her shoulder to make sure they were still alone. “What’s Joy? A means to an end?”
Edgar stood up. His lightless eyes met hers, made her skin crawl.
“What?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yeah, it fucking does.” Audra stood, too; he seemed to shrink before her. “She’s a witch. She tried to use the Disciples to advertise her own cult. She’s fucking breeding flesh fiends in the keep. And sooner or later, she’s going to try to kill me and Deimos. Was this planned? It didn’t look like it was planned. She just showed up.”
Audra gathered herself. She let the heat leave her cheeks. She was showing her cards, by showing how much she cared. She shouldn’t. She’d come here for one reason: to kill him. And he was right. She’d been here for weeks. He was still alive; and between her and Deimos, they’d come up with a new target, instead.
“I went down to the subway,” she admitted.
Edgar reached for a vermillion vein in his pocket, but stopped. “Why?”
“Thought maybe there’d be another Crossbreed down there.”
“You’re meant for great things, Audra. You always have been.”
She glared at him.
“I can’t do this alone. I don’t want to do this alone. I’ve sacrificed… so much.” He took out a vermillion vein, and on impulse, tossed it over the balcony. “The world is ready to be molded, but my hands—” he stared at them, as if they were no longer his, “—won’t do.”
Deflecting, Audra said, “Is that why you’re chumming it up with that cunt?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t have a choice.”
“How’s that remotely possible?” She pointed south, to the Vermillion God; that spidery octopus; that reptilian overlord; that behemoth puppeteer, slowly stringing the world for the great show to come. “How, Edgar?”
“She knows I killed our family.”
“Everyone does.”
“It was a rumor. I killed our family members in the Nameless Forest, too.”
Audra shifted her weight. “What? What ‘family members?’”
“Silas, in Anathema; Martin, in Chapel; Anansi, from Atlach. I only killed Anansi. He was the Arachne leader. Silas attacked me, and Anansi killed Martin. But they were our uncles, Audra. Joy, or Crestfallen, or the Maiden of Joy, or Annaliese—whatever she calls herself, she’s been around for a very long time, and for most of that time, she’s been tangled up in our bloodline. Silas, Martin, and Anansi? They were King Novn’s children.”
Audra bit her lip, shocked. She’d heard stories of their forefathers, about the king who’d abandoned his family during one of the longest winters, only to return with no explanation years later.
“Joy was hiding out in the Forest with her bastards. She had control over it, over them. I can’t even begin to understand how deep her power runs. Amon had been trying for years to kill our uncles, so that our family could reclaim the Forest and use it, eventually, I think to summon God. Joy always stopped him. When it came to me, though, she’d lost hope. She was tired of being there. She let them die. And when she showed up a few weeks ago, I finally understood why. I don’t know if what she was doing with her sister was part of the plan, but she’s here now, and she’s going to ingratiate herself with the Disciples until she’s an institution, like she was in the Nameless Forest. She’ll have a whole new family, flesh fiends included, to run.”
“Did Amon know this would happen?”
“He didn’t say.” Edgar checked on Narcissus. They were twenty minutes away. “When Joy’s sister died, her cult must’ve fallen apart. Coming here was the only way to stop her from being forgotten again. It was the easiest way to build herself back up.”
“And you’re going to let her?”
“I don’t know how to stop her. Amon destroyed most of his ancient relics. He thought if they fell into the wrong hands, the Disciples would be undone. Valac has been spending almost all his time with Joy. I hate him, Audra, so much. But I’ve put up with him, because he’s shown me the way. But now that God is here, Valac has no use anymore. I think Joy is feeding his ego. If you won’t speak for God, he might. There’ll be flesh fiends running the streets if that happens.”
Audra laughed, said, “What’re you doing then?”
“Biding my time. Hoping God will stop her…”
“But God hasn’t done anything since It arrived, except stop Kistvaen’s eruption.”
Edgar gripped the balcony and stared at his dirty slippers. “It can’t. Not without you.”
The other night, the Vermillion God had pleaded to Audra. What kind of a god needed help from a mortal? What would happen if she waited? Would It rot away on its magmatic throne? Or riot in Its death-throes, ruining them all?
Finally, she asked, “Why?”
“God is order. There are rules and traditions. And without Its Speaker, we’ll never know Its intentions. You can interpret Its will, Audra.”
“Interpret or translate?” she said, sarcastically.
“Interpret,” he said, lowering his voice to the level reserved for blasphemies. “But think how much better the world would be if we always knew what God wanted.”
“Then there shouldn’t be room for inter
pretation,” she said.
She had him there. He’d tried to appeal to her, and through his own argument, failed. “We don’t know what God will do without Its Speaker. As far as I can tell, It’s always had one. But if you won’t, then someone else will. And sooner or later, God will kill us for being so presumptuous.”
“But if Joy’s going to take over, then there’s no point.”
Edgar smiled at her and leaned back over the balcony. “Her sister was defeated with a Red Death weapon. We captured several ex-members of the Cult of the Worm near Angheuawl. That’s what they said they saw. A Night Terror stabbed Pain with the Red Death weapon, and she was mortal after that.”
“How’d she actually die?”
“A giant raven Night Terror ate her whole.”
Audra cocked her eyebrow and thought, Damn, Felix, you sure know how to pick your friends. “Do you have any Red Death weapons?”
“No, but if we can find something to cut Joy’s connection the Void, she’ll be ours.”
“I might have an idea,” Audra admitted, and hating herself for it. “We’ll need Isla, and a distraction. Deimos and I have already been stringing her along.”
“Heh, I should’ve figured you were scheming.” He smiled at her. “I sent Isla on a mission. She was successful, and she will do anything to be acknowledged.” Edgar took one last look at Narcissus. “I’ll handle the distraction. Like Isla, Joy loves attention. With the Holy Order arriving and all the crimes they’ve committed, I have just the idea.” He approached Audra as if to hug her, then stopped. “She won’t see it coming.”
Audra watched him walk back into his room, and trailing him, said, “I still might kill you.”
He said, “I’d hope so.”
Together, they went to greet their guests.
Audra, Edgar, Valac, and Joy stood outside Ghostgrave, at the bottom of the steps that led up to the keep. Beside and behind them, along the steps and the walls, in plain sight and cleverly hidden, archers and guards awaited orders she hoped would never come. The day had a strange feel to it. It reminded her of those long nights she used to lay in bed, until the small hours crept with their dismal light across her covers. That time of day when sounds were dampened and the air whispers; when everything was slightly out of focus, dreamlike and soft. In those moments, as she did now, she felt alone, set aside; an observer of all things obvious to the otherwise oblivious. Like those small hours, this moment would be fleeting and by sleep soon forgotten, because in a way, as in the witching hour, this moment was not meant for eyes to see, nor ears to hear, or mouths to speak of. This moment of the Disciples meeting the Holy Order on anything but a bloodstained battlefield should’ve never been. No one could’ve seen this coming, and yet here it was, happening at last, and by all accounts, for the last time.
Narcissus fanned into Ghostgrave’s courtyard as Felix’s and Justine’s carriages were driven in and parked. Audra noticed a pool of shadows shimmering curiously. It was Umbra, her shadowy consort, reminding her, undoubtedly, that this was a now or never kind of situation. They could possibly bring the Shadow Bladder here, take all of them—Edgar, Valac, Joy, and the Holy Child and Mother Abbess—out right now. It was tempting, but not tempting enough; not as tempting as it might’ve been months back, when she was getting plastered day and night in Nyxis. She had her wits about her now, and though Felix might’ve been better off dead, that wasn’t for her to say.
Eldrus had gone quiet. The people were at the gates and on the walls that divided the city-state into districts. The trunks of vermillion veins, which had somehow multiplied overnight, were teeming with onlookers crouched upon their throbbing boughs, taking out chunks of them to chew on, like popcorn, as they waited for the show to begin.
And then there was God. There was always God. Maybe it was just Audra’s imagination, but it seemed as if God had moved, like It’d somehow shrunk the thousands of miles between Kistvaen and Eldrus, giving the effect of a matte painting. It, like everyone else, was curious to see what would happen next. But all Its eyes weren’t on Ghostgrave; some It’d saved for her, and Its gaze was like comets—heated and pressurized. It was desperate, demanding even, like the family pet that wanted something so badly, but didn’t know how to say it. Edgar said she could be Its interpreter. He’d said that to lure her in, to get her listening to God, and she’d been turning the proposition over in her head since. What was God if not another Crossbreed? No one would ever use her again, if everyone had no choice but to listen to what she said.
That still leaves Joy, she thought. Even if I do it… There’s still—
Something moved inside the carriages. Ten living statues appeared from amongst Penance’s soldier, and a group of five went to each carriage. A woman clad in heavy, pearlescent armor dropped from her horse and joined the statues.
“King Edgar,” the woman said, bowing.
Edgar held up his vermillion stained hand. “Are you Commander Millicent?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“Thank you for your diligence. I know that your journey has been long, and you have lost many.”
Commander Millicent bowed again, gave the statues a nod. The statues went to the carriages and opened the doors.
Mother Abbess Justine emerged, not as the White Worm of the Earth, but as the reserved and somewhat somber woman she was known as. Wearing a leather dress with a slit down the side, sister in its pearlescent color to Millicent’s armor, she seemed to go out of her way to show off her pale, slender legs. Her hair, blonde bordering on white, was tightly braided, and there were faint blue symbols drawn onto her scalp. Her smile, small and humble, was infectious. Her eyes, beautiful as they were, were, like God’s, prying; two crystallized suns that were blinding to look at it, and impossible to look away from.
Moments later, Holy Child Felix stepped out of his carriage. Seeing him made Audra genuinely happy. He looked so much older, though it’d only been a year. He was lankier, his shoulders had broadened. The man he’d grow into was evident in the definition of his face and the features of his hands. She didn’t need to hear his voice to known it’d deepened. He wasn’t a child anymore, and honestly, and it hurt Audra’s heart to think it, but he didn’t seem all that holy, either. There was a darkness to him. He looked as if he’d been crying. Something had happened on the way here. And Edgar had been happier than usual. What was that he’d said? Isla had returned from her mission?
Oh god, Edgar, what have you done?
Felix and Justine stared at one another. There was a longing in their eyes, as if this was the first time they’d seen each other in a while. Felix looked surprised. Justine, proud.
Then, having had enough of each other’s appearance, they walked together, side-by-side, to Edgar and Audra.
“Welcome to our city,” Edgar said.
“Thank you for hosting us,” Justine said. She touched her chest, winced.
Audra, noticing Felix’s worry, said to him, “It’s good to see you again.”
And to her, he smiled and said, “It is.” To Edgar: “Your hospitality is very much appreciated.”
“So fancy,” Joy whispered from the back, elbowing Valac.
The Anointed One rubbed his ribs, plopped down the steps, and extended his hand to Felix. “Hello, fellow Child.”
Felix took his hand, shook it, and quickly let go.
Valac stared at his hand in awe and waddled back up the steps to Joy’s side.
After that, no one said anything. The awkwardness was crushing. There was no precedence to reference for a moment like this. No traditions to honor. Penance hadn’t been welcomed on the mainland since after the Trauma and the death of Lillian.
Audra, feeling God’s will well up inside her, spat out, “We’ve shown the public we can be civil. Let’s go inside. Your journey has been long and—”
Again, Edgar held up his hand.
It made Audra’s blood boil.
“We have one matter to settle before we retire into Ghostgrave,”
he said. “The Marrow Cabal.”
Felix shifted anxiously.
Justine, her skin glistening, was unmoved. She didn’t even appear to be listening to him, though she was listening to someone… or something. Somewhere.
“As you’re well aware, the Marrow Cabal orchestrated a rebellion on Eldrus in the Heartland. They attempted to assassinate me. You’ve contracted their services. In that time, they’ve been using the seeds of heaven to stage attacks on both the Holy Order and the Disciples, while trying to put the blame on us, on God. That is blasphemy of the highest order.”
Joy whistled.
A gasp spread through the city.
Audra glanced back towards the keep. Coming down the stairs were Isla and Lotus, and between them, flesh fiends, holding chains that were wrapped around the necks of two women. One had silvery hair, the other blue. They stopped with the prisoners a few steps short of Audra and Edgar.
“Sloane and Hex were captured last night in Nyxis. The Compellers and the Marrow Cabal have betrayed the Holy Order, and they have spit in the face of God. They released the Bloodless in Cathedra, killing hundreds, and killed hundreds more in the last few months trying to sow chaos in the Heartland. Are you aware that in every town you left your missionaries, the food supply was tainted with seeds of heaven? They’ve been poisoning the people, my men and yours, and innocent civilians, with God’s holy gift, desecrating its meaning and purpose.”
Audra stared into Felix’s eyes, and the shock within made her nerves jump.
“Because of them, the Heartland is filled with deformities and many, many deaths. They have attempted to render God ugly, but they have failed. It was tempting to put a stop to Narcissus, but I kept asking myself why you would sacrifice your own?”
“Did you not sacrifice the Arachne on the Divide?” Felix said, the words spilling out.
“Did you not do the same with the Conscription?” Edgar asked. “All herds need thinning.”
Justine licked her lips and said softly, “It has been a long journey, my Lord.”
Edgar sneered, insulted by her meaning. “You have traveled far, and I know you did not do it to waste time. But this matter must be resolved. If we are to have words and end this empty war, it cannot be done with spies and assassins lurking in the halls.”
