She casts a glance around Lorvek’s collection and decides to have it all destroyed the following morning. The feeding two days ago has left her invigorated but with a sour edginess. The Gifted had been foul indeed, a nondescript man of middle years with the ability to hold a person in place, frozen, immobile, but awake. He had spent over two decades wandering the empire killing women, freezing them so they could only suffer in silence as he visited all manner of torments upon their flesh. He would have been a useful recruit for the Ally, given enough time, but his mind was far too fractured to justify the effort needed. He had tried to resist her, somehow sensing the threat despite the drugs, casting his gift at her like the flailing invisible hand of an addled drunk. She would have laughed at him once, even retreated for a while to allow the drug haze to fade before returning to enjoy his impotent rage as she made it last. But she hadn’t, the stumbling wretch deserved little regard and certainly no pity, but the blood had tasted foul as she slashed his throat, fighting a reflexive gag as she forced herself to drink deep, wondering if all the death she had wrought would also taint her blood.
She forces the memory away and slows her breathing, calming her mind, focusing her thoughts. I feel you, beloved, she tells him. I know you feel me too.
She waits, mind open to a response, knowing he is there, but feeling only the depth of his enmity. Will you not talk to me? she implores. Are you not lonely too? And we have shared so much.
Anger swells, reaching across the great divide to lash at her, making her wince. I fear for you, she persists. We know she lives, beloved. We know she comes to take the city, and you know what she will do when she finds you.
The anger dims, replaced by grim acceptance and a great depth of guilt.
Forget all the nonsense they instilled in you, she begs. All the lies they told you. The Faith is a child’s illusion, nobility a coward’s mask. They are not for such as us, my love. You felt it, when we were killing together. I know you did. We soared above them all, and we can do so again. Leave now. Run. Come back to me.
The sensation changes, emotion fading to be replaced by an image, a darkly beautiful young woman, half her face bathed in firelight, her brow creased in confusion and regret. Her lips move but the sound is lost to her, although she knows the words with absolute clarity. I made my bargain, beloved. I cannot make another.
I had no choice, she tells him now.
The image fades, swirling in her mind until it transforms into a voice, hard and cold but blessedly familiar. Neither do I.
• • •
