Vespertine (Vespertine #1)(89)

The revenant’s presence felt like a bruise, a dull and miserable ache. It had barely spoken to me as I’d climbed through; it had only said, “the dagger,” in a listless voice, leaving me to mostly figure out on my own that I was supposed to use the blade as a lever to pry up the grate. And now it said nothing as I tucked the misericorde through my belt, where it would be hidden beneath my cloak, and ventured out onto the street.

Moonlight starkly etched the cobbles and rooflines in silver. The windows were dark behind their shutters, and silence hardened the air like frost. All seemed unnaturally still—I saw no one, even though I judged the hour too early for everyone in the neighborhood to be asleep. My skin prickled with the same feeling of being watched that I had had in the tunnels. I scanned the sky until I located the points of the cathedral’s spires poking above the rooftops.

Newly oriented, I drew my cloak tightly around myself and hurried down the street, weighing my options. I couldn’t go back to the convent—that would be the first place Leander looked. Elaine’s house was out of the question.

Candlelight flickered on a wall ahead, accompanied by low voices. I waited for the light to recede before I cautiously looked around the corner. More light glittered ahead, silhouetting a group of young women carrying candles, their breath white clouds, their faces smeared with ash. Their excited whispers scattered from the alley’s walls like birds taking flight. “This way, hurry…”

Reaching the intersecting street, I felt as though I had stumbled into a dream. People stood everywhere, holding candles that lit the street with a dancing glow. It took me a moment to recover, disoriented and blinking. When I did, gliding into view was a solemn procession, silk gleaming in the candlelight, banners rearing from the darkness, drawing nearer to the rhythmic chiming of bells.

I crept forward and peered through the bodies. Impressions came to me in snatches: the liquid glinting of gold candelabra, candles guttering; a painted icon of Saint Agnes sailing past, carried on a swaying platform, her gaze raised beatifically toward the canopy’s fringe. Clerics walked in orderly, hooded ranks, chanting and swinging their censers, their robes sprinkled with ashes to honor the sacrifices of the saints. Once I even caught a glimpse of the sunken face of an ascetic, downcast beneath his cowl. I guessed that the glint of gray agate on his finger belonged to a gaunt relic, whose power allowed him to go for weeks without eating.

It was clear now that the Divine had ordered a procession, likely in response to the sign in the cathedral. For an event of this magnitude, every able-bodied cleric who didn’t have other essential duties would be expected to attend. I stood very still, waiting. And then, as though I had summoned him, Leander appeared.

An immediate stir ran through the onlookers. One person said to another, “I heard they found him collapsed beneath the cathedral…. Some trouble with his relic, it sounds like… overpowered him…” Only for a third to join in, “It was worse than that—it nearly possessed him! Clerics sensed it from all over the square….”

Slowly, it grew apparent that Leander hadn’t told anyone about me. He had lied about what had happened—even covered for my use of the revenant’s power. That was what the clerics had sensed, I was sure, not his penitent. Perhaps he didn’t want anyone else to capture me; he wanted to save me for himself. Or perhaps he had another reason, one I couldn’t begin to guess.

Feeling suddenly uncertain, I studied him. He hadn’t changed out of his ceremonial vestments, the dust from the catacombs disguised by a sprinkling of holy ashes. Bruises discolored his austere face. His eyes were downcast beneath golden lashes, his expression impossible to read. A silver censer hung at his side—the same one, I realized, that he had given me in the battle with the rivener, before he had spun around to fight at my back. A lost memory resurfaced—the fleeting brush of his hand against mine.

I shivered, watching the procession swallow him up again.

What was his plan? What did he want?

“You didn’t kill him,” the revenant observed, startling me.

I quickly stepped back into an alley where I wouldn’t be heard, my heart thumping against my ribs. “Are you all right? You said the altar was made to destroy revenants.”

“Yes, which doesn’t make any sense.” Its voice sounded dull. “As far as I can tell, it wasn’t designed for any other purpose—certainly not for controlling spirits. It could be that the priest is using it as a source of power for a different ritual, but I don’t think…” It trailed off, thought for a moment, and then surprised me by saying, “It’s just as well you didn’t kill him. We may need him. That page he took from the convent—I need to know exactly what he found.”

“You suspect something,” I realized aloud.

“A misgiving, not a suspicion. I expect to find evidence that will disprove it.”

“Can you tell me what it is?”

“For now, knowing wouldn’t help.” It hesitated. “If it becomes relevant, I’ll let you know.”

That’s impossible, it had said underground. It might not have a logical explanation, but it had thought of something else, something that didn’t quite make sense. Something it didn’t want to tell me. I swallowed. Whatever it was thinking, it didn’t want to be right.

“Unless Leander is carrying the page with him, it’s probably in his quarters. The cathedral should be nearly empty right now. If the doors are locked, can you get us inside?”