Within These Wicked Walls(27)

I took a deep breath. There was only one option. Well, two. I could do it the long, quiet way—wait until he was finished with everything and meet him at home. That would probably be another hour or two, and I might not get the information I wanted. Then there was always the quick way, which was … questionable. But I didn’t have an hour or two to wait around.

So I took a deep breath …

I hadn’t screamed so wildly in so long, it nearly shocked me to silence again as it echoed off the stone walls. But, immediately, I heard the desired reaction from the couple of priests on the other side of the curtain in the form of vague frightened exclamations and frantic footsteps. None of them left the room, so I screamed again.

Then, I saw Jember’s bloodred glove peek through the curtain before he shoved it aside, his eyes glinting wild like those of an agitated lion. He still wore his turban but had shed his robes, leaving him in his white pants and undershirt—the same shirt he’d been wearing since I was five, so worn thin in places it looked on the verge of spontaneously tearing. He gripped his maqomiya, the long prayer staff grinding into the floor like it was trying to drill through it, and I couldn’t fight the wince my body had long been conditioned to perform at the sight of it. I backed away a few steps, even though my mind rationalized that Jember hadn’t disciplined me in years, and never within the walls of the church.

Not where the priests could see, anyway.

“Have you lost your mind?” he growled, approaching as quickly as I retreated.

“If I say yes will you listen to me?”

“I could lose my position if they find out it was you out here screeching like a—”

“There’s a dangerous Manifestation that almost—” My bare foot faltered on the uneven stone floor and this time my cry was genuine as Jember caught the front of my loose netela, twisting it to bind it closer to my head, blocking me from escaping.

He used the fabric as a leash, half dragging me into a closet, then shoved me ahead of him. There were no candles inside, but there was enough light coming through the doorway that I could catch myself against the shelves with my hands before I slammed into them face-first.

“I’m shocked, Andi,” he said, slight amusement in his voice. “What would God say about your underhanded tantrum back there?”

I ground my teeth and shifted so I was on the side wall instead of completely boxed in. “God is merciful. Unlike you.”

Jember shifted with me, half a snarl visible as the sun lit the side of his face. “I am merciful,” he said, all the humor gone. “You can walk out on your own two legs or I can beat you unconscious and drag you down the front steps.”

I’d pulled my knife, but now knew it wouldn’t be necessary. I couldn’t really see his face, but he was gripping the hand that had grabbed my scarf with his other, as if he’d punched a wall. He’d overreached, accidently touching my neck. For him, touching human skin was unbearable, even through those gloves. Like shards of glass going through to the bone, he’d said one day when I’d asked what it felt like.

It was due to his missing leg, which was due to the Evil Eye in some way. But asking him specifics was partly the reason I now winced at the sight of his maqomiya, so eventually I’d decided a little mystery in my life was best.

That being said, I should’ve been numb to his pain by now. I shouldn’t have cared. I wished I didn’t. But God, it still hurt my heart to see him wince.

Focus, Andi. He doesn’t care. Why should you?

“Why are you determined not to help me?” I said.

He rested his painless hand on the horizontal handle on top of his staff, leaning his chin on his knuckles and taking the weight off his peg leg. “Why is an unlicensed debtera worried about Manifestations?”

It was a logical question, but still stung like an open wound. “I wouldn’t be here asking for help if you hadn’t thrown me out.”

“Yes, you’d be married like the rest of the girls your age, irritating your husband right now instead of me.”

I scoffed. “You didn’t raise me to take much stock in marriage, what did you expect?”

“I expected you to make a decision based on good survival habits. You chose the street rather than a safe home and steady income.” He dropped the hand he’d been soothing, gripping it into a fist and standing upright again. I should’ve found a safer place to stand during his respite. “You have three seconds to decide whether or not you walk out of here.”

“I’ll walk,” I said. He wasn’t going to beat me just now, despite his threat. He’d been up since the early hours constructing amulets. He was much bigger, and strong, but I’d always been faster. We both knew without it being said that he didn’t have the energy.

Still, if I pushed him much more, a small dose of rage-adrenaline might be all he needed, and I had no desire to wake up behind the church with my eyes swollen shut.

“The room flooded with blood,” I blurted quickly. “And it’s done it before.” Jember lifted his staff off the ground, and I took the opportunity to rush out into the hall. “He said the last time it happened it drowned him alive.”

Jember knocked the staff against the stone wall, testing its strength. “He saw the Manifestation, assumed he’d drown, and the fear made his body mimic symptoms.”