“There are no innocents in a den of heresy,” Marcus replied.“Those who consort with the damned share their fate.Scripture is clear on this matter.”
Was it really?I couldn’t think of a verse that supported his viewpoint, but I also knew debating him on the point was contrary to our larger agenda.
Rebecca made a small sound—hunger or horror, I couldn’t tell which.Ruth remained silent, but I felt the tension radiating from her like heat from a forge.They were waiting, I realized, to see how I would respond.
I stepped forward, stumbled a little and caught myself on Desiderius’s arm.But when I spoke, my voice carried a strength I didn’t realize I had.
“We will not disappoint you, Brother Marcus.”The words tasted like ash, but I forced them out with feigned enthusiasm.“If this is what the Order requires, if this is the path to redemption, then we walk it gladly.”
Marcus’s eyes glittered with something—surprise, perhaps, or satisfaction.“You speak with conviction, Miss Bladewell.Despite your...evident frailty.”
“The flesh is weak,” I replied, quoting Paul, though the words burned my throat.“But the spirit is willing.No less, the greater my hunger, the more vigorous I’ll be in securing success.”
I wasn’t an actress, but I hoped I made a case.My words shrouded my thoughts—that he was effectively sending us into a banquet of human blood, bidding us to feed, and I intended to do nothing of the sort.
“Then go,” Marcus commanded.“Complete this task before dawn.Bring me proof of your success—and your loyalty.”
We turned to leave, moving toward the door in single file.But as I passed Gabriel, something unexpected happened.His eyes met mine, and in them I saw not the triumph I expected, not the cold satisfaction of a trap well-sprung.Instead, I caught something else—a flicker of warning, perhaps even concern.His lips moved slightly, forming words meant only for my preternatural hearing: “Cherry Street is not what he thinks.”
The moment passed in an instant.Gabriel’s expression returned to its carved stillness, and I continued toward the door, my mind racing with the implications of that look, those words.Was it a trap within a trap?A moment of genuine warning from my progeny?Or something else entirely—some game governed by rules I didn’t yet understand?
We filed out of the chamber into the cold corridor beyond.The weight of what we’d been asked to do—what I’d just eagerly agreed to do—settled over me like a shroud.Somewhere in this city, faithful souls who’d dedicated themselves to helping the helpless waited, unaware that death approached in the form of those they might have saved.
But Gabriel’s warning echoed in my mind.Cherry Street is not what he thinks.What did Marcus not know?What truth waited in that mission that might change everything?
Whatever awaited us at the Sisters of Perpetual Mercy, I would face it.Whether it meant my destruction or my salvation, I would walk this path.After all, I’d learned from the Carmelites that sometimes the way to light led directly through the deepest darkness.
Chapter 13
Thecobblestonesbitthroughmy worn boots with each unsteady step, New York’s fetid night air thick with coal smoke and the scent of human sweat.And, of course, blood.The sweat from the industrial workers, though, provided an unexpected help in my desire to suppress my cravings.You might crave a big, juicy, stake.But if it smells like armpit, my guess is you’d pass, too.
My companions moved through the darkness like water finding its course—Ruth’s stride confident and predatory, Rebecca practically dancing despite the gravity of our mission, Desiderius gliding with centuries of practiced grace.I stumbled behind them, my legs betraying me with each movement, muscles crying out for the sustenance I denied them.
Gabriel led the way, several paces ahead of us.We maintained enough distance that he couldn’t hear our conversation perfectly.Presuming, of course, his hearing was no better than mine.
The iron street lamps cast their sickly yellow glow at intervals, creating pools of light.In those brief illuminations, I caught glimpses of my companions’ faces—eyes bright as newly minted coins, skin flushed with borrowed warmth, movements fluid as silk in wind.They’d fed.Recently.The evidence was in every gesture.
The thirst clawed at my throat like I’d swallowed a lizard, scraping raw channels down to my stomach.Each heartbeat I heard from the sleeping humans in the tenements above us was torture—a drumbeat calling me to feast, to surrender, to become what I’d been made to be.
“You’re struggling,” Ruth observed, not bothering to look back.Her voice carried that bitter edge it always did, but tonight there was something else beneath it—satisfaction, perhaps, at seeing me brought low.“When did you last feed?”
“Only the once,” I managed.“I didn’t like it.”
“ You didn’tlikeit?“ Rebecca piped in.“That’s like saying you don’t like sex.Who says that?”
I shrugged.“Priests.”
“Only because they’ve never tried it!”Rebecca gaped.“Come on, Alice.You can’t just go without blood.”
Ruth shook her head.“You’re being foolish, Alice.We’re about to walk into a fight.If we’re going to pull this off without, you know, hurting the wrong people, you need to be at your best.You need strength.”
“I have what strength I need.”It wasn’t a lie, but they wouldn’t understand.I’d tried to explain a few times what I was learning, how I thought we could endure our existence without becoming monsters, but they didn’t have the same commitment.They wanted to be human, to be holy, to do the right thing, but they weren’t willing to suffer for it.Not for very long, at least.
Rebecca had stopped, bouncing slightly on her toes like a child eager to play.The constant hunger that usually twisted her features had smoothed into something almost peaceful.“I fed three hours ago.Nearly drained one of the donors, but pulled away just in time.They’re so annoying how they stop us like that.”She said it so casually, as if she’d totally lost a sense of value for the human beings whose lives we threatened.“Why would you abstain?It makes no sense.”
“Because some of us still remember what we were.”I paused for a moment.“We were monsters then, too.We had our flaws, our defects.We desired unholy things.Nothing has changed other thanthe natureof our cravings, the particular brand of our concupiscence.What I desire now is what I desired back then.”
“What is that?”Ruth asked.
