“By Marcus’s hand.”Gabriel shook his head.“He wanted it to appear that Mattias’ quest to recruit you came at a cost.That you’d be more likely to accept his invitation if he came to you apparently broken, desperate.”
I huffed.“I didn’t know what to make of it.Even with Desiderius’s compulsion, Matthias didn’t tell us what happened.Not exactly.”
Gabriel shook his head.“He’s not as susceptible to Desiderius’ influence as you thought.Everything you’ve done, everything Desiderius thought he’d forced Matthias to forget, was reported back to Brother Marcus.”
I tilted my head.“How?Desiderius knew what he was doing.He has experience.Why didn’t it work like he thought?”
Gabriel shook his head.“Brother Marcus kept Matthias full, satiated.He knew that you and your friends had abstained.While you all fed after you came to New York.As you know, many members of the Order have devices, enchanted by witches I suspect, that can protect them from vampires.Matthias carried one such device, and while it pained him to wear it, it diminished his sire’s influence over him.”
I shook my head.“So this was all a set-up, a trap from the beginning.”
“Marcus knew Desiderius would come.He gambled that he’d bring you with him as well.What better way to test experimental weapons than on vampires who’d already proven troublesome?And you...”He gestured vaguely at my trembling form.“You were the perfect addition.A vampire who’d killed a handler, who sought redemption outside the Order’s control.Marcus couldn’t resist.”
The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity.Our arrival, the mission to the Sisters of Perpetual Mercy—all of it orchestrated, observed, documented.
“We’re not here to prove our loyalty,” I whispered.“We’re here to be studied.Tested.Used and destroyed.”
“Sacrificed,” Gabriel corrected.“Marcus believes the righteous can wield divine weapons to purge evil.But he needs proof—a demonstration that will convince the rest of the Order to embrace his methods fully.”His voice dropped even lower, barely audible despite our supernatural hearing.“You were meant to be that proof, Alice.The repentant monster who accepts her own destruction as penance.”
“So heneededme to wield the Gilded Cross?”
Gabriel nodded.“It works for others; it radiates light, but its power is proportional to the sanctify of the vampire who carries it.So far, any who’ve used it were consumed by the power they released.He believes you might be able to endure it, the power you might release through the relic will be worth the cost.And if you survive, well, he hoped he could use you repeatedly; he could convince you, even pressure you if necessary, to do his bidding.”
“What about you?”I asked.“These consecrated grounds don’t hurt you, either.”
Gabriel rubbed his brow.“I’ve convinced him I’m condemned, like the others.In fact, I was compromised for a time, after I first fed.He sent me on a mission to use the Gilded Cross, and it nearly destroyed me.Given my knowledge of the relic, he thought it wise to protect me from it, to find another vampire who might wield it but whose loss wouldn’t cost him so much.”
“And I’m that vampire.”I shook my head.“I’m the one he wanted all along.”
The candle flickered, throwing wild shadows across the walls.In their dancing forms I saw the shape of our predicament—trapped between Marcus’s fanaticism and our own desperate hope for redemption.
“The book—you were preparing me.Tobehis weapon, like he planned?”
“To endure it,” Gabriel said.“Which I grant, aligned with his devilish intentions.But I also had faith that if you pursued the path, the one detailed in the book I gave you, you’d not only survive the Gilded Cross, you’d prove that our kind need not be damned, that his mission was ill-fated.”
“To bring him back into the fold.That you example would bring him to repentance.”
I huffed.“You have more faith in me than you should.”
“Father O’Malley didn’t see it before, but once you came to New York and I told him as much, he believed you could be our last hope.”Gabriel’s confession came out strained.“He said if anyone could walk the narrow path between damnation and salvation, it would be you.Your faith, even corrupted as you think it is—it’s stronger than anything Marcus has encountered.Strong enough, perhaps, to turn his own weapon against him.”
My grip found the edge of Father O’Malley’s small wooden table, fingers digging into the worn grain.
“The Gilded Cross,” I said, my voice steadier than my hands.“Is it genuine?Not some fabrication Marcus invented to terrify us into obedience?”
Gabriel’s shoulders sagged, and for the first time since I’d known him—both in his human life and this cursed existence—he looked truly young.
“It’s real.”The words fell from him like a confession wrung out under torture.“More real than either of us, Alice.More real than this mission, than the Order, than anything Marcus has perverted with his touch.”
I released the table, my fingers aching from the pressure.“Tell me everything.”
Gabriel’s eyes darted to the door again, then back to me.When he spoke, his voice took on a quality I’d expect from a former seminarian—reverence mixed with trepidation.
“The Gilded Cross began as three nails.”He moved to the window, peering through the gap in the curtains.“The same nails that pierced our Lord’s hands and feet.After the Crucifixion, they were lost—scattered like so many relics of that terrible day.But in the fourth century, when St.Helena went to Jerusalem seeking the True Cross, she found more than wood.”
The candle flickered, making the shadows dance.I found myself leaning forward despite myself, drawn into his tale even as part of me recoiled from what it might mean.
“The nails were reforged,” Gabriel continued.“Not into weapons, but into a processional cross, gilded with Byzantine gold and set with stones from the Holy Land.St.Helena carried it herself on the journey back to Constantinople.She said it burned her hands when she held it—not with pain, but with what she called ‘the weight of judgment.’”
