Simple and direct, but still incredibly vague. I could appreciate that, honestly. “I mean no trouble.”
“But still, you bring it.” The large gargoyle let out a heavy breath. “I’m only meant to protect the dwelling and those deserving of such protection inside it. To misdirect threats. Are you a threat, demon?”
“Of course, I am. But not to them.”
Tormund nodded, one corner of his mouth ticked into a smile. “Fair enough. You’re welcome here, so long as you keep it that way.”
“You have my word.”
“Good.” He shook my hand again and turned to go. “I should warn you, Father has a Heavenly visitor at the moment.”
“Someone other than the person I’m interested in?”
“Indeed. High rank by the looks of him.”
“Mmm.” That complicated things. “You’d allow me in there with him, knowing what I am?”
He shrugged. “I suspect you to be less of a threat than him, if I’m being honest. He feels… darker than you.”
I wasn’t sure whether I should be offended by that or not. “Can I pass along any message to your family, should I see them before you?”
He smirked. “Tell them I hope to join them at the conclave soon. Good luck to you, Tap. I’ll be close by, so make sure you and the angel in there behave yourselves.”
His wings deployed, and he was airborne in the space of a breath, disappearing into the low-hanging clouds, leaving me standing in the cold alone.
I gathered myself and crossed the yard again, unsure whether I should just knock on the church door, not feeling as though I had a right to just walk in. I was rescued from myinternal panic by the appearance of the priest, though the dark expression on his face as he crossed the short distance between us argued that I might not be saved at all.
“Inside. Quickly, if you please. Our humble church is as solid as the mountain itself, but quite a challenge to keep heated.” He eyed me warily from under bushy gray eyebrows as he stiffly gestured toward the door. “And the neighbors do like to gossip.” The priest relieved me of the ale with a quick grab, eyes darting every direction as though ensuring we weren’t being watched.
To be fair, we were. Just not from the directions he was looking. Tormund peered down on us from the roof, his dark laughter reaching my ears just as the door closed behind us.
I lingered in the vestibule alone, their conversation of harsh whispers echoing back at me from somewhere past one of the side doors. Just beyond the little entryway where I stood was a lovely grotto with memoria candles, their flames flickering in the draft of the open chapel. I leaned closer, curious about the intricate carvings inside small alcoves in the heavy stones of the walls.
One was a bust, made for one of the previous priests, Father Aymon. The very one the village was now named after.
The priest reappeared. “What is your business here?” he demanded. There were suspicious new lumps under the sides of his robes.
“Have you…armedyourself? Has the clergy started training with weapons again? I thought that was long since done.” I was teasing, but my amusement was clearly not shared. I sobered. “Apologies, Father. I assure you, I’m no threat.”
“One shouldn’t tell lies in the house of God.” The priest shakily removed a sword that was likely nothing more than wall decoration, still in full sheath, and a broom from either side of his robe, holding them defensively.
I raised an eyebrow. “Is He home, Father? Should I speak with Him directly? Perhaps I should, it would put centuries’ worth of questions about where He’s been to rest.” The priest inhaled in surprise, adjusting his stance. This was not the right tack to take, and I knew it, though at present I did have several pressing questions for the Fates, and including Him in my inquiry would have been welcome. I showed the priest my hands, doing my best to appear contrite. “I’m no danger to you, I promise. Nor your other company or acolyte. I don’t even have a blade on me.”
“Your kind has no need of such things to be dangerous.” The priest chuffed. I inclined my head in deference. He wasn’t wrong, but I was not a brawler like some of my brothers were.
“I’m not an acolyte,” the soft voice came from just beyond the door.
My mouth twitched with the threat of a smile. The fact that they were speaking to me at all soothed the raging pull of the bond. “Be that as it may, my point stands. I’m happy to prove it, though I’m not sure how. I haven’t burst into flames or anything similarly terrible since coming onto the grounds. Surely that’s a worthy argument in my favor?”
“What do you want with us?” the priest asked, looking at me with heavy suspicion. I wondered if he finally realized I hadn’t even so much as raised the volume of my voice. “Whose orders bring a demon to Aymonroux?”
“Orders?” I frowned. “I haven’t taken orders from anyone in quite some time. My assignment is permanent, and I am dedicated to it.” The priest shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his frown deepening. “I came to your village to buy ink and needles.” I presented the parcels I was keeping in my pockets once again, seeing no need to include the other much more pressing reason I’d ventured back. “I have no command sending me on missions to places such as this.”
“Then why not just make your purchase and be on your way? Why follow Phin here?”
I rolled the name around in my mind, committing it to memory, enjoying the way it glowed around the edges as I repeated it to myself. “They dropped your ale, so I brought it. I was only trying to help.”
“I said I was fine.” Phin came out of the shadows in full earth-colored serving robes, complete with golden ropes tied around the waist and a hood that covered most of their face. Only a sliver of chin and mouth was visible, and even that disappeared when they bowed their head slightly. “But thank you for bringing it.”
