“A tale ofnoble liberation.Offreeing the sheep from their oppressors.”Sarcasm was thick in his voice. “The beastly and terrible fae overran this world. They kept the vampires and humans in servitude, and their cruelty knew no bounds. Until our great savior appeared…”
When Nadi reached the end of the aisle, she could see what the painting behind the altar depicted. It was of a beautiful woman—one who was unmistakably a vampire. Her skin was almost the same color as her hair—pure white, flowing around her, like it was caught in the drift of a river. Her head was haloed by both the Mother and Father moons.
She was the vision of youthful beauty. Her lips were a bright red, and her fangs were bared not in a grimace of violence, but in an expression of rapture. Her arms were held out as if to embrace those who might approach her.
And at her feet were gathered humans and other vampires alike, kneeling in supplication to the goddess.
“Behold.” His tone was flat and devoid of any reverence. “Grandmother Lilivra.”
“Bullshit?” She arched her eyebrow, though he couldn’t see her expression from where he was standing behind her.
“Bullshit.”
“So… She isn’t real?”
“Oh, she’s real.” He walked up to stand in front of the altar. The gun was still aimed at her. “There’s a rope over by the wall there. Pull it.”
“Why?”
“Because I only have two hands, Nadi.”
Rolling her eyes, she headed over to the only thing she could think he could possibly be referencing. A rope fed through a series of pulleys through the floor and again through the ceiling. It was the only thing that looked like it had been touched in the past hundred years.
With a shrug, she took hold of the rope and pulled.
It didn’t budge.
“I suppose you’ll have to put Ivan’s back into it.” Raziel grinned, clearly pleased at his cleverness.
“Very funny.” She sighed. Deciding to not make it that easy for him, Nadi shifted into Raziel’s shape, instead. She grinned back at him with a mirror of his own amusement.
Raziel’s expression instantly fell. “I donotlike that.”
“Then, don’t run your mouth,” she replied in his voice. She grabbed the rope and pulled. In his form, it soon began to move.
“Is there a limit on how many times you can shift in a day?” He seemed once more honestly curious.
“Not an exact number. But I can get tired. What about your hypnotism?” It was bizarre to hear his voice coming out of her mouth. She wasn’t a fan of it either, to be frank.
“Mm. Same. Too many times, and I’m liable to give myself a migraine.”
As she pulled the rope, a section of the stone floor rumbled and began to hinge open.
Ah yes. The crypt. For the sacrifices. That would make sense. Once the lid was hinged all the way open, Nadi tied off the ropeand shifted her form back to her own. She was also eager to turn the focus of conversation back to the painting of Lilivra and away from herself. She gestured to the image of the painted woman. “If she’s real, then why is she bullshit?”
“Hm?” Raziel glanced over at it. “I mean, her wholestoryis bullshit. This? All this sacrifice nonsense? The story of the ancient vampire who made the original deal for a sacrificial human? All these oldrituals.It’s made up.”He dropped the real Monica on the ground next to the hole with athud. “Lies and stories told to keep people in line. It’s about power. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“But… you’ve met her.”
He took his hair out of the ribbon that kept the long black strands tied at the base of his neck and combed his hand through it for a moment before retying it. He suddenly seemed to be in a very unusual mood. Serious. Dour, almost. “In a manner of speaking. She was behind a sheer curtain, sitting in a bed. She is over a thousand years old. At this point, she probably looks less like that”—he gestured up at the radiant image in the painting—“and more like the corpses in there”—he gestured at the gaping black hole into the crypt below. “A withered old hag.”
That was when it hit her. “You want to kill her too.”
“Of course I do!” He grimaced. “Look at this place! If she were really some kind of all-powerfulvampiric savior, would our home have been left to rot? Would we be forced to cower in a festering city packed with humans? No! We let ahumanmayor rule thehumancity and we abide by theirhumanrules!”
Nadi couldn’t help but stare at him in fascination. This was the real Raziel. This was what she was missing this entire time—the piece of him that she had never understood.
“We are fed this horseshit story of how we defeated the fae and beat back the Wild. Yet we cower from it behind our walls. We let it take our home from us. The metropolis shrinks morethan it grows, year after year after year.” Raziel looked down at Monica Valan’s body. Then, he used his foot to push the corpse into the pit.
