Oliver stepped closer, his hand instinctively reaching for Felipe’s side. “Felipe, please—”
He didn’t feel the knife plunging into him until the hilt punched his ribs. Oliver’s breath came out in a strangled gasp as they stood eye-to-eye, chest-to-chest. How many times had they been like this, bodies so close they could feel the heat of the other through their clothes, lips a breath away from touching? He had waited so long to tell Felipe how he felt, and even after all this, they would have so little time. Closing his eyes against the pain, Oliver wrapped his hand over Felipe’s and kissed him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Monsters
Felipe’s mind beganto clear between one breath and the next. He had been across the room, silently begging Oliver to flee as Father Gareth pinned him in place, and the next moment, Oliver was in his arms kissing him with the priest nowhere in sight. Relief washed over him. They were safe. Oliver had done it.
Oliver gasped, trembling beneath Felipe’s touch. Felipe’s whole body locked as he pulled away from the kiss and saw the knife beginning in his hand and ending in Oliver’s ribs with blood rapidly spreading across his waistcoat. Oliver’s hand tightened around his wrist as Felipe jerked back.
“Don’t pull it out,” Oliver whispered, relief and love fighting against the pain twisting his features.
The remaining fog gave way to horror as tears sprang to Felipe’s eyes. “Oh, god, Oliver. I didn’t mean to. I never would have—”
“You didn’t want to, darling.” He swept the moisture from Felipe’s cheek and forced a smile. “I’m glad you’re back.”
Oliver swayed on his feet and pitched into Felipe. Blood ran from the wound in earnest now, the heavy hilt of the knife dragging the blade up every time he moved. Felipe swallowed hard against a wave of nausea at Oliver’s pallor as he helped him to the floor. A strange feeling fluttered through his chest as if the tether was fraying or unspooling.
Oliver was dying.
“We’re getting you out. Come on, I’ll carry you. The priest must have had a boat. We’ll find it and leave.”
Shaking his head, Oliver protectively clutched the knife’s handle. “No time. He still has the relic,” he replied in short breathy bursts. “You need to stop him.”
“I don’t care about the fucking relic, Oliver.”
Felipe opened his mouth to say more when a tremor passed through the bedrock of the cathedral. The bones danced across the stones, and dust rained down from the vaults. The priest’s voice rose triumphantly as the eerie orange light flared and then dimmed. Father Gareth held the heart above his head before bringing it to his lips. Carrying it across the dais, he carefully placed it into a glass reliquary.
Oliver’s fingers weakly closed around his wrist. “We don’t have much time. He wants my heart, too, but that’s yours.”
That’s why Father Gareth turned him on Oliver. Not even for vengeance but for spare parts. Grabbing the broken sword from the pile of bones, Felipe approached the dais with measured steps. Too fast and the priest would realize he was out of his control. Blood slicked the stones where Father Gareth had walked, trailing blood behind him like smoke from a thurible. He stood before the statue, eyes glued on the book as he recited words in a forgotten tongue. The tormented figures watched Felipe cross the altar until he stood where Newman had not long ago and waited for Father Gareth’s command.
“Give me the heart.”
The moment he turned at Felipe’s hesitation, Felipe jammed the point of the sword into the tender flesh of the priest’s neck. A wet gurgled cry broke from his lips as Felipe let him drop before those who had been sacrificed to heighten other men’s power. If Felipe was going to kill, it would be on his terms and to monsters who deserved it. Felipe ripped off his gloves before the blood could soak through and wiped his face against his sleeve as he pocketed theClausum Librumand rushed back to Oliver.
