It wasa lot easier breaking into the cathedral than Petra thought it would be, but then again, it wasn’t like anyone expected her to return, seeing as it was an objectively stupid thing to do.
Silas kept reminding her of that as they hustled through alleys, tracing a familiar path to the secret entrance to her suite. Despite the pre-dawn hour, the city was already coming alive in ways it normally didn’t. Red and gold paper decorated storefronts and banners with Glory’s symbol dangled from street lights. A massive flower arrangement nearly eclipsed the grand door of the cathedral, and all throughout the Temple complex, lights were on.
A crowd had already begun to gather in the streets, making the use of her necklace’s built-in glamour necessary.
Of all the days to sneak around the cathedral to theoretically stop a coup, the solstice was the worst possible one. By the time the sun touched the horizon, the streets would be overflowing with revelers, vendors selling drinks and sweet treats, and pilgrims making the two hour trek from the cathedral to San Francisco’s highest point, Mount Davidson, where they’d dance and sing and eat until sunset.
Normally Petra loved the solstice. It certainly came with its own set of challenges, and was the day when everyone in the cathedral was stretched to their limits, but it was the one day of the year since Max’s death when she’d allowed herself to simply enjoy life.
She loved the music that played throughout the city. She loved the sticky, fatty foods served from carts everywhere she turned. She loved how joyously people came into the cathedral, how much love they radiated as they prayed to the goddess.
And she especially loved watching her staff cut loose a little after sundown in the belltower. For one day of the year, she could smile andmeanit.
But this solstice was different. Everything was different.
She ignored the sting of exhaustion in her eyes and the hunger pangs that came with the scent of cooking things on the breeze. Her body had to carry on with little more than adrenaline.
Silas squeezed in through the secret entrance first, his form fully cloaked in shadow. He gestured for her to wait outside. After a beat, she felt a gentle pulse around her throat and hurried in after him.
With the unassuming access door shut behind her, she whispered, “What if the cameras in the suite are working again?”
Clearly a little offended by the question, he answered, “I left signal jammers around before we got outta Dodge. I also infected their entire server and all connected tech with a virus that bricked the whole system. Unless they shopped around for new tech, we’re fine.”
She breathed out a short sigh of relief. “Of course you did.”
It was so dark in the passageway that she nearly missed it when he stopped. If his shadows hadn’t snagged her around the waist in time, she would have smashed her face into his back.
Something tapped the tip of her nose. “Stay.”
Petra listened intently as he opened and then shut the secret door into the closet. Her heart raced, but not because he’d left her in the dark. She wasn’t scared of that anymore. No, what made her palms sweat was having Silas out of sight, knowing that he could potentially walk into an ambush. There was little doubt he could take care of himself, but he washers,and she hated the idea of not having his back.
Magic surged under her skin, ready to unleash holy calamity on anyone who’d dare touch him.C’mon,she urged, rocking from foot to foot as her nerves strung ever-tighter.Please be okay.
Luckily she only had a few moments to rile herself up before he threw open the door. “C’mon,” he muttered, pushing the coats and her ceremonial gown out of her way.
She emerged into the dark sitting room of her suite and looked around. A wave of disorientation washed over her. It wasn’t quite deja vu and it certainly wasn’t nostalgia, but some mix of intense emotion that came with returning to a place that had been both prison and refuge.
For three years, the suite had been the only tenuous connection she maintained to Max. She’d imagined him sitting in one of the retro chairs, an ankle propped on his knee as he read the news after dawn service. She could see him pacing, arms tucked behind his back, as he practiced his sermon for the next day. For a while, she thought she could make out traces of his scent in the closet — cheap tobacco and even cheaper cologne.
But as she looked around the darkened room, Petra no longer saw his ghost. She didn’t feel his presence. Maybe she never had. Maybe it had always been in her head. Now that she had more to live for, she didn’t need to cling to the memory of a dead man to keep herself from drowning.
That wasn’t what she wanted to believe, though. Petra chose to think that perhaps herdyadyahad lingered until he knew she could handle herself, and that the cause he’d died for would continue. She chose to believe that the memory of his spirit that had saturated the air in the suite had at last crossed the river to join Grim in paradise.
Swallowing the lump of joy and grief and fear that clogged her throat, she turned to Silas and said, “I need to talk to Robert. He was going to be my stand-in for the ceremony, so he’ll know when Margot and the sovereign are supposed to arrive. He should know what’s been going on since we left, too.”
He had to, because there wasn’t time to consider what might’ve happened to him if he wasn’t around.
Of course, she knew Margot and Theodore’s rough routine and had glanced at the details of this year’s ceremony, but Petra also hadn’t thought she’d be around to see it. So she’d left the vast majority of the planning and execution to her assistant, who would act as High Priest during her sabbatical—or whatever was to come of her after her meeting with Antonin.
Silas rolled his shoulders and stalked toward her. When he spoke in his shadow form, his voice was much deeper, almost a growl, and it conjured decadent, sweaty memories of the rut. “I need to figure out how many of the soldiers are around, so I’ll pick him up on the way back. Go sit on your bed and wait for me.”
Petra gave him a funny look. “Why the bed?”
“I warded the floor around it,” he explained, like that was totally normal. Cupping her cheeks with hands tipped in jagged claws, he pressed a kiss to her lips that ended in a sharp bite. “Be good, baby. And don’t open that door for anyone who isn’t me.”
“Are you sure you can move around without being seen?” she worried, fingers curling into his shirt.
“I’ve been doing this a while,” he dryly reminded her. “Pretty sure I’ll be all right. Who would expect a demon in Glory’s Temple, anyway?”
