‘I’ve no desire to wed. I only wish to be of service.’ She lowered her eyes. Anything to disarm the woman’s suspicious glare. ‘I came from the Church.’
It was the wrong thing to say. ‘A Church ward. What use can she possibly be to you, Misi? Be honest with me.’
‘I have been! I wasn’t going to let her waste away on a mercy crew. As I told you before, I fully intend to continue my research to help Ev... to help others like Evie. And who better to help than someone raised among treatment and medicines?’
Csilla took another large bite of food to avoid a retort. If her chewing was sharp, he didn’t notice. The older woman’s face softened a fraction, though she didn’t move her hand away from Mihály. He patted it.
‘Perhaps Csilla would like to look through Evie’s books, if you’ve kept them. It would be a great help.’
Evie, that was it. Her daughter’s name had been Evaline. Csilla rubbed the fabric of the skirts again, trying to ease the sudden goosebumps on her skin. The woman had paid good money to have the girl remembered in prayer, and she’d heard the name chanted in memorial for weeks. She clearly remembered her at home as well, keeping her things like treasured relics. No wonder her gaze was icy as she looked at Csilla; Csilla wasdesecrating an altar, and only Mihály seemed to be comfortable with the situation.
Madame Varga took a sip of her cordial, but her head was held a little too stiffly, her sip a little too quick for the nonchalance of her pose. ‘I’ll see if there’s anything of interest.’
Csilla could hear theno.
Mihály gave an accepting half-shrug. ‘Csilla, pick up something to take if you like, but we have a project to work on, don’t we?’
‘Far be it from me to keep you.’ Madame Varga rose, bending to drop a kiss on Mihály’s head. His cheek flexed, but he didn’t move away. ‘Please, sit and eat. I’ll have a look at what could be repurposed for... your friend.’
‘My gratitude.’
When they were alone again, Mihály finally seemed to relax, picking up a baked cracker sprinkled with small seeds. It cracked against his teeth.
‘Well now. That went better than I thought it would.’
‘What did you expect?’ She, for one, had anticipated a bit more welcome. But she wasn’t a member of the Church anymore. Even someone who may have invited a mercy crew in under other circumstances would balk at her now.
‘More argument about you, honestly. She’s always been fond of me.’
‘And yet you chose to stay in an attic?’
‘Fondness very quickly turns to hovering. I’m sure you understand why I need privacy for my work.’
She pressed her lips together, thinking of all the dead eyes in his cabin.
‘You studied, correct?’
‘Very much correct. I had pen calluses for years.’ He examined his hand before pouring fresh tea into her near-empty cup, a little gesture that flustered her. Then he reached into his pocketfor a bottle and doctored his own drink before taking a sip, eyes darting to the doorway as he did so. No doubt the lady of the house wouldn’t have approved; she and Csilla had that in common.
‘Did you study anything about Shadow scripts? Demonology? Would there be anything about that in the books here?’
‘And they call me the heretic?’ He sat back with a thoughtful stroke of his beard. ‘I was more interested in the lives of the angels, if you can imagine, as well as practical healing and such that made use of my gift. I told you what I do isn’t—’
‘It’s the murders.’ Just thinking about what she’d seen put a greasy feeling on her skin.
He scanned her face as if looking for a clue that she was joking. ‘What do you mean?’
His voice held the same note it had when he’d realised Csilla was something strange, the taste of hidden knowledge setting off a burning thirst.
Csilla wrapped her arms around herself. ‘Someone is covering them with demon marks, so it must be someone who studied.’
‘Or a demon.’
Now she was the one unsure if he was joking.
‘Or that. Though I don’t see how.’ The words fell sharply into her stomach. ‘Four deaths so far, all marked up. Here, I have names.’
She pulled the stolen paper with the notes on it, and frowned to see how it had smeared. She hadn’t had time to let it dry well, and he’d been too wrapped up in his own voice for her to show him before. But now they were both committed, for better or worse.
