He threw the door to the room open. His skin was damp with a light sheen of sweat, his pupils dark and wide. Tamas’s warnings about spells came back to her.
‘Csilla, you’re alright, aren’t you?’
His words were half-lost in panting breaths as he charged forward, and she barely had time to set her cup on the table as he came at her in a storm of worry, kneeling and grabbing her by the shoulders. He was partially undressed, shirt untucked, pants creased, and the scent of tobacco clung to his hair.
‘I was absolutely panicked.’ He turned and looked at Ilan, face half a snarl. ‘And apparently I have a good reason to be.’
Were you?It was an uncharitable thought, but by the wrinkled state of his clothes and the smell, he’d been somewhere in the house smoking and dozing.
‘I’mfine.’ She gave a small, reassuring smile and removed his hands, though the flush lingered. Itwasnice to be worried about, even with the sobering knowledge that she wasn’t really the one he was panicked over. ‘The inquisitor brought me back.’ She paused. The least ridiculous way was just to say it. ‘He wants to work with us.’
‘“Want” is a strong term,’ Ilan said, standing.
Mihály’s flustered worry turned slate. ‘Last time we spoke, you all but threatened to have me flayed.’
Ilan scowled. ‘You deserve it.’
Csilla looked between them, exhausted shoulders sagging further. This was wonderful. If the two of them couldn’t speak civilly for five minutes, they were all damned.
‘Goodbye, Inquisitor.’ Mihály gestured to the door. ‘If that’s all you have to say, you can leave.’
Ilan made no motion to do so. ‘Csilla tells me you have delusions of saving the city. Why do you think you’ll be able to do what I couldn’t? We’ve been hunting the killer for weeks.’
‘Other than the fact that Asten clearly likes me more? That has to count for something.’
Ilan’s fists clenched, and Csilla had a sudden vision of scrubbing blood of various degrees of holiness out of the rug. She put a hand on Mihály’s arm, but he wasn’t in the mood to be pacified.
‘Go back to the cathedral. This doesn’t concern you.’
Ilan’s frown deepened. ‘It’s in my city, under my charge; it most certainly does. Hopefully before Silgard rots even more.’ There was something grave and unsettling in his gaze, and Csilla rubbed her scars. Ever since she’d touched the body, they’d prickled like an ivy rash.
Mihály raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down. ‘You know, I seem to remember more decoration on that cassock of yours. So, you’re acting on your faith, but the Church has lost faith in you. Don’t come here looking down your nose when you’re asking for our help, as selfish as the rest of us. Say we help you. When you do get your position back, what of us? The killer’s trail is lined with heresy. When you’re back in charge, will you remember what you saw and bring your justice down on us? We’re trying to clear my name, not ruin it.’
Ilan opened his mouth, but Csilla cut him off, even as it pained her to do so. ‘You promised you’d listen.’
He shifted, looking to her. ‘And I did. Now I’m starting to feel like I made a mistake. This is no path to Asten’s return.’
‘Then we don’t need your help,’ Mihály said. ‘No doubt there are plenty of people breathing a sigh of relief you’re not in charge of their souls anymore.’
‘I don’t trust the man they’ve placed in charge.’ Ilan’s voice was level, but there was murder in his gaze.
Csilla edged her way in front of Mihály. The Church had wanted him dead once. Ilan could probably get away with trying it again.
‘Of course you don’t. He stole your job.’ Mihály’s words were strained with incredulity. ‘Coming to us is a bit extreme, don’t you think? If you truly believe we’re evil, you’re risking your own eternity being here.’
It was true. Of the three of them, Ilan was the only one with something left to lose.
‘You were at the club too, weren’t you?’ Ilan asked, looking Mihály in the eyes. ‘Maybe I should bring you in...’
He shot Csilla a look that set off fresh guilt. He didn’t know what had happened. ‘Why? I left right after Csilla. Lost my appetite. You can ask anyone there.’
‘Mihály,’ Csilla started. ‘Someone was killed there. In the exact same way.’ She’d assumed he’d heard the commotion if nothing else. But if he’d come home to sulk, he’d been gone before the alarm was raised.
Mihály’s eyes widened. ‘But we were just there. I didn’t see anything.’
‘No one ever sees anything,’ Ilan said, voice clipped. ‘That’s the trouble. You’re very sure you didn’t see anything? No one with a darkness on them?’
‘I don’t know that I would have been able to tell. I don’t carry Church glass.’
