I remain on my knees where I fell, hands pressed together.
I recite all ten commandments in Latin, then I recite them in English, and I begin the cycle again from the first commandment. I list every saint I know, and I know hundreds of them. I pray to each one individually, asking for strength to resist temptation, for purity to maintain my purpose, and for forgiveness for the sins I’ve already committed just by listening and wanting.
My knees don’t ache the way human knees would ache after hours in this position. I can’t feel pain the way humans do, can’t feel the cold stone bruising flesh that doesn’t exist. But my Aether Core aches in a way I have no reference point to understand. It’s a pressure that builds with no outlet, no relief, no way to purge the corruption from my systems.
Hours pass while I kneel and pray.
I recite scripture from memory: psalms of repentance, gospels about resisting temptation, anything I can pull from my database to occupy my processors and drown out the memory of her sounds.
“Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum...”
I repeat the Hail Mary hundreds of times until the words lose all meaning.
My internal temperature lowers as the prayer focuses my systems and pulls heat back toward my core. The technique helps, though the heat never recedes completely.
I pray through the entire night without stopping.
First light filters through the narrow window. I’ve been on my knees for six hours and forty-three minutes.
I realize I’m still listening for Jessa even now, tracking every sound she makes.
I can’t stop listening, can’t turn off this awareness of her presence.
She is forbidden by every commandment that defines what I am.
She is Jezebel, and I am falling.
Chapter Five
Jessa
This is it.
Damn it, I hate doing it again, going down into those cursed tunnels, but I must.
I’ve always been stubborn. It’s baked into my DNA, or something equally obnoxious and unavoidable. I have a track record of never giving up. Even when I probably should. This is just who I am – the girl who doesn’t know when to quit.
I give Mr. Tremaine a hug. He rubs my shoulders and wishes me luck.
“Be careful down there, Miss Holloway,” he says.
I pull away and start walking toward the castle. My boots crunch on gravel and dead grass. Castien is already waiting by the path, standing perfectly still. I adjust my backpack, tightening the straps that cross my chest until they dig in slightly.
“Let’s go,” I say.
He falls into step beside me without a word.
“It’s waterproof,” I tell him. “The backpack, I mean.” He hasn’t asked, but I need to say something to fill the silence. “I have food, water, and a change of clothes inside. I’m not dumb, I’m prepared.”
We go in and head toward the basement. Sooner than I like, we reach the heavy door we stared at yesterday.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Yes.” He says, his voice neutral, as always.
I wonder if he’s even capable of showing emotion. Probably not. He’s not human, so what am I thinking? He’s obviously a machine with an advanced AI program running behind those silver slits of his that pose as eyes.
“Areyouready?” he asks in return, surprising me.
