Page 69

From there, we’d continued on foot to the beach and easily dealt with a few lone biters with little fanfare. The lap of red-tinged waves over the sand and the incessant calls of gulls circling overhead barely registered as I stared at the thing on the beach that shouldn’t have been there: a large wooden stake. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing at it.

Keaton didn’t answer. He only had eyes for one thing.

I followed his gaze to the white cliffs. Perched on top, silhouetted against the fading gold of the sky, was a castle. Ancient stone walls glowed amber in the last light of the sun, the entire structure radiating a kind of grim majesty.

“I’m revising what I said before.” I took Keaton’s low grunt as an invitation to elaborate. “When I said a castle wasn’t enough incentive to lure people away from their homes. Because I’ve got to admit, as homes go, it’s pretty impressive.”

Keaton said nothing. He’d been quiet all day, but not this quiet. “So what’s the plan exactly? I’m assuming there is one.”

His eyes didn’t leave the castle. “Kill the bastard.”

“That’s not a plan. That’s an end goal. How do you intend to get to that point?” When Keaton didn’t answer, I pulled him around to face me. “I’m serious. Because if you think you can just stroll right up to the door armed to the back teeth, you’re insane. You won’t last two minutes. It’s a castle. They were literally built to keep people out, therefore, one ex-soldier so full of hate he can barely think will be no match for them. You won’t even make it to the door before they take you down.”

Something flickered in Keaton’s expression. I pressed harder. “You promised me you’d do this the right way. Charging in isn’t the right way. That ends with you dead before you get anywhere near William Anderson.”

“What then?” His voice sounded raw, like forcing the words out hurt.

“I don’t know yet. If I’d known you didn’t have a plan, I would have dreamed up some scenarios. But I’ll think of something.”

“This is not your battle. It’s mine.”

“It’s ours,” I countered. “I want that after, and I’m used to getting what I want.” I’d hoped my arrogance might make Keaton smile. It didn’t. Not even a twitch of one. I turned back to the castle, hoping for some inspiration, and instead found something else. “What’s that?”

At the base of the castle, lights flickered where there had been none before. They multiplied, moving slowly down a path toward the beach. A procession.

“We hide,” I said, already steering Keaton toward the thick bushes edging the sand. He resisted at first, but I tugged harder until he followed.

His eyes glittered. “If he’s coming here, that’s my chance.”

“We wait,” I hissed, shoving him down on the ground. Irritation rose at Keaton’s constant inability to see past William Anderson’s demise at his hands. I knew he wasn’t doing it deliberately, that he’d admitted it was like having bees in his head, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. “We observe. We think. Then we decide what actions, if any, are appropriate. Try acting like a soldier instead of a—”

“A what?”

“A suicidal idiot.”

“Nice.” The thread of amusement in Keaton’s voice told me I’d gotten through to him.

We lapsed into silence, the minutes ticking by. We heard the chanting first. When the group appeared, their formation was obvious. Three at the front, three at the back, all robed in black. Logic told me they were guards. In the center, flanked by two more, were a woman in white, and a man in a dark red robe. All but the woman and the red-robed man carried flaming torches—the source of the lights we’d seen.

“Do you think that’s him?” Keaton’s voice was spiky with venom.

“I don’t know.” It was a lie. The red robe was supposed to set him apart. Who else could it be? “Wait,” I repeated.

The procession continued onto the beach. They formed a circle around the wooden stake, its purpose becoming clear when they bound the girl to it. She didn’t resist, her head bowed.

The man in red held his arms aloft, chin tipped up. The chanting cut off, the sudden silence worse than the noise. And with a sick twist in my gut, I realized he reminded me of myself—of the way I’d commanded crowds when I peddled the suppressants. All that was missing was the lightning. Keaton had been right about me being the recruiter. And I wasn’t a fan of the mirror being held up.

Keaton’s whisper was harsh. “It’s him.”

I didn’t answer.

The man’s voice rolled over the sand. “My children, we know why we are here. We have a sinner in our midst.”

The girl ducked her head, a slight tinge of red seeping into her otherwise pale cheeks. “We have rules for a reason, and Madeleine has chosen not to follow them and instead welcome corruption into her heart. Do we stand for that?”

“No, Beloved Father, we do not.”

It was so in sync, they must have practised it a thousand times. Keaton was like a statue next to me, his muscles locked and rigid.