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“I called you what you are. Or would you prefer one of your other titles? Oath Breaker. Deceiver. Make your choice. But do it quickly, please, I’m in rather a hurry.”

“What is it you want?”

“The same thing that everyone who finds themselves at your filthy doorstep wants. Sanctuary.” The woman’s voice was clear, her words exacting. She didn’t sound especially old.

Gabriel shifted, trying to glimpse the face beneath the hood. “Sanctuary from what, exactly?”

“From the people who seek to harm me.”

“We don’t take in witches here,” he asserted. “Only the accused.”

“Surely some of the accused are true witches?”

A rustling sound issued from the dark corner to his left, a small reassurance that Clement was still nearby.

“I can tell the difference,” Gabriel said.

“I have no doubt, seeing as not so long ago, you were quite the powerful witch yourself. You think I haven’t heard the rumors, Gabriel?”

He shivered. Only Clement knew his Christian name for miles. Or so he had believed.

As Obedience stepped closer, a strand of flaxen hair slipped out from beneath her cloak. She traced a pattern over Gabriel’s coat, just above his heart. He caught a glint of green eyes beneath the hood.

“I can see what you’ve become,” she whispered, her lips a dagger against his ear. “Only the most desperate witches attempt to delay death…or evade it entirely.”

He could see her face clearly now, her smooth waxen skin bathed in lamplight. It took every ounce of his control to stop himself from recoiling from her odious presence.

“You unlocked the secrets we all crave, and then you turned against your own kind. Coward.”

“That’s enough.” Clement stepped into view, cutting the tension like a knife. Obedience’s lips twisted into a cruel smile, and she stepped back, her face once more veiled in darkness. “Tell us what you want or get out.”

“There’s a weapon.” Obedience’s voice rose, and impulse caused Gabriel’s attention to dart around the sanctuary. There was no one to overhear but the shadows. “Two weapons, actually. I need a safer place to continue my tests, away from prying eyes.”

“That is not what we do here,” Gabriel snapped. He grasped the lantern, his grip tight. “Good day, Miss Bird.”

“I’ll tell them what you are.” Obedience’s voice held the calm of a lioness who had cornered her prey. “I’ll tell them what you’ve done and whom you hide.”

Clement stepped forward, his shrewd eyes narrowed in dislike. “We will not accept you or your weapons. You must seek elsewhere.”

But Gabriel’s tired mind was racing. If they refused this witch and she were to reveal them, they would be hunted down by the mob. He was willing to sacrifice his own life if it came to that, but Clement’s? He eyed his friend, feeling the weight of Clement’s life on Gabriel’s already overburdened shoulders. They might both be immune to the threats of time and illness but acts of violence could finish them just as easily as they could end any mortal.

And what about Mrs. Kanniff and the other innocents? He’d seen what the mob did to convicted witches. Even if the judges rarely ruled against them anymore, angry mobs were known for taking these kinds of matters into their own brutal hands.

Gabriel swallowed. None of them deserved such a fate.

“What kind of weapons?” he asked at last. Clement stared at him. His face was impassive, but Gabriel had known him long enough to sense his disapproval.

Obedience Bird’s malicious smile was that of a thief who had discovered a dragon’s hoard of pearls, the dragon drugged and defenseless.

An hour later, Clement lowered himself gingerly onto the pew next to Gabriel. It was the only bench still intact. Even so, it shuddered beneath the combined weight of two nearly six-foot-tall men.

Gabriel sighed, running a shaky hand over his face in exhaustion. He opened his mouth, but Clement held up a stern palm.

“Don’t tell me we didn’t have a choice. There is always a choice. You merely have to live with the consequences.”

Gabriel scowled, staring blindly into the destruction encircling them. Clement always made everything sound so simple. It rarely was.

“Live with them,” Gabriel agreed, his fingernails digging into the pew. “Or die because of them.”