Assassin's Heart (25 page)

THE TUNNEL WAS DARK AND EMPTY AND STILL. WE
made our way toward Marcello's home, neither of us speaking. It didn't seem there was anything to say. Either we'd find Marcello, or we wouldn't, and our next direction would depend on that.

Les climbed the ladder, carefully lifting the grate and peering through. It didn't seem like we'd been dead for long, but it could have been hours.

Les pushed the grate open, and it banged loudly against the stone floor. I flinched.

“Sorry.” He pulled himself up.

Their home was dark and cool, the fire in the hearth extinguished. A fight had taken place: shattered glassware, shredded tapestries, furniture moved or destroyed. I stood in the center of the mayhem. My uncle had given the Da Vias more than they'd probably expected.

Les hurried to the bedrooms, then around the hearth,
searching all the different areas.

He stopped. “He isn't here.”

“I don't see much blood. I think they took him.”

“To Lovero?”

I nodded. “To Estella Da Via, the head of their Family.”

“We have to catch them. If we can catch them, we can save him.”

“The new plan is the same as the old. Get to Lovero, break into their house, kill them all.”

Les rubbed his eyebrows. “All right. They'll head for the southern city gates then. They won't be able to cross the dead plains until morning. Not unless they want to face the ghosts.”

“If we hurry, maybe we can catch them on the plains or at a monastery. Save my uncle before they reach Ravenna.”

We left Marcello's home behind, pulling ourselves out of the tunnel and into the alley. A pink blush brushed the sky. The sun would be up soon. We'd been dead longer than I'd thought. Once it crested the horizon, the Da Vias would cross the dead plains, but the Da Vias thought we were dead. They had no reason to rush. It was our only advantage.

“We'll have to collect the rest of our things,” I said. “And we'll need some horses to make it to a monastery before the sun sets.”

“I'm not a great rider,” Les mumbled behind his mask.

“Well, it's either that, or take your chances on foot.” I looked over my shoulder at Les as I turned the corner.

I slammed into something and stumbled. Les placed a
hand against my lower back, keeping me on my feet.

“Well, well, well.” Lefevre and more of his men blocked the street. “I've been looking for you, Lea.”

Lefevre approached and his men followed, grim expressions on their faces. None of them wore lawmen's uniforms, which meant this was personal.

“How convenient that I find you on the streets again,” he said, “skulking in the dark.”

I unsheathed my sword. “I don't have time to deal with your petty grievances. You missed your bounty. Now get out of our way.”

I heard a noise behind us, but I couldn't risk taking my eyes off Lefevre and his men. Les looked over his shoulder, then tensed.

The men behind Lefevre shifted eagerly. Lefevre smiled, his teeth white and straight. “Oh, you're going to make time for me, little girl.”

Les faced Lefevre again, cutter in hand, his expression hidden behind his new mask. “If you value your lives, you'll flee.”

Lefevre laughed. His men joined in. “I've brought more men this time. And we're better armed. We won't fall for the same tricks as before.”

“Last chance,” Les said. I kept my eyes fixed on Lefevre, watching for the slightest movement that preceded an attack. Last time he'd let his men do the fighting. But this time he had a rapier strapped to his hip.

“I don't know where she found you”—Lefevre pointed a finger at Les—“but you'll die as easily as she. Kill them both.”

Les grabbed my arm and spun us against a building. Our backs pressed against the rough stonework, my sword held before me.

Where we'd stood floated an angry ghost. It was small, the remnants of a child taken from this life too young. It could have been my nephew, Emile. Its ghostly form glowed with internal light as it stared at the men in front of it, a forlorn expression on its face.

It had been behind us the whole time, too small for Lefevre and his men to spot behind our bodies. Les had only seen it when he'd checked our backs. Now it blinked its dead eyes, shrieked loudly, and charged the group of men, its childlike innocence gone.

The men screamed in terror. Consumed by panic, they pushed and pulled, trampling one another in their haste.

Lefevre, originally in the front of the pack, now found himself at the crowded rear. No matter how much he bellowed for his men to make way, they didn't listen.

The ghost reached Lefevre, grabbing his wrist with its transparent hands. He froze. His men scrambled away, fleeing to safety.

The ghost pulled on Lefevre's wrist, and the crooked lawman's entire body trembled. Then Lefevre suddenly had two wrists, a flesh-and-bone one suspended before him, and a transparent one, trapped in the ghost's grip. As the ghost
continued to pull, more and more of this transparent Lefevre appeared, emerging from his flesh.

Lefevre shrieked, his panic echoing off the buildings around us. He struggled but couldn't break free.

The ghost gave a final jerk, and Lefevre's spirit separated from his flesh.

Lefevre's body collapsed to the street.

The angry ghost dived at the empty body. Its form vanished inside his flesh. The body twitched, then shook. Finally it sat up, each eye blinking separately as it looked around.

Lefevre's spirit shivered in the air. He shrieked. I could feel his rage at the ghost child who'd stolen his body. I pressed myself closer to Les. He gripped my hand.

Lefevre's body rose to its feet and staggered around. It would never find coordination. It would never find speech or emotion or anything that had once made it human. It was nothing more than a shadow puppet. The ghost could not regain the life it once had, no matter how many bodies it stole from the living.

Lefevre flew at his body, trying to pull the ghost out, but he wasn't as strong as the child. It pushed him away, sending him floating toward us. His eyes widened in rage.

“You've done this to me!” he screamed, his voice an echo in the quiet night. Les twitched beside me. Soon Lefevre would lose all ability to speak.

I shook my head. “No. You've brought this on yourself.”

He roared. I held my sword before me, sure he would
come for us, would try to steal our bodies as the ghost child had done to him.

To the east, a shaft of light crept over the roof of a building, illuminating the dark street. The sun had risen.

Ghost Lefevre vanished, leaving us safe once more.

Les breathed heavily beside me. My heart beat rapidly.

We pushed away from the wall, regaining our composure. The fake Lefevre stumbled around the street as it tried to gain balance, Lefevre's body shielding the ghost child from the sunlight. Undiscovered, it would stumble around like this for a few days until it would abandon Lefevre's body in search of a new one. But we were in the city. Authorities would find Lefevre's inhabited body and burn it outside the walls of the city, releasing the ghost to the dead plains.

“What should we do about that?” Les pointed at it.

I remembered the ghost child's face before it had attacked, how sad it had seemed. How unfair for one so young to spend eternity raging at the world. Surely it deserved a chance at peace, at a new life.

I walked over to Lefevre's body.

“What are you doing?” Les asked.

“Following a hunch.” I pulled a Saldana coin from my pouch. I thought of Safraella in the fog of that dead place and Her kiss on my forehead—the pain and incredible heat. I remembered the coin burning in my mouth when Safraella had brought me back, remembered slipping it into Les's mouth and the breath that returned to him. The ghosts were
wayward children, She'd said. Only those in Her favor could send them on their way.

The coin began to warm in my hand.

I reached false Lefevre and he faced me. His head sagged on his shoulders as he tried to control his neck. I touched his shoulder. He stilled, his eyes widening as he watched me.

“Be at peace,” I said to false Lefevre. I pushed the coin into his mouth.

The ghost was ejected from the flesh. It reached out a hand, then dissipated in an explosion of mist.

Lefevre's body fell to the street.

“Did you clip it?” Les asked quietly.

“Yes.” It would no longer be an angry ghost. I had sent it to meet Safraella in Her boneyard, to face Her judgment and be given a new life.

Les eyed me. I knew he was coming to terms with something. “Your conversation with Safraella must have gone much differently than mine.”

I sheathed my sword and squatted beside Lefevre's body, searching through his pockets.

“Is this really a good time to rob the dead?” Les asked.

“I'm not robbing him.” I pulled out the Saldana stamped coin he'd taken from the dead boy's body all those nights ago. “I'm taking back what's mine. Now let's get out of here before the decent lawmen stumble upon us with his body.”

We climbed to the roofs and made our way to my safe house to prepare for the journey to Lovero.

ANARCHY GREETED US AT THE SOUTH GATE. CLOAKS
hid our leathers, packs, and satchels stuffed with all the supplies we could carry, including the makings for the firebomb that we'd assemble later. Our masks were tucked away safely until we reached the dead plains. We'd expected to buy some horses and simply ride out of the city—now that the Da Vias had taken Marcello and fled home under the assumption they'd killed Les and me—but the gate was blocked with people milling around and lawmen interrogating the crowd. I stepped into a shadow, and Les followed.

“What's going on?” I searched the crowd for any clue to the uproar. People seemed to be gathered in groups, gossiping.

Les shook his head. “I've never seen anything like this.”

An old man shuffled past, and I placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned his rheumy eyes to me.

“Excuse me, grandfather. What is the trouble? What is happening?”

He smiled a gap-toothed grin, pleased to be addressed. “Someone left the gates open, that's what!” he exclaimed. “Ghosts just walked into the city. Lots of people met their ends last night at their hands.”

“Someone left the gates open at night?” Les asked, shocked. My neck prickled with dread.

“Isn't that what I said?” The old man squinted at him. “What are you, some sort of traveler? I can tell just by looking at you!”

I turned the old man away from Les, who rolled his eyes.

“Do you know what happened?”

“I saw them myself! Heard a clatter from the streets and I looked out the window. A group of them, eight or nine at least, on well-bred horses. As soon as they got the gate open, they galloped out of here like ghosts were already after them.”

No, no, no! “Did you see their faces, grandfather? Did they wear masks crafted from bone?” I clutched the man's hand between mine, his thin skin soft as expensive paper.

“Well, I can't say as they were made of bone, but they definitely covered their faces. They were dressed all in black, too. I told the lawmen, but they didn't think masks were important.” He spat to the side, narrowly missing Les's boot.

I released my breath in a puff as any hope we'd be able to catch the Da Vias vanished. They'd left the city when it was still night. They'd reach Lovero a day ahead of us.

“I don't understand,” Les said. He stepped farther away from the old man. “How could the Da Vias brave the dead plains at night?”

“They had a priest with them!” The old man pointed a bent finger at Les.

“A priest?” I asked.

“Yes! The priest had a hat and a staff of light. He lifted the staff high, and it surrounded them with light as bright as the sun. No angry ghost could reach them through that.”

I felt as if I'd been punched in the gut. The strange man I'd seen at Fabricio's and in Yvain with the Da Vias—he was a priest. But not a priest of Safraella. When Safraella said the Da Vias had left the right path, She must've meant they'd taken up with another god.

I took a deep breath. Les squeezed my shoulder. This changed everything. Before, I was just going to kill them, make them pay for what they'd done to my Family. Now, now there were other gods, other priests involved. What had they granted the Da Vias in exchange for turning their back on Safraella? What if the Da Vias had some sort of blessing that would interfere with my plans? “Rot that Estella,” I swore under my breath.

“Lea.” Les leaned closer to me. “The plan's still the same. Get to Lovero. Find your uncle. Kill the Da Vias.”

I took another breath and nodded. “Thank you, grandfather,” I said to the old man. He patted my hand before he walked away.

From the center of the crowd, a whistle blew, sharp and
loud, followed by the voice of a lawman ordering the crowd to disperse. There was some grumbling and muffled protest, but for the most part the crowd went on its way.

We'd spent enough time in Yvain. I'd grown to like it—the canals, the flowers, the quiet cobblestone streets—despite my best intentions. But now it was time to return to Lovero and everything that awaited us there.

It took all my remaining coin and Les's to purchase the horses. The mare was sturdy and reliable, but the gelding was years past his prime and used every opportunity to slowly steer Les toward window boxes.

Les hadn't been lying about his horseback experience. Loverans were proud of their horses, but Yvain relied on its canals for transportation.

“Well, if we were taking boats, I might actually be of some use,” Les snapped at me after I'd had enough and finally tied his horse to mine. The gelding tried to tug itself free until my mare flattened her ears and kicked at it in irritation.

The gate to the city had mostly cleared as people went about their morning errands, though a few gossipmongers hung around in small groups. We passed the city wall, the clops of our horses' hooves changing to thuds as they stepped off the cobblestones and onto the dirt road leading from the city.

We rode together quietly, lost in our own thoughts until I looked up and saw that the grasses of the dead plains had
turned orange in the setting sun. Soon our path would be filled with the angry dead. And the Da Vias were still ahead of us. There was no way to catch them now. We'd have to hope that the Da Vias wouldn't kill Marcello immediately upon their arrival.

Safraella wanted me to remind the Da Vias of what it meant to serve Her. And I was happy to do it. All I'd wanted for so long was to kill them, to make them hurt like they'd hurt me. But if we couldn't get there in time to save Marcello, then what did it even matter? The Da Vias would have killed every last Saldana, even if I had been resurrected.

Brother Faraday's monastery appeared over a grassy hill as the sun touched the horizon. I kicked the horses to speed their steps, and we reached the gates before the sun fully set.

“Lea!” Brother Faraday shouted as he ran down the monastery steps. I pushed my mask to the top of my head. He clasped my hands tightly and smiled.

Behind us, other priests took our horses to the barn, Les's mount practically dragging his handler across the flagstones.

“I was worried,” Faraday said to me, “when I didn't receive any letters.”

“That was due to a lack of funds. I'm sorry to have caused you concern.”

He turned to Les and inclined his head. “I'm Brother Faraday.”

“Alessio. People call me Les.”

“Alessio Saldana,” I corrected, and Faraday's eyes widened.
I looked at Les. “You're going to have to get used to saying it sooner or later. And Brother Faraday, we've come for your help.”

Faraday led us to a cozy room with a table and chairs. Another priest served a loaf of bread, cheese, and a carafe of cold well water. Les and I tackled the food together. Every bite of bread was so soft, like eating a cloud. The sharp, rich flavor of the cheese slid across my tongue, and the cold water from the carafe was so clean and refreshing I drank two glasses in rapid succession.

“Gods,” Les said through a mouthful of bread.

“It's like tasting everything for the first time,” I said.

Faraday looked at the two of us. He smiled tentatively. “I'm glad you find our meager fare so fulfilling.”

I slowed my eating, savoring the flavors. “Something happened to us recently. It seems to have altered the way we experience food. I'm sure it will fade soon.”

Les grumbled. “I hope we can taste some goose liver before then. Oh! Or some tender white fish baked in butter.”

My mouth salivated, and I imagined seared lamb or juicy berries that popped between my teeth.

Faraday shook his head. “What happened to change your senses so?”

“We died,” Les said.

“What?!” Faraday's chair scraped the floor as he scooted forward.

I sighed and set the cheese down. “It's true. We died. The Da Vias killed us.”

Faraday's jaw dropped. “And She resurrected you both?
True
resurrections?”

Les shook his head. “No. She resurrected Lea. Then Lea resurrected me.”

I flicked my wrist. “He makes it sound more impressive than it was. She granted me a single resurrection. I used it on him. It wasn't anything more.”

“It wasn't anything more?” Faraday's voice squeaked in shock. “You were resurrected by the goddess Herself and She granted you a gift and you treat it so cavalierly?”

Faraday gulped in large breaths of air. I poured him a glass of water. He drank it quickly.

“Lea, this is a miracle you're speaking of. Nothing like this has happened in a hundred years. Not since Brother Pelleas saw Her face in a vision and walked the dead plains unmolested.” He leaned forward. “Did you . . . did you see Her? Speak with Her?”

I nodded. “We spoke and I looked upon Her face. When I woke again, I found this.” I slid my mask off my head and handed it to him.

Faraday ran his fingers gently across the flawless bone. He pursed his lips. “Lea, with your permission, I would like to record your experience. I've already written down what you'd told me about the coin, but I think I could write a whole tome on your life if you'd allow me.”

“Brother, we have limited time here,” I said. “The Da Vias have strayed to another god.”

Faraday gasped. “How can that be? A Family of such
wealth and power, turning on She who has given them so much?”

“They have lost their way.” I narrowed my eyes. “But I need to know what god they have turned to, to understand what we may face when we confront them. They had a priest with them who carried a staff of sunlight. It allowed them to cross the dead plains.”

Faraday pushed his chair away from the table. “I'll be right back.”

He ran from the room, his robe billowing behind him in his haste.

Les turned. “So. The food was amazing. Do you think other things could be amazing now that we're not dead?”

I studied his face. He grinned slowly. Heat rushed up my neck to my cheeks as we stood and reached for each other. I pushed his mask off his head to run my fingers through his hair. Les grabbed the back of my thighs and lifted me to the table. I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him closer to me. His fingers stroked the back of my neck. He kissed me on the jaw, trailing his lips across my skin. Nothing had ever felt quite like this before. Maybe it was the resurrection making everything more intense, like the flavors of the food. Or maybe it was simply the way my pulse raced when I looked at Les.

We both wore our leathers, their bindings tight against our bodies to protect us. I wanted to rip his leathers off, run my fingers across the smooth skin of his back, his chest.

Across the room, someone cleared his throat. Les paused, and I looked over his shoulder. Brother Faraday stood in the doorway, his eyes averted and his face red even through his dark skin. “I've found a book,” he mumbled.

Les laughed and stepped away. I slid off the table and we returned to our seats. I righted my overturned glass as Faraday took a seat, pointedly not looking at me.

“Sorry,” I said.

“No, it's fine. You simply . . . caught me off guard is all.”

He opened the book, the leather cover banging on the table, and began to page through it. I stared at Les and he stared at me. Just the sight of him was enough to raise the heat of my blood.

“Here!” Faraday jabbed his finger to an entry on a page.

I leaned over. It was an illustration of a staff with golden beams of light radiating from a gem.

“Daedara,” he said. “A god of the sun, mostly worshipped in the eastern part of the continent.”

“Where the hells did they find him?” Les asked.

I shrugged.

“He was one of the six gods worshipped in Lovero before the Sapienzas took the throne,” Faraday said, “but why the Da Vias have turned to him, I am unsure.”

“I think I understand.” I pointed at a line in the text. “Daedara is a god of fertility, also. Marcello told me Estella blamed him for not providing her with a child. But after he was banished, she remained barren. I don't think she was
ever stable in her head, but I could easily see her transferring the blame to Safraella.”

Faraday nodded. “It could be true, too. If Safraella could see how unfaithful Estella was, why would She bless her with a child?”

“But doesn't Daedara care that they're freely murdering people?” Les asked. “If they're not worshipping Safraella, then they're nothing more than common criminals.”

Faraday examined the text closely, then shrugged. “He seems to be against the murder of children.”

“Well,” I said, “turning to Daedara seems to have done their Family some good. Their numbers have exploded. It seems their women barely have time to clip, so busy are they being pregnant.”

Faraday leaned back. “But I don't think you need to fear anything from this priest of Daedara. Unless, like the ghosts, you fear the sunlight.”

“Thank you, Brother.” I inclined my head. “Should the Saldanas survive, I would welcome you into our home.”

He smiled brightly and shut the book. “I may take you up on that, Sister. Truly your lives are full of adventure and intrigue!”

I grabbed my mask from the table. Les reclaimed his from the floor where I had knocked it. A tingle of regret traveled through me as I watched Les dust the cobwebs from it. He had waited so long for his mask, and I had pushed it aside as if it was a cheap trinket. Les didn't seem to mind, though.
He caught my eyes and winked before he pushed his mask to the top of his head.

“Now we must be off.”

“But Sister, the sun has set and the angry ghosts wander the plains.”

I clutched my key. There would be no more delays, not while Marcello still lived and I was so close to my vengeance.

I slipped my mask down my face. “If the lowly Brother Pelleas could cross the plains one hundred years ago, then surely a favored clipper can do it as well.”