Page 121 of Reap & Sow

At midday sharp, resonant chimes rang from the belfry of the Great Templehouse. The cityfolk gathered to the promise of protection as if to a hearthfire in winter, their eyes everywhere as they looked for monsters lying in wait. The Blades were out in force. They lined the streets around the templehouse for nearly a half mile, silver swords and crossbows at the ready.

There hadn’t been a Clerics’ Conclave held in Blackbridge for more than a century. Word had spread that the Patriarch had arrived that morning in the small hours, a retinue of clerics and attendants in tow. Anticipation of such a holy day cast out much of the fear, for what evil would dare descend now, with the most pious people in the land here gathered?

Eda and Ben remained in the darkness, watching.

Eda felt like one giant bruise. Her head wound, while superficial, stung every time she frowned or raised her brow. Ben’s hand bore the fine gouges of the demoness’s claws. His lip was swollen. It wasn’t lost on her that Lawrie had fallen sick as a result of being bitten by a fiend—who was to say a demon couldn’t inflict the same illness?

After today, it might not matter.

Blackbridge was in fine form; the clouds hung thick with rain, the air heavy with promise. Today, it all ended. One way or another.

Last night they’d escaped up Lich’s staircase to the sound of furious voices echoing along the corridor. The trapdoor above bore only a simple bolt lock, and they had piled out into the cellar of a fine home. Eda suspected it was Lich’s—she recalled a blur of ornate furniture and audacious embroidery before the terrified scream of a housemaid sent them spilling into the street like thieves in the night. They ran until they were gasping for breath, collapsing in some dark close.

Tripp led them back to the wealthy hunter’s house. Eda and Ben were so tired that they fell asleep right there on the floor of the solar, clinging to each other.

Eda woke first. She’d silently cried, staring at the dusty ceiling. For her brothers’ pains. For her own. For the boiling anger bubbling up inside when she thought of all the ways they’d suffered. And for Kit—because part of her had desperately hoped to find him waiting in that big house, smiling roguishly.

There you are, darling.

In the darkness of the solar, she’d covered her mouth to stem the sounds of her misery.

But standing now in the shadows between buildings, Eda was numb. She didn’t think she could muster a single tear—all hollowed out. Her insides were more howling storm than blood and sinew.

When Tenelle cut through the crowd and joined them, Eda held out the chunk of obsidian in silence.

“You did it?”

“It’s done.”

“And we nearly died,” Ben said.

Tenelle studied their cuts and bruises. “You thought it would be easy?”

“Nothing about demons is easy,” Eda said curtly. “We know that better than anyone.” She handed over the chisel and hammer.

“Hm. You are many things, young lady, but no coward.”

You’re damn right. “I’m glad you noticed, Commander. Shall we?”

They followed at some distance behind Tenelle as she cut across the wide cobbled intersection, where Blackbridge’s main arteries fed back to the templehouse and keep. The templehouse itself could hold a thousand people at capacity, and it was already near full. Stragglers were still being admitted through the towering silver doors, but they looked well dressed, perhaps here by invitation. Late commonfolk were turned away.

Still, those relegated outside would not miss sighting the Patriarch if they could. The crowd was huge and noisy, but they parted like water for the commander in her resplendent plate.

“Let them in,” Tenelle said when a Blade tried to stop Eda and Ben ascending the templehouse steps. The guard gave them an incredulous look, eyeing Ben’s poorly concealed sword, but she stood aside.

Within, it was an echoing cavern, thrumming with the voices of the gathered Faithful, who sat along rows of hard pews. It swelled even fuller now than when they’d fled the place days ago. Flat daylight was transformed into a startling palette of colors where it shone through the stained glass. Gold cornice gleamed high above in the vaulted ceilings.

Tenelle marched toward the dais at the head of the hall, keeping to the borders of the room. She murmured to soldiers stationed along the wall as she passed. Eda and Ben kept their hoods up and followed. Eda was stiff in every muscle, anticipating a sudden need to flee or for someone to catch sight of their faces and raise the alarm. Tenelle hadn’t yet cleared the Shaws’ names.

Saints, I miss that mantle.

Her worry was for naught. The city denizens were too busy finding their seats and sharing in hushed excitement. Eda and Ben were made amorphous among the shifting mass.

Tenelle stopped a dozen rows from the front—close enough for a clear view, but not so near as to catch the bishop’s eye. Eda and Ben filed dutifully onto the end of the pew. “Keep your heads down,” Tenelle hissed, “and have that sword ready.” Then she was gone.

They sat. It took Eda a moment to realize the man next to her was staring. She glanced at him. Did a double take.

“Bartholomew?”