Page 125 of Reap & Sow

Tenelle reacted before anyone else.

She swung for Mr. Night, who shoved Fane away from him so hard the bishop fell in white-faced shock. The demon stepped neatly around her blow, grabbing her sword arm—

And snapped it.

Tenelle’s scream speared Eda like a lance.

Cries rolled through the nave. Despite the commander’s sagging stance and visceral agony, she swung her good fist hard. Mr. Night seemed surprised by the swiftness of her retaliation—he barely caught it in time. She made to headbutt him, but he threw her to the ground as though batting away a rabid dog. He planted a boot in her back, pinning her.

Quicksilver eyes took stock of the horrified audience. Some fled, but most simply gripped one another, rabbits caught in a fox’s stare. Like a compass returning north, the demon’s gaze swung unerringly toward Eda. She froze.

Blades rushed the dais. Tenelle bellowed, “Hold!” Her face was pressed to the scarlet runner, teeth bared. The soldiers paused uncertainly.

She wants everyone to see this.

Mr. Night ignored them. “Florian, Florian. Imagine my surprise to learn that instead of ensuring my use of the Prime Gateway, you have allowed it to be destroyed.” Mr. Night’s hiss was serpentine and sharp, like nails on chalk. “And now you stand before this gathering of unwashed peasants to oversee the destruction of my own. You would leave me stranded here, in this fetid carcass of a world?”

Fane stumbled upright. “I—I did not know about the other…” His eyes were on stalks as he seemed to register the gobsmacked attention of the templehouse upon him. “You cannot discuss…!”

“Our Pact, you mean?” Despite his bland expression, Eda gained the distinct impression Mr. Night was laughing at him. “You were canny enough to dictate that I may not discuss it. You failed to make note of Clause Fourteen: Signee agrees to the expiration of all stipulations and amendments made upon completion of this contract. And here we stand, with you having quite industriously gathered my three thousand years just in time for autumn harvest. In other words…” He held out his arms, smiling. “I can discuss it with whomever I like.”

Loopholes, Eda thought numbly. The same clause featured in the Shaws’ own Pact. Fane was clever but made hasty by the promise of power—his dreams so close at hand. He’d agreed too readily to Mr. Night’s terms in their basement. Now you reap what you sow.

The bishop turned white as milk. His red hair seemed garishly bright against his wan complexion as he faced the congregation. “He’s…it’s lying! The demon lies! That is what they do, don’t you see?” No one spoke. Fane’s hands were like claws as he shook them. “The demon lies!”

Beneath Mr. Night’s boot, Tenelle laughed. Eda felt like laughing too.

The Patriarch pointed with a shaking finger at Fane. “Apprehend this heretic at once! Cast out the demon!”

Then all was chaos.

Clearly following Tenelle’s prior orders, the Blades barked at the nave to empty their seats, pushing those that dallied toward the doors. At the front, silver swords surged toward Mr. Night.

The first to reach him were thrown in opposite directions; the sickening crash of their landing sent the templehouse into full-blown hysteria. People screamed. The clerics tripped over themselves as they ran, joining the surging river of bodies cutting down the center of the hall.

“C’mon,” Ben said, pulling her away. Eda had the presence of mind to look for Bartholomew, but he was already gone. A good thing, too, for a Blade was thrown into their pew and sent the whole thing skidding backward. His sword fell from his limp hand, sheared in two.

Tenelle bellowed, “Now!”

Eda spun. The commander had escaped to the far side of the dais, sword in her good hand. Her broken arm hung heavy and useless. She was looking up at the galleries above, where two figures in blue and silver robes stood vigil on either side.

Alchemists. I didn’t even notice them!

They raised their hands and began to chant, too distant to understand.

The stone dais glowed. A cold blue light reminiscent of warning fires burst to life in strange lines and bisecting shapes, as if from nowhere. It ran wall to wall, like flame racing along a hidden trail of gunpowder. It was a hidden trail, Eda realized. A glyph, prepared by the alchemists. They were activating it.

She’d doubted Tenelle’s provisions for dealing with a demon like Mr. Night. Perhaps Eda had underestimated her, for this was a trap.

Mr. Night froze where he stood. The Blades were unfazed. As one, they retreated. From above came a flash of silver like falling rain: a net, the same as those they’d tried to trap Kit with. Weighted on each corner, it would wrap bodily about the first thing it hit.

Mr. Night spun, hissing, but was too slow—he was enfolded. He snarled so loudly it was nearly a roar, a terrible noise Eda had never heard him make. He thrashed. Skin smoked as silver burned through him like hot wire.

But then he was a writhing ball of black smoke, whispering across the stone to freedom.

The Blades stood guard beyond the borders of the glowing glyph. Tenelle did not. She took immediate advantage of the demon’s distraction and lunged across the dais, fixated on something on the ground. The Breakers, Eda realized. They gleamed in the icy light, discarded near the Gateway.

Tenelle barely took three steps before Mr. Night materialized in her path. She stopped dead.