The Acolyte lay prone a few feet from the door. Her eyes were shut like she was merely sleeping, her jaw slack. I knelt to check her pulse, although I knew it was pointless—she wasn’t breathing. Another casualty, another Sister dead, but this murder struck me as especially cruel. She had just been given the wrong shift.
“May the Star shine brightly on you,” I said quietly. “And I’m sorry.”
In the distance, the bells tolled. I stood up.
“Will you be all right?” asked Millie.
I nodded. “Let’s go.”
My whole body felt tight with power; it seeped through my skin and burned iron-sharp on my tongue. While Asan had warned me that gorging was unlike consuming an ordinary sacrament, nothing could have prepared me for how profound the difference felt. Suffused with lace, I was left with the sense of being slightly off-balance, like I was standing somewhere high up and the wind was blowing. Millie kept shooting concerned glances my way. She knew what I had done. Of course she did—I wished I could have obscured the truth, but emerging from my mother’s alcove covered in Verje’s blood had made that rather difficult.
At least she didn’t seem afraid. That would have wrecked me.
“Millie.” I gathered my courage. No sense in putting this off any longer. “About Finn…”
She quickly looked away. We were halfway down the stairs. The wind had picked up and grown cold, and the clouds blotted out the stars and moon.
I forced myself to continue. “I’m probably the one who infected him. But it wasn’t … it wasn’t like you’re thinking. There was no sex. I just thought you should know.” Her silence flustered me, so I carried on. “That doesn’t make anything better, and it’s still my fault, but I wanted you to know anyway.”
“El, I already know that.”
“Oh.”
She looked at me and made an effort to smile. “Finn can be irresponsible sometimes, but you aren’t, not where he’s concerned. I’ve always known he’s safe with you.”
“Except clearly he wasn’t.”
Her shoulders hunched. “Yeah. What a cruel joke. Some kind of airborne infection?”
“Unless he was seeing another Sister.”
She snorted. “Not a chance.”
We came to the base of the hill. Pearl Boulevard was mercifully empty—although I had managed to wash the worst of the blood off my clothes in the Martyrium, my arm was still bleeding through the shroud cloth, and we could not afford to draw too much attention.
“Something has been bothering me for a while,” I said as we hurried down the first side street into Minor West. “And I thought it might have been in my head, but Verje mentioned the name again. Who is Lariel Sacor?”
Millie stiffened. “What?”
“Sacor. Verje said that Sacor had tipped them off. You used the same name as an alias at Celane’s party, and I thought that the Reverends reacted strangely to it then too.”
The blood drained from her face.
“Oh no,” she whispered.
“Millie?”
“Tipped them off?”
“Yeah, that Finn would—” I changed my mind, lied, “That Finn was concealing something. Verje wasn’t too clear. Why did you choose that name as your alias?”
She scowled. “Because if things went wrong, I hoped it might somehow land Lariel in shit. No good reason. Stupid vindictiveness, nothing more.”
“Who is she?”
“An old associate of mine.” She was definitely anxious, almost defensive. “But I don’t see how Verje would have ever met her in the first place, never mind anything else.”
“Why not?”
“Because Lariel hates the Order, passionately. Always has.”
Which gives her an obvious connection to the Resistance, I thought. And would probably mean that she knows everyone else involved. But in that case, why betray them? And why does Millie hate her so much?
The dark streets lay empty and eerie; even now, I could taste the smoke in the air. I felt watched; with each building we passed, I was sure someone was peering through the gaps between their curtains. Every step toward Steel Street filled me with a dull sense of foreboding. I knew the pyre was gone. I knew he was still alive. Yet in my mind’s eye, I could still see the stake on the dais and Finn’s skin burned tar-black. The way his head moved, blind and stiff, searching for something. I felt—although I knew it was only in my head—that I could smell charred flesh on the wind.
The Renewal Wards waited at the end of the road. I stopped. Millie looked sick, her eyes drawn toward the bare execution grounds.
“Come on,” I said. “He’s waiting.”
We reached the entrance to the building. I silently motioned for Millie to stay behind me.
Then I took a deep breath, wove a net, and blasted the door open.
To her credit, the Acolyte on duty reacted quickly. She threw up a defensive web of lace and reached for the alarm bell, but my power ripped right through hers. My lace slammed into her before she could pull the cord. I swiftly yanked her upright to stop her from toppling.
“What is the meaning of this!” she demanded, outraged. “What do you think you are doing?”
I waited until she had exhausted her power trying to break my bindings. Then I strode across the room, opened the door to the first cleansing chamber and propelled her inside.
“Sorry about this,” I said.
“Hey!”
The Renewal Ward keys were stored in the top drawer of the front desk. I found them, walked into the cleansing chamber past the furious Acolyte, locked the interleading door, returned to the foyer, and locked the second door. The Acolyte hammered on the other side, swearing at me.
Millie whistled. “That was, uh…”
“Let me out of here!”
“She’ll be fine.”
“Sounds mad though.”
“The cells are this way,” I said. “Keep close.”
The Renewal Wards were dark; only the foyer was lit. Strips of streetlight filtered through the windows in the first floor corridor. I had never been in this part of the building at night. I flipped through the keys and unlocked the door leading to the stairs. The hinges creaked.
Millie had paused before the door leading to the final Renewal Chamber, a strange expression on her face.
“It doesn’t look the way I imagined, somehow,” she said. She shook her head. “Sorry.”
The Wards comprised three floors and a basement. I headed upwards. My heart quickened. Now that we were so close, I was filled with dread. I wanted to see Finn, more than anything, but I also wanted to run. What if he was no longer himself? The smell of smoke seeped from the walls. What if he was still that burned-out wreck, what if he was mad with pain? I knew that Haunts’ flesh regenerated quickly, but to recover from that … I did not feel prepared to face him. I was not sure I ever would be.
The second floor was filled with soft murmurs and moans, the low breathing of men within individual cells. The Wards could hold up to a hundred prisoners, but seldom housed more than forty. Each man had his own room, padded and sparse, a mattress on the floor and a thin blanket. There was a large metal grill set into every door, so that inmates could be safely monitored. Once the prisoners were past use, too far gone to partake in Renewals, they were transported to the Edge. Well, apart from the ones down in the basement. They were kept for demonstration purposes, for training.
The moment I took my first step into the second floor corridor, the sounds of breathing stopped. They had all woken up.
“El?” Millie whispered.
“Check the right side,” I murmured. “I’ll check the left.”
“Hello?” A gruff voice emerged from the room ahead. “Who’s there?”
I put a finger to my lips. Millie nodded. It was darker here, and I could hardly see her face. Down the corridor, someone giggled. The sound choked off.
“Hey. Who’s there?” the first man snapped. “What’s happening?”
I could see very little inside the first cell. I leaned closer to peer through the grill.
“You smell good,” the prisoner inside whispered.
I jumped. He was right on the other side, pressed against the door. Close enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes glinted in the darkness.
“I’m starving,” he said.
I backed away silently, heart in my throat, and moved to the next door. The man inside slammed into the frame, senseless to pain. Not Finn either. This was so much worse than in daylight. There was a manic quality to the prisoners at night, something more feral, less natural.
Or, I realised, they were reacting to the smell of a Renewer.
The man grunted and collided with the door again, so hard that the impact sent vibrations through the floor. Another prisoner was sobbing, babbling to himself, a string of words I could not quite understand, a kind of profane prayer.
“I really don’t like this,” said Millie, her voice small.
I reached for her hand. “The cells are secure.”
“It’s not that, it’s that this whole place feels wrong. Unstable.”
I understood what she meant. The presence of so many half-turned men lent the atmosphere a vertiginous quality; reality turned slippery and slick. An intense feeling of dread was building inside my chest; even though I knew the doors were plated and near impenetrable, to my eyes they looked thin as card.
“It is wrong,” I muttered. “In more ways than one. But after tonight—”
“You. Speak to me,” ordered the rough-spoken man. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing that concerns you,” I said softly.
“Oh, it concerns me, all right.” He punched the grill. It rattled, but did not give. He punched it again, and we both flinched at the sound of crunching bone. “You know what it’s like, living here? Waiting for my turn?”
“Stop it!” snapped Millie. I tightened my grip on her hand.
“Millie?”
My heart performed a weird jolt. The uncertain voice came from one of the last cells on the right. Millie snatched the keys from me and ran to the end of the corridor. I followed her, although it was as if my limbs moved through treacle, each step a war between the part of me that was terrified and the part of me that yearned to hear him speak again.
“Where do you think you’re going?” the rough-spoken man called, but his words were far-off and unimportant.
Millie tried one key after the next, swearing to herself. Then one fit. She turned it and flung the door open, staggering through and throwing her arms around Finn.
He looked different. Even in the low light, I could see that. His hair had been burned away, which made him appear vulnerable, strangely naked. He was taller too, not much, but noticeable to me. The transformation had already begun to stretch his spine. But his skin was smooth and healed, like the fire had never happened.
I could not speak. I just stood there, rooted to the spot.
“What … Millie?” Finn sounded confused. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid,” she said fiercely, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “Last family I have left, and I was ready to kill you myself for being so stupid.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but that’s not really…” He trailed off as his eyes found mine. “Possible.”
I remained mute and frozen.
“You shouldn’t … You should go,” he said, faltering. “I’m infected. You know that. I don’t understand why you’re here.”
How long, I wondered, had I known? The signs had been there for weeks, but I had refused to acknowledge them. So what if he wasn’t sleeping well? That could have meant anything, or nothing at all. So he had looked sick, too pale, what of it? The bruise on his jaw that had already disappeared the night I was attacked? The fact I knew he had been hiding something? All of it could have been my imagination. He had still been Finn.
“When did you work it out?” I asked.
It took him a moment to reply. “Moon Tide.”
The same night that I had kissed him. It had been me, I was responsible, I had infected him. Not in that moment, but it had still been me. A splinter of ice worked its way into my heart, a cold, bright needle of pain.
“I didn’t want you to know,” he said.
My voice sounded like it belonged to a different person. “You didn’t sleep with another Sister, did you?”
“What?” He shook his head. “No, of course not.”
I had done this to him. The full weight of that knowledge settled down on me. The ice grew harder, colder, made it difficult to even breathe. I nodded slowly, my head heavy.
“We need to go,” I said.
“El, there’s nowhere for me to go.”
He pronounced the words in such a matter-of-fact way, so calm and resigned, that they took a moment to penetrate my brain. Millie started to say something angry. I spoke over her.
“I will not let you stay here.” I turned around. Couldn’t look at him. “I will not let the Order use you to Renew other Sisters, because I know exactly what that means and what it is like. You will come with me because no matter what happens, no matter what you say, I will not let you stay here.”
Silence. I was trembling and could not stop.
“Do I have to drag you out of the building?” I asked.
Soft footsteps behind me. Finn placed a hand on my shoulder. Even through my clothing, his skin felt icy.
“I’ll come,” he said.
I shrugged him off and walked quickly toward the stairs. I did not trust myself to say anything else. Millie whispered to him, urging him to follow. Around me, the prisoners shouted and moaned, but I ignored them.
I did this to him.
I did this to him.
I did this to him.
The words echoed in my footfalls, pounding against my skull. I kept my eyes on the floor in front of me, down the stairs, past the Renewal Chambers, into the foyer.
“I have to speak to Commander Asan,” I said. “Stay out of sight and wait for me at your grandparents’ house.”
“Elfreda?” said Millie, alarmed.
I pushed the front door open and kept walking. I would find them later. I ground my teeth together so that I did not scream.