Followed by Fire

by McKenzie Austin

  Elias nodded. “All that and more. The people sing their praises of the Brotherhood’s deeds.” He pinched his lips together, folding his hands in front of him. “I cannot say that I approve of some of your tactics, but… I know, at their core, they come from the heart.”

  De’Savaria peeled his gaze from the fork he held and flung it toward Elias. “Death is the only thing that will send those monsters where they belong. To cast magic in Brigovia spits in the face of the Angel Lord. Only He should possess such power.”

  The rise in tension was felt. It wafted through the room with a force that Elias had grown familiar with in his encounters with De’Savaria. He kept his calm, hoping the composure would deter things from escalating. “You must know that on some level, He wanted them to have those gifts… lest He would not have made it so they could possess them.”

  “That was not His doing.” De’Savaria scowled, sliding back in his chair. “That was the doing of his damnable brother. You should study your holy scripture a little further, Father.”

  Against the man’s aggression, Elias only smiled. “They are twins, De’Savaria. Two halves of the same whole. The eternal symbol to remind us that we choose who we become.” He glanced toward the kitchen door, looking for any sign that the food might be ready. When he saw none, he returned his focus to his guest. “For even if we all share the same blood, we can take entirely separate paths from one another.”

  Elias’ calm only escalated De’Savaria’s contempt. “My wife chose who she became,” he uttered in a heated whisper. “She was a servant of the Angel Lord, just as I am. Are you telling me she is to be punished in the afterlife for eternity, because those monsters tricked her into straying?”

  The priest shook his head, smoothing out the linen before him. “It is not my business to decide who attends which afterlife, my friend. My only purpose is to ease the souls of those seek penance for things they’ve done.” His shoulders lurched forward, and his expression changed to one of empathy. “What happened to Serena was a tragedy. I am terribly sorry for it.”

  Before De’Savaria could squeeze out another word, the kitchen doors pushed open. A woman entered the room, holding a silver tray of assorted foods. She set the banquet down, finding proper places for the bread, the wine, the seasonal fruits, and the pottage. The stew’s scent ascended with the steam as the maiden lifted the lid from the pot. She reached out to pour some into the nearby bowls, but Elias stood and laid a gentle hand on her arm.

  “That is not necessary, Marita. You have been so kind as to bring the food to us; you needn’t serve it as well.”

  Surprise washed over the woman’s face, but she smiled at the kindness the priest afforded her. “Thank you, Father Deverell. Will that be all?”

  “It will, indeed. Please,” he motioned outward, “go enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  She bowed her head, as a symbol of her gratitude, and slipped out the door. Elias whispered a quiet prayer under his breath—the same one he said each and every time he was about to enjoy a meal provided to him by his god. Upon completion of the prayer, he reached over, using a ladle to spoon the pottage into the bowls left at the table. He slid one over to De’Savaria before he served himself.

  De’Savaria watched as Elias tore a small piece of bread from the loaf, and dipped it into the stew. With a frown, the man did the same. The first bite did little to calm his temper, but the second and third warmed his insides. He felt his rage subdue.

  The meal was quiet for some time. Nothing more than the clanks of silverware on various bowls and plates. De’Savaria glanced at Elias, swallowing a mouthful of stew before he reached over to claim a drink of the offered wine. “Father Deverell…”

  Elias’ brows lifted as he turned his head. “Hm?”

  De’Savaria’s fingers tightened around the stem of the wine glass. “I know that your skill lies in cleansing the souls of the living. But, in all that you have read… in all that you have experienced…” He peered at the priest with unreadable eyes. “Do you think… a soul can be redeemed after death?”

  A silence followed as Elias mulled over his answer. He reached over to grab a cloth napkin and dabbed at the sides of his mouth. “I think Serena will be awaiting you in the same afterlife, De’Savaria.” He offered a calm smile. “I am confident that you will see her again.”

  The Brotherhood’s leader nodded, appearing to have found some comfort in Elias’ words.

  Clearing his throat, the priest continued. “However, I do think that you might… ease up on the approach you take.” His serene expression adopted a grim undertone. “What happened with the witch, Amadeia… it was inhumane. Grotesque.” He set his bread on the table, the memory turning his appetite sour. “I don’t know that the Pinesguard children needed to bear witness to such brutality…”

  Slow boiling wrath filtered up and into De’Savaria’s veins. He glowered at Elias, squeezing his dissatisfaction into the spoon he held. “It is the creatures like that witch who destroyed Serena. Turned her away from her faith.”

  “To destroy them as they have destroyed others…” Elias shook his head. “It only makes us as sinful as they—”

  “I am justice!” De’Savaria slammed his fist on the table, rattling the cutlery and everything else that sat upon it. “I smite the wrongs which bleed through the cracks that our Lord cannot see!” His lips peeled back as he tried to contain his rigid body. “Perhaps it is not righteousness which makes you pity them.” He pointed an accusing finger. “This is Father Asher’s doing, isn’t it? Did your tutor raise you with an equally sinful heart?” The man’s eyes turned dark as he caught Elias’ gaze. “Has he mentored you with the same lust toward monsters, Father?”

  A bold statement. One which made Elias’ stomach twist with mixed emotions. “No,” he uttered, turning a calm gaze to the table, as not to look upon De’Savaria’s face. “Of course not…”

  De’Savaria scowled. “I will see to it that he hasn’t.” He lowered his stiff form back into his chair, unaware he had lifted himself from it in his rage. “I will be your shadow, Father Deverell. The people of Brigovia need legitimate men of the Lord to guide them. I will no longer allow the chance for any good man or woman to stray from His grace.” His voice fell as he pressed his spine against the back of the chair, his shoulders taut. “And He will reward me for my service. He will pull Serena from the Netherworld and place her in His holy light.”

  Elias lifted his attention from the table to find De’Savaria’s face. He saw the anguish in every twitching muscle. The pain. The priest closed his eyes, consumed with pity for the man. In the years that had passed since Serena’s death, Elias had hoped De’Savaria’s acceptance of the situation would grow… but the only thing that grew was his rage. “I hope, with my entire heart, that that is true,” he said, hoping it would bring some ease.

  It did. De’Savaria softened his exterior. He needed to be a symbol of poise; but for the kind words Elias uttered, the leader of the Brotherhood still harbored doubts. The priest had been acting strange. Distant. Unfocused. It would be best if he kept a keen eye on him. Perhaps he could still save him, if his suspicions were correct. He did not wish for Father Deverell to trip into the same pitfalls as his mentor.

  And if not… at least he could save the people of Brigovia from falling under the influence of a false holy man.

  “I believe I have eaten my fill,” De’Savaria said, sliding his chair out from behind him. He reached over to his napkin, suddenly feeling the uneasy burden of extra eyes on him. The man drew his shoulders back and followed his instincts toward the darkness.

  There, sitting in the dancing shadows of the flickering candles, was a small black mass. De’Savaria almost felt alarm, until he realized it was nothing more than a common cat. It stared at him without hesitation, its eyes like the moon on a crystal clear night.

  De’Savaria dabbed the crumbs off of his mouth before he gestured toward the animal with his head. “Who let that cat in here? Seems unsav
ory for an animal like that to romp around the house of the Lord.”

  Elias arched a brow, following De’Savaria’s gaze over to the beast. Though all black cats looked nearly the same, he recognized the animal immediately. Maritimus. Why had he come? Was Esven in danger?

  No. That wasn’t it. An unexpected feeling of calm struck him. It seemed to be emanating from the cat’s body. Elias could not say how or why he knew, but it seemed Maritimus’ presence had more to do with De’Savaria than it had to do with Esven Greenbriar. “Oh,” he started, coughing quietly into his hand, “he’s… he’s good for eradicating the rats,” Elias said, content that there was truth to his deceiving statement, though Maritimus was no employee of the church.

  Studying the creature intensely, De’Savaria scoffed. He reached over, grabbing the glass of wine, and drained it of the rest of its contents. With an exhale, he returned the glass to the table. “Well then… he and I have something in common.”

  Chapter Nine

  Another night spent in the company of Balvonak. Esven laid in the bed, staring at the ceiling. She mulled things over in her mind as she twisted the chain of the locket he had given her between her fingers.

  The fire demon had started out as an irritant. He remained one still, more often than not. But, after sharing lighthearted conversation with him well into yesterday’s evening, he managed to climb up the list of people whose company she did not mind.

  It was not an incredible feat. Esven’s list was very short.

  It was kind of him to give up the bed. She could still hear him breathing as he slept on the floor across from her.

  The accommodations were small. Esven guessed that the room only served as a place to sleep for half of the people who paid to use it. The other half…

  She shuddered at the thought, and only hoped the linens were washed on a regular basis.

  Mostly drawn curtains blocked the light from entering the only window in the room. A thin line of sunlight oozed its way through, leaving a parallel streak of illumination on the bed. Esven did not see Maritimus enter the room last night. The thought did not alarm her. Every witch knew cats could walk through walls.

  The morning had already offered her an hour to roll the events of the last few days around in her mind. It was a lot to drink in. Demon armies and rumors of her mother’s involvement with them—it was hard to pick apart the truth from the folly. Maybe all of it was true. Or all of it madness.

  Why, of all the beings blessed with magical ability, did Balvonak seek her to open the door to the Netherworld’s army? As she understood it, it had to do with the human blood coursing through her veins. It seemed to be a strange prerequisite for inviting a demon army onto the surface world.

  It all seemed a bit too on the nose for Esven. Why would fate pick her to be the one responsible for mankind’s longevity? Or had fate not chosen her at all? Had the universe guided Balvo to her doorway in the forest for a greater purpose, or was it just the determination of a fire demon hoping to free his brothers from the pit that they lived in?

  She closed her eyes, sinking as deep into the thin mattress as she could.

  What would Amadeia have done?

  The Amadeia she knew, the one she had grown up with, would speak on behalf of the people. She would acknowledge their faults, and somehow glaze over them with a firm, yet loving hand. Amadeia didn’t speak of humanity’s failings much, but on the rare instance that she did, she did it with an adoring spark in her eyes.

  She loved them through everything. It seemed as if they could do no wrong.

  But that… that was the Amadeia she lived with as a child. As a teenager. As a young adult.

  The Amadeia that Balvonak had spoken to her of last night… the one who coexisted with the demons of the Netherworld… that Amadeia was a stranger to Esven… if she even existed at all.

  She needed to keep her wits sharp. It was far too soon to tell what truth was and what wasn’t.

  Becoming lost to her thoughts, she hadn’t even noticed that she no longer heard the soft sounds of Balvo’s breathing. When Esven flicked her eyes to the edge of the bed, she leapt at the sight of him as he sat up from his place on the floor. He wore his traditional charismatic grin, looking awfully neat for a man who’d only just awoken.

  “The second day,” he uttered into the darkened room, holding up two of his fingers. “Are you ready, my darling?”

  Esven pulled herself up into a sitting position, pulling the blankets up over her lap. Another day in the lion’s den. The events of yesterday were interesting. She had mixed feelings at the start, but it had ended well enough. A glimpse of decency shined in what could have been a terrible place. Esven doubted very much that there was anywhere Balvo could take her which would encourage her to invite death upon mankind. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she muttered, combing her fingers through her hair to make herself more presentable.

  “Glad to hear it.” Balvonak sprang to his feet, rotating his shoulders to get blood flowing into his fingertips. Thinking back to the conversations they shared last night brought a strange half-smile to his face. “You know,” he added, bending from side to side to stretch, “your social skills aren’t terrible for a recluse.”

  The observation made Esven let a short laugh loose. “I wasn’t a complete hermit. My mother took me into Pinesguard on rare occasions.” She tilted her head, reflecting on the memory. “As I recall, I really looked forward to it. The lessons in history, art, science, and music.” Her expression turned into a small frown, as her sentence trailed off.

  Balvo studied her face after adjusting the clothing he wore, smoothing out the wrinkles that came from sleeping on a floor. “Then why the sad face?” he asked, catching sight of her emotional shift.

  Esven jerked her head up, unaware that she wore her feelings so visibly. “Oh. I just…” She shook her head, shrugging. “I remember that she’d change my appearance every time. Little things, like eye color, hair color, skin tone. I remember being confused as to why, but… she always had a way of making me feel safe, so I never questioned it.”

  “Hmm.” Balvo bent down to secure the laces on his boots. “Starting to question things now though?”

  The woman’s gaze dragged across the floor as she shifted to make the bed. “Starting to question a lot of things…”

  Balvo watched her smooth out the creases in the bedding, smirking. “About a decade late on those questions,” he said, pushing back to stand up after he’d finished securing his footwear. “Better late than never, I guess.”

  A thoughtful expression consumed her, as she stared at the newly made bed. “Yes. I suppose so.”

  When the room quieted after her last words fell away, Balvo cleared his throat. It looked like she needed a moment to herself. “I’ll give you the room then,” he said, pausing when he caught sight of the locket still intertwined in her fingers. The fire demon tensed. “Do be careful with that.”

  Arching a brow, Esven glanced at the locket in her hand, unaware she had still been holding it. “I will,” she said, tucking it back into her satchel. With a quick sigh, she tried to regain the composure she had lost a moment ago. “You know, I didn’t strike you for the fancy jewelry type.”

  “Then you must chastise yourself for putting so much stake in stereotypes,” Balvo retorted as he finished the last of his morning grooming and headed for the door.

  Esven glanced toward him. “What was her name?”

  The fire demon’s hand stopped just short of the handle. He didn’t turn to look at her. “Excuse me?”

  “Her name.” Esven stared at the back of his head, her arms slowly crossing over her chest. “It doesn’t take a keen eye to know that it’s obviously from a woman.”

  Balvonak stiffened his spine. He stared at the door, finding a small imperfection to focus on. “Yes. It was.”

  “Was?” Esven felt a hole form in her stomach. All of her confidence rushed toward it and sank. “I’m… I’m sorry,” she started, shaking her hea
d. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  His hand rested on the handle for a long moment, until he pushed it down. Balvo pulled the door open only an inch, welcoming a sliver of light into the room. “Come along,” he stated, his back still to her. “Plenty to do today.”

  Before the fire demon could step into the warmth of the day, he jumped at the sight of a body just outside the door. “By Marumon’s blood!” he cursed, lifting an arm to defend himself.

  Elias stared at him unceremoniously, quirking a brow at Balvo’s frantic reaction. The priest rotated his wrist and flexed his gloved fingers, showing nothing other than perfected calm. “There are not many around here who take the Demon Lord’s name in vain,” he murmured, observing Balvo as he recovered from his shielded position.

  “You…” Balvonak’s eyes narrowed as he straightened himself. The priest from the market. “What in the unholy bits of Brigovia are you doing he—”

  “Elias!”

  Esven pushed past Balvo and threw her arms around the priest’s neck. She lingered in the embrace for several seconds before she pulled out of it. Wearing a smile on her lips, she pushed her hair out of her face to allow it to shine through. “It’s so good to see you again!”

  Elias’ eyes widened when she attacked him with her hug. His arms flew out from his sides, as he tried to refrain from touching her. “It’s—it’s good to see you too, Esven. I’m happy to see you safe.”

  “Safe?” She blinked, turning to take in the sight of a very disgruntled Balvonak. “Oh, you mean from him?” She waved her wrist. “He’s no threat to me, Elias, you’ve my word on that. A lot has happened since last I saw you,” she started, delighting in the presence of a familiar face. “I—”

  “—have a very busy day planned,” Balvonak finished for her, as he crossed his arms over his chest. He found no joy in realizing that the two were friends, although it made much more sense why the priest was so interested in his investigation. The demon clamped his teeth together. The last thing he wanted riding his ass was a holy man. “Do you think you two could catch up another time?”