Cronin’s footsteps crept slow and light on the cold tiled floor. Myriel didn’t dare look behind her.
‘And yes,’ he continued, ‘the other children preyed upon my weakness. For years. But I found solace in the Codex. The Fayth saved me, Myriel. The Gods gave me strength. My spine may have bent but my spirit remained straight and steadfast. I pledged myself to the Fayth and, over time, I beat the corruption that festered within me. I healed, physically and spiritually.
‘And I never forgot what they did to me. The bigger boys that pushed me. The pretty girls that teased me.’ His hot breath played on the back of Myriel’s neck. ‘When I was through with them, the boys weren’t so big and the girls weren’t so pretty. The Sisters whose job it was to protect me… They showed me that the purest form of salvation comes in the mortification of one’s senses. Every name, Myriel. Every face. They all ended up in the Gravehold, awaiting judgement by the Gods. I purged the sins from them and made them pure.’
Myriel shook her head. ‘That’s how you justify the horrors you inflict? You poor, poor boy.’
Cronin appeared in front of her again, twisted face leering down at her. ‘I inflict only what is just.’ The back of his gloved hand struck her face. ‘As I said—I am lucky to perform a duty which I enjoy.’
Gunfire rang out beyond the door, accompanied by screaming.
Cronin froze.
A single gunshot snapped, and then silence.
‘Well, Confessor Cronin.’ Myriel leaned forward and steepled her fingers. ‘It appears you’re shit out of luck.’
Damien flew into the wall, almost breaking his back. He fell to the floor.
Korvan looked at him the way a cat regards a dead rat. ‘Does my memory deceive me? Does Nyr sing lies into my ear?’ Korvan gazed up, as if expecting Nyr to answer. He dragged Damien across the floor and placed a heavy boot on his chest. ‘Will your soul burn as brightly as my brother’s?’
Korvan flicked the switch in his hand, and Enoch screamed.
So much screaming. More than a man has in him.
‘I know about you, Nyr-az-Telun!’ Korvan’s voice switched between a low rumble and a lilting giggle, like two souls in the one body, each battling for dominating. ‘I know of the bloody swathes you cut across the world. I know of the men and women you slaughtered. You have the bloodlust, Disciple of Nyr! We are the same.’
Korvan pressed harder.
A rib cracked.
‘Though perhaps you are a mite more fragile.’
‘I…’ The pain in Damien’s chest cut the words off.
Beyond Korvan, Enoch struggled against the bonds.
Silver teeth gleamed in Korvan’s mouth. ‘Brother! I see you have some spirit in you after all! But how much?’ Korvan increased the power. Enoch’s skin sizzled and smoked. ‘Very fancy, these newfangled gadgets. All the hours I wasted flicking a lighter at him!’
Damien sent his heel into Korvan’s groin. He didn’t react.
‘Soon airships will communicate with voice, through receivers! Isn’t technology marvellous?’ Korvan’s fist pummelled Damien, blood bubbling from his lip.
‘Stop, Korvan! I… I am sorry for what I did to you.’
Distracted by Enoch’s voice, Korvan eased the pressure.
Damien took the opportunity.
He rolled onto his side, pain burning brighter with every move. His enemy was insurmountable. Frontal attacks would hurt him more than Korvan.
So he took to the shadows. He scaled the metal beams, gliding across the steel, climbed deep into the shadows above.
Korvan’s laughter wailed high up into the rafters. ‘And the Disciple hides like the coward he is.’
Enoch screeched. A shower of sparks burst from him. Korvan’s laughter floated up.
What have you become? You could have had it all, “Damien”. You could have bathed in blood for all your days.
No! I am not the same as this monster!
Damien floated down, climbing between the criss-crossing struts of the chamber. He swung and launched both feet into Korvan before disappearing amid the shadows again. He has a weakness—and I will find it!
In the darkness, Damien guided himself by touch and smell more than sight. He struck at Korvan from the shadows, disoriented him, lured him to different corners, chipping away at his defences. Guerrilla tactics—fast, surprising, hitting and running.
He was faster than Korvan.
‘I like a fondle in the dark as much as the next killer,’ Korvan called, ‘but Enoch may have a different opinion, Disciple! I present you with a choice: You can kill him quickly—as I know you can—or you can keep fluttering like a sparrow in the dark, and listen to his screams as I slowly nudge him into insanity—like those funny dancing bears the Tarevian carnivals used to produce!’
Silence.
‘Would you like that, Enoch? Would you like to dance for the people’s pennies as they chant your name? “Enoch the Imbecile” I think I’ll call you!’
Damien flitted through the dark. He strained to focus …
Lockwood’s men, struggling with the elevator…
…Wraiths lying mangled on the floor…
And outside, thunder, rain and lightning…
Enoch screamed—Damien descended with lightning speed and destroyed the remote control in Korvan’s hand, sent a spinning elbow into his jaw and disappeared into the darkness again.
‘I will atone for what I have done,’ breathed Damien. ‘You can claim no such thing.’
Enoch’s eyes opened.
Like white-hot pokers stabbing him, Damien’s chest blazed with pain. The broken rib threatened to pierce one of his organs. One way or another, this fight would end soon.
Enoch’s bonds grew taut. Veins popped from his stone skin.
And one arm snapped free.
‘Brother!’ called Korvan. ‘I was worried you weren’t going to join us!’
Gallows shot the lock and kicked the door down.
‘It ain’t Thackeray,’ spat Valentine.
‘No.’ Gallows lowered his weapon. ‘It ain’t.’
Confessor Cronin smiled at Gallows. The son of a bitch actually smiled.
‘Now would be a good time to shoot him,’ said Valentine.
Myriel got to her feet. ‘I concur.’
‘No!’ Gallows pushed the barrel of Valentine’s gun away. ‘Take Myriel. Get Serena.’
Valentine gave him a sidelong glance. ‘You kidding me?’
‘Serena!’ Myriel strode towards Gallows. ‘She’s here?’
‘Reckon so.’ He spoke without taking his eyes from Cronin. ‘Go. Now.’
‘You sure about this?’
Cronin’s face softened. ‘Dispense with the hard-man routine, Mister Gallows. We both know you don’t intend on walking away from here.’
‘Ty…’
‘Get Serena. Go. Now.’
Valentine walked backwards out of the door, rifle raised. ‘See you on the other side.’
‘Close the door,’ said Gallows.
The Liberty Wind hovered close to the base of the Spire. Its warning lights dimmed and even the sky was beginning to clear.
The hulking warship lumbered. Drimmon had never seen an airship take so much damage and stay in the air. She was a tough bird right enough, and Drimmon had no doubt that was down to her captain. She was even scarier than Tiera and Ena put tog-
Lightning surged from the black sky, heavy and slow, like a sledgehammer. It battered the Schiehallion’s hull, forked and sparked out, searing the air like the crack of a whip.
‘What the…?’
Another volley of pulsing blue and violet bolts struck out at the warship. Chunks of armour sparked and broke away.
Drimmon had never seen anything like it. The lightning wasn’t random—it was targeting the Schiehallion.
‘They’re all gonna die. They’re all gonna die.’
Drimmon sat frozen. Taking the Liberty Wind up there would mean putting himself in danger.
> He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave Ena alone. Who’d look after her?
Thunder rolled in the artificial night, another surge of lightning slashing from the heavens. The Schiehallion belched black smoke and fire.
Drimmon pulled the flight stick and pushed the throttle.
He made his decision.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
‘I can end it, you know.’ Cronin sat behind the table and motioned for Gallows to do the same. ‘I can end the torment, Mister Gallows.’
Gallows stood, gun in hand. ‘Shut your damn mouth before I kill you. The only reason you’re alive is because I’ve got questions.’
Cronin beamed. ‘Ah, the roles are reversed!’ He sounded like a kid with a new toy.
‘Sera.’ Gallows gave her name the weight it deserved. ‘What did you do to her?’ Different answers burned in his head. None of them would make him happy—but he had to know.
Cronin locked his fingers together. ‘You’ll have to be more specific.’
‘What did you do? Did you torture her?’ Gallows pulled the Vindicator close to his shoulder. His hands tremored. ‘I’ll ask one more time.’
‘If you were going to kill me, you would have. Sit.’
The gun wavered in his hands.
‘Sit.’
Gallows placed the gun on the table, between a heavy book and a small mirror. He took a seat across from Cronin.
The Confessor wore the smug look of a fox. ‘Seraphine Luvandis. We had word that your unit was captured. The Prime Councillor wanted her questioned. When it became apparent that she knew little, we dispatched Damien Fieri to eliminate you. The work he did for us in the past… Suffice it to say, we were surprised when you came back.’
Gallows’ stomach churned, his arms tense with rage. ‘Sera. What did you do to her?’
‘As a customs agent with Idari lineage, Seraphine was ideally placed to smuggle weapons from Idaris across Irros’ Bounty.’
‘She would never do that!’
‘You small-minded fool! Put yourself in our shoes. The RDN Enlighten was destroyed! The Sanctecano Islands annexed! We had to take precautions in the interests of national security.’
‘Sera wasn’t a traitor! Thackeray is done, Cronin. He failed to start his war. Farro Zoven’s empire has been dismantled. And I swear to all the Gods if you don’t tell me what you did to Sera, I’ll spend the next month chipping bits of you away, piece by piece. I’ll break your fingers. I’ll carve your goddamn eyes out. I’ll see that you’re in complete agony every time you fucking breathe. What. Did. You. Do?’
‘Such anger, Mister Gallows. Such pain. If you must know, we administered an early incarnation of Norcoté Vaughan’s mind-control drug. In fact, Sera was the very first test subject. Not even Doctor Mathieson knew.’
Gallows fought the urge to vomit. ‘What did you make her do?’
‘Do you really wish to know?’
Gallows closed his eyes. He couldn’t look at the Confessor, couldn’t hear any more.
He forced himself to look, voice small when the word came. ‘Yes.’
Cronin’s lip protruded. ‘Nothing. I asked her to tell the truth about her family. About you. She gave us no viable intelligence whatsoever.’
He wanted to cry, wanted to believe it. But what if he was lying? ‘If she wasn’t useful to you, why keep her here? Why kill her?’
‘The drug hadn’t been tested extensively. We had to be sure. When it was clear Seraphine posed no threat, we disposed of her.’
‘“Disposed”? She was a human being!’
‘And we were at war! Do you believe her to be the only innocent who died?’
Gallows’ fingers tightened around the gun’s grip. ‘How did she die?’
‘What does it matter?’
‘It goddamn matters, Cronin!’ Tears streamed from Gallows’ stinging eyes. ‘Tell me.’
‘Injection. Painless.’
Gallows analysed the Confessor. Was he lying? Did this monster have it in him to kill anyone without torturing them? It was impossible to tell. Liars smiled a lot, kept their movements small and their lips tight. Cronin didn’t show those signs.
But he was a Confessor.
‘I see your suffering,’ he whispered. ‘You wear it as plain as the sword at your side.’
‘I suffer because of you.’
‘You held a great deal of love for Sera, and she you. Not once did she beg or plead or bargain for her life—but she did for yours. People tend to hold a romantic view of love, like it is some all-conquering force of good, that it will somehow protect them like the wings of an angel. Stick them in a room with me for five minutes…’
Cronin didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.
‘But not Sera,’ the Confessor said.
Gallows didn’t bother trying to hold back the tears.
‘Do you want to see her again?’
‘What?’
‘Sera. You wish to see her again, yes?’ Cronin’s lips parted, his words soft and honeyed. ‘Let me help you.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Suicide is a sin, Mister Gallows. I know what you desire. I can give you a good death.’
‘I…’
‘Painless. Like hers. You believe in the Indecim as I do, yes? You won’t reach Heaven if you die by your own hand. Let me help you. Let me return you to Sera.’
‘You don’t…’
‘You seek peace. I can give it to you. You came back from the war, but your old life wasn’t here. I know what happened to you. I know what the Perceptor did to you. And it’s okay, Mister Gallows. It’s okay to feel what you’ve been feeling. Let me help you.’
He sounded just like Nidra. The honeyed words, the sympathetic tilt of the head.
But what did Tyson Gallows have to live for? He’d been living a lie for two years now. Cronin may be a monster, but he wasn’t wrong. Gallows should have died in that prison cell.
He should never have come back.
And Serena? Valentine and Damien can save her. What life do I have anyway?
‘Suicide is a sin,’ Cronin repeated. ‘Let me help you. Mercifully. Quickly.’
Gallows wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words. He didn’t have a life, he was just going through the motions. It was a struggle just to get up in the morning. Hadn't he been through enough? Didn't he deserve his rest?
‘You believe you’ll go to Heaven?’ Gallows asked.
‘I know it,’ said Cronin. ‘My faith is absolute, which is how I know you will be reunited with Sera. Isn’t that what you want?’
‘More than anything.’ Gallows closed his eyes.
That was when Cronin made his move.
A jet of red gas sprayed from a gadget within his sleeve.
It filled Gallows’ head, made him dizzy.
‘A concentrated form of Vaughan’s potion, meant for Myriel. Take your hand away from the gun, Mister Gallows.’
Gallows did as he was told.
‘Good boy. Now get me out of here! If we see your friends, kill them.’
Gallows stood.
‘Through the door. Now!’
Gallows didn’t move. Instead, he picked up the mirror from the table.
‘What are you doing? Move!’
Gallows weighed it in his hands before smashing it on the table and pocketing a shard of glass.
Cronin shrank back. ‘What are you doing?’
Gallows flung the table out of the way, leapt forward and sent a left jab into Cronin’s mouth, followed by a right cross. It snapped the Confessor’s head back. Blood bubbled from his nose.
‘H-how? How are you doing this?’ Blood gurgled in Cronin’s throat. ‘How?’
‘Funny.’ The corner of Gallows’ mouth spiked. ‘Nidra begged me to tell her the same thing.’
Cronin scrambled to the floor and snatched Gallows’ gun. He pointed it at Gallows and pulled the trigger.
Click.
‘Used my last round on the door,’ Gal
lows said.
Cronin scowled. He looked around the cell in desperation, hands flailing. He picked up a book and readied his arm to lob it.
‘The fearsome Confessor Cronin—armed with literature.’
Cronin dropped the tome. ‘Be done with it, then. Kill me. What have I to fear? My seat in Heaven is secure.’
‘You sure about that?’ Gallows dragged Cronin and shoved him down onto the upturned table. He ripped his sleeve and pulled the gas dispenser from the confessor’s arm.
‘No… Stop! Stop!’
Gallows was done listening. Cronin’s eyes shot open and the gas hissed into his horrified, twisting face. The Confessor writhed and screamed, blood and phlegm bubbling from his mouth. ‘You can’t do this to me! I am a Confessor! I… I am…’
And then he stopped struggling.
Gallows stepped back. ‘Get up.’
On unsure legs, Cronin stood straight, bloodied face turning placid.
Gallows palmed the shard of mirror glass into Cronin’s hand.
‘Kill yourself.’
Without questioning, Cronin took the sharp glass and drew it across his wrists.
Gallows stepped over him on his way out. ‘See you in Hell.’
Chapter Forty
‘Abandon ship!’ Lockwood called. ‘Take us low enough to rappel!’
The COC rocked. The skyglass cracked beneath the weight of the lightning barrage.
‘Ain’t you got shuttles?’ Fallon growled.
‘This vessel was unveiled as a PR stunt, I’ve been working with a skeleton crew as it is! And all bar one Eagle is destroyed!’
‘Fires in B-4 and C-3!’ yelled Lestra. ‘No response, ma’am.’
‘Give me the comm. Crew of the Schiehallion, cease fire and abandon ship! Abandon-’
The detonation came from within the warship. Alarms blared, their shrill, piercing howl suffocating the senses.
‘Comms down!’ yelled Lestra. ‘Rotors destroyed! Thrusters inoperable! Ignium ballast is the only thing keeping us in the air!’
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