Table of Contents
When the Otherside howls
Sorcha found herself wishing very hard that there might be some rules that still remained sacrosanct. A week of strangenessgeists crossing water, geists laying traps and geists summoning sea monsterswas still nothing to this. The inside of the keeps great hall had been laid out to mimic the form of an Abbey, as all Priories were, yet it was burnt to a cinder.
Whatever happenedSorcha swallowed hard to regain a measure of her professionalismit happened right in the center of the room... and it happened suddenly.
As he brushed past her, Raed raised one eyebrow. This deal about you protecting me... I think I got the raw end of the bargain.
Sorcha resisted the urge to slap him and followed after, moving deeper into the Priory to see what further horrors awaited...
To my captain, who helped me through stormy seas
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
No book arises in the dark, so thanks must go out to the following people: To my agent, Laurie McLean, who is my backbone. To Gabrielle Harbowy, who helped me begin the process of shaping this novel. To my parents and brother, who nurtured the dream and made me whole. To all the friends on all my social media networks, who gave me encouragement and listened to my gripes. To all my podcast listeners, who made me a better writer and have been waiting for this moment.
ONE
The Quiet Before Matins
It was good weather for a riot.
Or perhaps that was only wishful thinking. Deacon Sorcha Faris breathed out the last smoke from her cigar, twisted the remains against the stone parapet and sighed in boredom. A riot was almost as unlikely as an unliving attack. But it was her duty to remain alert for both, so she closed her eyes and let her Center fall away.
Under the gray and altered veil of her geist-Sight, the gathering of humans below her at the Vermillion Palaces gate smelled of nothing more than desperation and dull resignation. However, there was certainly a good crowd of them; perhaps five hundred dispossessed milled about in the snow-covered square.
Straining her preternatural senses as far as she could, Sorcha still found no tang of the unliving among them. Falling sleet was cooling their anger and they huddled against the southern wall because they had nowhere else to go. Their protest at her Emperors presence was subdued; they knew full well hed been invited by the princes to rule Arkaym, their continent, but they needed someone to blame for their own misery. The majority of the citizens of the City of Vermillion loved the Emperor, but these people had filtered in from the outlying towns for one reasonthey were hungry.
There was, however, nothing supernatural about them. Pamphleteers had been spreading discontent since autumn, and now their efforts were bearing fruit. Not all of the princes agreedthey seldom ever did on much, and there were still a couple that disapproved of her Emperor. This likely would not come to much. Still, guarding against the signs of uprising was her job; more than that, her calling.
When she reeled back her Center, the feeling of disorientation passed quickly. For a novice it would have been a strain, but Sorcha had been eighteen years a Deacon. This minor use of her powers was now as simple as breathing. Sorcha might not be a Sensitive, but she had enough rank to sign this one off.
The recent spate of possessions in Brickmakers Lane on the very edge of Vermillion had made everyone nervous, but another team of Deacons had dealt with those last week. It was as she suspected: there was nothing to Sergeant Gents worries. The palace was built far out in a shallow lagoon. Surrounded on all sides by water, the royal residence was almost impossible for the unliving to enter; excellent planning by the previous owners.
This particular gathering was now officially the preserve of the Imperial Legionlet them decide how best to deal with the ragtag protestors. Sergeant Gent was once again seeing geists in every corner. Sorcha thought, not for the first time, that he should have at least tried to join the Deaconsit might have taught him a thing or two.
She briskly pinned back some of the bronze curls that had escaped her severe bun, and was about to leave her chilly spot on the wall when she caught a glimpse of a familiar back moving into the crowd.
After eight years of marriage she could instantly recognize Kolya, even if she couldnt see his face. What she couldnt understand was what he was doing down there. He hadnt told her that he was planning to do thisbut that was the way of things between them, and had been for some time now.
Sergeant, Sorcha barked as she picked up her leather helmet from the parapet, get your men ready. Running to the door, she buckled the helm on tightly.
Kolya might be a Sensitive, but if he took matters into his hands, he could be surprisingly dogged. Once, it had been an admirable trait, but his wife now found it overwhelmingly irritating. However, if he thought there was something going on down there, he was better equipped to find it than shea mere Activewas.
Sorcha led the platoon down the stairs. At the bottom, she silently gestured for them to hang back inside the tower. Muskets and bayonets would be of little use if the unliving walked, and in fact any bloodletting would only benefit a geist.
A quick check of her Center again revealed nothing new, yet through the iron railings Sorcha could make out Kolyas emerald cloak surrounded by the gleam of his own Center in the grayness of the mob. Sensitive and Active, they usually worked as a team, but theyd argued again this morning. For a year they had been living in icy silence, but lately she had begun to crack under the pressure. She was starting to bite back, enraged at his own lack of emotion. So when the report had come in that morning, and shed been unable to find her husband, shed decided her Sensitivity was enough for a simple detection.
Kolya obviously thought differently.
Idiot. Sorcha tugged on her thick Deacon Gauntlets while trying to ram down her surging anger.
Are we going in, maam? Sergeant Gent, always too eager, was nearly standing on her toes. The usual reserve most people had around Deacons wasnt evident in this particular Imperial Guardsman.
Only if my husband is right. She paused, choosing her words carefully. So most likely, yes. At my signal, get those people clear and out beyond the gates.
Gent saluted, but the gleam of excitement in his eye boded ill. Young men, guns and geists were a potent combination. SergeantSorcha shot him her best cutting-down-to-size lookyouve got it straight that anyanybloodshed here could bring a rain of disaster down on the Emperors doorstep?
He might have been an ambitious young soldier, but even he had to take a Deacons warning seriously. With a nod Gent turned back to his men to pass on the word, and Sorcha watched the soldiers faces reflect disdain. Apparently crowd control was not what the Imperial Guard was famous for; it didnt make the ladies swoon or provide for good stories in the barracks afterward.
She saw Kolyas back stiffen as her Center leapt toward him. Sorcha might still be angry, but she was not about to let him endanger his own life. The other Actives would never let her hear the end of it.
