Skar lets out a haughty snort. “The Faith Ward hasnevergrown in numbers. Most vampires don’t want to step within a hundred feet of that emerald-tainted hellhole.”
“Aye, novampire, maybe,” Garroway points out. “But what about humans?”
Vallan says, “The Truehearts and the Damned couldn’t be more different from one another. Their sects are enemies, believing opposite sides of the Book.”
“Right,” I say, snapping my fingers. “With Valenthia’s ward growing in number, the city gates lowered to allow trade and commingling, and humans missing from Nuhav? This has the stink of Aramastun all over it.”
“To what end, little temptress?” Skar asks, always one to play devil’s advocate.
“I don’t fucking know,” I growl, getting frustrated. I have a horrible feeling inside me. That we’re missing something malignant and creeping. That this is more than just missing humans and a population increase in the Faith Ward. “I think there’s something evil going on here, guys,” I announce. “Something we need to watch closely.”
Antones hums to himself again, muttering something under his breath I don’t catch. More clearly, he says, “We need to test your theory then, Sephania. I’ve got an idea how, but it won’t be pretty.”
“And if I’m right?” I murmur.
He begins limping down a hall toward his room, cane clacking loudly. “I don’t even want to think about what that will mean, lass.”
Chapter 44
Sephania
We ask for someone brave to step forward and take part in our scheme. Someone who will not back down at the last second, who will not be frightened of the grandiosity of the Temple of the True.
Skent volunteers, of course. Raising his chin high, grinning at me in challenge. The damned boy and his need to impress the girls of the Firehold. I have to admit it makes me smile back at him, shaking my head and slightly rolling my eyes.
We tell him to get a good night’s rest and be ready tomorrow.
Mass is held at the temple twice a day. Once in the morning, once in late-afternoon. In the past, the late-afternoon service was a ritual to stave off the “encroaching darkness” of the vampires at night. To protect the Truehearts from their vicious fangs.
Now I worry the Truehearts might be playing a part in that encroaching darkness, somehow.
Father Cullard used to take the whelps in the House of the Broken, me included, once a week to the temple. It’s a towering structure with an angular roof and four spires holding up the cathedral at the sides. Taller than any other structure in southern Nuhav.
Inside it’s even worse, with gilded tapestries and stained glass windows filled with angels and demons in conflict, the judging eyes of the many gargoyles and sculptures keeping anever-watchful gaze upon the flock. Terrorizing the people into submissiveness and subservience to the True faith.
As any religion, I’ve found, the Temple of the True is an opulent structure that serves as a warning to us earthly sinners. The sheer wealth inside the cathedral, adorning every inch of the place, is an affront to the hardworking, poverty-stricken citizens who attend the services.
But the people keep coming back, for fear of their immortal soul being tarnished and not making it to the afterworld if they stop attending.
Next day, I tell Skent this is serious. He needs to wipe that impervious smirk off his face when he steps inside the nave. “Look like the other congregants. Don’t dart your eyes. Stay solemn. No one is happy in the Temple of the True, and no one is excited. It’s a boring affair.”
“I can do boring,” he points out. “I’m good at boring.”
“All that being said, don’t fear for your soul. What you’re doing is in the name of goodness and justice, Skent. With all hope, it will help us locate the missing Nuhavians. Follow the lead of the priests but keep your wits about you.”
I have to say, I’m quite impressed with his lack of fear. Especially with all four of my mates towering over him with stern frowns and folded arms, someone like Vallan literally twice his height.
I give Skent a pat on the cheek and send him on his way once the bell strikes and parishioners from all across Nuhav begin to scuttle inside the cathedral. “We’ll be watching, Skent. Don’t forget, we’ll be close.”
Then he’s gone, shuffling across the street, dressed in his usual rags and tatters. The same outfit he’s always worn, which will not be uncommon in the nave.
Once the huge double doors close and mass begins, I take a deep breath. Mass typically lasts an hour, so we don’t have longto dally. The sun is setting, which means my vampires will be free-ranging.
I send my mates in every direction, telling them to hide in the shadows.
“You don’t need to tell us, silverblood,” Vallan quips. “All we do is hide in the shadows. It’s our natural state.”
He’s keeping a watch on the eastern side gate, nearest two taverns that are easy to stand next to and act like an unassuming drunkard. Of course, Vallan always sticks out because of his size. It will have to do.