Page 92 of The Dead Saint

“A relatively clean cut made after death,” he murmured, moving to the next corpse. He picked up a finger. “It’s been chewed.”

“What?” Sorcha looked from one man to the other, then down at the bodies.

A voice rose in song, a hymn she’d heard a thousand times. One of Ines’s favorites. The notes wobbled as the words ran together, fading off into loud humming.

“I know that song,” Sorcha said, stepping around Revenant and the bodies he was examining. “That’s her favorite song.”

“Stay behind me,” Adrian said, holding out a hand to keep her back.

“But—”

The humming grew louder, and the light in the corridor shifted. Incense blew toward them, the scent overpowering the decay. A thin, bald priest came hobbling into view. The man wore the crimson of someone important—an elder and leader of some kind. But his robes were torn and dirty, the hems stained a greasy black. In one hand, he carried a sharp hatchet, and in the other, a ceremonial bowl. The man stopped when he saw them, mouth open, bloodshot eyes dancing between them.

“Who are you?” Sorcha asked, taking a step forward.

“Sorcha.” Adrian’s voice was soft but firm. “Stay behind me.”

“Sorcha?” The priest looked from Adrian to her, pale eyes wide. “From the Citadel?”

“Where is the relic?” Adrian asked, at the same time, sword half raised.

“You came,” the emaciated man said, dropping the hatchet and bowl with a clang. He shuffled toward her with an outstretched hand. “You are the vessel.”

“How do you know?” Adrian asked.

“Sorcha.” The man studied her carefully and then nodded. “Only the vessel would come to us after everything that’s happened. We knew you would come for him.”

“But you know my name,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “How?”

“Everyone knows. Your name was given to us as soon as your map ceremony began. Sorcha of the Golden Citadel, Vessel and child of the Saint.” A sheen of tears reflected in his eyes, and he pressed one hand to his chest. “I knew you would come, but I wasn’t sure I would be here to see it.”

“And the relic is with you?” she asked.

“Yes, I will show you. He’s with me.” The priest shuffled back the way he’d come, toward the light, motioning for them to follow.

“Stay behind us,” Adrian said, nodding to Revenant.

They followed the priest around the curve, coming across more open spaces in the walls, more dislodged bricks. But there were no bodies here. The light grew stronger, the air around them warmer.

“What happened here?” Adrian asked, keeping his eyes focused on the man.

“It was a long siege,” the priest said, picking up the pace.

“But the walls?” Sorcha waved at an opening as they passed it, pausing to peer inside. “It looks like a cell? Or room?”

“The altar is around this curve,” the priest said, avoiding her question. “We’re almost there.”

“Your priests are cannibals,” Revenant said, his words echoing along the corridor.

“Stay focused,” Adrian said, shooting his second-in-command a sharp look.

The corridor ended with an arch leading into a larger space. Candlelight illuminated everything, flickering and dancing in an invisible draft. A faint haze of incense covered everything, bringing memories of the temple to mind. It had been one of her duties as a child to light the incense that burned around the relic. It was different from the others burned throughout the rest of the temple. A richer scent, heavy with perfume. The same scent filled the air here, but beneath lay dark decay.

“Wait.” The man stopped, turning to face them. “Sorcha, please give me a moment to ensure that you are meeting him under the proper conditions.” The priest passed beneath the arch, muttering to himself excitedly.

She heard him moving things out of the way, something heavy hitting a wall.

“Kill him,” Revenant said.

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