Page 66 of The Cruelty of Thorns

Giovanni was alone there, having dismissed the stableboys for the night. “I need a horse,” I announced when I entered.

He frowned, eyeing me up and down. “I don’t believe my mistress wants you to leave.”

I stepped closer, letting my expression echo my opinion of what he had done to me in the field and how he had manhandled Rosetta. “I’m not asking permission.”

“Well I–”

I didn’t give him the chance to finish. My hand flashed faster than he could track, the blade I had stolen from the kitchen slicing across his neck. He grabbed for the wound, which I was certain was fatal, and sank to his knees.

“You won’t…” he gurgled, fighting to speak, “…get away with this.”

I offered a cold smile. “I already have.” I pushed my shoe against his forehead and kicked him over before stabbing him in the heart. I didn’t need to do it since he was dying anyway; it just felt good. I owed that much to Rosetta. I bent over him and dipped a finger in the blood pooling on his neck, bringing it to my lips for a taste.

“Not even worth eating,” I muttered as I wiped the blade on his clothes before saddling a horse and walking it out of the barn.

Franco was tucked inside his hut when I approached the gate. When he spotted me, he ran out to no doubt prevent me from leaving. I didn’t wait for him to speak, just jammed the knife into his chest, before yanking it out and slicing his throat. I shoved his still-twitching body back inside the hut then opened the gate and mounted the horse to head into town.

All too easy.

After that, the ride into the city was uneventful. With no other travelers on the road, I made good time, arriving just past the dinner hour. I was tempted to visit my father’s house, to let my parents know that I was alive, but then I thought about what that would mean. Could I bring this version of me into their lives? I had no idea if I could control my new appetites around normal people. Since my conversion into this life, I had only been exposed to the staff of the manor and Anastacia’s captives. The thought of causing harm to anyone in my father’s household was almost as unbearable as what I had done to Rosetta. No, better they believed me dead.

Instead, I headed straight for the bishop’s palace, going over my story in my head again. I had to sound convincing for this to work, not that I thought it would take much effort on my part. From what I knew of the bishop, he was more than willing to ignore facts in the pursuit of his zealotry.

When I arrived at the palace, a servant answered the door. I told him I needed an audience with the bishop immediately, that it was a matter of life and death. I guess I was convincing enough, because the man showed me to a spacious holding room and bade me wait while he consulted with his master. I paced, tamping down my doubt. This had to work.

“What can I do for you, young man?” a thin voice asked.

I turned, recognizing the bishop from his visits to the cathedral where my family worshipped. I schooled my expression, adopting a mask of frantic humility. “Your Excellency, forgive my intrusion on your evening, but I come on a matter of great importance.”

“Yes, so my manservant informed me. What is this matter that you disturb my prandium?”

“Souls are at stake.”

“Souls?”

I leaned closer to him and lowered my voice, as though I didn’t want to be overheard. “I speak of the devil’s work.”

“What do you mean?”

“Witchcraft.”

I caught the gleam in the old man’s eyes. It appeared the rumors I had heard about him were correct. He pulled me to a nearby couch and bade me have a seat. “Tell me everything.”

So I laid it out, all that I had contrived–my capture, a household staff held against their will, blood sacrifices. I painted a picture of the most depraved circumstances I could think of, causing the old fanatic’s eyes to light up with glee.

“How did you get away?” he asked when I was done.

“I waited until she was otherwise occupied, then snuck out and stole a horse to come here. Your Excellency, the people in that house, the innocent lives she has attempted to pervert. It is…unchristian.”

“Indeed. Witchcraft always is.”

“Can you help us? I don’t wish to leave them there at her mercy.”

He patted my hand. “You are a brave soul to come to me. Tell me where this house is, and I will assemble a party for a raid.”

“There is no time. I can take you there tonight.”

“Tonight?”

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