Page 67 of The Cruelty of Thorns

“Would you rather lose another soul by waiting? She sacrifices them under the stars and…” I paused for effect, “drinks their blood. She claims it keeps her young.”

“Sacrilege!” He thumbed his chin, as though considering my proposal. “How many men do you think it would take?”

I pretended to think. “She is very powerful. I would imagine you would need at least six, and chains and a strong carriage to hold her.”

“Yes, yes, you’re quite right. Give me an hour to prepare a raiding part. In the meantime, you are welcome to my kitchen to dine.”

“That’s very gracious of you, your Excellency, but my stomach is so tense that I could not tolerate food right now.”

“I understand, son. If you’re comfortable, then you may wait here.”

♦ ♦ ♦

It was closer to two hours before the bishop had assembled his men and the necessary accompaniments to carry out his raid. Two carriages were readied, one for the bishop and his priest, and a prison wagon to house Anastacia once she had been restrained. I didn’t know the extent of her power, but I was certain it didn’t include breaking out of iron manacles and chains. Of course she would resist, but we had the element of surprise on our side.

The return trip was much slower due to the heavy carriages. Six men armed with swords and knives, obviously more likely soldiers than clerics, rode behind me, ahead of the carriages. When we arrived at the property, I went into the house ahead of them, as we had agreed. Lucia appeared when she heard the door open, surprised to see me standing in the greeting hall.

“Where have you been?” she demanded.

“Out,” I replied simply and made my way across the hall and around the corner where I could watch the proceedings without being seen.

She was about to return to her quarters when an insistent pounding sounded at the door. “Who could that be?” I heard her mutter before making her way to the door. When she opened it, the bishop stood there in his vestments, surrounded by his men.

“Can I help you?”

“Do you know who I am?” the bishop snapped, his dark eyes imperious. It was obvious he was in his element now. He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “I wish to speak to the lady of the house.”

“She is indisposed at the moment,” Lucia sniffed haughtily.

“Do I look like I care? Fetch her to me at once or I will send my men in after her.” As if to emphasize the point, he pushed past her to enter the greeting hall, his men fanning out behind him.

It was the first time I had ever seen Lucia’s composure crack. “I will go see if she is able to meet with you.”

“No,” he replied. “You will not return without her.”

Lucia huffed and drew herself up. “I would sooner oppose you than my mistress.”

The bishop smirked. “Careful where you place your loyalties, madame. You do not want to get on my bad side.” He leaned closer, his presence commanding. “Now do your job and fetch your mistress.”

Lucia didn’t back down, and I thought for a minute the bishop was going to have to arrest her as well and send his men through the house to find Anastacia. Then she smiled slyly and nodded. “Very well. I will let her know you are here, but you are making a grave mistake.”

“The fact that you see fit to warn me of that proves that I am not,” he replied.

She turned and scurried off across the greeting hall toward the staircase. I smiled to myself; I could just imagine Anastacia’s reaction when the housekeeper knocked on her door. The woman really was caught between two opposing wills. I just hoped the bishop’s confidence was well-placed, because Anastacia would not give him a second chance.

It was several minutes later when Lucia reappeared, her head held high. “She is on her way,” she said, turning back toward the stairs.

When Anastacia entered the greeting hall, she was wearing a red dressing gown and an expression of pure malice. She stopped when she spotted the bishop, and I watched the emotions play across her face as she stalked across the expansive room.

“Your Excellency, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit at this late hour?”

The bishop obviously wasn’t fooled by her attempt at hospitality. He turned his head toward his soldiers and two of them stepped forward and rounded Anastacia. It was then I saw the chained manacles dangling from one of the soldier’s hands.

“You call yourself a Contessa?” the bishop demanded.

She nodded hesitantly, her eyes tracking the men. “That is my title. My father was the Conte de–”

“Spare me your false credentials,” the bishop interrupted drily, causing Anastacia’s eyes to flash with anger. I wondered when was the last time someone had cut her off mid-sentence. He nodded at the man behind her, who reached out and grabbed her wrists before she could pull them away. I knew she was strong–I had felt that unnatural strength surging through my own body since my conversion–but she was unprepared for the swiftness with which the man restrained her or the number of reinforcements waiting if he failed. Before she could react, he had the heavy manacles fastened around her wrists.

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