Page 65 of Terror at the Gates

Zahariev

I waited until Colette was in the shower to leave.

I didn’t want to startle her or have to explain why I was here. I’d leave that up to Lilith.

I pulled my shirt from their shitty dryer and slipped it on, not bothering to button it up. The sleeves stuck to my arms, still damp.

As I left the apartment, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I waited until I’d cleared the steps to take it, lighting a cigarette as I went.

“Yeah?” I answered, crossing the parking lot.

Felix was still waiting.

“You got a present,” said Cassius. “Want me to open it?”

“Five minutes,” I answered.

I hung up and climbed into the passenger seat.

“What the fuck are you listening to?” I asked.

Felix turned the music down. “It’s orchestral. Keeps me awake.”

I looked at him with a raised brow. “You’re a fucking monster, Felix.”

He chuckled, but it grew quiet quickly.

“Where to?” he asked.

“Home,” I said. “Cassius got me a gift.”

Chapter Eight

I sat in the living room, cocooned in a blanket. I’d turned on the television, just to have some sort of noise in the background. That was all it was good for anyway since the church controlled the networks. I’d flipped through biblical education channels for children and reruns of Archbishop Lisk’s past sermons, finally landing on the news.

After that nightmare, I didn’t want to sit in silence. I hadn’t even pulled the blade out of my mattress. I left it there and covered it with my blanket.

How the fuck had it gotten back to me?

I was half tempted to ask Zahariev to drag the canal, but I knew he wouldn’t find a thing. I knew because I recognized the feel of this blade. I’d tasted its magic the first night I’d touched it, metallic on the back of my tongue, though it had been subtle enough then that I’d mistaken it for the tang of Ephraim’s lust.

I wondered why the church was so desperate to have it back. It was possible it was only a relic, something that had belonged to some saint, but whose magic possessed theblade, and why was it killing men left and right? Why had it left me and Zahariev unharmed?

I felt as though I had two options. I could return the blade to the church myself and endear myself to Lisk by placing it right in his hands, but I didn’t want his praise.

I wanted his fear.

I wanted leverage.

I wanted to know what I had, but I needed to be careful. I couldn’t bring the blade to a collector or a dealer without possibly killing them. I also didn’t trust anyone on Smugglers’ Row to appraise it without trying to steal it or outing me to the fucking archbishop. They might hate the man, but if there was money to be made, they’d worship at his feet.

I had to find another way to get the information I needed.

“Hey, babes, are you all right?”

I startled, my head snapping up to meet Coco’s gaze. She stood at the end of the hallway, her hands cupped around something small, black, and fuzzy lying against her chest.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, but you looked a little out of it.”

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