Page 84 of Alchemised
His fingers twitched. He almost managed to hide it by crossing his arms. “Is there really a difference between having someone die for you and killing them?”
Anger flared in her chest. “Yes. I’m sure you’d love to imagine there isn’t to soothe your conscience, but you are nothing like him.”
He gave a thin smile. “I don’t believe I have a conscience, but tell me, do you wish I’d kept them alive?” He asked the question softly. “Leaving the Eternal Flame members alive, letting people hope, would that be kinder?”
“They should hope, because there is someone out there. Someone from the Eternal Flame that you haven’t caught.”
“Not for long.”
The blood drained from her face. “Did you—?” Her voice wavered.
He shook his head. “Not yet. But I can guarantee it.” There was anger in his smile. “Whatever happens to Morrough, the killer will be dead and gone long before he is.”
“You don’t know that,” she said fiercely.
“I do, though,” he said, his expression so hard he could have been carved from granite. “This is a story with only one ending. If your Resistance wanted something else, they should have made different choices. Perhaps some hard, realistic ones, and given up their fanatical notions that the righteousness of their cause made their victory inevitable. They were fools, every one of them.” He sneered. “If the gods were real, they would have made Apollo Holdfast harder to kill.”
Helena stared at him, watching the way his face twisted, the tangible fury in his eyes.
“Who do you hate so much?” Until then, she hadn’t realised the depths of his anger. It was like the ocean that went on and on, and all its promises were death.
He seemed briefly startled by the question, then his emotions vanished like a box snapped shut.
“Many people,” he said with an insolent shrug. He smiled, mouth curving like a scythe. “Most of whom are dead now.”
LANCASTER’S VISITS TO SPIREFELL RESUMED as winter faded. Helena paid little attention. If there was any chance that he was a member of the Resistance, Ferron would have gone after him by now.
When she heard frequent footsteps, she knew that the Ferrons must be hosting some new event. The main wing of the house was bustling with activity. New necrothralls were brought in, and the decaying corpses constantly stationed outside the main doors were banished to elsewhere.
There were boxes of flowers scattered all over the foyer to be arranged. They were shipped from somewhere farther south or grown indoors; Spirefell’s garden beds were still bleak.
Helena calculated the date and realised that it was the vernal equinox.
Aurelia would have a party.
There were large braziers set alight in the courtyard as the motorcars began pulling in. Helena watched from a high window as the guests emerged. It was a smaller party than the winter solstice. The solstices were Paladia’s most significant celebrations, while the equinoxes tended to be heralded more in agricultural countries. Novis was said to have grand parades each spring in celebration of Tellus, the earth goddess.
When all the guests were inside, Helena waited for half an hour before she slipped towards the main wing. The thralls were too busy with the guests to supervise her, leaving only the eyes in the walls to watch.
She could hear the voices before she reached the dining room. The party sounded drunk. She crept into the next room. The voices were muffled through the walls, but when she strained, she could still make out the conversation.
“It’s a ghost, I’m telling you. Holdfast has come back for vengeance. No other explanation,” came a loud slurred voice. “Straight through the damned walls.”
“Do shut up,” drawled someone. “There’s no such thing as ghosts, you fuck.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen Vidkun. He’d bricked himself up in his house with nothing but his thralls with him. A rat couldn’t get in there. How’d anyone kill him?”
“Just because you can’t transmute anything that isn’t half copper doesn’t mean the rest of the world can’t. Everyone knows the Holdfasts collected alchemists from all over. It’s probably one of those freaks. Besides, Vidkun was an idiot. He stayed home and lived alone. If you don’t want to die, just fuck someone in their bed instead of your own.”
There was braying laughter.
“Speaking of fucking,” came a new, sly voice, “how many of you have been to Central lately? Stroud show you the works?”
There was audible chuckling.
Helena went still, not even breathing.
“Always glad to perform my civic duty. Paladia can never have too many alchemists,” replied a leering voice.
