The Inner Circle: Holy Spirit (4 page)

Briel had made mistakes before, but
none so fatal as this. Was it because he’d almost come to see
Ilgrin as human? Was it because of his certainty in the creature’s
harmlessness? Perhaps. Whatever the reason, he’d overlooked a
spattering of dried silt blood on the underside of his wagon and
like a fool had taken it to be repaired at a wainwright in the most
religiously bigoted country in the world.

When the Keacos had returned to make
payment and collect their wagon, they were immediately arrested.
Being of very little means, Briel was unable to afford a proper
lawyer, and as a result, the trial lasted only two hours. Frankly,
he was surprised it’d taken that long for the Court of Veret to
make a decision. Perhaps it was because of the Jenjen infatuation
with keeping up appearances. Maker forbid they reveal themselves as
being anything short of law-abiding and righteous. What a farce.
Not a soul in the courtroom was under any illusions as to how the
case would end.

‘
Briel?’
Fes
enquired scratchily, her small hand
finding his.

‘
Ye?’ Briel replied,
surprised by the gruffness of his own voice. He couldn’t help but
wonder how long it’d been since he’d had anything to eat or drink.
The Keacos were large people and unused to going long without
sustenance.

‘
I be hearin’ ye
think,’ Fes uttered softly. ‘Be at peace, me dear husband. We’ve
lived happy lives. Our children be good and married.’

‘
Ye nah be speakin’
that way,’ Briel was caught off-guard by the sob that escaped his
throat. ‘We’ve nah lived long enough yet.’

‘
We’ve got a few
weeks ta go.’ Fes’s tone was melancholy.

‘
There must be
another way.’ Briel felt a tear trickle down his cheek, but quickly
wiped away the evidence.

‘
Hold me,’ Fes
sobbed, resting heavily in his arms.

Briel kissed the top of his
wife’s head--which, remarkably, despite their living conditions,
still smelled sweet. That scent had been intoxicating Briel since
their mothers had set them up to dance at his brother’s wedding.
Briel had been a skinny boy of sixteen at the time and more
interested in taming wild horses than dancing with girls. Fes, on
the other hand, had wanted to dance rather than tame horses. Briel
danced with her and much to his surprise he’d enjoyed it. The pair
were married not a year later, something not uncommon for Merry
Islanders.

A loud bang caused Briel to jump
momentarily before he realised that it was only one of the young
princes kicking a ball outside. His cheeky little face blocked out
the sun before he began heaping piles of mud up over the grill,
giggling all the while. Soon Briel found himself sitting in utter
darkness and couldn’t help but wonder if that was what death would
be like.

CHAPTER Two

Tears

El-i-miir cast her eyes over the silt’s pallid flesh
where he sat on the edge of her bed. The flesh stretched tight over
his bony wings was almost translucent in the bright light. His skin
was like that of a dead man who’d frozen in the snow. It was white
in colour, but for the bluish hue in his cheeks or wherever else a
human might be flushed pink with blood. His dark hair boasted a
mixture of blacks and bluish purples. Ilgrin’s cheekbones were
higher than those of a human. His fingers lacked fingernails and
they were more slender and elongated than those of an ordinary man.
His toes and feet were incomparable to those of a human. Silt bones
were slender, flexible and hollow according to a book El-i-miir had
once read. The bones within his arms and legs were longer and
thinner than those found in humans, but were packed with so much
more muscle that any loss in size was more than made up for.

It was at Ilgrin’s large, almond-shaped, purple eyes
that El-i-miir’s gaze completed its travels. She swallowed hard,
realising that he too had been inspecting her. His blue lips curled
up into a shy smile.

‘
So are we going to talk about
this?’ Ilgrin asked. El-i-miir couldn’t help but focus on the blue
tongue moving around inside of his mouth as he spoke.

‘
I suppose we’ll have to,’ she
replied distractedly, her veil of dark hair falling across her face
as she hung her head in shame. ‘I care about you . . . more than I
should.’

‘
I know,’ Ilgrin whispered. ‘You
came back for me.’

‘
As you did for me.’ El-i-miir
shuddered at the thought of how close she’d come to drowning in the
Dome of the Sixth. She was only alive today due to the combined
efforts of Seteal and Ilgrin. ‘There will never be a place for us
in the world.’

‘
I know.’ Ilgrin shrugged,
stretching his wings ever so slightly. ‘It’d mean being alone
forever.’

‘
Are we being foolish?’ El-i-miir
reached out tentatively to touch the warmth of Ilgrin’s
cheek.

‘
Probably.’ He sighed. ‘But I
can’t imagine being without you.’

‘
You know . . . you’re really
beautiful in your own way,’ El-i-miir murmured as she sat down
beside the demon, only to stare at the wall across the
room.

‘
In my own way?’ Ilgrin
chuckled.

‘
It’s a compliment,’ El-i-miir
touched his hand. ‘In the books . . .’

‘
We’re monsters,’ Ilgrin finished
her sentence. ‘I know.’ He lifted El-i-miir’s hand, examining her
nails before turning to make eye-contact. The silence was deafening
as he leaned steadily toward her. El-i-miir’s heart raced, but she
didn’t resist. When their lips touched a chill crawled steadily
along her spine. It only lasted a moment, but the kiss had been a
contract.

‘
I think I might love you,’ Ilgrin
whispered, pulling away.

‘
I think I love you, too,’
El-i-miir choked through a mixture of hope and anxiety. ‘Tell me
more about you.’

‘
There’s not much to say.’ Ilgrin
sighed. ‘I was raised on a farm by two loving parents and . . . oh,
I see,’ he recoiled, having realised what El-i-miir was really
asking. ‘You want to know if . . .’

‘
You don’t have to tell
me.’

‘
No, I do.’ Ilgrin stared
miserably at the floor. ‘I’ve done it before . . . before
Far-a-mael, I mean. I cannot deny it.’

‘
Oh.’ El-i-miir pulled away,
clamped her hands together and placed them in her lap. ‘Perhaps I
don’t want to know after all.’

‘
I was six years old.’ Ilgrin kept
his eyes levelled at the floor. ‘A tree fell during a storm. It
killed my mother. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t even
know what resurrection was. I’m pretty sure I still thought I was
human at the time.’

‘
I’m sorry.’ El-i-miir nodded with
renewed interest in the story. ‘So what happened?’

‘
I can’t remember it very well. I
was so young. I remember the tree going down.’ Ilgrin’s voice
caught. ‘Mother was dead but I refused to let her go and before I
could make sense of what was happening, I’d already brought her
back.’

‘
It’d be hard not to in such
circumstances.’ El-i-miir shrugged. ‘It’s not like anyone can think
rationally under such pressure, let alone a six-year-old
boy.’

‘
It doesn’t matter anymore.’
Ilgrin’s eyes became wet.

‘
I remember you told me your
family were gone.’ El-i-miir clutched his hand
reassuringly.

‘
Yes.’ Ilgrin pursed his lips.
‘She’s dead again. They killed her and my father when they
discovered us in Sitnic.’ Ilgrin rubbed at his eyes. ‘I don’t know
what I’d have done if I’d had the chance, but by the time I was
able to return, they would’ve been too dead anyway.’

‘
I’m so sorry.’ El-i-miir repeated
her earlier sentiments. ‘It can’t have been easy.’

‘
I’ve hardly had the time to think
about it,’ Ilgrin said. ‘I’ve been in fear for my life so long that
I haven’t even been able to process it.’

‘
I’m sorry about that, too,’
El-i-miir apologised yet again.

‘
It’s okay.’ Ilgrin touched her
cheek. ‘I don’t blame you, El-i-miir. I was taught the same things
you were. There’s no way you could’ve known there was a silt like
me: someone not entirely evil.’

‘
Say that again.’ El-i-miir
smiled.

‘
What?’

‘
My name.’

‘
El-i-miir.’ Ilgrin’s expression
became one of curiosity.

‘
I like the way it sounds when you
say it.’ She smiled.

Ilgrin placed a hand on El-i-miir’s knee. ‘I’m not
going anywhere, so I guess you’ll be hearing it a lot,’ he
whispered as they embraced.

*

Despite the frozen consistency of the walls
surrounding her, the room was not cold in the slightest. Seteal
turned over in the bed and put her fingertips against the wall. It
felt cold to the touch, but the temperature travelled no farther
than a milliwidth from the wall. El-i-miir had told her that the
walls were painted annually with an oil that helped contain the
cold.

Seteal bit back on an audible sob and swallowed in
an attempt to prevent any further tears. If wasn’t working. Her
pillow was wet. She swung her legs over the side of the bed
intending to get up, but instead gave in to the pain inside. Now
everything stopped and the world became still; she really didn’t
have any other choice but to face her fears.

Giving up against the tightness in her chest, Seteal
allowed the tears to cascade down her cheeks as she cried bitterly.
Her face was hot and she began to sweat, but once she’d started she
couldn’t stop. She put a hand to her stomach and gasped for air
with renewed misery. How much longer could she hide her shame? A
larger woman might’ve been able to get away with it, but Seteal was
skinny at the best of times. She examined her belly through foggy
eyes. Was she showing yet? Did she have long before people would
notice? How long would it take before the world started sneering at
her in disgust? She was a pregnant woman without a husband and with
a bastard child on the way. The shame was unbearable. The
self-loathing was worse.

Soft laughter floated in from the next room. It was
the sound of Ilgrin and El-i-miir courting, which made Seteal all
the more bitter at her fate. Had she been willing to stoop so low
as to seek out such a vile relationship, not even a demon would be
interested in her anymore. Seteal had been used and discarded like
a dirty old rag. She would never feel the embrace of love. She’d be
alone with her bastard until she met her end.

Seteal rolled over to face the wall, folding the
pillow around her head as she went to muffle her screams of
frustration. She squeezed away tears and closed her eyes, but felt
as though she was being watched. When she opened them she gasped at
the discovery of Seeol standing not a handswidth from her nose.

‘
What’re you doing?’

Seeol bobbed his head excitedly. ‘You have a
baby.’

‘
How did you know?’ Seteal
frowned. She hadn’t told anyone.

‘
Because you’re pregnant,’ the
bird responded simply.

‘
Yes, but . . .’ Seteal trailed
off as she pushed up to lean on her elbow. ‘Oh, never mind. Could
you just keep it to yourself, please?’

‘
I’m don’t understand.’ Seeol
flicked his tail dismissively.

‘
Just don’t tell
anyone.’

‘
Your secret is not safe with me.’
Seeol shrugged his wings, a very human gesture he’d picked up some
time ago.

Seteal gaped at him before realising that he’d
probably confused his words. ‘You meant to say that my secret is
safe with you, right?’

‘
That is a yes.’ Seeol nodded
thoughtfully, before transferring all weight to one leg so that he
could give his neck a vigorous scratch.

The room pulsed. Seteal was caught in the knowing.
It invaded her being. Arl-an-dor raced along the street followed by
a host of gils and an’hidoans.

‘
Time to go.’ El-i-miir burst into
the room with wild eyes.

‘
I know,’ Seteal replied, shoving
her feet into boots.

‘
I don’t know what it is,’
El-i-miir murmured as the colour drained from her face, ‘but
something terrible is about to happen.’

‘
Your father contacted the
authorities,’ Seteal pushed passed El-i-miir and out into the
hallway. ‘They’re making their way up the street now. I thought you
said he was telling the truth.’

‘
He was at the time,’ El-i-miir
replied defensively. ‘He must have changed his mind. I can’t know
everything.’

‘
Not that way.’ Mil-i-que burst
into the house panting. She snatched at Seteal’s hand and spun her
on the spot. ‘Out the back,’ she said, urgently stuffing a bag into
her hands. ‘Go.’

‘
Why are you helping us?’
El-i-miir asked, hurriedly embracing the older woman.

‘
I won’t watch them kill you.
Whatever you’ve gotten yourself into, you don’t deserve that.’
Mil-i-que sobbed. ‘Now go.’

Needing no further encouragement, the women ducked
out the back door, followed by Ilgrin, with Seeol clinging to the
front of his cloak. ‘Keep your faces hidden and lose the silt if
you can,’ Mil-i-que warned as she closed the door behind them.