The High Priestess (4 page)

Gerard had seen one. Once. And Ba’al forgive him, but he’d hoped to never see it again. The Diviner killed four of their men before they took him down, which should have made his death easier to watch. But, by the end, it had been everything Gerard could do not to turn away from the gory spectacle.

And Marianna was destined for the same fate.

Shoving the thought from his mind, he exchanged a look with Fisk. The other man had stood beside him while the last Diviner died, and Fisk hadn’t liked it any more than he did.

Gerard checked behind them. “Shut the hells up, Adam. Let Blaine know we’re coming.”

He moved off, pulling a link from his pocket and speaking softly into it. Fisk shifted closer to Gerard. “Do you really mean to do this?”

“Do what?” Her blond hair had come loose of its bindings, falling around her face and hiding those eyes from sight. Like this, she could almost pass for a human they’d taken by mistake.

“Take her to Sanctus.” Fisk lowered his voice further. “She’s a woman—barely more than a child. Can you really stand by and watch her die like the last one?”

“I don’t have a choice. She’s a Diviner. You know what Ba’al teaches about their kind.” The thought left a sharp pain in his stomach. It was the damned wound. Probably. It certainly wasn’t blasted guilt again.

Damnit, no. He was on the path of righteousness—to question Ba’al’s word was to question the very foundation of his upbringing. He pressed a hand against his wound, letting the pain roll over him, crystallizing his anger.
This
was what came of aliens mingling with humans. He might not agree with a full expansion into the universe, but Sanctify’s mission was a holy one. Reflexively, he brought up the last part of Ba’al’s Benediction—it usually did the trick with any worrisome emotions he didn’t want to deal with.

In his light, forgiveness

In his hands, life

In the High Priest, truth

In servitude, eternity.

Fisk shook his head as if he could hear the phantom lines running through Gerard’s head. “I won’t try to stand in your way, but you better be sure before you do this, Gerard. Some things you can’t come back from.”

“I follow the law.” Even if it sometimes stuck in his throat like a Ba’al-damned knife.

“The law isn’t absolute and you know it.” Fisk looked at Adam, who was still talking on the link. “Just say the word and we’ll find a way to set her free.”

A small voice urged him to take Fisk’s offer. He didn’t want to see her dismembered and burned to death. And yet…twenty years of training were nothing to set aside just because he made the mistake of kissing her. Even if it was quite possibly the best kiss of his life.

Adam shut off the link and rejoined them, grinning madly. “A Diviner. And here I thought this job was a complete bust. Bummer about Davis, though. At least we managed to get the body for burial.”

It took Gerard a full thirty seconds to register what he meant. One of the newbies had been impaled beneath the female Bolkerian’s spikes—something a good commander never would have forgotten. He swallowed, tasting bile at the back of his throat. “He shall receive the honor of the funeral rite. A proper burial with all the trappings of a warrior of Sanctify.”

Adam snorted. “As if that ever helped anyone. Dead is dead.”

…

Marianna fought off panic with every ounce of her control. They hauled her around as if she were a sack of laundry, and spoke of her death so matter-of-factly. A truly terrible death.

She lifted her arms until her hair hid her wrists. The magcuffs were standard issue, and easily unlocked—if she had her kit. But it was safely tucked inside the jacket now in Gerard’s hands. No help from that quarter.

How fortunate that Darla taught her years ago to never keep all her tricks in one place. Marianna carefully pulled out the necklace hidden beneath her shirt. Inside the locket was an antitech device. It only had enough zing for one charge, but it would unlock her cuffs.

Which solved one problem, while still leaving three white-robed ones. Marianna wasn’t much of a fighter—hells, she couldn’t bring herself to take down one injured man, let alone another two healthy ones—but she had to try. Her death warrant was signed and sealed the moment they boarded the ship.

Inhaling deeply, she flipped open the locket and awkwardly pressed it against the cuffs, pushing on the button with her forefinger. They snapped opened with a quiet
click
, and she scrambled to catch them before they hit the ground. Thank the Lady she hadn’t bothered with a haircut in years.

Marianna moved before she could talk herself out of it, taking the cuffs in a two-handed grip, and twisting up and around, hitting her captor in the side of the head. He grunted and stumbled, his hold loosening enough for her to wiggle free. Hitting the ground hurt, jarring something in her shoulder, but she kept moving. There were cries of anger behind her, but she scrambled to her feet and started running.

Three steps later, a weight hit her from behind, taking her to the ground. Marianna screamed, partly in pain, partly in hope that someone would hear and come riding to her rescue. A vain hope, as it turned out.

The man who’d tackled her flipped Marianna over and backhanded her. As casual as the move looked, the sound of it cracked through the night and her head bounced on the cobblestone street. The last thing she heard before her world swam to gray was the sound of more shouting.

…

“What in Ba’al’s name are you doing?” Gerard grabbed the back of Adam’s robe and hauled him off Marianna, taking a precious second to shake the man before he tossed him to the side. Gerard went to his knees, scooping her up and trying to check for injuries at the same time. That thrice-damned voice inside him whispered that it shouldn’t matter if she were injured—she was destined to die, after all. Gerard ignored it, smoothing her hair back to examine the wound oozing blood from her temple. A dangerous place for an injury, but since she still breathed, it was likely not fatal.

“Have you lost your damned mind?” Adam shoved to his feet, skin turning a mottled red. “She was trying to escape. I stopped her. Why the hells are your panties in a twist?”

“You had her down—there was no reason to hit her.”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Adam started toward him but then Fisk was between them, still clutching the side of his head.

“We don’t have time for this.” Gerard lifted his hand, which was wet with her blood. “People will be out soon and we’re in no shape to take on anyone right now. Adam, take point.”

“I’ll take the girl.”

“Like hells you will.” Gerard clenched his fists and tried for a more moderate tone. “Fisk can take care of it.” The way Adam had handled her attempted escape only solidified his previous stance. He wouldn’t trust the man near Marianna in any way, shape, or form.

“What? But he’s—”

“I’m fine. Take point, Adam.” Fisk waited until the blond man started moving before he turned and glared at Gerard. “This is your fault. You never should have taken her, but it’s too late now.”

“Those things” apparently meant her eyes, since he couldn’t seem to tear his attention away. Well, turnabout was fair play. She took him in, trying to figure out if this man was a potential ally. A foolish thought, to be sure—he was a member of Sanctify, after all—but the idea took root and demanded she put some consideration behind it.

He wasn’t unattractive, exactly, but the pockmarks on his skin spoke of a difficult youth. His black eyes showed nothing, no emotion for her to capitalize on. And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling the Lady was telling her this man was important—to what, though, was anyone’s guess. “Hello.”

“You shouldn’t speak.” He grabbed a cloth from the cabinet and crossed the room to crouch next to the cot. “I need to examine your head.”

Marianna let him tilt her chin down, his fingers curiously gentle considering he was the enemy. “You mean I shouldn’t speak so you don’t see me as an actual person.”

“You’re a Diviner.” As if that was everything he needed to know about her. It was a distancing trick, and a pathetic one.

Well, she was having none of that. “My name is Marianna. I’m twenty-four years old.”

The stranger’s grip tightened on her chin as he swabbed her temple. “I know what you’re playing at, and it won’t do any good. We’ve already spaced. Even if I was willing to help you—and that’s not saying I am—there’s nothing I can do.”

“Then at least give me the decency of human conversation, since it seems my fate is already decided.”

Gerard’s voice cut through the room. “You aren’t human.”

They both flinched as he walked into the room, his expression so cold it was everything she could do to fight back a shiver.

“Get out of here, Fisk.”

The smaller man stood, the bloody cloth still in his hand. “She needs food and rest. And to get out of those Ba’al-damned cuffs. It’s not like she has anywhere to run.”

Gerard glared down at her. “She’s a problem-starter.”

Fisk snorted. “She’s a woman—they’re all problem-starters.”

Of course, the larger man found no humor in that. “We’ll speak of this later.”

“I wait in suspense for that conversation.” He paused in the doorway. “You know my feelings on this.”

Again, a small flame of hope kindled in Marianna’s chest. She tried to label it for the false beacon it was, and yet it persisted. “Fisk?” Marianna pitched her voice high and girlish, knowing full well how fragile it made her sound. As Darla had explained, when you weren’t a fighter, you had to use what tools you had. Which meant Marianna had perfected blending in and, when she couldn’t do that, developing a knack for making people want to protect her. If she could make it work with Fisk, it might be an opening.

“Yes?”

“Get out.” Gerard’s face was getting red again, but Marianna couldn’t pass up this opportunity.

“Would it be possible to give back my belongings? Not the shivs, of course, but the rest of it?”

Fisk’s dark eyes missed nothing. “You want your cards.”

“Out,”
Gerard said. “Now.”

Fisk left the room without another word, but Gerard had enough to spare. “You will not speak to my men. You will not attempt to attack, coerce, or touch them in any way. For the remainder of this flight, you will sit your ass on that cot and keep out of trouble or, Ba’al help me, I will bind you again myself. Or—”

He pressed his lips together and turned away. A distant part of Marianna wondered if he would strike her, but instead he paced the room, seeming to take up more than his fair share of space, the threat of violence screaming from every line of his body.

A smarter woman would have remained silent, but it wasn’t as if she had anything left to lose. Die here at his hands or later at someone else’s; it made no difference. If she were to be perfectly honest, the former held more appeal. Gerard didn’t seem the type to make his victims suffer.

“Or what?”

Gerard stopped in the middle of taking a step. “Excuse me?” His gaze skated over her body, eyes darkening with something like lust. Clearing his throat, Gerard resumed his pacing.

“I believe you heard me just fine.”

“Did you miss the part where I said I’d bind you?”

Marianna rattled her cuffs. “Seeing as I’m already bound, your threat lacks a certain something. And, as you plan on ultimately killing me, what is my motivation for good behavior?”

The silence stretched out for a brief moment before he roared, “Do you
want
to stay cuffed to that cot for the next two days?”

She fought back a shiver, not completely sure if came from fear or desire. Marianna had never been ignited by anger, but there was something about Gerard that made her want to soothe away his pain. Because the man had pain—she could almost see it, pulsing beneath his skin. “Not particularly.”

“Then be a good girl and shut the hells up.”

“You won’t hurt me.” Where the absurd words came from, she hadn’t the slightest clue, but they slid out of her mouth with the ease of a universal truth.

“Are you mad?” He scrubbed his hands over his face and up through his hair, the black locks standing on end. “What would possess you to say such a thing?”

“It’s the truth.” She watched him closely, taking in the way he made such a valiant effort to keep from looking at her body. Gerard still desired her, despite everything. He might hate himself for it, but he did. It was something she could—she
would
—use. “Unless you intend to assault me just to prove a point to yourself?”