Seraphina was grateful. She couldn’t look the woman in the eye anymore, couldn’t stand her comforting voice and words of praise at how good a person she was. Soon, Peter and Hans would recognize Rune, then her, and she didn’t believe she could face them. She wanted this night to be over.
She almost didn’t care how it ended.
Chapter Twenty-Four
She wasn’t here anymore, on this plane of existence; maybe she’d never been.
They were surrounded before they reached the gate. Someone in the back screamed, and Seraphina turned to see what had happened. She and Rune had been made to walk at the front. Michael’s grip was rough on her arm, and her hands were tied at the wrist.
Rune jerked when a figure jumped from the trees ahead but never reached the ground. A frightened gasp rippled through the rebels as their eyes turned toward the sky, where a nun floated, skirts billowing around her. She aimed a musket at the people below. Around her waist, over her cincture, she wore a belt that held a heavy cartridge box on her right hip. The crack reverberated through the woods, the echo carried further down the slope, and the rebels ducked and spread out. A woman cried out. The ball had found a mark, and the nun reloaded.
Seraphina tried to run, but Michael held her close. Rune bent over to cover her with his body.
“Take her down,” Michael shouted at Rune. “Take her down now!”
Rune gave Seraphina an apologetic look before sprinting toward an old, mighty oak tree. He climbed it fast, like an animal in its natural habitat, and when he was roughly at the same level with the nun, he jumped. She saw him coming, floated away, and shot the musket again. She didn’t try to get him; she knew it would be a waste of ammunition.
“She’s flying,” someone said, terror and awe evident in their voice.
“How is she doing that?” another asked.
Seraphina grinned. So, the Mother Superior had given the order to arm themselves with the relics in the vault. She’d never thought she’d see the day. That one was an apex relic, for sure.
Rune crashed to the ground, his body creating a crater around it. People who were too close stumbled back; one fell and started crawling backward. Rune paid them no mind, his eyes to the sky. He climbed another tree, and another, but no matter how many times he tried the trick, the nun was clever and avoided him with spectacular grace. Seraphina wondered whether she might’ve been a ballerina before marrying Jesus. The truth of the matter was that she kept Rune busy and even turned him against the rebels. With each landing, men and women spread out further into the woods, terrorized and disorganized.
“Stop it,” Michael yelled. “Leave her!”
Rebels were throwing knives and spears at her; one had a musket he kept firing. She floated away, hid behind the trees, reappeared when she’d managed to reload. The woman was a menace.
“It burns!” someone cried out. “It burns!”
Seraphina saw Sister Blandina on top of a man, her hands on his face. She dragged her fingers over his throat and chest, leaving red marks and melting flesh. That was when the wolves appeared, as if summoned through thought. One jumped on Blandina’s back. She screamed and rolled off her victim, her hand shot back over her shoulder, and when it came into contact with the wolf’s face, the beast let out a high-pitched yelp and bolted away. The sister’s shoulder was shattered. She got up on swaying feet, a woman swung a knife at her, and she caught the blade in her hand. The iron melted, but Seraphina could see blood drops in the snow.
The woods echoed with the sounds of a battle fought dirty. Screaming, crying, the gurgling of blood, the tearing of flesh. The air smelled of copper, scorched skin, and musket smoke. Inthe dark, nuns with crosses around their necks and sacred bones in hidden pockets cut into live flesh, spilled blood without a second thought. Some of the rebels had relics, but they weren’t as powerful as the nuns’, who’d collected and studied theirs for years. The sisters of Saint Vivia knew how to use every bone in their possession, though they did it rarely, when their hand was forced.
The bodies were piling up, in habit and peasant clothes alike. Seraphina watched with growing terror. The wolves attacked relentlessly. Not all the nuns wielded bones that worked against them.
She looked at Michael, who was staring at Rune, considering what order to give. He could tell him to kill them all, and Rune would have no choice but to do it. That was what scared Seraphina the most. If only she had her tongue. The thrall relic pulsated between her ribs, filling her with overwhelming energy. It was begging to be used.
However, the rebel leader had said he didn’t want to cause harm. Was it naïve of her to hope? She searched for Briar. She could be anywhere. She saw Peter fight with a short sword while he held Hans back. The boy was armed with a knife he knew how to use well enough, except the sisters were staying out of his way so as to not hurt him.
Seraphina stumbled when Michael unexpectedly pushed her toward Rune.
“Your hand,” he said. “Around her neck.”
Rune and Seraphina stared at each other. His golden eyes moved from her blue ones down to where her pulse thudded at her throat. His hand shot out, she felt his warm, clammy fingers on her skin, but he didn’t squeeze. Not yet. Her hands were tied around her back; she couldn’t even claw at his grip.
“Wait for my command,” Michael said, then shouted at the top of his chest: “Stop, or she dies. Stop!” He had to do it a few timesbefore the two fighting parties broke apart. His voice was hoarse. “The revenant will strangle her. Right here, before your eyes, he will separate her head from her body. Do you want to see it roll?”
There were gasps and murmurs, but no one spoke up. Seraphina looked left and right, as far as her vision could reach. A few people stepped closer. She finally saw Briar, hair out of her usual ponytail, and deep scratches on her arms and face. She saw Willa behind her, mouth covered with both hands. Peter had finally spotted and recognized her. He lowered his short sword.
“I will ask again,” the leader bellowed, letting every word fall heavy. “Do you want to see her head roll?”
At the same time that Briar shouted “No!”, the Mother Superior stepped forward.
“Do with her what you will. She’s not one of ours.”
Briar yelled again, and more voices joined her.
