Dupree closed the door of the bell tower and placed his sword on one of the spiral steps. “Lie down.”
She stretched out on the cold flagstones and closed her eyes.
Blood.
She felt the heat of Dupree’s body as he lay down and took her in his arms.
Screams from the children. Screams from the nuns.
Blood.
Dupree’s hand closed on her breast. “Open your eyes. I want to see you looking at me, Citizeness.”
She obediently opened her eyes. He was bending over her, his cat face only inches from hers. He was smiling.
“Your eyes are glittering. Are you weeping, little Citi—”
She sank her teeth into his throat. The coppery taste was in her mouth again, but now she welcomed it.
He shrieked. He tried to shake her off his neck, but she followed him, her teeth biting deeper.
“Bitch.” He began cursing. “Animal.” He tried to lift her off but her arms closed fiercely around him in a mockery of an embrace.
The blood was pouring onto his shoulder. She shook her head savagely to tear his flesh. Then, as he gasped with pain, she pushed him aside, leapt to her feet, and grabbed the sword from the step. Dupree opened his lips to scream, but the flat of the sword came down on his temple before he could utter a sound. He slumped to the side and lay still.
Pity. She had meant to strike him with the edge of the blade.
She turned and fled out the door leading to the south courtyard which was deserted. She ran across the cobblestones to the gates, through the vegetable garden and up the hill to the cemetery.
Catherine had to be in the crypt, she thought desperately. She must have reached safety or she would have been brought to trial with the others at that mockery of a tribunal.
The door of the crypt was open.
Profound relief made Juliette’s pace falter momentarily. Catherine was always so afraid of the dark, but sheshould have closed it, Juliette thought impatiently. Didn’t she realize the open door would be noticed?
“Bitch, don’t just lie there.” The sound of flesh striking flesh. “Move.”
Juliette froze. She could barely discern the heavy form of a man humping over the figure of a woman, moving rhythmically between her pale thighs.
Catherine. The woman had to be Catherine.
“No!”
Juliette didn’t realize she had screamed out the word until the stout man looked over his shoulder in startled dismay. “What! Who are—”
Juliette didn’t make the same mistake this time. The sword came down on his neck blade first. He slumped over, covering Catherine’s slender body like an obscene blanket.
Juliette ran forward, pushing his heavy carcass off Catherine. “Filth!Canaille!”She knelt, cradling Catherine’s still body, rocking her back and forth in an agony of sympathy. “Sweet Jesus, they’re all filth. Are you hurt?”
Catherine shuddered and didn’t answer.
“A stupid question. Of course you’re hurt.” Juliette smoothed Catherine’s hair back from her face. “But you’re safe now. I’m here.”
“Filth,” Catherine whispered. “You’re right. Dirty. I’m so dirty.”
“No, not you. Them,” Juliette said fiercely. She pulled Catherine’s gown down about her thighs and sat her up. “Listen, we have no time. They’ll be looking for us soon. We must get away from here.”
“It’s too late.”
