The prior chuckles. "Ubi est, mors, stimulus tuus?"
A Bible verse, thinks the novice. Eastertide.Where, O death, is thy sting?
There is no answer from the bee, of course. No sound at all in the chapter house, save a small, crisp crunch.
The prior has closed his fist.
There is no more buzzing of wings.
"Alors," he says to the novice, "il nous faut la vérité, non?"
Then it iswewho must find out the truth, no?
ONE
GWENNA
It snows on Easter.
Blizzards, really. Heavy white flakes that stick immediately and pile dizzyingly fast into bright, soft barriers that seem to block every door and window on the Caliburn campus.
"Dumb bullshit," Kai grumbles as he kicks through the snowdrift blanketing the front steps of Camlann House. "Like we never left Siberia."
No one has anything to add.
Easter Mass is subdued. The chapel is cold; we can see our breath in the pew. The sunlight through the stained glass is somehow both too sharp and too weak, and the hymns and the homily about life returning would make me laugh out loud if I weren't still so…numb. Barely any other students are there, anyway. It is, technically, the last day of spring break. Even if it doesn't feel like it.
Five days. No, six—six days we've been back.
After church, the five of us walk wordlessly back to Camlann House.
Inside, at least, it's warm: a fire is going in the living room and the air is thick with the savory smell of an Easter brunch almost ready for us. I'd be shocked if anyone is hungry, but I guess we're going through the motions until things feel normal again.
Normal.
A desperate, clawing feeling digs at my chest, thinking of that word.
How can anything ever be normal again?
"Gwenna?"
I snap back to reality. Callahan is gesturing for me—my coat. I nod and shrug my arms out of the sleeves. "Yes. Sorry. Thank you."
He takes it and puts it on the hook, then adds his next to it as Lanz slips in from the right and hangs his on the other side. Callahan's face is stoic and unreadable; Lanz's just looks pale, save for the pink on his cheeks, so deep he almost looks feverish. Kai skips the coat rack entirely and flings his over the back of the couch before throwing himself into an armchair.
"Well?" he says, glancing at the rest of us trickling in from the foyer. "Now what?" He chews a hangnail on his thumb. "How about you go get us some fancy vintage to uncork, Pretty Boy? It's five o'clock somewhere."
Lanz glances at the mantel clock, then seems to think better of it. "Sure."
"Gwenna?"
Kingston. Last to come in, now stripped of his scarf and coat, just a deep red pullover and eyes intent on mine.
"Could I speak with you for a moment?" he asks.
All at once, everyone else is occupied. Callahan picks up a book from the coffee table. Kai gets very busy with the fireplace, calling over his shoulder to Lanz—"you gonna plunder thatwine cellar, or what?"—who nods and disappears towards the basement stairs.
Kingston waits. Waits for me, and I nod and take the steps to the landing.
