Page 85 of Secrets of the Six

Unable to bear the tension a moment longer, I say, "All my years of scaling buildings and running across rooftops, I never once stopped to admire just how beautiful the city is." I peer up at him and he's already looking at me.

"I never cared for the view until tonight," he admits and my stomach flips. I stare at his lips and lean closer, but he stands up and offers his hand. "Let's get you home. A murder of one of the elites will not be taken lightly. Everyone will need an alibi."

Though his rejection threatens to cleave my heart in two, I nod in agreement and keep my tears at bay. He's right. Everyone will need an alibi. Good thing I have one in Rogelio.

Chapter 29

Remus

Just as I predicted, the city is buzzing over the news of Señor Montenegro's murder. The warden was hauled to the Palace of Justice where he stood a hasty trial and pleaded with Don Severo to believe him. He swore up until the moment they dragged him out of the courtroom there was a woman who was truly responsible for the elite's murder. But with no evidence and the murder weapon resting in the warden's lap when the body was discovered, it was an open and shut case. Now Don Severo will have his hands full in appointing a new warden of the prison since his was sentenced for execution.

I half expected the Soberano to call an emergency council meeting but the urgent summons I received this morning was handwritten by the usurper himself asking me to meet him at Iglesia de los Santos instead of the palace. On edge would be a vast understatement to describe how I feel. My stomach has been twisting and turning all morning, fearing this is a set up.

With a secret execution being held at the end of his jubilee and the entrance to the catacombs where the City of Dreams – and what remains of my people – dwells, all I can hope and pray for is the Soberano felt nostalgic and wanted to visit the church he once oversaw.

I'm not used to walking into Iglesia de los Santos in broad daylight. It seems like an entirely different place when the light shines upon it. The morning sun beams through the stained-glass windows turning the sanctuary into a kaleidoscope of vibrant color. I stride forward, masking my trepidation with forced confidence, when I spot the Soberano sitting in a pew by himself. As I near him, members of the Red Guard block my way insisting on patting me down to ensure I'm not carrying any weapons.

The Soberano huffs his displeasure and waves a hand to shoo the soldiers away. "That will not be necessary, Capitán."

"Soberano, we were explicitly instructed by Don Severo – "

"There is no need to pat Don Rafael down like he's some common filth from the Brogratto." The Soberano's sharp tone forces the Red Guard to stand down. "He is a trusted friend and last I checked my word outweighs Don Severo's." The soldiers clear a path and the Soberano motions for me to sit beside him. "Forgive their vigor, Don Rafael. Please, join me."

I glide past the guards and take up residence in the pew oddly close to the altar. Less than twenty feet in front of us is the tile that covers the staircase to the Purification Rooms. If one was to become curious, and brave the thousands of skulls lining the hall, one would find a hidden door leading to an underground river. A lone boat sits tied to a simple post and if one paddled down the dark cave, they'd eventually run into the City of Dreams where the surviving Venturans live. A city underground is not ideal for people meant to fly, but it's better than being hunted and killed for merely existing. As long as I continue to do my job, and Olli continues to keep the doorway deeper beneath the church secret, then all will be well. I just need to breathe.

"Is everything alright, Soberano?" I inject a lightness in my voice, resuming Don Rafael's nonchalant charm. "Why the extra security?"

"After the vicious assassination of Señor Montenegro, Don Severo has deemed it necessary for the Red Guard to be more vigilant and at times intrusive in their watch over me. Even in this sacred space." The last part of his statement is emphasized when he narrows his eyes at the Red Guard, and they retreat a few more steps to give us a shred of privacy.

"Does Don Severo believe your life is in danger?" I lace my question with concern, but I'm only after intel. I don't give two shits about the Soberano's safety.

He sighs heavily and wraps his ringed fingers on the bench in front of him, gripping the lip tightly. "Don Severo is of the belief evil is lurking around every dimly lit corner. In truth, it's his job to deal with the miscreants of our society at the Palace of Justice so I'm not surprised he failed to take Montenegro's death lightly."

"A tragedy," I offer absent-mindedly which seems to amuse him.

"You think so?" he chuckles, twisting the tips of his salt and pepper moustache.

I'm genuinely taken aback by his reaction. "Do you not?"

"The man was unholy and vile," he says bluntly, rolling his shoulders back. He looks upward to the arched ceiling, as if he's peering through the roof to the heavens above. "I believe the Saints permitted his death."

I glance at the statues of the Twelve Saints scattered around the sanctuary and furrow my brow. "Forgive me, Soberano. Are you saying you believe the Saints murdered him?"

The Soberano's face turns a deep shade of red and his greying eyebrows fuse together into one long disapproving motion. The flash of anger dulls when his sharp brown eyes dart to mine and his face softens, as if he's rethought chastisement in favor of making this a teaching moment. "Don Rafael," he steadies his voice. "I know your question was not intended to come across as blasphemous, but I encourage you to refrain from speaking so candidly in the Saints' presence again."

I lower my head in reverence, "Forgive me. I meant no offense."

He nods approvingly, accepting my hasty apology. "The Saints see the hearts of men, Don Rafael. I'm sure they know you did not maliciously blaspheme their holiness."

"Never."

"Good. Good." He pats my knee before refocusing on the altar in front of us. "What I meant when I said I believe the Saints permitted Señor Montenegro's death is they did not protect him when the minion of wickedness lurked in the darkness. Had Montenegro truly been living a life worthy of the Saints' protection, he would have been spared his gruesome end."

"It's still a tragedy to lose one of our own." I'm not sure why I'm playing devil's advocate, I despised Montenegro as much as the next man, but I suppose Don Rafael would not want to appear delighted in a high-society death.

The Soberano doesn't hesitate. "Montenegro was of good stock and flaunted his wealth like a proud peacock, but he was certainly not one of us. He was a gambler, a drunk, and a philanderer. His wife is much better off by his passing. In my opinion, the Saints have honored her. She won't be forced to share a tainted wedding bed with a man who threw his vows before the Saints so haphazardly to the wind."

He swiftly shifts and squares his shoulders to mine. The medals pinned to his military uniform gleam in the sunbeams pouring in the windows. All accolades he awarded himself, which bears no true merit. He prides himself as a general – one who led men into battle – but all he's ever done is hidden behind soldiers armed with pistols and rapiers, ordering the unwarranted executions of innocents.