Page 10

She turns around to look at us with dark brown eyes. “I am giving to Kallúm as much as I can. Today is the last day I’m allowed here.”

“At this rate, you’re attempting to become his concubine.”

Katie smiles, raising a brow. “Wouldn’t that be terrible?”

“You’re about fifty years too late, Katie.” Margaret steps forward to her. “There are many that say he has already taken a mate. And demons, once they have a mate, do not tend to take concubines, unless both the mates desire it, and he hasn’t taken anyone in a very long time. You really need to focus on living your life, Katie. It can backfire if you do not integrate well in the first few months.”

“Where is his mate, hm?” she asks, crossing her arms. “I heard it was merely a rumor. I ask all the time, but everyone is sour about it and won’t answer me.”

“Because it’s one thing to gossip about him, but to target a mate of his that might very well exist is asking for serious trouble. And whoever she is, it’s kept exceptionally private for whatever reason he deems necessary, and it’s not our place to question. Do you even know where you’re living after this?”

I clear my throat, and Katie looks at me. “Why do you want to be his concubine?” I ask, curious if there’s perks I’m not aware of.

Not sure I could ever do that, but I’m not above learning about it.

“I’m not going to be wandering around this place as a nobody… if not with him, then certainly someone in his circle. Have you seen the beasts here? Screw that. I’m going to be where it’s safe. Which is to mate someone that has a lot of people afraid of them.” She looks me over, as if inventorying me. “What are you leaving him?”

I stare blankly and blink a few times. “I—I don’t know.”

Margaret leans down to me. “She means the devotion piece to his statue. And whatever calls to you is what you’ll leave him. Just go down, leave it, bow your head in respect, and it will be noted. It binds your energy to his. So, if he met Katie here,” she looks at her, although with a bit of pity. “He could feel her devotion to him. And if he were indeed interested in a human concubine, he would know where to look.”

Katie’s shoulders loosen, her gaze almost wistful. “You know, the last time, he was there.”

My heart races, staring at the massive, gothic cathedral. Oh, I don’t like that. I’m not ready for that kind of assessment, if any of this is truly real. “He was there?”

“You offer things to his statue, deep underground. The eyes of his statue will glow orange if he wants to see you,” Katie explains. “And I swear they glowed a little.”

Margaret holds a hand out. “As is his duty, if they indeed did, because he has days where he monitors the offerings. More than likely, this was one of those days. Seriously, Katie, I don’t want you getting locked in on this and then going to Purgatory because you didn’t assimilate.” Margaret claps her hands, startling me. “Which won’t be happening to you, Penelope. Let’s go over and grab some fruit. Katie, perhaps you can join us after? And we can chat more about your next steps?”

“Only if you make me,” she says, walking away without looking at either of us. “I have until tomorrow morning to maybe see the eyes glow orange again…”

I follow Margaret as she nods to a large wooden shop, full of many barrels and crates of fruit. There are more potato people in here, all moving to select something. Any nerves I had about Katie wash away, like the rest of my feelings about, well, everything. When my gaze sets on a tangerine, my mouth waters and I recall how it tastes…

“Hello.”

I tremble and release a terrified sound as a very aged, wrinkly woman appears in front of me behind the crate. The old crone has completely gray skin, and one eye is missing, its lid drooping lazily in its place, while the other has an orange iris. Her teeth are a mess, a few old scars still discernible on her face. White hair is barely contained.

I clutch a tangerine close to me, which her eye follows.

“My name is Bonhilda. I help supply the fruit.” Her voice is rough, as if tobacco has aged it. She lifts a hand with sharp nails, the gray robe slightly sliding back on her veined arm.

“Okay,” I say, trying to step away in a manner that makes it less obvious so I can hopefully just continue on. “Sounds good.”

Bonhilda outstretches her bony fingers, gripping my wrist over the fruit. I glare at Margaret as if she is my mother and someone has struck me, but she doesn’t intervene. “What? You have to learn the boundaries here. There won’t be anyone to protect you once I’m no longer your docent. She’s harmless… relatively, speaking.”

I glare at Bonhilda, not sure where to look. “You are better off bringing him a pomegranate,” the old crone says.

Without any fighting, I place the tangerine down and grab the pomegranate. Bonhilda releases me with a smug smile, nodding once, and then slowly moves away to talk to more humans in the same garb. Margaret leans in. “Grab the tangerine. It’s what you were called to at first. It’s important to stick with that.”

I groan slightly, not liking any of this. I want to observe this place, not intermingle in it already. When Bonhilda seems to have her back to me, I quickly exchange the fruit, placing the pomegranate with the tangerines, and hurry out of there. “What’s your purpose again if you’re not even going to protect me?” I ask.

“Oh, hush. She wasn’t going to hurt you. Good lesson, honestly, that you need to be cautious at all times.”

I look down at my outfit as we near the cathedral. “Do I get to change, at least?”

“When you are settled. First offering is made in that dress. You are permitted to stay here for up to a month, like Katie, and strengthen your Devotion. It’s just important to remember that he can flat-out ignore you if he chooses to. If you remain, you have to keep the sack on. There’s a severe penalty for creatures attacking anyone that’s a novus.” She tilts her head. “At least, if they’re caught.”

Margaret guides me into the cathedral, hundreds of candles illuminating the magnificence of this place. A violin is played above by someone in a hooded, black robe; below it, an ornate pipe organ that’s operated by someone similar. Gilded decorations, elaborate ironwork, all the dark wood masterfully carved… at the end of the entrance is a large statue of a man. “This is Kallúm.”