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“What happened to you?”
“I grew old," he says. “And I learned the meaning of regret. I want to save you from the same path. Do not give yourself to this Brotherhood. They are no brotherhood at all. They are a loosely-knit group of twisted, broken fools looking for salvation among sparks of the divine.”
Speaking of twisted, broken fools looking for salvation among sparks of the divine…
“NINA!”
My name is being screamed by men again. A lot of men. More men than Craig wants to face, that is for certain. He turns and melts into the fog, leaving me to my own disoriented devices.
A half-dozen priests come bursting through the trees, Bryn, Thor, and Cosmos among them. They have taken the most interest in me, though Bryn can still go boil his head as far as I am concerned. Thor and Cosmos are alright, I suppose.
“Are you alright?” Thor crouches down to get on eye level with me.
“My father was here. He told me he has a cat.”
"That's what he came to tell you?”
“Yes.”
“That makes no sense. What kind of reunion between a father and his long-lost daughter goes that way?”
“A very awkward one?” Cosmos suggests.
He gets it.
Bryn
I am relieved she did not allow herself to be taken. I am sure he was trying to lure her away. Craig has not been on my radar for many years. After being expelled from the Brotherhood, he took to the bottle and disappeared into the mundane world. I might have feared him in the past, but in the present, he is nothing to me, or to us. But I cannot ignore the fact that he has come onto my property and made contact with Nina. He may have planted some seed, or perhaps this is merely the first stage of his plan. I am wary.
We return Nina to her room. I take the precaution of locking her in. I doubt she will notice, or care. She has truly become a shadow of her former self. Knowing that my actions have caused so much misery as to change her personality eats at me, but what choice did I have? In the end, I had none. Fate intervened, fate and chance and other forces that make killing a boy barely on the cusp of adulthood somehow acceptable. I wish I could dismiss her pain as easily as I dismiss my own murderous actions.
“Crichton?”
“Yes, sir.” He appears by my elbow.
“Where have you been? I've not seen you all day.”
“Busy with our many inhabitants, sir. What can I do for you?”
“I want you to keep a close and permanent eye on Nina. Craig came to see her. He lured her into the forest. It doesn't seem to have done any harm, but we can’t be too careful. He may be interested in reclaiming his former glory.”
“Selling angel blood?”
“Exactly.”
“The price has been inflated beyond all sense, sir. It would make sense. You should be collecting the young lady’s moon blood. It could fund a great deal of projects.”
I can only imagine Nina’s horror and disgust if I were to attempt to capture her menstruation so I can sell it. There is a market for angel blood, a massive one. It is true that bleeding the twins would have made us all rich beyond compare, and killing Jonah was a waste. But I have never seen them as a means to a financial end. I am a twisted, filthy fuck, but even I have limits.
“I don’t think we are that desperate for money, Crichton.”
“As you wish, sir. Merely a suggestion, sir. The abbey is a large, old building and it requires a great deal of maintenance.”
“I know.”
Crichton lingers.
“What is it?”
“I thought you should know, sir. There are whispers."
“Whispers about what?"
“The reconvening of the Brotherhood has served to intensify the energy field in the abbey. There's a chance that schisms in the barrier between realms could occur. I would advise capturing some of the sanguine essence of the young lady and manufacturing charms…”
“I am not going to smear her blood above the door.”
“Why not?”
"Because it feels paranoid. This is the modern world. We are done with plagues. And it has been a thousand years since any true schism was created."
“There are thirteen brothers here, and a fallen angel of the blood. Mark my words, sir, you would do well to begin preparations for war. I fear this warning may already be too late.”
We are interrupted at that moment by Steven, who wanders into the room with a book and a deceptively casual expression on his wizened features.
Chapter Nineteen
Bryn
“Bryn? I think we have a problem.” Steve makes the comment so casually I ignore it for twenty seconds or so. They are twenty seconds I will later very much wish I had not wasted.
“What kind of problem? Crichton and Crocombe fighting again? Or is Nina doing something mad at high speed?”
