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"You will make this much worse on yourself if you run.” The room was silent, but I smelled fear. It was an acrid tang hanging in the air like smoke.
This room was empty. I followed the fear-scent, making my way downstairs.
I found the Augur in the kitchen with a pang of disappointment. The old bastard had taken matters into his own hands; his face was frozen in a rictus, crushed mushrooms still clamped between his frozen jaws.
I shoved him over, then grabbed the lamp off the table. I poured the oil over him, and finally touched the flame to him.
He went up with a whump, sparks crackling upwards. The flames crept outwards, consuming the dry wooden boards of the church.
I shut the door behind me, still tracing the Father’s fear-scent. He had a woman with him—Ionna.
I wondered if she was innocent, or if she knew what Father Borodin had done to Yana.
He had taken the route to the north, the opposite direction of the swarm of furious werewolves. I followed the road, taking my time. He could not outrun me.
It was Ionna who met me on the road.
“Please,” she whispered through chattering teeth. The flames of the church’s inferno were reflected in her too-wide eyes.
“You may leave,” I told her. “Walk away now. You are free.”
I pushed her aside, and Ionna spread her arms, trying to keep me back. I wouldn’t hurt her. She had been broken by Borodin years ago.
The too-thin woman couldn't do anything to stop me as I continued north.
Borodin could not outrun us on foot; he was panting, leaning against the northernmost runestone when I finally found him. His velvet robes were soaked with sweat, panic in his eyes as he took me in.
“Salem,” he gasped out. “You traitorous bitch.”
The bastard had taken down the blue blessing ropes and had draped them all over himself. As if that would keep me away.
I reached out and took one, pulling it off him and dropping it on the ground. Borodin let out a tiny whimper.
The reek of his fear grew stronger. I breathed deeply, drinking it in.
“How could I be a traitor?” I asked. “You raped your own daughter. You are the one who requires a cleansing.”
Borodin stared at me, his face mottled in shades of plum and white.
“Come with me now.”
I didn’t give him an opportunity to say no. I just dug my claws into his shoulders, opening wounds in soft, flabby flesh.
Borodin howled, but he had no choice but to walk where I directed him or risk ripping away chunks of his own body. I walked him back to the village, which was toasty warm despite the icy night. The church was already collapsing in on itself, spreading to the houses on either side.
“Be purified by blood or flame,” I whispered in his ear. “It’s all the same to me.”
My Beasts surrounded me as I released Borodin, who collapsed to the ground, huffing for breath. They were as bloody as I was.
He gazed up at us in terror, his eyes lingering on the claws.
“Choose.” I raised my hand. My claws were dark, coated in his gore. “Every pain you brought upon us will be given to you now.”
Borodin got to his feet. There was nowhere left to run; the streets were thick with the bodies of men who had wanted to fight. Women and children were streaming from the village, away from the flames that threatened to consume everything.
Ash growled, staring at Borodin. I felt the tension in his body; he was barely holding back from tearing the man to shreds.
Borodin didn’t miss the sheer hatred in my Beasts’ eyes. “Mercy, please…” he whimpered, but I shook my head.
