Page 35 of Of Faith and Fangs

He turned to me, his eyes hard as flint. “Gather wood, Nightwalker. Large branches from the edge of the forest. Stack them here.” He kicked at the snow, clearing a rough circle.

I didn’t move. “This is wrong.”

“This is duty,” he countered. “This is your path to redemption.”

“Redemption?” I laughed bitterly. “Is that what you call this? Torture and murder?”

His hand moved to the hilt of his silver dagger. “Careful, Alice. Your sympathy for this creature borders on treason.”

The use of my real name—not Nightwalker, but Alice—was meant to remind me of what I’d been, of the human girl who’d knelt in prayer in her father’s church. But it had the opposite effect. It reminded me that Alice Bladewell had been raised to show compassion, not cruelty.

“I won’t help you burn her,” I said.

Silas’s expression darkened. “Then watch me do it alone.”

He dragged the bound vampire to the center of the cleared circle, ignoring her renewed struggles and pleas. Then he moved to the edge of the forest, breaking branches from the trees with methodical precision. I stood frozen, caught between the instinct to flee and the terrible compulsion to witness what I’d enabled for months.

The vampire’s eyes found mine. “Please,” she whispered. “If you have any mercy, kill me quickly before he returns. Don’t let him burn me.”

I took a step toward her, then another. The dagger I carried—smaller than Silas’s, but just as deadly—seemed to burn against my hip. One quick stroke across the throat would end her suffering before Silas could intervene.

But before I could reach her, Silas returned, his arms laden with branches. He dropped them beside the captive, then gave me a measuring look.

“Having second thoughts about your rebellion?” he asked, misinterpreting my approach. “Good. Help me build the pyre, and perhaps we’ll disregard your prior disobedience.”

I turned away, walking back toward the cabin. “I’m leaving.”

His hand caught my arm, fingers digging in with bruising force. “You’re going nowhere, Nightwalker. You will stand and watch. You will learn what happens when our targets aren’t dispatched quickly and efficiently. You could stake her if you’d like. We could burn her heart out painlessly. But because you refuse, her heart will burn no less, and she’ll feel every lick of the flames.”

He dragged me back to the clearing, positioning me where I’d have a clear view of what was to come. Then he returned to his grim work, stacking wood around the kneeling vampire in a careful circle.

When the pyre was complete, he doused the wood with oil from a flask he carried. The pungent smell filled the clearing, mixing with the vampire’s fear-scent and the crisp winter air.

“Last chance,” he told his captive. “Tell me about the others.”

“There are no others,” she insisted, her voice cracking with terror.

Silas struck a match against his boot and held the tiny flame before her eyes. “Fire purifies,” he said, his voice taking on the cadence of ritual. “Fire cleanses what God has judged unclean.”

“Don’t,” I whispered, but he wasn’t listening to me anymore.

He dropped the match onto the oil-soaked wood. Flames erupted with a whoosh, racing around the circle. The vampire screamed as fire climbed the pyre, reaching for her with hungry orange fingers. Her bound body thrashed against the blessed ropes. But there was no escape.

I tried to turn away, but Silas gripped my shoulder, forcing me to watch. “This is what happens when you fail to complete your mission efficiently,” he said, his voice carrying over the woman’s screams. “This is the consequence of your misplaced sympathy.”

The vampire’s clothes caught fire, then her hair. Her screams became inhuman, a sound of such pure agony that it seemed to pierce the very sky. I struggled against Silas’s grip, but he held me fast, his strength far exceeding mine.

“Remember,” he continued, his face illuminated by the hellish glow, “securing redemption from the evil you’ve become requires sacrifice. Next time, offer them a quicker death.”

Next time. As if there could be a next time after this. As if I could ever again participate in the Order’s brutal crusade.

The screaming stopped eventually. The vampire’s body blackened and crumbled within the flames, reduced to ash and bone. Only then did Silas release me, stepping back with grim satisfaction.

“The Order will need to be informed of your hesitation today,” he said. “But I believe you’ve learned your lesson. Haven’t you, Nightwalker?”

I said nothing, my face a hollow mask as I stared at the dying flames. Inside, something had broken—or perhaps healed. The comfortable lies I’d told myself about redemption and duty had burned away, leaving only the stark truth: I had become a monster serving monsters.

Chapter 16