Page 136 of The Black Table
“I tried,” Lanz said. “Itried, but?—”
“Get back upstairs,” Kingston orders, pointing at the stairs.
But none of them move.
Not Callahan, not Lanz, not Kai.
The only sound is my pathetic sniffling, until I finally manage to get purchase on my breath.
“What is goingon?” I say. “What is all of this?”
“We are real holy rollers, Gwenna,” Kai says. “Knights charged by God, governed by the Consistory of the White Brothers of Saint Vincent, and bound on pain of death to its vows and chivalrouscode.” He drawls it, like he’s a bored tour guide. “Here on a quest for the cure to all wounds. The vessel divine. The fount of all founts and the secret of all secrets.”
A slow,deathlyslow pulse of panic rolls through me. Head to stomach, stomach to toes, and over and over. My ears are ringing, like my whole body is trying to reject what I’m hearing.
“What are you telling me?” I say. My voice lower, the tears gone. “What are you saying?”
“It’s all real,” Kai says, cocks his head. “Magic. Miracles. The holy spirit. Whatever the fuck you want to call it. It’s all real and it’s all bound up in one mysticalthingthat we and we alone are supposed to find. A holy grail.” He curls at smile with no humor at his brother. “Isn’t that right, Kingston?”
Kingston doesn’t answer, doesn’t move.
Until he does. He springs forward, arms out, like he’s ready to strike or claw at or throttle Kai, but Kai is faster. He leaps backward, a practiced retreat, and lands at the foot of the wall, arm up, and wrenches a blade down by the hand guard.
“Not so fast.” He holds it out, the tip inches from Kingston’s face. “I will cut that smug little face of yours if you come even amillimetercloser, you prick.”
Kingston doesn’t move. Kai whips the blade left, right.
“Either of you wanna chime in?” he says to Lanz and Callahan. Not giving them a chance. “No? Fine.” He looks back at me, blade still raised, but gaze fierce.
“We’re a whole fuckin’secret society. There’srules. We shit the bed and they send the Prior of Arms after us. Strip us of our blades and invalidate a whole-assgenerational claim. How do you like that?” His eyes are glassy. “Doesn’t evensoundreal. But it sure fuckin’ is.”
“I don’t…” My brain is still caught on what he said seconds ago.
It’s real.
It’s real.
“It’s real?” I manage. “Everything I…”
Everything I saw.
Everything I felt.
Everything Idid.
The church.
The fire.
The vision in the lake.
I knew I wasn’t crazy.
KnewI wasn’t.
And they knew too.
They knew, and?—
