Page 30 of House of Dusk
If the spirit lingered, she might have offered it the touch of her flame, to cleanse and empower it, easing its passage through the netherworld. Hastening its rebirth. Even now, she could invoke the merciful flame to pray to the Phoenix for intercession. But there was only one way to absolutely ensure that the corpse could not serve as a doorway for something terrible.
She cleared her throat. She had other work first. “I need to examine the corpse.”
Deucalion’s brows arched. “He’s already shrouded.”
She hesitated. For some reason, it was hard to bring herself to ask the question. It would sound foolish. Or maybe she just didn’t want to know the answer. “Did he have an inking on him?” she asked, measuring the size with her thumb and forefinger. “About this big, shaped like a ring?”
The tomb keeper frowned in thought. “I don’t recall any inkings, but I wouldn’t swear to it. Why does it matter?”
She gave a noncommittal shrug, aware that Timeus was also watching her, listening. “I’m sorry to undo your work,” she said, moving to the plinth. “But this could be important.”
She drew her belt knife, wincing at the flash of metal. Carefully, she sliced the blade through the linen shroud. A foul stench slammed into her nose as the cloth fell apart, revealing the mottled skin of the dead body. She bit down on a curse. Even Deucalion gave a startled, “Fates! He’s gone fast.”
Timeus surprised her by holding his ground, for all that his skin had a sickly gray cast. She gave him a small nod of approval before turning her attention to the corpse.
She made brisk work of it, searching the man from toe to crown. And found nothing, except for the bite itself. She wanted to feel relief, to cover him up and leave him in peace.See? Just acoincidence.But doubt chewed at her.
“Help me, please, Brother Timeus,” she said. “I need to check his back.”
To his credit, Timeus didn’t hesitate, only gulped down another steadying breath, then moved to take hold of the corpse’s left arm. Together, they rolled Castor to one side, exposing the broad expanse of his back. Muscles that would have hefted a young lamb easily, to bring it safely home through a storm. But now Castor was the one who was lost in the tempest, with no one to guide him.We all walk the labyrinth alone.
“Is that it?” asked Timeus, pointing to a shadow under the man’s shoulder blade, partly hidden by the folds of the shroud.
Sephre squinted. Let out a long breath.
Seven dark lines, linking seven points into a ring. The Serpent’s star sign. The same mark that she’d seen on Iola.
Prickles ghosted over her skin. She tensed, staring into the dark mouth of the nearest tunnel.Just try it. I haven’t forgotten how to fight.
“Sister?”
She turned back to find Deucalion and Timeus looking at her the way two reasonable people might look at a person who was glaring dramatically into the darkness, holding a dagger as if it were a sword. She was breathing too fast, heart thumping, as if she were about to plunge into battle.
Carefully, she lowered her dagger, sliding it back into the sheath. It would be useless, in any case, meant for slicing cheese, not waging war against the unholy creatures of the netherworld.
Deucalion cleared his throat. “Does the mark mean something, sister?”
“Yes,” said Sephre, wearily. “It means I need to invoke the consuming flame.”
Deucalion rocked back on his heels, all jovial warmth gone. “You can’t be serious.” He stared at Sephre as if she had just declared herself high priestess of the abyss.
“I don’t understand,” Timeus said. “It’s a blessing. Won’t it help his spirit?”
“No,” said Sephre. “The consuming flame destroys a corpse completely. To keep any skotos from using it to reach this world.”
“But surely there’s little chance of that,” protested Deucalion. “Castor was a good man. Quiet, yes, but well loved. I doubt he ever had an unkind word for anyone. Would you deprive his family of the chance to pray for him? To leave offerings to strengthen his spirit?”
“I’m sorry.” Sephre cupped one hand, summoning a hungry bloom of golden flames. “But if he is the man you believe him to be, then he’ll find his way, with or without prayers and grave goods.”
The flames leapt higher, dazzling her eyes. She could not see Deucalion’s expression. Only heard his sigh. The scuff of his sandals as he stepped back from the plinth.
I’m sorry, Sephre repeated, silently, as she held out her hands to the still body of the shepherd.Be strong, Castor. I hope you find your way quickly.
The flames filled her vision then, leaping across the dry linen, licking across the oiled skin of the corpse, and rendering it to ash.
• • •
Sephre could feel Timeus watching her as they made their way back down toward the village. She owed him no explanations. He was a novice. Yet something compelled her to blurt out, “I had to do it.”
