Page 2 of Hunt the Dusk
“We should go,” Hemlock said. “We have things to discuss.”
I shook my head then pulled myself away from Ordell. “Take me back to the chapter house.”
“What?” Hemlock crowded me, forcing me back against Ordell. “I thought we talked about this. We need to go back to the castle.”
My pulse raced, lungs tightening so it was difficult to breathe. “I told you I needed time to think about this.”
“What is there to think about?” Hemlock demanded. “You’re his watcher.”
“For now.”
His eyes darkened. “You want to run away?”
“Hem, back off,” Ordell growled.
“Fucksake. Ordell, the softly, softly approach won’t work here. We’re running out of time. We need her to?—”
“Enough!” Ordell snapped. “We’re not the ones who’ve lost our humanity, remember that.”
Hemlock turned away with a sound of exasperation. “Fine. Two days, Orina. Make up your mind. Are you with us, or are you out, but remember, if you walk away, that massacre you witnessed will look like child’s play compared to what Loviator will do once she’s free.”
Rage burned a path through my veins, toward them and toward the Order for putting me in this position. The position of protecting a monster, of having to witness his atrocities, and now, of the responsibility of nurturing his humanity.
“I need to speak to the Order about this.”
“You can’t,” Hemlock said. “Only the highest levels know the truth. No one else can know, do you understand?”
Yeah, they’d explained that. Along with the fact that they’d been working with the Order for centuries. Everything they’d told me explained why the Order would want to be involved and work to protect Ezekiel because the vampire king wasn’t the big problem, the goddess Loviator was, but I couldn’t just take the Singers’ word for it. I didn’t work for them. I worked for the Order. “You best get me a meeting with someone who can confirm everything you’ve told me.”
Hemlock let out a bark of laughter. “And I thought I was distrustful. Look, you’re here to be a watcher. So be a fucking watcher and do your job.”
I glared up at him. “Not until I speak to the Order.” And even then, I wasn’t sure that I could.
Ordell exhaled. “Fine. But it might take time to organize the meeting, so while we wait, please…work with us.”
That tone. The plea. The softness. How dare he try and manipulate me.
A wave of anger prickled over my skin, and I gritted my teeth. I broke off toward the van. “Take me back. Now.”
I needed time alone, away from the Singers, away from Ezekiel. I needed to wrangle my emotions into the neat boxes that would allow me to serve the Order.
They believed I was their only hope of helping Ezekiel find his humanity and stopping the evil goddess Loviator from breaking free of some supernatural prison, but the fury coursing through me warned that if I was going to be any use totheircause, then I needed to remind myself of my own.
Chapter 2
The white stone wings on the altar looked down on me, in judgment or commiseration, I wasn’t sure. My emotions were a tangled nest of barbs and thorns that made each breath a laborious act. But as the cool shadows of the chapel drew me into their embrace, a flicker of hope ignited within me.
The Order and my calling, the blessings of the white wings, had yet to fail me.
I took to my knees on the purple padded tuffet and lit one of the thick candles.
“Blessed be the wings that shield us. Blessed be the wings that lift us up. Blessed be the wings that guide us. Give me peace. Give me strength of body and mind so that I may complete the task…the task ahead of me.” I swallowed past the pinch in my throat. “Fuel my conviction and temper my desires. Blessed wings, keep me forever in your embrace…please. I need your guidance. I need…” My voice cracked, and I bowed my head. “I failed, and I’m not sure I can go on. I’m not sure I have the strength to be what they need. To lie, deceive, and manipulate a monster into finding his way back to the light. How can I make him believe there’s still good in him when I don’t believe it myself?”
I was met with silence, but I refused to let the hollow of despair swallow me. “Help me…please…”
Warmth trickled up my arm as the blessed etchings flared to life.
What happens if you walk away?
