Page 143 of House of Crimson Hearts
“So completely wrong he’ll probably pitch a fit and burn the book when the amulet rejects it.”
I laugh.
Octavia slips her hand in mine, “I can just imagine the tantrum he will throw when he realises the trials aren’t going to be as easy as the first. He’s running on the arrogance of a win. Taking things for granted. That’s his loss. I made the same mistake underestimating him in the first trial.”
“Is this okay?” she asks, tugging my hand.
I hesitate, we’re in public, but it really does feel okay. It feels like I don’t want to hide anymore.
We stroll through the market area, circling stalls, the Church of Blood, the square, the Whisper Club. We walk miles. We pass the Church of Blood for a second time, its ancient spires towering into the sky like spears.
Sadie appears in the entrance. She’s holding a small red vial. She secretes it in her pocket and then speeds away before Octavia can question her.
“Interesting,” Octavia says.
“What?”
“Sadie thinks the most beautiful thing is something religious.”
“It looked like blood. It was definitely red.”
“There’s no way she’d have stolen a drop of the Mother of Blood’s actual blood. We have vials of it that the monks use to go through their Trial of Spirit to become ordained. But there’s no way. She respects the church too much.”
“I’m telling you it was blood,” I say.
“Shit. She must really want to win.” Octavia pauses, takes a band off her hand and ties her hair up into a messy bun. “It’s not a bad line of thinking. But even if we could get a drop, she’ll have already tested it and won by the time we get back to the castle.”
“Do you want to go into the church anyway?” I ask.
“It can’t hurt.”
So we do, I follow her in. We end up staying in the church for a couple of hours. Walking the long aisles, staring at the incredible structure. The roof inside the church is covered in ancient art. The sweeping paint strokes older than many of the vampires in the city. The seat cushions are all red, the tall pillars and wooden beams stained a reddish mahogany. We pass the pulpit and the basin filled with blessed blood where the monks pray for residents and bless them. The stench of iron-rich blood is overwhelming. I haven’t dosed yet today, and it almost makes my legs buckle.
Octavia grabs me under the arm to support me and we veer to the other side of the church, examining the stained-glass windows instead. All of the scenes in them are depicted in varying shades of red glass. The images are savage, depicting the death of the witch-gods, the birth of Octavia, the turning of Cordelia, the curse, the death of the dhampirs a thousand years ago, the loss of almost all of our magic.
The blood monks walk around the church lighting candles and taking donations of blood to the pulpit.
“I’m not coming up with any ideas in here,” I say.
“Neither am I, shall we try somewhere else?” Octavia asks.
We leave, both of us feeling sullen. We pass Dahlia and Lincoln in the market. Dahlia snips a lock of hair off the most attractive woman I’ve ever seen while Lincoln stands there keeping her distracted with his charm and, dare I say, muscles.
I glance at Octavia, she shakes her head. “They’re wrong too. But there’s something about Sadie’s choice I can’t let go of. I just wish I knewwhat.”
“Just Xavier to go…” I say.
“I wonder where he even is. Let’s head back to the club. I think better in my office.”
“Fine by me, I’m starving, and it won’t be long before the dawn rises and then we lose twelve hours anyway, or at least I’ll lose eight to sleep and then what? Twelve hours to figure it out.”
“It’s going to be okay. Let’s get a drink and try and think through the options we have.”
It takes us half an hour, and the dawn is beginning to kiss the horizon, making its long lips blur orange by the time we arrive.
“We’re stuck here now till evening,” I say.
“Then let’s make the most of it.” Octavia grins and I’m convinced she’s thinking about the last time we were here.
