Page 1 of Seraph's Tears
Chapter One
Eve
Fifty years ago, on a normal cloudy day above the midlands of Anglia, the sky cracked open and monsters fell to earth.
I wasn’t alive at the time, but everyone old enough could recall exactly where they were the day they saw the strange beings enter our world. Newspapers ran out of ink trying to keep up with writing about the shocking event. How some hit the earth so hard they left craters, how others flew through the air and hid from human eyes. How the gaping, inky hole in the sky snapped shut like the jaws of a beast.
Some people thought it signified end times. Some people thought it was a government hoax. Others, mainly people overseas who only heard about the incident, scoffed until they, too, saw winged creatures in the night.
Now, fifty years later, I eyed the brooding manor house that stood like a lone sentinel against the gray horizon. Bleak slate walls, darkened windows, and one withered tree valiantly clinging to life against the winds made up the entire landscape. Rolling gray clouds descended like a curtain, blocking out all signs of outside life. I shivered as wind whispered past, loosening my hair and dragging at my skirts.
“What are you waiting for?” Reverend Zorababel Grimshaw’s rough voice sawed into my fears. “Get down, woman.”
I gripped my skirts in an effort not to growl at him. It was easy for him to be eager. He was dropping me and my battered trunk off, then he got to return to the coaching inn at the village for a tankard of ale. Several years ago I would’ve assumed that, as the leader of our church, it was his right. Now I saw it as yet another way he made his flock work harder than him.
I was about to become the housekeeper for a Herald of Death. If all of Zorababel’s speculations were correct and the being inside was a Herald.
“Are you not going to drive up to the door?” I looked at the man beside me. His hat had sunk low over his face so only his dull brown beard poked out. He’d borrowed rough clothing, currently disguised as a day laborer. His necktie, although made of cheap muslin, was still tied neatly around his thick neck.
“I’d prefer not.” He didn’t even bother to look away from the horse’s rump.
Anger flared in my chest. “I cannot lug my trunk up the lane.” I gestured to the battered thing strapped to the dogcart behind us so hard that the key I wore around my neck thumped against my breastbone. “You’ve stopped too far away.”
He glared at me. “Are you rebelling against me, the reverend who Erlik has put above you?”
I bowed my head and answered softly, like the elders of our church always wanted. “No, of course not. I just?—”
“You might be here, but your parents are home. And if you are disobedient and rebellious, then I, on Erlik’s behalf, will have to administer punishment to them.”
My hands spasmed and the breath froze in my throat.
“Certainly the prayer closet for a day or two.” He paused. “Perhaps a punishment during the morning service, too?” As a reverend he expected his flock to fall in line, to obey without protest.
“No, please,” I blurted, hating that I was begging him. Just the way he liked. “I’m obeying.” I had learned to obey, but keep my thoughts apart and hidden for my own safety. I grabbed the valise handle, the leather polish flaking off, my skirts in the other hand, and clambered down. My necklace threatened to spill out of my bodice, and I hastily tucked it back under and close to my heart. I didn’t want Zor to know about it. My black half-boots hit the dusty road. I gawked at the manor with its brown lawn and creeping ivy along the gray walls.
Even when I believed everything preached from the pulpit and strove to live a holy life, I’d always asked too many questions. The past few years I’d done everything I could to pretend obedience and keep my growing doubt hidden.
“Any last words of comfort?” I asked, not keeping the sardonic bite out of my tone.
Zor’s face darkened and he jerked forward, grabbing hold of my shoulder. “Watch your tone, Eve Lovejoy.” His fingers pressed deep enough to bruise.
I blanched, going absolutely still. “Y-yes, sir.” Stupid, stupid. You’re so close to freedom, don’t ruin it now.
“Don’t fail us, girl. I chose you to be his housekeeper because I know you’ll obey my commands and find the Herald we’ve long searched for. I’ll check on you in a couple of months.” He released me with a shove. “Remember the mission.”
I stumbled backward, skirt tangled between my legs. My hands gripped my valise so tightly my knuckles turned white, and I kept my eyes on the dirt between us so he couldn’t see the anger in my face. “Yes, Reverend.” Wisps of hair, dislodged from my pins, fell around my face.
“I’ll set your wedding date when you return with the Herald—as your reward,” he offered benevolently. I glanced up in time to see his lips stretched into a smile, eyes still flat.
Dread sat in my stomach like curdled milk. “Thank you, Reverend.” I forced the words out like the offering of obedience he expected. Marriage was the last thing I wanted from him, but he could never know that. Not until I’d escaped.
He clicked his teeth and snapped the reins. The nag he’d hired back in the village shambled forward.
I turned my back, unwilling to watch him fade into a smudge on the horizon. I stared instead at the stone edifice looming ahead, squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin. I was Eve Lovejoy, and I refused to quake in fear before I’d even started my position. Even if my master and employer was rumored to be a Herald of the God of Death and Beyond.
I trudged up the dirt lane, heart beating faster and faster as Mirkwold Manor neared. It was a long walk. Long enough to reflect upon all my life choices and wonder where I should’ve chosen differently. It had probably gone wrong when I decided to obey Zorababel’s orders. But then, I considered as I forced one step in front of the other, it probably went back further than that. Maybe my unwanted betrothal. But why stop there?
Or better yet, perhaps I should blame my parents. I doubted I would’ve chosen to join the Church of the Love of His Divine Saints on my own. Maybe I could’ve been devoted to one of the other gods. But no, my parents had decided to raise me in the Church of the Love of His Divine Saints, a small sect who worshipped Erlik, the God of Death and Beyond, and so my path had been set. All the way to this godforsaken moor on the doorstep of death. If Zor was correct.
