Miserere: An Autumn Tale Read online

  “Earth guards Heaven’s Gates, but Earth’s religions are fragmented and at war with one another. They have lost their ability to hear the Celestial Court, because they have entrenched themselves in politics and temporal matters. They have forgotten the spiritual and cannot pull together to defeat the Fallen. So we must hold the Fallen back in Woerld. Otherwise, Heaven falls and chaos will reign forever.”

  When she looked up at him, her left eye was almost shut. She gauged him as carefully as she had back at the rock. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Did you find Hell amusing?”

  Her lips parted, then she shut her mouth and without a word, she walked several paces down the road. Lucian gripped the reins and debated riding after her, but Lindsay halted, her back rigid, her hands clenched at her side. When he was sure she wasn’t going anywhere, he relaxed and used the time to scan the forest. They were alone, but for how long? He wanted to move, but he couldn’t rush her.

  Obviously raised in a secular society, Lindsay couldn’t possibly grasp everything he wanted to tell her. Religion had been an everyday part of his life before Woerld, so John’s talk of Heaven and Hell had been natural to Lucian. However, he remembered how Rachael had struggled like Lindsay when she’d first come to Woerld. Lucian racked his memories to recall how John handled her disbelief, but he drew one blank after another.

  Lindsay returned to him. This time, she came close to him. “You still haven’t told me why Pete and I are here.”

  “The Crimson Veil only opens for children who have special talents.”

  “Talents?”

  “Yes. We are drawn through the Veil to defend Woerld from the Fallen. When the Celestial Court decides a child is worthy, the Veil between Earth and Woerld parts to draw the child into Woerld.” He wiped the diagram out of the dirt and pushed some leaves over the ground. “Let’s talk while we ride.” He couldn’t still his anxiousness another minute. “We need to get moving.” He held out his hand and to his astonishment, she allowed him to help her back onto the horse without protest.

  He mounted behind her, relieved to put more distance between himself and Catarina’s soldiers. “There is something special about you and Peter or neither of you would be here. We’ll just have to wait for your talents to manifest before we know for sure.” A fallen tree obstructed the road, and Lucian guided the horse off the trail to bypass the obstacle.

  “What do you mean by talents?” She picked up the ends of the reins and passed them through her busy fingers.

  He tried to think of a way to make her understand. “Talents are your ability to channel God’s spirit.”

  “That’s the magic you were talking about? The magic the Katharoi work to hold the Fallen back?”

  “Yes. My job as your Elder is to teach you how to control the power that comes from inside you.” He ducked under a low hanging branch as they skirted the log and regained the road. “The Katharoi will always manifest their light from within, and the servants of the Fallen must rely on amulets and incantations to work their magic. That’s how you know the Katharoi from those who serve the Fallen.”

  “Are you a Katharos?”

  Father Matt’s words came back to him, and Lucian whispered, “Yes.”

  “And you’re my Elder.”

  “For now.” He felt her twist her torso so she could look up at him, but he kept his eyes on the road ahead. “The Citadel council will decide whether or not you will remain with me or if you should have another Elder to teach you our ways.”

  She was quiet for a while, watching the dead trees. The road wound down a steep hill, and the horse balked. Lucian coaxed the mare down the hill.

  Lindsay shifted her weight in the saddle. “Did you get to stay with your Elder?”

  “I did. My Elder is the Citadel’s Seraph John Shea.” He kept a tight rein on the horse as they ascended the knoll. Lindsay held on. When they reached the top, he said, “He is also my sister’s Elder.”

  “Wow.” She stroked the horse’s neck. “Your sister is in Woerld too?”

  “My sister lives in Hadra.” His words suddenly hung in his throat and speaking became an effort. “Hadra is a city. In the north.” He hesitated, unsure how much to say. For the time being, her fate was tied to his, she had every right to know the danger she was in, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her. He felt her gaze on his face, but he didn’t look down. “Catarina. That’s her name, Catarina. She is very angry with me.” He paused again, and when she didn’t ask why, he continued. “She wants me to return to her house in Hadra.”

  “But you don’t want to go back.”

  Surprised at her perception, he shook his head. “No, I do not, and that has made my sister very angry.” And when she becomes angry, she becomes violent.

  Lindsay nodded as if she understood his reluctance to speak. “And that soldier we stole our horse from? He works for her, right?”

  Lucian winced. The soldier I killed. “Yes.”

  Lindsay shifted until she faced forward and they rode in silence, Lucian listening and watching the wood around them, Lindsay deep in her own contemplations. As the day faded, he started looking for a good place to camp, and just before dusk, he reined the horse to a stop.

  He led the animal off the trail and behind a large bush that would give them some cover from the road. Several feet from the bush, a stream burbled through a gully, and Lucian took the horse to the water. Lindsay dismounted and washed Hell’s ashes from her face while he took care of the horse. Soon they settled down to a small dinner of the guard’s rations. The shadows lengthened as the sun dipped behind the mountains.

  Lindsay picked at the hard biscuit. Strands of her hair escaped her hair bow and wisped around her delicate features, creating a halo in the fading light. “Hey, Lucian?”

  “Yes?”

  “If we can do magic, why don’t you just whoosh us?”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “Whoosh?”

  “Yeah, you know, like when we were in Hell, when you did whatever it was you did: chanted, wiggled your nose, whatever, then whoosh!” She threw her arms wide. “We were in Woerld. Why don’t you just whoosh us to the Citadel?”

  Laughter burst from him like a rainbow.

  “I’m being serious.” A lop-sided grin teased the corner of her mouth at his infectious laughter. “What’s so funny?”

  The image was too ludicrous. “I’m not sure that I can.”

  “Whoosh us?”

  He shook his head. “Wiggle my nose.”

  She toed the dirt with her tennis shoe and giggled. “Come on, Lucian, I’m being serious.”

  “So am I. Oh, Lord.” He wiped his eyes. “Oh, child, it simply doesn’t work like that.”

  She blushed. “Well, how does it work?”

  “The Gates only open to certain places and knowing which ones are safe to pass through takes many years of study. And magic, well…” He carefully wrapped half of his ration for tomorrow.

  “Yeah? What about magic?” Her eyes were bright with interest and she leaned forward, her elbows on her knees.

  “We have major and minor talents. For example, I’m a healer and an exorcist. I can also command several Hell Gates simultaneously. Those are my major talents. I can’t use those powers for anything other than healing and exorcism. And the Gates, well, the Gates will take you to Hell, no place else.” He smiled at her. “I have to rely on regular modes of transportation and live by my wits like everyone else.”

  “Oh.” Her face sagged with disappointment. “So how do the talents work?”

  “Do you remember I told you that the Katharoi use the power within us?”

  “Yeah.”

  He brushed his hands off and recalled John teaching him how to bring his soul-light into existence. “All right. I’ll teach you a trick so you can understand.”

  “Cool.” She wrapped her biscuit and put it in her pack, then gave him her undivided attention.

  “Close your eyes and take a deep breath.” He waited for
her to comply and when she did, he smiled. “You have a light in your soul, and that light comes from a divine presence—God, Allah, Providence. Whatever you choose to call this presence, it is a part of you. Do you see it, Lindsay?”

  She started to shake her head, then her whole face brightened with her smile. “I see it,” she whispered as if any greater sound would chase the light away.

  “Hold your hand out, palm up. Good. Now open your eyes and I want you to envision a small portion of that light floating above your palm.”

  Lindsay watched her palm, her eyebrows almost touching with her concentration.

  “See it, Lindsay. Make it real.” He watched her struggle with her concentration, then her soul-light burst over her outstretched hand to illuminate her triumphant grin.

  “I did it!”

  “You did indeed. We call that your soul-light. It’s a minor trick, but important. You pulled the divine from within yourself and made it manifest. That is how your talents will work.”

  “And the Fallen can’t do this.”

  Aware of how bright her light was in the encroaching darkness, his nervousness returned and Lucian said, “Let it go out now. We don’t want to be seen.”

  She looked disappointed but extinguished her light.

  Lucian felt better with the dusk cloaking them. “The Fallen cannot make light. They can only steal it.”

  “So that’s why they have to use charms?” She wiggled her fingers and stifled a yawn.

  Impressed that she remembered that detail, he grinned at her. “Precisely! You’re very smart, Lindsay.”

  She blushed at the compliment. After a moment, she frowned and sat straighter. “Wait a minute. Wasn’t using that magic book like using a charm?”

  The book. It took him a moment to realize she meant the Psalter that he’d given her to hold this morning. “There’s no magic in the Psalter. You were channeling God’s power through yourself. A Katharos’s power comes from within.”

  “You said the book was magic.”

  He flinched at her accusation and promised himself he wouldn’t lie to her again. “You were frightened, and I thought if you had something to hold, you would find comfort. You merely used the book to focus your mind. Any power you channeled came from within you, not the Psalter.”

  “What’s a Psalter?”

  He withdrew the book from his breast pocket and she came close to see the pages. “It’s a book of Psalms, but that’s not what makes it special. It was gift to me from my mother. She gave one to me and a matching Psalter to my sister. These are highly prized and cost a great deal of money.”

  Lindsay tried to suppress her next yawn. “Does your sister still have her book?”

  He settled against his pack, easing some of the pain in his leg. “No, she gave hers to a man when she left the Citadel.”

  Her eyes brightened and she rested her chin on her palm. “She must have really liked him.”

  She did it to mock him because she hated him. Lucian looked at Lindsay’s expectant face and realized she anticipated a love story. Such a tale would be a lie, so he relied instead on the flat truth. “I don’t think she liked him very much at all. She just wanted him to think she did.”

  “Oh.” The word turned into a yawn she couldn’t resist and she covered her mouth daintily.

  “Here.” Lucian took off his mantle and spread it on the ground for her. “We need to get some rest. We’ve got a long way to go tomorrow.” He gestured to the soft ermine fur that glowed in the last of the day’s light. “Lie down.” When she was comfortable, he wrapped the heavy wool around her so she was shrouded in darkness and hidden from prying eyes. He gave her the gym bag to use as a pillow. “Are you warm?”

  “Yeah, but what about you?”

  “I’ll be fine; I’m used to the weather.” He went to his pack a few feet away and sat down. He didn’t dare recline for fear he would sleep too deeply; instead, he sat with his back against a tree and stretched his leg out.

  “Lucian?” Lindsay’s voice drifted out of the darkness. “Do you think Pete’s okay?”

  “I don’t know.” He feared the boy was dead, but Lindsay’s hope of finding her brother would anchor her until she learned Woerld’s ways. Lucian refused to kill her expectations based on a suspicion. “I don’t believe speculation in either direction will do you any good. You need to concentrate on your own survival for now.”

  “You don’t have any magic way to, you know, see if he’s okay? Do you?”

  “I’m sorry, Lindsay, I don’t have the Sight. It’s not one of my talents.”

  “Oh.” Just that one word, pregnant with her disappointment.

  Lucian rested his head against the rough bark and listened to Lindsay’s breathing even to the slow measured pace of sleep. He kept most of his promise to her by watching into the night. Dozing intermittently, he monitored the subtle shifts of the Wasteland’s spells so that nothing bled through to take them in their sleep.

  CHAPTER SIX

  trinity

  At the second floor landing, Catarina stopped with one bejeweled hand resting on the banister. The diamond clips wound into her elaborate coif reflected the firelight from the sconces and bathed the walls with stars. Flames danced along the golden threads woven into her burgundy gown to give the illusion of fire burning the seams. No woman at the mayor’s dinner had rivaled her in beauty or wit this evening, yet they had all retired to their houses with their families.

  To her left, Lucian’s empty room taunted her. Silence upon silence was all he gave her these last few years as he’d withdrawn into himself. She could no longer penetrate his languor; it was as if he had become a phantom limb. By his own admission, he chose to walk the city day after day, seeking the suicide he couldn’t bring himself to commit.

  She had not thought she would feel his absence so keenly.

  But she did.

  Rather than go to her room, she went to Lucian’s chamber. The new lock she had commanded to be installed on his door was in place, and she admired the intricate face carved into the dark metal. Part gargoyle, part demon, the lock glowered at her with blind eyes.

  Lucian would find some startling changes to his living arrangements when he returned.

  “Will you enter, Lady?” the lock whispered.

  “I will.” She turned the latch and the lock allowed her to pass.

  The fire burned in the hearth and Lucian’s bed was turned down for the night as if he would arrive any minute. Everything was just as he left it. His desk remained piled with papers, and books accumulated on every flat surface the room offered. Everything she had found and purchased for his happiness was here, yet he took nothing from her house but the clothes on his back.

  From his desk she picked up a prism and held it to the light. Once, when they sat in the garden, he showed her how to capture the sun. They had laughed like children when the light burst forth in a rainbow against the garden wall. The sight of the colors magically filling the space took her breath away, and he had smiled at her wonder. They sat perfectly still, his hand around hers, and in that multihued moment, they had been one.

  “We are never the same without you at my side,” she murmured, echoing the words her twin had spoken to her when they were children. There was no he, no she, only we. Childhood pledges rendered to heartbreak by his latest treachery.

  “You’re home early.”

  She placed the prism on Lucian’s desk and turned to find Cerberus sitting on the threshold, his long tail curled cat-like around his paws. His canine form filled the lower half of the doorway.

  “They bore me,” she said as she went to Lucian’s chair and ran her fingers over the soft upholstery. She caught a faint whiff of his cologne and longed to feel his flesh beneath her hands.

  The demon entered the chamber and caressed her with his silver gaze. “They’re here to counsel you, not entertain you.”

  “They’re sycophants.” She kicked off her slippers and went to Lucian’s bed where she relaxed
, her head on her brother’s pillow.

  “Did they ask for him?” Cerberus stopped at the hearth to luxuriate in the heat.

  “Of course they did. He’s like a talisman to them; they see Lucian and all their worries disappear. The king of Golan’s northern provinces—Abelard is his name—has agreed to attend our next council. The Council wants Lucian there so he can swear fealty to me before Abelard.” She had until the next new moon to find her brother and wring his loyalty from him. “I don’t know why they believe having Lucian there will make any difference.”

  “They are mortal and need reassurance of their victory. You have seen the face of our lord and master, darkling. They have not. Their faith is weak. They must be nurtured.” The demon sauntered to the bed and leapt to the coverlet beside her. “Deep in their souls, they still fear John and the Citadel. Lucian is their insurance. They have confidence in his ability to open the Gates. And there are some who believe that, as Lucian’s Elder, John will not attack while your brother is here.” Cerberus snuggled beside her and rested his broad head on her stomach.

  “John was my Elder, too.” Yet John never gave her the patience or attention he lavished on Lucian. The Seraph treated her no better than her father and uncle on Earth. Her brother had been the golden child, prized for his maleness, and she had been nothing more than an inconvenience, useless as the books that kept her brother content.

  Catarina took one of the books from her twin’s nightstand and opened it. She tore a page out and released the paper to drift to the floor. “He used to read to me.”

  Cerberus heaved a bored sigh.

  By the dying embers of the fire in their nursery, Lucian taught her how to read. Their father spared no expense on the best tutors to groom Lucian as his successor, but her weakling brother desired the priesthood. Blind to Catarina’s true worth, their father spent his life trying to teach a bird to swim, because Lucian had no interest in governing their father’s province.