CHAPTER THIRTYIn the House of Mr. Cillian“This will beeverso much fun,” Mr. Cillian trilled.He had taken me to a room with walls of fine wood paneling. This was no ordinary bone cell; it appeared to be a meeting room.Mr. Cillian sat across from me in a fancy chair, sipping blood from a teacup. Not a drop stained his lips, but he dabbed them with his handkerchief anyway. “Salem wants to torture you himself, of course, but I’ll still get some satisfaction from delivering you to your doom.”He hadn’t chained me to my chair; he acted as though this was an informal meeting between close friends.I tried not to show my anger; I didn’t wish to indulge him. I had to approach this from a place of strength and certainty, no matter the crippling pain still coursing through my body.“He’s coming to infect us all, Warren,” I said. “Everyone. Even you.”“He told me he’d spare me if I got you ready for him,” Mr. Cillian replied. “He’ll even let me kill the Dark Watcher. And oh, how
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONESweet SorrowThe Reapers walkedme out through the front doors of the Necropolis, and to the edge of Westminster Bridge. There were crowds of Reapers at either end of it, their dark cloaks billowing in the wind. Some rode on bone stallions.The cold rain felt like needles against my battered body. Below us, the bloody Thames swirled and screeched, hammering its barriers. The storm had made it higher. Further down the river, a large shape was growing closer—Salem’s island of flesh. We could hear its weeping even from here.At the other end of the bridge, the crowd of Reapers shuffled, and two faces emerged from the sea of skulls: Alkin and Sven. A stone dropped inside of me. The Reapers must have taken them both at the docks when Alkin had arrived. Mr. Cillian was going to deliver all three of us to Salem, forcing me to watch as the people I loved were tortured.Mr. Cillian’s eyes lit up at the sight of Sven. He walked past me to the center of the bridge, th
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWOCrimson RainSalem’s mention ofLoretta made it clear to me that she was alive and uninfected, just as I needed her. As I arrived at her home, I found a group of Uncivil trying to hammer down the front door. I slashed through them before they even saw me.Rather than pound on the door as the Uncivil had done, I simply rang the doorbell. Loretta’s face poked through the drapes, and the door opened.“You’re alive!” she exclaimed, yanking me inside. After slamming the door shut again, she turned to a servant and said, “Fetch her a dress, won’t you? Something black.”Mr. Pervis stood inside a blood circle, his arms outstretched, fingers bloody. His expression remained neutral as he concentrated and chanted beneath his breath. He was too focused on the ritual to notice my nakedness.“He’s warding the house,” said Loretta. “Making it so no one can force entry. He’s been at it for hours. First the Reapers were coming, then the Uncivil.”Loretta’s posture had str
PART VAscensionFebruary—April, 1878CHAPTER THIRTY-THREEPenance“I recognize, in retrospect, why some would take offense to the Immortalist Papers. The fact of the matter is, they reflected the commonly-held beliefs of the age in which they were written. I do not feel it is fair to blame me for spreading ideas that were already commonly-held. You must understand that we are in a period of rapid change, and one can hardly be expected to know what lies around every corner. For God’s sake, I was only doing what I was told! You want me to put my family at risk? My wife, my children? If I’d refused to write those papers, you know what would have happened to them—and to me, for that mat
PART IRebirthAugust—September, 1876CHAPTER ONEShadows in the SkyI was stillmortal, the night it all began. My dreams were still my own. I still believed what my parents told me.My sister Gladys and I were on our way to a ball, riding in a coach over a bumpy road. Outside, the grassy English countryside passed us by, a dark sky warning us of a coming storm. Pearly white fog licked the windows, its curious tendrils threatening to creep inside.Gladys sat across from me, her face slack with boredom. “They’re going to think you’re in mourning,” she said. “We’re going to spend the whole night telling everyone ‘No, our parents are most certainly alive.’”Her comment was due to the fact that I was wearing a black dress. Her own glistened gold and flattered her figure, an hourglass next to my pear. She would undoubtedly acquire many suitors tonight. Our parents had already taken their own coach to the ball a half-hour prior, and when Gladys and I arrived, Father would inevi
CHAPTER TWOA Splendid NightmareWhen I was eleven, my cousin Amelia visited my family and me at Blackwood Manor. She was only a few years older than I was, so my parents expected me to entertain her.Blackwood Manor was large, filled with paneled walls, embroidered pillows, and all the comforts money could buy. Growing up, I took every inch of it for granted.My favorite room was our expansive library, which contained hundreds of wonderful books. Naturally, when Amelia asked me what there was to do at the manor, a tour of the library was the first thing I suggested.“Are there any math books?” Amelia asked, eyes lighting up in excitement. “I find math ever so much fun!”“I don’t see why there wouldn’t be,” I said, but I’d never felt the need to check. I preferred fairy tales—stories of chivalrous knights, dragons, and princesses whose beauty I hoped to one day possess. I did not share my cousin’s fascination with numbers, but all the same I helped her find the appropriate sectio
CHAPTER THREEThe Morning That Was Not MorningEvery clock inBlackwood Manor claimed that it was ten in the morning. I had servants check each one, and the response was always the same: the clocks were working as they were supposed to. It was ten in the morning, and it was as dark as could be.I told my maid, Candice, to awaken my parents, who were normally quite punctual. When Candice returned, she said, “I am sorry, my lady, but they insist on staying in bed.”I sighed, and headed for my parents’ room to wake them up myself.“Be careful, my lady,” Candice called after me. “Lady Elizabeth is in a pillow-throwing mood, I fear!”There was indeed a pillow on the floor when I entered. After pulling open the drapes, I went to Mother’s side of the bed. “Wake up, Mama.”After a moment, her eyes creaked open. “What? What is it?”“Mama, the sky is black.” I let the fear show in my eyes. I could not show it to the servants, but I could show it to my mother. “It’s ten in the mornin
CHAPTER FOURThe Painted HouseThe stallion tuggedthe coach onward into the night. Inside it I panted, my tired throat stinging with each breath I took. Through the window I watched my old home disappear behind a dark hill.I didn’t know where this coach was taking me, but exhausted as I was, jumping out and running off would do me no good at all. So I stayed, my breath slowing, nausea and numbness setting in like the venom of a snake. I kneaded the skirt of my dress, but could not feel it with my fingers. I couldn’t frown, nor could I smile. My breaths were somehow louder than the horse’s hoof-beats.My family was gone. I would never see them again, live with them again, or be able to hate them again.My hair was sticky and red from blood, and my throat felt like it was being squeezed. Why wasn’t I crying? I felt so empty. I reminded myself that my family would have wanted me to live on, but I felt guilty for having survived—for having escaped my fate when they had not. Had