Sanctus

Chapter 141

When Cornelius had seen the green eyes staring out at him from the slit in the Tau, he’d thought for a shocked moment it was the woman in the burkha, brought here by some miracle. Only when the Abbot had revealed her identity did he realize the true marvel of the Sacrament. She wasn’t just the woman in the burkha, or the mother who had abandoned him as a newborn — she was the fountainhead of all female treachery.

Eve had to die, for the crimes she had committed against man and against God; it was the only way to rid the world of her poison, and somehow the squirming girl in his arms was the key. He felt her struggling, saw the dagger in her hand twisting away from the symbol of his hatred trapped inside the cross and, without thinking about his actions, he shoved her forward with all his strength, slamming her into Eve.

Liv gasped at the impact and breathed in an ancient smell, like rich earth, and the promise of rain. It was the smell of Eve and it comforted her. She could feel the dagger between their bodies, held tight by their embrace and rendered useless by it; but she also felt the burning sensation of pain. It was coming from her throat and her right shoulder where the force had driven them on to the spikes inside the Tau.

She heard angry instructions from behind her and felt herself yanked back as quickly as she had been shoved forward. She gasped as an astonishing pain ripped through her, felt wet warmth gush from her neck and spread down across her chest, then her legs buckled and she slid to the stone floor.

The Abbot watched her fall and saw his dreams topple with her.

He looked up at Cornelius with murder in his eyes and reached for the dagger in his Crux. Then a sound made him stop.

It was a soft sound, like surf on shells, and it had come from Eve. He turned to face her. She was sobbing. The bottomless green eyes were turned downward to the crumpled form of the girl and her slender shoulders shook. He watched a tear fall through the darkness and disappear into the slowly spreading puddle of the girl’s blood.

Then another sound tore through the chapel, a scream so powerful both the Abbot and Cornelius clamped their hands to their ears to block it out.

It was like the splintering of a great tree, or the crack of a shifting glacier. It was the song of the siren — and it was filled with grief and anger.

The Abbot stared at Eve through the force of the scream, defying her fury. Then, just as the terrible howl started to subside, he saw blood begin to flow from her wounds. It started as a trickle but grew steadily faster, dripping from the puncture holes all over her skin and flowing from the deeper ceremonial cuts on her arms and legs. He watched in wonder as it ran down her body, flowing far more freely than he had ever seen it, into the stone channels where Liv’s blood also ran.

She’s dying — he thought with a swell of triumph.

Then Eve spoke, in a voice that was more air than substance.

‘KuShikaaM,’ she said, like a soothing whisper aimed towards the ground where the girl lay bleeding. ‘KuShikaaM.’

The girl looked up from the floor, like a child looking up at her mother. Then she smiled, and as her eyes gently closed — so did Eve’s.