Covenant's End - Ari Marmell Page 0,85
the Gloaming Court, as with most fae, would be undaunted by normal weapons. He might hold it at bay for a time, with prayer and his own icon of the Eternal Eye, as he had with Iruoch, but only for…
Even as the monstrous creature stepped into the chapel—leaving, for some reason, a trail of bloody footprints behind—a smile split Sicard's beard.
“Iruoch stood inside this church,” he announced, retreating toward his fellow priests. “And his presence felt nothing like yours. Nothing so heavy. And having met him, seen him, I feel safe in saying that he was no more holy, no less profane, than you.”
The fae halted, eyes rotating obscenely to peer over the edge of its own distended jaw and meet the bishop's gaze. A wet, burbling sound popped from its throat, a sound that might have been, “So?”
“So perhaps it's the excess of devotion in this room. You appear darker, against a brighter light. And while I, alone, might prove unable to stop you—”
The thing hurled itself forward, tongues lashing out, stretching yards from its maw. At the same moment Sicard raised his amulet and began to pray. First one of the priests, then a few more joined him, until their voices filled the chamber in a deafening paean.
The thing froze, leaning forward as though battling against a mighty wind. It pushed, and the holy men and women of the Hallowed Pact pushed back. Both sides strained, both refused to yield.
And both began to tire…
The corridors of the Guild were strangely, even disturbingly quiet.
No surprise, there, not with so many dead or incarcerated. Still, as Igraine knelt in the darkened chapel, before the hood-blinded idol of the Shrouded God, it nagged at her. A sense of wrongness, nibbling at the edges of her focus as she prayed for guidance.
The place wasn't entirely silent, of course. Not every Finder had been present for the raid, and the Guard was too busy dealing with the masses of criminals they had arrested, as well as the tension on the streets, to pay much attention to the headquarters of what they knew to be a broken Guild. Slowly, then, in dribs and drabs, a tiny population of remaining thieves had returned to their halls.
Some were Finders who fled when they learned of Lisette's takeover, either loyal to the Shrouded Lord and the priests or simply unwilling to follow a woman they clearly remembered as unstable. Others were members of the Guild who'd simply happened to be out that night, and who, though they'd been willing to follow Lisette while she was here, were wise enough keep their heads down and ride out this new change in regime as they had the last. A few had even been present during the raid but managed to remain hidden from even the most meticulous searches.
So, disturbingly quiet, yes, but it meant that when the nearest hall went completely silent, when sound ceased trickling around the partly open door to the chapel, Igraine noticed swiftly enough.
I suppose I should have expected this.
The priestess concluded her prayer, then stood from vaguely aching knees and turned, facing the door and placing her back to the effigy of the Shrouded God. Idly wishing that she had a pistol or a larger blade on her person, she slid a thick-bladed dagger from its sheath.
“I know you're here!” she called.
It obliged her by appearing in the doorway, and for all her bravado, Igraine couldn't repress a shudder as she pressed herself tight against the cold stone of her god. It was gaunt, painfully so, and taller even than the idol, which was itself slightly larger than a big man. Shadow clung to it in rags, ignoring the efforts of the chapel's lanterns. She could make out little, save that its limbs were gangly, diaphanous wings buzzed at its back, and its facial features consisted solely of a pair of glinting, faceted eyes.
And given that shudder, she could never be certain, but she'd have sworn the statue at her back also quivered a bit at the thing's approach.
Not one of the creatures that made its presence known at Widdershins's capture, according to the story as she'd told it, but “Gloaming Court” wasn't precisely a difficult conclusion to reach.
Clicking and chittering, it advanced on her, though she noted on two separate occasions that it hesitated in mid-step. Only for a fraction of a second, almost unobservable, but definite.
“You don't like being in here with the idol, do you?” she asked, just a hint of