Page 129 of Hellbound

Ksenia grimaced at the popping of his joints as he adjusted to hear her whispered words.

Petra’s hand quickly shot out and grabbed the obsidian beads around his neck with a tug.

The clasp broke, and the beads struck the marble with sharp, crystalline tinks as they scattered across the floor.

Petra’s giggle contrasted with Serafin’s raspy growl as his hand grasped the empty air where the child once stood.

Her footfall was light as she sprinted toward the side door, bursting out onto the balcony overlooking the waterfalls.

The wind howled through the church, rippling the open tomes on lecterns, sending loose sheafs flying.

Serafin lurched in pursuit, robes billowing, his jaundiced face flushed with a purplish red. His brass staff clanked heavily on the floor as he moved.

Ksenia loosened the breath from her lungs, stepping from the shadows.

Her fingers closed around the obsidian medallion pendant that lay forgotten on the floor, tucking it into her pocket.

She slunk onto the exterior balcony and eased the door closed.

The balcony jutted behind the church, suspended over the ravine where the waterfall plunged into darkness below. Ghostly mist caught the peeking moonlight—drifting over the stone balustrade and dampening her entire body.

A pair of stone pillars held large iron braziers, their flames hissing as the spray reached them. Hidden behind one, Ksenia could just make out an impish smile and golden-yellow hair.

The roar of falling water was a constant thunder that resonated through the floor beneath her feet, and the damp air tasted of minerals and moss, icy in Ksenia’s lungs.

A path of obsidian beads scattered across the slick stone floor and sparkled like dark stars in the firelight as the archbishop struggled to collect each one in his stiff, bony hands.

Her pupils were blown wide with predatory focus as she watched him from the darkness.

She held the stamped end of her maker’s mark at the edge of the brazier, letting the flames lick the metal.

“Forgive me, Archbishop Serafin…”

Serafin’s ancient head turned like an owl’s on thin, scrawny shoulders at the direction of Ksenia’s voice.

His shriek was thin and raspy as she slammed the metal brand upon his wrist.

He retreated closer to the balcony edge with a hiss, clutching his burn.

“For I have sinned”—she drew Caromir from her hip—“and I am about to sin again.”

“I should have expected such treachery from a harlot.” His heavily lidded eyes pulled wide open in their deep sockets. His staff trembled in his pallid grip as he brandished it at Ksenia, who stepped back, amused.

He had seemed tall and imposing at the final challenge, but now, Ksenia realized he was just a frail man with a cane.

His waterlogged robes dragged over his feet as he tried to swipe at Ksenia’s head, every movement requiring great effort.

She watched, bemused, as he defended himself.

Caromir emitted a feverish whine as Ksenia drove it deep into Serafin’s ribs, puncturing his lungs. A heady, dizzying rush of power surged from the center of her being, spreading like wildfire through her veins to her fingers and toes.

Her eyes fluttered shut, lost in the intoxicating inferno.

His wheeze was papery, thin. “To hell with you, harlot!”

Her eyes snapped open as cold, bony fingers grasped the front of her cloak, yanking her forward.

Wind whipped at his tall body, catching in his robes, his feet unsteady on the wet stone. His sunken eyes were wide with fury and desperation as his clawed grip tightened, pulling her over the edge.