Lilith Saintcrow: Heaven's Spite

“Gilberto?” I whispered.

Galina sighed. But she was smiling wistfully. “Young. He’ll bounce back. I gather he gave them quite a time. Doesn’t know when to quit, that boy.”

Sanctuaries are gentle souls. It’s really terrible that so few people pass their entrance exams. The world could do with a few more.

“No, he doesn’t.” It’s part of being a hunter.

Theron knocked at the door. The smell smoked off him in waves, an unhappy cat Were sending out a musk of aggression and combat readiness. “Kid’s awake. Asking for you.”

I nodded. “The altars?”

“We found four of them. Devi spiked them all. We had just enough time to get to the bridge. You okay?”

“Fine,” I lied. It left my lips easily, a preparation for the other lies I was going to have to tell today. “Galina, can you give me a minute?”

“Sure. I should mix up some boneset for Gil anyway.” She gave me another curious look, her eyes darkening before they cleared, and I had to work to keep my face set. “Are you sure you’re all right, Jill?”

“Peachy. Just, you know. Tired.” I exhaled sharply. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“Pshaw. Mikhail said that all the time.” She grinned, slipped past me, and I saw her brush against Theron’s arm as she left. He looked down, a private smile curling his lips, and my heart swelled up, lodged in my throat. They’d been dancing around each other for a while.

What else did Mikhail say to you, Galina? I didn’t ask. What could she tell me? A big fat nothing, that’s what.

Nothing that could save me.

She went down the hall to her spare bedroom. I heard Hutch ask her a question, her soft reply. It was like listening through cotton wool, I didn’t have the scar jacking me up into redline sensitivity.

I never thought I’d miss that.

“Jill?” Theron sounded uneasy. I dragged my attention away from Saul’s gaunt, yellow face.

“Tell him I love him.” I didn’t sound like myself. Who was the woman using my voice? It was a thin, colorless murmur. “Do you hear me, Theron? When he wakes up, you tell him that.”

“You’re going to tell him yourself.” A crease appeared between his eyebrows. I hoped my face wasn’t betraying me. “Right?”

“Yes.” Another lie. Really racking them up. What did it matter? “Of course. But I want you to tell him as soon as he opens his eyes, Theron. It has to be the first thing he hears. Promise me.”

He examined me, top to toe, for a long moment. I was covered in gunk, I hadn’t even washed my face yet. Normally I like at least my cheeks and forehead clean, if nothing else. But this time I’d left the grime. I already felt filthy all the way down inside where soap couldn’t reach. No washcloth was going to help.

“Theron.” I tried not to sound like I was pleading. Failed miserably. “Please.”

He nodded once, his dark sleek head dipping. “I promise. It will be the first thing he hears.”

“Good.” I did not look at the bed again. Closed the sight of Saul’s face against the crisp, white pillowcase away, deep in my chest where the pain was already beginning. Took the first step away.

The steps got easier. I brushed past Theron, who took a deep breath. I was hoping the smell of the Eye, its forest-fire burning, would cover up everything else. He didn’t move, just stood stock still as the ribbon-flayed edge of my coat brushed his leg.

“Jill?”

I paused, between one step and the next. If he asked me… “Huh?”

“Don’t do anything stupid.” He stared at the bed, that line still between his eyebrows, his profile clean and classic. They’re all so beautiful , the human flaws burnished away.

It’s enough to make you sick.

I found something closer to my regular tone. “I’m a hunter , Theron. It’s part of the job description. See you.”

I didn’t precisely hurry out of there and down the stairs, but I didn’t take my time either.

Past the kitchen, where Weres congregated, speaking softly. I made it up the ladder, quietly but not too quietly, as if I just wanted a moment alone or to check on the sunsword. I reached the greenhouse, climbing up through the trapdoor, and found my escape path blocked.

I should have known Anya would be waiting for me.

She held a cup of coffee, the venomous-green absinthe bottle set on the table where the sunsword glittered. It drank in the morning light, no glimmer of red in the empty space its hilt curled around. Its clawed finials twitched a little, like the paw of a dreaming cat. That was all.

Anya studied me. Half her face was bruised, the swelling visibly retreating under the fine thin blue lines of healing sorcery. I looked back at her.

Silver glittered in her hair and at her throat, her apprentice-ring sending a hard dart of light into a corner as she lifted her coffee cup. It paused on the way to her lips. She lowered it, set it on the table.

Silence stretched between us. Her clear blue gaze, no quarter asked or given.

I’d thought I could lie even to a fellow hunter now. I was wrong.

I reached down with my left hand, slowly. Pushed my right sleeve up, heavy leather dried stiff with blood and other things. Unsnapped the buckle. Dropped the cuff on the floor, and turned my wrist so she could see.

The air left her all in a rush, as if she’d taken a good hard sucker punch. “Jesus,” she finally whispered, the sibilants lasting a long time. “Jill—”

“This stays between us.” I was now back to sounding like myself, clear and brassy. All hail Jill Kismet, the great pretender. “I’m going to take care of it.”

She didn’t disbelieve me, not precisely. “How the hell are you going to do that?”

I shrugged.

She read it on my face, and another sharp exhale left her. “And if…”

I suppose I should have been grateful that she couldn’t bring herself to ask the question. So I answered it anyway. “If it doesn’t work, Anya, you will have to hunt me down. No pity, no mercy, no nothing . Kill me before I’m a danger to my city. Kill Perry too. Burn him, scatter the ashes as far as you can. Clear?”

She grabbed the absinthe bottle. Tipped it up, took a good long healthy draft, her throat working. “Shit.”

“Promise me, Anya Devi. Give me your word.” Now I just sounded weary. My cheek twitched, a muscle in it committing rebellion. The scar cringed under the assault of sunlight, I kept it out. The pain was a balm.

She lowered the bottle. Wiped the back of her mouth with one hand. “You have my word.” Quietly.

I dropped my right hand. With my left, I pulled the Talisman up. Freed the sharp links from my hair, gently. It was hard to do one-handed, but I managed. I took six steps, laid the Eye on the table. The sunsword quivered. “For Gilberto. Will you…”

“You don’t even have to ask. I’ll train him.”

Then she offered me the bottle.

Tears rose hot and prickling. I pushed them down. Took a swallow, the licorice tang turning my stomach over and my cracked lips stinging. When I handed it back to her, she didn’t wipe the mouth of the bottle. Instead, her gaze holding mine, she lifted it to her lips too.

I bit the inside of my cheek. Hard, so hard I tasted blood. The thought that it would be tinged with black made my stomach revolve again. There were so many things I wanted to say. Things like thank you , or even I love you .

Because I do. We are lonely creatures, we hunters. We have to love each other. We are the only ones who understand, the only ones who will.

Except I wasn’t a hunter anymore, was I.

“I need a car,” I croaked. “It won’t be coming back.”

“Shit.” It was a pale attempt at a joke, and neither of us smiled. She dug in her pocket and fished out two keys on a keychain that also held a cast-silver wishbone. “Here’s my spares. Take them.”