Javier’s words rang in her mind. I spent a great deal of my childhood in the tender care of the Church, much of it with Father Ursu, who saw the dark nature of my soul-read my aura and the strength of my inherent gifts.
Father Ursu opened his eyes and caught her looking at him. “Aisling,” he said, and the weight he gave her name invited confession-as if he’d read Zurael’s aura and knew she consorted with a demon. “May I come in?”
“I’m just on my way out.”
“This close to dusk? Do you think that’s wise?”
She thought it better to deflect him if she could. “I’m not going far. Just to a friend’s house.”
A disappointed expression settled on his features. “I suspect the friend you intend to visit is the very one I’d hoped to speak with you about. As you know, Henri’s death weighs heavily on me. I was his priest, and more often than not, the only friend he felt he could talk openly to. I feel a great deal of responsibility toward you as well. You’re a beautiful young woman out on your own for the first time and alone in a strange place. Just because I wear the robes of the Church doesn’t mean I don’t understand loneliness or the temptations of the flesh.”
Aisling couldn’t prevent the heat from rising in her cheeks. She glanced beyond him at the growing dusk, wanted to bolt from his presence and his false attempts to befriend her.
Father Ursu’s face softened, invited confidence. “Last night it was brought to my attention that you’d gotten off the bus near The Mission and hadn’t caught it for a return trip. I suspected, given your history, you might have decided to help Davida with the orphans. But I was still concerned enough to contact her. She told me you’d been there in the company of a man previously, and she’d seen you entering The Barrens with that same man earlier in the day.”
Aisling’s heart raced along with her thoughts. Questions formed but she didn’t speak, because asking them would also reveal what she knew, what she guessed.
When she didn’t say anything, Father Ursu’s sigh filled the space between them. He made a point of looking at the devastation behind her in the living room. “Aisling, have you considered that what happened here is a result of your involvement with your friend? No decent man would take a young woman into The Barrens.”
She kept her silence, and his expression became grave. She willed him to say more, to answer the questions she didn’t dare ask.
He said, “A couple of guardsmen lost their lives in The Barrens last night because after speaking to Davida, I grew very concerned for your welfare and initiated a search.”
Aisling sagged with a lessening of the guilt over leaving Aziel behind. She’d been right in thinking the Church was behind the search, had probably offered the linens she’d used as scent articles.
Her reaction seemed to satisfy Father Ursu. She wondered if he’d suspected her of having something to do with the deaths. She thought maybe the purpose of his visit had been accomplished, but then he said, “I’m afraid the Church incurred quite a bit of expense on your behalf, Aisling.”
An icy finger traced her spine. This was the very thing she’d worried about from the first and sought to avoid-being entrapped by debt.
She met his gaze boldly, refusing to become a victim. “It was your choice to initiate a search.”
A part of her expected him to point to Zurael, to hint she could find herself accused of consorting with a demon. Instead he nodded his head in agreement. “You’re correct. The Church can’t expect you to reimburse it for the expense of the search. However, quite some time ago Henri tithed this house to the Church. While he lived in it, there was no reason to expect rent from the property. But with his death, and the cost incurred because of the search, those in charge of the Church’s finances have successfully argued this property should be offered to someone able to pay rent. At Bishop Routledge’s insistence, they’re willing to give you a week before vacating or signing a rental agreement.”
Aisling could guess at their plan. If they believed Ghost was made during the full moon, then that would be the time to use her as their weapon against its maker.
She didn’t ask what the rent would be. She knew it would be set impossibly high-so that with the threat of eviction looming over her, she’d think it a godsend when they offered to let her perform a task in exchange for being able to remain in the house.
It would explain why Father Ursu didn’t hint about her alliance with a demon, about the taint he might well see on her. To accuse her might make her flee, or it could bring suspicion on the Church if during a trial they were found to have used her services while suspecting she might summon a demon in the course of doing the task they asked of her.
But even guessing at their plan, even knowing if she was successful tonight, there would be no need to search for the ones responsible for Ghost, fear threatened to crowd in. She would have to seek shelter elsewhere. She wouldn’t willingly enter into a contract with the Church and give them leverage over her.
Aisling kept her worry for the future hidden and held at bay, reminded herself that whoever had destroyed her furnishings hadn’t found and taken the purse of silver coins.
It would buy her time. The sun pendant at her wrist made her hope the Wainwrights would serve as important allies if the Church threatened her with accusations of practicing black magic.
She glanced again at the darkening sky and said, “I need to leave now.”
Father Ursu frowned, perhaps expecting her to cry in fear over the threat of being put out on the street, to beg him to intercede on her behalf. But the darkness held danger for him, too, and he contented himself with saying, “I’ll check in on you in a few days.”
THE same two bouncers guarded the front door of Sinners. They showed no surprise when Aisling and Zurael approached. But then Aisling suspected they were used to seeing people narrowly escape death, only to return on another night to court it.
She shivered, preferring the dark and the predators that lurked outside to the ones who glided through the hallways of the restored Victorian. She was acutely aware of the casket-shaped Ghost container in her pocket, of the strangers who even now gathered at the windows of the clubs lining the street in anticipation of a night of excess and violence.
The bouncer to the left took the offered money. The one to the right opened the door.
Aisling wiped damp palms against her pants and tried to slow the wild throb of her heart. It would be over soon, she told herself. She-they-could get through what came next. And then her family would be safe.
She willed herself to slide her hand into her jacket pocket and touch the small metal box. It was the only way. The best way. The surest way to get Ilka and Felipe Glass to answer the questions put to them.
Aisling’s stomach knotted as she imagined dipping her fingers into the gray substance and then touching them, using Ghost to cast them into the spiritlands in the same way Elena had done to Zurael and her.
Her skin grew clammy thinking about committing such an act. But by her agreement in the spiritlands, she had to kill them or see them dead if they were guilty of creating Ghost.
The thought of Zurael going to their home in order to force them to come to her scared her. He’d be vulnerable there. The rich and powerful could afford wards and traps, and if they were truly guilty of making Ghost, then they’d have allies in the spiritlands, entities that might be capable of killing Zurael. She couldn’t bear the thought, couldn’t imagine living with the guilt if he died because of her.
This was the only way. The best way. But a chill swept through her. Could she really do it? She’d been so sure, so confident when they were miles and hours away from confronting Ilka and her husband.