The High Priestess (8 page)

Lizbeth was exotically beautiful, her hair long and thick and blending in with the shadows around her. Men followed her everywhere, practically begging for any attention she’d give them. Once upon a time, she’d given her smiles to Gerard. Now her slanted eyes held nothing but disdain. “You’ve been gone longer than expected.”

“I’ve been gone exactly as long as expected.” Gerard wanted nothing more than to turn away and leave her standing there, but honor held him fast. This woman was the mother of his son—he owed it to her to at least attempt respect. “How have you been? How is Oberon?”

She cocked her hip, giving him a good view of the curves that had once caught his eye. Her dark gray shift couldn’t conceal the fact she had nothing on underneath. “Come home. I’ve missed you.”

It was a lie. Lizbeth only wanted the perks that came along with his position. Before, Gerard had been content to take what she offered. No longer. Not since he learned what cruelty hid behind the beautiful mask. It was years ago now, but he still remembered the disgust on her face when he had the audacity to want to lean on her after a particularly tough mission. It wasn’t a mistake he’d make again. “I’m tired, Lizbeth. I’ll come by tomorrow and see Oberon.”

“You’re so Ba’al-damned transparent.” She looked him up and down before flicking her hair over her shoulder. “You got what you wanted—a son. What is left for me?”

“You have everything. Do you think I like only seeing my son on the rare occasions I’m allowed home? I want to be here.”

“With
him
.” Lizbeth slashed a hand through the air. “You care nothing for me.”

Gerard looked around, grateful there was no one else out tonight. “You knew what I offered when we first met. I can’t be a husband to you—to anyone.”

“Liar. How could I not feel something for you when you held me just so, treated me so well?”

The worst part was that she actually had a point. For months after Lizbeth told him she was pregnant, he tried. Ba’al, how he tried. Gerard had grown up without parents, with only his comrades and teachers as his companions. Maybe if he could give his child a life with two loving parents, his son could circumvent the fate that had sucked Gerard in.

But Lizbeth had only seen him as a one-way ticket to a higher class of people. She didn’t care about making a partnership with him—or the child growing in her womb. And so their relationship didn’t last past Oberon’s birth.

Looking at her now, Gerard might have actually felt bad if there were tears glittering in those black eyes. Instead, there was only hate. “I’m sorry, Lizbeth. I never meant it to turn out this way.”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t. Men never do once the child has come.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I’m done, Gerard. Come by and see your son if you wish. This is the last time I try to make you love me.” She turned and sauntered into the night, hips swinging as if she wanted him to know just what he would be missing in the future.

Funny. With all her curves and exotic good looks, Lizbeth didn’t hold a candle to Marianna.

A drop of rain splattered against his forehead, quickly followed by another. Soon it was pouring, soaking their clothing. Gerard stood, scooping up Oberon on the way, and hurried across the open ground. The village was a quick hover ride away, but he didn’t want to take his son back yet. Their time together was already limited enough without him shortening it.

So he headed to his dorm room. The building was like a honeycomb, riddled with rooms and hallways that interconnected in ways only someone who walked it regularly would understand. Tossing Oberon on the bed made the boy break out in giggles again.

He barely had a chance to change and sit when his door burst open. Fisk staggered in, his skin an unhealthy gray color. “She was right. Ba’al-damnit, she was right.”

Gerard moved Oberon out of the way before the other man could crush him and sat back, the boy settled in his lap. “Take a deep breath.” He waited while Fisk followed the command.

“She was right. The Diviner.”

“Marianna?” The black pit inside him got a bit wider. “Tell me what’s going on. Slowly.”

“She did a reading.” Fisk held up a hand before Gerard could speak. “I know. I should never have let her do it—but I’m glad I did. She tried to poison me.”

Gerard’s emotional spiral skidded to a sudden stop. “What? Marianna tried to poison you? How in the hells did she manage—?”

“No, no. That’s not what I meant.
Leandra
tried to poison me. She just… I thought she loved me. Things were so good with us.” Fisk pushed to his feet and stalked from one wall to the other. “They were great. But when we were getting ready for bed, she goes crazy, starts accusing me of screwing around on her. Hells, she even named names. Where the fuck do women get this shit?”

Gerard hugged Oberon to his chest, thinking of Lizbeth. “I have no idea.”

“Then, this morning, she’s as sweet as pie, smiling and telling me she loves me.” Fisk laughed, the sound full of despair. “She even made breakfast—my favorite.”

That didn’t sound like Leandra at all. From what Gerard had seen, she was a milder version of Lizbeth—only after the security and financial stability of Fisk’s position within Sanctify. “But…she
poisoned
you?”

“She tried. Would have succeeded if not for Marianna.”

“I don’t understand—what does Marianna have to do with this?”

“The reading, man.” Fisk spun on his heel, throwing up his hands and startling Oberon.

The boy burst into tears, wailing at the top of his lungs. Gerard stood, rocking him until he calmed, screams quieting to pathetic little whimpers. Oberon wrapped tiny arms around his neck and said, “Dada.”

Gerard blinked. “Did he just say what I think he said?”

“Sounded like he called you Dada. Can we get back to me?”

Gerard didn’t want to. All he wanted was to cuddle his boy close and listen to Oberon call him Dada again and again. But life intruded, just as it always did. “Sorry. Yes. You were saying?”

“Marianna gave me a reading. She told me that things would go south with me and the woman I was with. That this woman would try to kill me, through devious means.”

Gerard shook his head, finally tearing his gaze from Oberon. “Wait—Marianna told you this? When?”

“Back on the ship.” Fisk spun again, catching himself when he started to yell. He continued in a quieter tone. “There’s no way she could have known then. Hells, there’s no way she could know now.
So how did she
?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re wrong?” The alternative was mind-blowing. Instinctively, he reached for Ba’al’s Benediction, trying to draw it around him as he’d been taught from childhood.
Purity will
… The words went up in smoke, disappearing from his memory as if they hadn’t been drilled there ever since he could remember. He gave up trying, turning instead to the logical conclusion of what Fisk was saying.

If the Diviners actually could tell the future… Gerard shook his head, rubbing Oberon’s back. He didn’t want to finish the thought, but he had to. If the Diviners actually could tell the future, then one of the very foundations of his faith was false. If they could actually tell the future, they weren’t blasphemers. If they weren’t blasphemers, then they were being killed for nothing.

Marianna would be killed for nothing.

And if one of the foundations of Sanctify was false, who was to say the rest were true? Gerard had killed countless aliens over the years and never thought twice about it—they were vile creatures, blemishes removed in order to contribute to the greater honor of Ba’al.

But…what if they really were innocents?

The implication nearly sent him to his knees. “You have to be wrong.”

“I’m not wrong. I tasted the blood leaf before I spat it out. There’s nothing else that has that same bitter flavor. Leandra tried to kill me, and Marianna saved me.” Fisk froze, eyes widening. “I need to see her. To thank her. I have to go now.”

“Wait—Fisk!” But it was too late. Fisk was gone.

Gerard stared at the open door for a long moment, and then looked down at his son, wondering how his entire world could collapse in the course of a week—all at the hands of a single woman.

…

Marianna was ready for him. As soon as Fisk appeared, all apologies and terrified thanks, she’d known Gerard would come for her. He wouldn’t be able to stay away, not with his best friend acting the way Fisk was.

Still, when the door slid open to reveal him, her breath caught in her throat, and it was everything she could do not to throw herself into his arms and beg him to save her. But that wouldn’t do. Instead, she dredged up a smile. “Good afternoon, Gerard.”

His glower was so fierce she could almost see the emotional darkness plaguing him. “I don’t see a damn thing good about it. You’ve ruined everything.”

Well, that wasn’t the best way to begin this conversation. It certainly didn’t bode well for things to come. Marianna laced her hands behind her back, hoping he wouldn’t know it was to hide their shaking. “What have I ruined?”

“Everything.” He took up more space than was fair, seeming to draw in the very air in the room until she felt lightheaded. “Your reading saved Fisk.”

“I know.” And she’d thanked the Lady every hour since he left because of it. Sanctify or not, he was a good man and didn’t deserve to die. Not like that; not at the hands of a vengeful woman.

“You obviously don’t know what that means.” There he went, running his hands through his hair again. “It changes everything. I have never questioned the way things are.
Never
. It’s how I was raised—it was the truth I lived by. And now I can’t stop questioning. This all started with
you
—if you can tell the future, then the teachings of the High Priest aren’t completely accurate. If they aren’t completely accurate…” He turned to her, and the torment on his face was a terrible thing to behold. “Do you know how many aliens I’ve killed, Marianna? Because I don’t. I never even bothered to count. What if they’ve died for
nothing
?”

She wanted to take Gerard in her arms and comfort him—it was a tragedy to have one’s beliefs rocked so thoroughly, even if he had been one of the monsters. Instead, she kept her voice light and soothing, instinctively knowing that he wouldn’t take any comfort she offered. “There is nothing I can say to make you feel better about this. We can’t change the past. We shouldn’t even try. But the one thing that we can change is the future—only you have the ability to do that.”

“What is that—more Diviner mumbo jumbo?”

“No.” She gave a soft laugh. Far from it. She’d learned that from Darla, though the girl had put it a lot differently. “It’s the truth. One that’s very hard to stomach.”

“I see.” He moved closer, still staying just out of reach. “And if I asked you to tell my future…would you?”

Something told her that to know his future was to know her own—they were tied together. But what if she was wrong? Her chest constricted at the thought. “I would have to, or else risk falling violently out of favor with the Lady. But, please, don’t ask me. I can’t bear to know.”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t have any desire to know, either. Today is enough trouble without borrowing from tomorrow.” Gerard sighed. “I have to go now, but I’ll be back and we’ll talk more.” He left before she could decide if he meant the words as a threat or a promise.