The Prince of Midnight (43 page)

"I
did
!" Her lower lip puckered. "My mother made me steal in the
streets!"

"Nonsense." S.T. crossed the room and took Dove by the shoulders. "What's
your real name?"

"I've forgotten."

He gave her a shake. "Listen to me, you little dimwit— if you've a family to
take you in, I'll have you tell it!"

"I'm an orphan!"

"A lady, 'ee be!" Charity cried. "Ye and Harmony and Angel and lots of the
others—'ee be fine, wi' gentle airs; us all knew it, and that Master Jamie loved
'ee best. 'Twas always the fine girls would be chose for ascension."

"That's not true—there was Eternal Light." Dove glared at Charity. "She was
chosen, and she came of a mending stall in Covent Garden."

"There 'ee be; she didn' ascend proper, then, did un? She be back a'crying
the next very morning 'cause she 'ad the French disease and weren't yet suited.
Them that do ascend proper don't
never
come back to this worldly vale
o' tears."

S.T. forgot Dove; he dropped his hands and stared at Charity.

"She was chosen, though," Dove insisted.

"She come back!" Charity countered stubbornly. "When Master Jamie took Holy
Faith to ascend, did 'er come back next mornin'? Did 'er? Nor Zion, nor Bread of
Life, and they all been gentle-bred girls."

"Oh my God," S.T. whispered. "They didn't come back?"

Charity shook her head. "Master Jamie chose them to ascend."

"And they never came back? You're certain?"

"They went up to heaven," Dove said. "That's what Master Jamie told us."

S.T. turned to the window. It was late afternoon; Lu-ton had left the inn,
mounted, half an hour ago. The suspicion that had formed in S.T.'s mind seemed
so preposterous that he hardly credited it. Luton and his friends, they might
have their black fantasies, they might speak of them to make them seem more
real, they might even commit an isolated murder if they thought themselves
secure to do it—but S.T. hadn't even speculated on more. He'd wanted Dove and
Charity gone, out of Luton's sight: the man was an immoral animal on any count,
and he might, if he excited himself enough, if he felt safe enough, if he saw
opportunity, be capable of playing out his imagination in reality.

But that there could be more to it than that; more than the threat of a
spur-of-the-moment isolated crime . . . it seemed incredible.

He looked at Dove. "These 'ascensions' of his. Anyone might be chosen?"

"Yes. It comes to Master Jamie in a vision."

"Are the men ever called?"

"Oh, no. They're already chosen; they needn't be born again." Dove's eyes
widened eagerly. "Is ascending something wicked, do you think? He belongs to the
devil—it must be monstrous sinful. You'll kill him now, won't you?" She smiled
up at him. "How wonderfully daring you are!"

Sweet Harmony clung to the girls' hands on either side of her and watched as
Master Jamie walked stiffly to the purple curtain at the front of the church.
Her heart beat quickly; she could not seem to get her breath under control.

Soon . . . soon ... as soon as this service was over she was going to do it.

She didn't dare glance to one side or the other, or catch anyone's eyes.
Master Jamie was changing. He looked about him often, as if he knew. As if he
truly could see right into their hearts. When his eyes found hers, she trembled
down in her throat and her belly; she couldn't even swallow. He stared at her a
long moment, the scratch on his cheek a lurid pink and red in the candlelight,
and then raised his arms.

His right hand didn't quite reach as high as the left. It shook, his fingers
spread wide, white and trembling against the glowing, violet-shadowed
background.

"Hear my cry, O Lord!" he shouted. "Hell's agents have come; they hound us;
Lucifer sends she-devils to prick us and demon beasts to rend us, but You have
caused a horse—a dumb animal, one of your humble creatures— to deliver the witch
into our power. You have shown us that all nature is on our side; all God's
creation will rise against this curse! We shall not succumb to fear. The witch
shall not escape our vengeance, done in Your holy name!"

"Holy vengeance!" someone cried: Divine Angel's voice. Some others moaned and
muttered, but there was not the great cry that once would have arisen in unison.

Harmony knew they were all remembering the bruised face of the witch who'd
assaulted Master Jamie with a sword. It was a familiar face. An unnerving face.
Harmony had seen it when they carried the terrible limp figure, bound and
insensible, into Heavenly Sanctuary.

There were things that were past; things no one spoke of anymore—but the
white, vulnerable face of their dazed captive brought it back.

Other people had lived in Heavenly Sanctuary once. Evil people. There had
been things that Master Jamie said his flock must do, and they'd done them. The
unbelievers had been driven away, and Master Jamie's peace settled on the town.

This witch had been one of the unbelievers. Harmony remembered her, and so
did others. They had whispered among themselves this afternoon, behind Master
Jamie's back.

Behind his back.

And now Harmony was going to leave. She was not going to obey Master Jamie
anymore.

She was terrified.

It was the Midnight Prince who'd given her this much daring. Some of the
others felt it, too, she thought. It was the Prince who'd made Master Jamie look
a clown, made him rage impotently and fall on his rump in the icy street— but
the Prince wasn't here now, and there was no knowing when he'd come back.

Master Jamie was still master, more master than ever, with his kindness all
twisted into rage, with Divine Angel and the men to do his bidding to anyone who
wavered.

So it was necessary to profess faith.

It was necessary not to shake or hesitate in prayers or waver from what was
asked.

That was why she had to leave now. There was no hope for the witch—she was
doomed—but Harmony could not bring herself to help Master Jamie punish her. Or
dare to refuse.

She had only to live through this endless service. Then she would simply move
into the shadows of the church as everyone was leaving and wait there until the
street emptied. She would walk away. It would be after the midnight penance
before Divine Angel would return and find Harmony gone.

So simple. She could have done it anytime these two years.

Tears of grief pricked her eyes. It seemed impossible, that everything she
loved was crumbling. Without Master Jamie, without her friends, without Heavenly
Sanctuary, she had nothing. Her other life was like a dream. She didn't know
where she would go, what she would do, but she could not stay. It was as if
she'd been living with scales on her eyes, the way the Bible said.

They were torn away now—but how could something that had seemed so wonderful
and safe be horrible? Like turning up a shiny stone to find worms and corruption
underneath.

"Sweet Harmony!"

Her head jerked up.

"
Sweet Harmony—I
call you!"

Master Jamie stood with his eyes closed, his arms spread wide, his hands
clenched into fists.

"Sweet Harmony ... oh, Sweet Harmony." His voice dropped to a caressing
whisper. "The time of your blessed ascension has come. Rise up. Rise up and
follow me!"

She sat, frozen in terror.

Master Jamie began a hymn, and the others took it up, swaying in the pews. As
they sang, he kept calling her name above the words. The girls next to her let
go of her hands, leaving her palms cold and clammy.

Divine Angel came up the aisle and stood at the end, holding out her hand.
Everyone seemed to be looking at Harmony, their mouths moving in a song she
couldn't even comprehend.

Slowly, she rose. The others stood up and let her pass. Most of them were
smiling, believing: an ascension was a happy occasion. Harmony remembered that
she was supposed to be joyous at being chosen. But she could not make her mouth
obey her and produce delight.

Angel's hand closed over Harmony's. She counted every step to the front of
the church, watching her feet carry her forward over the gray stone. Master
Jamie lowered his head and opened his eyes. He took her hands in his, gazing at
her avidly. The cut and his freckles stood out, sharp and shocking against his
bleached skin.

He hates me
, she thought wildly, suddenly.
He hates all of us
.

She knew the simple ritual. Her knees collapsed of their own accord. She
stared at his waistcoat as he bent over and laid his hands on her head, then
kissed her hair. The sound of the song rose around them, echoing in her brain.

He raised her. She knew he must feel how her hand was shaking; the shudders
were coursing through her whole body.

She faced the purple drapery. It radiated light and shadow from the candles
behind. He pushed her inexorably forward, and the strips of silk brushed across
her face, enveloping her for an instant in amethyst, closing around her behind
and in front. Master Jamie's hands were at her back. As the silk fell away from
her face, he gripped her shoulders.

Behind the curtain, the altar was empty, with candles burning all around it.
The rising hymn filled the space and drowned out any other sound. Master Jamie
moved her up the steps until she stood in the midst of the candelabra, and then
gently faced her back toward the purple curtain.

She didn't see the man in the shadows below the pulpit until he stepped
forward.

He was a stranger, with elegant clothes and pale eyes and a high wig, white
as chalk. He looked up at her from the base of the steps as if she were
something holy, something extraordinary and fascinating, and for a confused
moment it almost seemed as if it were possible she truly was going to ascend to
somewhere beyond this reality.

When he moved, it was with a sudden eagerness. He strode up the steps, took
her face between his cold hands, and ground his mouth brutally into hers.

The dreaminess of the moment shattered. While the hymn went on, Harmony
fought, writhing and jerking to free herself, but Master Jamie had her hands; he
bound them behind her. Both men shoved her back. The stranger held his hand over
her mouth. Harmony struggled to bite him, until Master Jamie slipped a soft rope
around her neck and drew it tight. Pain choked her; she bucked frantically
against the hands that held her. The hymn swelled to a roaring in her ears and
blackness closed in.

It seemed only an instant. She came to her senses in confusion, gasping for
breath. The long hymn was drawing to its last ecstatic chorus, bouncing through
her ears in waves of fear and frozen trembling. She was bound with her hands
above her head, her back arched over the altar and her throat burning. They'd
taken her dress; she'd only her shift to cover her bare skin as the stranger
leaned over her, his mouth against her ear.

"Make a sound, and I'll kill you," he said—and the cord around her neck
tightened slowly.

She heard Master Jamie's voice, raised again to the congregation. He was
going on with the service, speaking of his joy; preaching of God and his
goodness.

The stranger smiled and put his hand to her throat, caressing the silken
rope. He leaned on her heavily. Another hymn began, the innocent female voices
rising in exhilaration.

"Please," she whispered. "Don't."

He smiled. He pressed his thumbs into her throat. She tilted her head back,
struggling against it.

His breath came fast, blowing humid heat on her skin. He filled up all her
vision, blocking the candles, his face a dim silhouette that seemed to waver and
flow in her terror. The sound of everything throbbed unnaturally; when he ripped
her shift open, she couldn't even hear it for the strange pounding that seemed
to be growing and growing and growing in the song, rising over it, until the
voices faltered and the thundering exploded into screams.

The man above her went still. Harmony sucked in air. Strange sounds echoed in
the church, squeals and shrieks and the clatter of horseshoes.
The Prince,
she thought, and knew she must be dreaming, must have gone mad; it was the
church and no horse would be in it, nothing real would make that sound of hooves
on stone.

The weight lifted from her body. She could suddenly see beyond the stranger
as the purple silk pitched and twisted and fell away. The screams of shock and
confusion reverberated in her ears. She saw the white horse emerge from a
cascade of violet, the center of a nightmare scene: all of Master Jamie's flock
crowding away, out of reach of the whirling sword that cut at the silk and sent
it flying; out of reach of the horse's hooves as it reared; out of reach and
scrambling back from the wild rider in the painted mask.

The silver flashed on his gauntlets as he turned the horse and drove it up
the stairs. Harmony couldn't close her eyes, she couldn't even move as the horse
lunged toward her, huge and looming, its mane flying out in luminescent strands
of fire against the candles. The other man had disappeared from her vision; it
was only the horse and rider and sword she saw, the flash of steel that swung
wide, whistling through the air over her head. Her hands and throat jerked
painfully for an instant, and then her arms dropped free.

She slipped, sliding to her knees, unable to make her legs obey her. The
horse's legs and hooves seemed enormous, appalling, too close. She staggered
back, her torn shift gaping, as the animal danced sideways toward her. A black
and silver hand opened in her face, offering support, but she shrank against the
altar in panic.

"
En avant
!" he shouted, leaning down.

She looked up into the dazzling mask, trying to find the eyes behind it.
There was nothing but glitter and darkness. He grabbed her suddenly by her bound
hands and lifted, hauling her in a bruising, tearing pull halfway up onto his
thigh. His arm came around her waist and dragged her over the pommel onto her
stomach.