The Penitent Damned Read Online Free

Murnskai accent, all thick Vs and rolling Rs. "The late sergeant, I should say. You are the infamous thief Metzing, I presume."
    "That's right," Alex said. "Now get out of my way."
    "And, unless I am very much mistaken, that was the demon called the Shadow Blade. It was once tamed, you know, but it was lost over two hundred years ago. Clerical error, I understand."
    "I said move . Now." Alex gestured with her shade-gloved hand to the corpses on either side of the masked man. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she tried not to show any nerves. He's not even armed. I can kill him, if I have to.
    "Do you know who I am, child?"
    "You're going to be a dead man in a moment."
    "Once, we were vulgarly known as the Obsidian Order." He tapped his mask, which made a click like dark glass. "Because of these, you see. There were other names as well, but we have always preferred to be called the Priests of the Black. We perform the same function as our brothers, in a different sphere. Those of the White concern themselves with matters of the next world, while the Priests of the Red manage the affairs of the Church in our mortal realm. And we attend to … the rest.
    "Once you would have known all of this from a glance at my mask, as well." He sighed. "Alas, times have changed. We are victims of our own success. But I don't imagine you care about my troubles, do you?" He smiled, his mask flexing and glittering darkly as the facets realigned. "Now. Are you going to come along quietly?"
    Alex had never killed a priest before. But she'd never met a Priest of the Black before, either, and a deep, atavistic terror overcame whatever reluctance she might have mustered. She raised her hand and sent a spear of darkness right at the center of that gleaming mask, with a force that ought to have spattered his brains against wall.
    Instead, the hooded figure moved. It had been standing so quietly that Alex had nearly forgotten it was there, huddled so deep in its robe that no part of it was visible. When it slipped in front of the Black Priest, it was as startling as though a statue had sprung to life. One arm came up, revealing a gray-gloved hand, fingers splayed.
    Something sprang into existence between them, a wall of fizzing, dancing sparks, accompanied by a tortured whine like a knife scraping across glass. The shadow spear splashed and spattered against the barrier. Alex lowered her hand in astonishment.
    "My friend here," the priest said, calmly gesturing at the silent, hooded figure, "represents the greatest heights of nobility to which the human soul can aspire. The Ignahta Sempria , the Penitent Damned. They carry demons, as you do, but they have willingly accepted the burden and thus condemned themselves to damnation in order to work for the salvation of others. Truly, we are blessed to be in the presence of such selfless glory."
    "I don't know what you're talking about," Alex said. "I don't carry any demon ."
    "A common misconception," the priest said. "But where else could your power originate, if not from one of these monstrosities? If you come with me, we will remedy your theological education, and in time you will come to understand your plight. Who knows? In time you, too, may aspire to turn your life to higher ends."
    Alex couldn't take her eyes off the gray-clad form of the ignahta . Under that hood there was someone like her , someone who shared this power that she'd never understood. If only we could talk —
    But with the priest looking on, that seemed unlikely. Alex eyed the door back to the archives, judging the distance. She put on a thoughtful expression, as though she were considering the priest's offer.
    "I think —" she began.
    She brought her left hand up, but that was only misdirection. Her other hand fired another concentrated rope of shadow, this time in a curving, whip-like path that bypassed the hooded ignahta and curled around to aim for the priest. Without waiting to see the result, Alex ran for the door to the