The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith) Read Free Page A

robbed him of breath.
    The Words for sleep were murmured in his ear. Before Terin could mutter the counter, his will crumbled and he descended into the depths of unconsciousness.
    With luck, he’d never awaken.
     
    ~*~
     
    Blaise leaned against one of the cathedral’s many columns and fought the urge to sigh. The man skulking in the garden darted from the sculpted hedge to the rose-covered fountain. The figure paused at the statue’s feet to drink.
    If the early summer evening was a bit warmer, Blaise might’ve enjoyed the hunt. His prey crossed to the cathedral’s promenade designed to let worshipers admire the church’s two-storied stained glass windows.
    One by one, the lanterns within flickered to life. The windows shed colored light on the pale stones until ghostly roses decorated the walkway.
    Without lowering his head in prayer, his prey trod over the roses, the light illuminating the man’s dark doublet. Blaise narrowed his eyes. There was no evidence his prey wore a slave collar.
    It’d been at least three or four years since a Citizen dared to infiltrate the cathedral instead of sacrificing a slave.
    Blaise sniffed. The scent of fear hung in the air, growing stronger when his quarry hurried by where Blaise hid. Savoring the metallic taste teasing his tongue, he shoved away from the column and followed. The hem of Blaise’s frock coat swept out behind him, the white fabric bright in the moonlight. Lifting his gloved hand to adjust the collar hugging his throat, he undid the top button and slipped a finger between the material and his skin to loosen it.
    The red of blood clung to him when he passed through the window’s portrayal of God’s roses. Blaise’s lip curled upward. Blood and fear. Both scents taunted him, rousing the instincts that refused to die away despite over a thousand years of living among humans.
    Humans who, despite the insistence of Blaise’s tongue and stomach, were not food. He didn’t dare prey on them yet, not while he wore their form and hid among them, and certainly not without His permission.
    Not until a human sinned beyond redemption, their soul too tattered and worn to return to God’s garden. Blaise almost wished the fool would turn and notice him.
    If the man ran, Blaise would have an excuse to hunt. If the man got away—just for a little while—Blaise would have the excuse he needed to let loose and stretch his wings, which were trapped beneath the veneer of thin, flimsy human skin. Frustration erased the sweetness on his tongue and replaced it with a strong, bitter flavor.
    His prey didn’t turn and run. To Blaise’s annoyance, the man didn’t even hurry in his prowling around the cathedral, adopting the stride of someone who belonged there, of someone who admired the art of the windows. The only indicator that the figure didn’t belong there at all was the infrequent pauses to stare into the shadows of the veranda in search of a way into the towering monstrosity of a cathedral dominating the Church Ward.
    The temptation to reveal himself and show the fool the way into the building rose, and Blaise forced it back. He smothered his impatience by drawing a deep breath.
    The scents of fear, blood, and excitement taunted him. The taste of it roused Blaise’s appetite; he licked at his lips and his stomach rumbled.
    A worshipper seeking God’s compassion or the soothing words of a bishop felt such things. The intensity of it, however, was unusual and roused Blaise's hunger.
    That left one other option: The man sought the Heart of God, and thought so low of the Erelith Church of God to believe he could acquire what the Emperor and all of his power could not.
    Until Blaise had proof, he couldn’t lift his hand to strike. A sigh escaped him, and he followed the unbeliever.
     
    ~*~
     
    Blaise whispered God’s Word and enticed the side door to obey his will. The metal and wood resisted for a moment, but the click of it unlocking carried to where he stood behind the