Vexed: A Tidal Kiss Novella (The Tidal Kiss Trilogy Book 5) by Kristy Nicolle

Author:Kristy Nicolle [Nicolle, Kristy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kristy Nicolle
Published: 2017-12-14T18:30:00+00:00

The walk across the courtyard toward the Cathedral is brisk and strained as Vex and I entrap the bishop on either side. We approach the enormity of the building’s doors, lush grass on either side of us bristling noticeably in the December chill. I let the cold wrap around me like an old friend, giving me that same edge to my senses as it had when we’d first arrived.

The bishop pushes in on the doors, which creak loudly. As the echoes of the wood scraping against the cold stone of the floor fade, I hear Vex whisper.

“No funny business, or I rip you apart like a sodding Christmas cracker. Got it?” I ignore him, trying not to let myself feel either the excitement at the fact I’m once again involved in threatening someone, or the nerves about the fact my daughter’s grave, after everything, may remain lost to me.

I’m distracted momentarily as the hallway we’re striding through widens, and the main part of the Cathedral is revealed to us in all it’s over pompous glory. The ceilings must be at least one hundred feet tall, if not more. The room is constructed of stone with enormous archways supporting the ceiling, which are bridged with golden looking beams from both the left and right.

Every step I take echoes out, and the temperature drops even further as I stare out into the length of the place which is lit by only a few dim orange lights embedded into the concrete floor. The shadows of the ceiling, of the archways, and that are cast over us by the back of the pipe organ, standing with its back to the front doors, make the medieval architecture seem cruel and unforgiving. Totally fitting when you think about it.

“Which way?” Vex barks, his voice echoing out carelessly as we realise that nobody is here. I have no idea what the time is, but it’s only early evening, so I wonder why there aren’t more people, or at least some choir boys at practice.

The priest begins to tread, the leather of his too comfortable looking loafers making barely a sound as we scurry down the length of hall. We continue forward as a threesome, both holding the man’s arms now as if the closer we get to our destination, the more we fear we may have to subdue him. He visibly relaxes the further into the building we venture, as if he thinks God will protect him or something similarly naïve and human. If only he knew the gods; if only he knew how they love to watch us squirm underneath their invisible magnifying glasses as they burn us with their hot and unpredictable scorn. Would he love them so much then? Would he worship just the same?

I doubt it.

Making a left, we move into a wing which is an offshoot of the main building. It has a low ceiling and glassless window arches which show a small grassy courtyard outside, surrounded on all sides by identical looking corridors.

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