“Do not turn around.” I heard a sharp rip; she was slicing open the Reverend’s robes. “Promise me.”

“Yes,” I managed.

How long before my power gave out? How long until Asan could wield hers again? I imagined the Haunt’s talon scything across my throat, the hot spray of blood. My bones shattered, my head tilted. I clutched my lace like a lifeline, and it dwindled within my grasp.

“I won’t let it hurt you, Raughn. Just keep your eyes forward.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

I heard wet sawing. I heard Asan’s breathing turn ragged. My lace stretched like a fraying thread, and half-formed visions danced around me like moths made of shadow. I heard the Commander choke as she tried to swallow. All the while, I stared at the Haunt and it stared back, and we both waited for me to fail.

Then, like someone lifting a crushing weight off my shoulders, Asan resumed her hold on the binding. I sagged, and a sob escaped my mouth.

“No need for that,” she said, with unexpected gentleness. “You did well.”

Then, with power like I had never witnessed before, she raised the Haunt off the ground and swept it backwards through the air. It hissed, but Asan walked forward, pushing it further into the basement and away from us. Her arms and chest were drenched in blood. In her left hand she held the knife, in her right a slick, dark purple lump of muscle and tubes.

I wanted to leave, but I could not bring myself to look at what Asan had done to Morwin, could not imagine stepping over the body behind me. The Commander walked over to the woodpile and stood above Rhyanon. Her shoulders hunched.

“Rhy?” she said softly. “Rhy, please answer me.”

At her voice, Rhyanon stirred. Her eyelids fluttered and she grimaced.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“No, don’t say that.” Asan knelt beside her. “Help is coming, we’ll get you fixed. Just stay with me, all right?”

Rhyanon produced a pained wheeze; she was trying to laugh.

“Yes, Commander,” she said.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

It would be far more efficient for us to completely devour our mothers following their martyrdoms. A better use of resources. After all, the logistics of maintaining and safeguarding a vast emporium of half-alive women required an entire branch of our government. But two factors made this impossible.

The first was that, after death, a Sister’s flesh rapidly drained of lace. The extremities first, legs, arms, then working inwards, the head, the abdomen, and finally the internal organs of the torso. The heart lasted the longest. While the power of an ordinary sacrament was lost within a day, a Sister’s heart could retain up to forty percent of its lace a week after death, which made it by far the richest and most powerful organ of the body.