“Acolyte Elfreda Raughn, delivering a report from Pilgrim Guide Vay Lusor of cohort eight, identification code 2649B.”

“Proceed,” said Reverend Cyde.

I spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Stage Three Haunt apprehended on the West Orchard Road, just past the bridge. Individual is largely unresponsive and contained by eleven Sisters. Reinforcement urgently required.”

Reverend Cyde nodded and turned to address her subordinates. “Hina, Samas, ride ahead and provide support. Everyone else, prepare the retrieval cart.”

My part done, I moved to leave. This was my chance. If I disappeared now, I could make it back to the city by nightfall. In the chaos, the Sisterhood would overlook the irregularity and—

“Elfreda,” said Reverend Cyde.

“Yes, Reverend?”

“Wait in my office please.”

My hopes crumbled.

“Yes, Reverend,” I said.

CHAPTER

TWO

Reverend Cyde’s assistant offered me tea.

The office was spacious and airy, with large windows overlooking the stables. Bookshelves dominated the right-hand side of the room. The vellum-bound volumes were arranged alphabetically and with meticulous care, more valuable books locked behind glass panels. Before taking her position at the Moon House, Shaelean Cyde had served as the Chief Archivist at the Department of Memories.

I sat in a plush blue armchair by the window and watched the tree line. The pressure in my head was faint now. The woods were still.

I took a sip of my tea. It tasted bitter.

The office was on the second floor of the main dormitory building. A longcase clock ticked in the passage outside, and old floorboards creaked from time to time. Through the window, I could see three Oblates locked in serious conversation. Most of the Moon House residents were accompanying the Haunt to the Edge, leaving the compound in the care of a skeleton guard.

Swift footsteps beyond the door, and then Reverend Cyde strode into the room. I half rose from my seat, but she signalled for me to dispense with formalities.

“You’ll be pleased to hear that the situation has been contained,” she said, taking a seat behind her desk. “No one was hurt.”

Cyde was old for a Reverend, nearing sixty, with unlined brown skin and a no-nonsense haircut. On her shoulder, she wore a midnight blue badge and crescent moon pin to designate her rank. Head Custodian of the Moon House, one of the most powerful people outside of Ceyrun.

“I will need to file a report.” She opened her drawer and drew out a clean sheet of paper. Her movements were brisk, effortlessly efficient. “I would like to hear your version of events.”

I nodded. “Yes, Reverend.”

“But first”—she folded her hands on the desk in front of her, fixing me with her stare—“are you all right?”

“Yes, Reverend.”

“Please stop saying that.”

“Ye—okay.”

She gave me a hard look. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I lied with greater conviction. “I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.”