Avi Marie's Arc

Chapter 9 of 30

The councilman lay gray in the dust. Avi Marie knelt beside him. His chest still moved, barely. He was her only lead. The name of the one who blinded her was locked behind his failing breath. "Who sent you?" she asked. "Who is above you?" His lips moved. No sound came. Azrael crouched on his other side. "He won't last," he said. "He's near empty. The weapon took most of him." Malphas pressed close, his red eyes fixed on the dying man. "He knows," the goat said. "He carried the horn. He carried orders. Names live in his head." Avi Marie leaned down. "You die anyway. Give me the name and I let it be quick." The councilman smiled, the same still smile from before. His mouth opened. A dry whisper leaked out. She bent her ear to his lips. "The floor," he breathed. "The sealed floor. The archive. It's all there. She keeps it." Then his breath stopped. His smile stayed. Avi Marie sat back. No name. Only a place. "He's gone," Azrael said flatly. Malphas snorted. "The land registry. He ran it. Records of every ruling. Every hand that moved the horn." He looked at Avi Marie. "He said she keeps it. A guard." They rode up out of the low places, back to the world of clouds. The public records building stood near the great cathedral where Avi Marie once lived. Inside, a locked gate blocked a stair. Behind it, a woman in a charcoal suit stood with a lit match in one hand and an open box of papers at her feet. Petra Lund did not look up. "Closed," she said. She touched the match to a page. It caught. Avi Marie gripped the gate. "Those records name a master. He blinded me. He killed the mortal I guarded. I need the name." Petra dropped the burning page into the box. Flame climbed. "Everyone needs a name," she said. "I burn them so no one gets it." "A councilman sent you here," Avi Marie said. "Seven years ago. He's dead now. Below. His hands went gray." Petra's match paused. For the first time she looked up. "Dead," she said. Not a question. She studied Avi Marie's face, then Malphas, then Azrael's white wings. "He served someone higher," Avi Marie said. "That one is still above. Still giving orders. You've been burning proof for them." Petra looked down at the flames in the box. She did not put them out. "One box left," she said. She stamped the fire dead with her shoe. Then she unlocked the gate. "You want the top of the chain." She pulled one thin folder from the ruined box. Its edge was scorched but whole. "This names who signed above him. I kept it. I don't know why." Avi Marie took the folder. On the first page, one name. She read it and went cold. The name of her superior. The one who trained her. The one who met the mortal's death with silence.