Death’s Excellent Vacation (Sookie Stackhouse #9.5)(57)
Author: Charlaine Harris

WHAT can I say about the Sanctum? Well, it’s green and it’s quiet. Heartlight bathes everything, and during the day it’s easiest to get to if you stand where the glow of the north rose window of the most famous cathedral in the world should be . . . And step sideways. It’s not a step you can take physically. I offered my arm to Kate as the Inner stood watching us from the edge of the glow. Kate put her hand through it and her tight smile didn’t waver. I stepped, she came with me, and the light burst over us. "Oh. " She sounded shocked. I didn’t blame her. No matter where you step from, the Sanctum always starts you in the same place: a quiet garden full of golden light and the cloaked and hooded forms of the Inners gliding around. One of them approached us, and Kate clutched hard at my arm. "Oh, " she said again. "It’s a bit much the first time, " our guide said. He’d stepped through right after us and crowded us forward. "If you’ll come this way, miss. Brother, Jean-Michel will show you your quarters. We’ll meet at nightfall. " She didn’t want to let go. "Jesus–please, no–" Smart girl. I loosened her fingers from my arm, gently. Very gently, because her bones could break before I squeezed hard. "Kate. Please. Go with him. It’ll be fine. " "How come they get names and you don’t?" She looked up at me. "And they’re so bright. " "You’ll get used to it. " The lie was ashes in my mouth. "They get names because they’re Inners. They’ve brought Heart candidates in. Like you. " And they get the beauty and the name. "So–" She still didn’t want to let go. "You’re coming back, right?" "Yeah. " I tried to sound reassuring. "Just go with him, Kate. Please. " "Okay. " She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, and stepped away. "Okay. "  God, that hurt, too. I watched as the guide took her away. Her hair lit up in the Heartlight, pure spun gold. She wasn’t walking like it hurt anymore, and I hoped the first thing they’d do was give her new shoes. You don’t have to wear them in the Sanctum, it’s warm and springtime there always . . . But that flapping heel, my Heart. My chest was full of lava. It was a struggle to keep my ugly face impassive. Jean-Michel, cloaked in gray with his hood drawn up and shadowing his face, sighed. His gloved hands folded together. "That’s the hardest part, isn’t it?" His voice was just as musical as the guide’s. "Don’t worry, brother. It will all be well. " "Yeah, " I mumbled. "Sure. What am I supposed to do?" "Now you come with me. You bathe. " He paused for the briefest of moments. "And you choose your knife. "

THEY left me alone in a pretty, open suite that glowed with Heartlight, falling with the sunlight through the open spaces that passed for windows here. There’s no need for glass when it’s always balmy. I don’t think I’ve scrubbed behind my ears that hard since the orphanage. So all that afternoon I sat in the window, looked out on yet another garden, and turned the obsidian knife in my hands. They’ve got all kinds–kukris and daggers and diver’s knives and even butcher knives. Hilts of every description. But the metal all reminded me of that thin thread of gold–the broken necklace that even now I had in my other fist. My hands were wide and blunt, and as soon as I saw the rock knives–flint, obsidian, bloodstone, you name it–my fingers tingled. What are you thinking? This was the Sanctum. It was green and perfect, and it smelled sweet, and the Inners didn’t move with that lurching awkwardness that shouts gargoyle. They’d all made their tithe and Tiend, and the Heart had taken their candidates, and they were here to serve. They got to bathe in Heartlight every day. They had names. The thing every gargoyle wants, a name of his very own. But dammit, Kate. Kate. I tipped my head back, bonked it gently on the window frame behind me. The frame was pure stone. There was an Inner at my door. A guard. I wondered how many gargoyles considered something stupid when they brought their Heart candidate here. All of them? Just me? There wouldn’t be a guard if none of them did. Or was he there because I might need something? Like a good pep talk? Like a reminder of why we did this? The Heart must feed. It fights the Big Bad; it powers all of us, gives us pieces of itself that grant us the stoneskin trueform. It even gives us names. True names, ones that don’t fade. None of that comes cheap. But . . . Kate. I had my feet outside the window before I thought of it. Pulled them back in. What was I thinking? I was still damp from my bath, tingling from the Heartlight, and in a gray robe and cloak with a big, deep hood. I would still shamble, though. I couldn’t move gracefully at all. And I would have to keep my hands hidden. They all wear gloves. Kate. She had a name. She probably took it for granted, too. Where would they have her? If I had to guess . . . I didn’t have to guess. The entire Sanctum was ablaze with expectation, the Heart’s singing to one of its own. I could just follow it to find her. Or I could follow the ringing pull from the necklace in my fingers. Or I could just sit here until they came to get me. I could do what I had to and get a name. I could be beautiful. Kate. I slipped the obsidian knife up my sleeve, pushed my feet out the window, and landed on garden loam.

THE door was wide, and old, oak bound with scarred iron pulsing with life. I put my hand on it and the iron zinged, singing in a high carbon whine. It creaked a little as it opened, and I peeked in. The chapel was long and narrow. At the very end the stone rose like a wave, shaping itself into an altar draped with crimson velvet and pillows. I pushed my hood back. It fell away from my ears and I could breathe again. Kate lay there, very still. The walls throbbed. It was deep down and close to the Heart. The beats were a melody the Heart inside me echoed. It was hard to keep everything human-sized and inside. The trueform just kept wanting to bust out.  The corridors had been sleepy and deserted. I’d done my best to glide and managed not to lurch too much. The necklace quivered in my aching fist. I’d wrapped it around the leather-wrapped hilt of the obsidian knife and pulled both up inside my sleeves. They’d put her in a red dress. It was beautiful. She was beautiful, in a way I’d never be. Her arm was over her eyes and her hair spread out over the pillows. God and Heart both forgive me. I pulled the door shut behind me as quietly as I could. My whisper boomed against the walls. "Kate?" She stirred a little. Her arm moved. "Kate. Wake up. " What if they’d drugged her? This was a fine time to start changing my mind. I’d done my duty all my life. But this . . . Being in the Heartlight makes you think about things a little differently, I guess. Or maybe it was the way she’d clutched at my arm. Maybe it was the way she’d looked when she asked me why they got names and I didn’t. Maybe it was because no matter how many times I made an excuse to stand in her checkout line for a pack of gum, she always smiled at me. Or because . . . O h, hell and damnation. I would rather be ugly on the outside than ugly all the way through. "Kate?" I whispered again, more urgently. The chapel floor was carved with fleur-de-lis, all circled, all tangled together. I stepped on them without mercy as I lurched toward the altar. They dug into my feet, sharp sliding edges. "Heart and Hell, Kate, wake up. Please. "  Her arm slid away from her face. She blinked, and the chapel walls resounded with a gong-struck quivering. I made it to the altar as the stone whispered away between fan vaulting, the Inners appearing in the leaf-shaped doorways. Had they just been here, waiting for me? "Shit. " I reached the altar and my human form shredded away. I whirled, my back to Kate, who let out a high whistling scream. The Heart thudded, and its light drenched us all with crystal clarity. The Inners moved forward, and they each had their own knives. Their hoods covered their faces, but their eyes gleamed from the darkness underneath. "The Heart demands, " one intoned, in a deep, beautiful bell-voice. "The Heart demands!" the others answered, in chorus. Kate screamed again. It was a lonely, despairing sound. I put my feet down, dug my claws in. "Stay back!" I yelled. The harsh note cut across their singing, a blot on their beauty. I should have never brought her here. Too late now. They drew closer. They didn’t pay any attention to my warning, and both hearts inside my skin stopped beating. Everything grew still. And I made up my mind. Too little too late, but I did it. I decided, and everything inside me fell into place. I set the point of the obsidian knife against my chest. Oh, my Heart. Kate. I’m sorry. They wouldn’t hurt her if the Heart received its tithe. That was the Tiend–the payment of a heart. They were almost close enough to spring. I knew that even though they were in robes, they were still gargoyles. I knew their strength and speed because I knew my own. Kate grabbed at my shoulders. She was shouting something. I couldn’t hear her through the noise of my heart and my Heart crashing in my ears. The Heart spoke to me. And I shoved the knife in hard, piercing both Heart and heart. It’s not that difficult if you know where to press. If you’re determined, and if you can hit one of us when we’re flesh and not stone. Or flesh in just one vulnerable place. The Heartlight dimmed. And my hearts . . . Stopped.