The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith) Read Online Free PDF Page A

under the cover of night.
    If he wanted real food, he needed to cross the city, out of the Church Ward, to where the Citizens were less likely to care about the color of his coat and more about the crystals in his pocket.
    The lights of a nearby tavern taunted Blaise. Even the brothels close to the cathedral didn’t dare to disobey the tenants of the church. No one had made any mention in over a hundred years of a clergyman going out for a nip, but that didn’t ease the fear of the consequences of leading one of God’s children astray.
    Somehow, Blaise resisted the urge to snort his disgust.
    If he wanted sustenance of any sort, he’d have to wander closer to the Imperial Ward than he liked, but at least he could calm his appetite without preying on some fool of a human.
    Maybe Genevieve would humor him. It’d been several weeks since his last visit. The sigh escaped before he could stop it, and Blaise let himself get lost in the shuffle of people heading home. One of these days, he’d be able to enjoy her without the sour taste of a failed hunt in his mouth. With a destination in mind, he walked with more purpose.
    Many moved out of Blaise’s way without noticing his presence, but a few cast curious glances his way, which he answered with a smile.
    He wasn’t sure what they saw when their eyes met his, but they didn’t stare for long, which made his smile widen. Anticipation fluttered within him, but Blaise wasn’t sure if it was for Genevieve, for a real meal, or over how easily the humans bent to his will.
    Genevieve didn’t back down like other mortals; her defiance and acceptance of Blaise’s stare was as intoxicating and sweet as wine.
    She was one of the few mortals with true fire in her eyes.
    When her time came to an end, he hoped her rose was yellow or white. Maybe, if He was in a good mood, the rarest blue.
    Until then, Blaise looked forward to watching how bright her existence burned before it was snuffed out.
    The shadow of the elevated aqueduct fell over him, with moonlight streaming through the arched supports. The circular Arena dominated most of the Arena Ward, and the flow of people moved toward it. Passing by the Arena suited him; if he found a fight among the lesser Citizens, not even the military would question a bishop working to keep the peace, even if Blaise bloodied his knuckles a bit in the process.
    The road dipped beneath one of the arches supporting the aqueduct. The old, pale stones sang out as he passed beneath, hundreds of voices chanting in harmony. The sacred Words used to preserve the structure were so loud he winced.
    Clapping his hands over his ears wouldn’t help; something as weak as flesh, bone, and blood couldn’t stop His Words. A few around him also grimaced, and he wondered how much the humans perceived. Was it a buzz to them, or did the echoes of the deceased Speakers who had helped create the city long ago somehow reach them?
    Blaise hurried along the main street circling the entire plateau, the noise fading after he walked several blocks. It left behind a dull ache in the back of his head. He slowed, stepped to the side of the cobbled way, and stared back at the arch.
    Something excited the remnants of souls long since called back to God’s Garden. Not even Blaise knew why the echoes of Speech remained, but whatever had excited them was something he couldn’t sense.
    A sneeze caught him by surprise. The hint of roses lingering in the air was tainted by the bitter imprint of the countless deaths within the Arena. The metallic undertones of fresh blood set his stomach grumbling.
    The scent didn’t surprise him, not so close to the Arena, but the structure was dark and silent, the iron gates closed and guarded by two young men little more than boys. They stared at Blaise as he walked by.
    “Father,” one of them called out.
    Blaise frowned and turned to face them. “Good evening, Citizens.” Neither noticed he didn’t offer God’s blessings to them. “How may