When True Night Falls

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Book: When True Night Falls Read Online Free PDF
Author: C.S. Friedman
think we both know why you did that.”
    Accusation, plain and simple. Damien’s hands clenched at his sides; his heart began to pound, so loud it was hard to concentrate. He could lose it all here. Everything. All he had to do was say the wrong word, lie the wrong lie, and his whole life might come crashing down around him. The Patriarch had that kind of power.
    “Time was of the essence,” he said at last. Choosing his words with care. “I tried to explain that in my letter. What I intended—”
    The Patriarch cut him off with a sharp gesture. “What you intended, Reverend Vryce, was to avoid any personal contact with me. Do you think I don’t know why? You were afraid that if you petitioned for leave to pursue this matter—as you should have done, as the hierarchy of our Church demands that you do—that I would have denied it. And rightfully so.” His gaze was fixed on the priest, as chill and as piercing as coldfire. “Or perhaps you were afraid that I would permit you to go ... but demand that you choose more suitable allies.”
    Damien drew in a deep breath slowly, and thought: There it is. That’s what this is all about. Not that Damien had failed to return to Jaggonath, not that his report was insufficient, not even that he had acted without sanction from his superior ... but that he had chosen to travel with one of the greatest evils his world had ever produced. An evil so subtle and so sophisticated that it might corrupt even a priest’s soul, a priest’s dreams. And through that priest—just perhaps—the Church.
    Was that possible? Had it begun already, deep inside him, where he refused to look? In his mind’s eye he could see the Hunter grinning, a drop of fresh blood gleaming at the corner of his mouth. And he recoiled inwardly at the memory of that polluted soul, the touch of its malignancy against his own being. But Gerald Tarrant represented power, plain and simple, and they needed that kind of force. It was worth any price, he told himself, to have it. Even the risk of corruption.
    Wasn’t it?
    We need his power on our side , he told himself. Otherwise an even greater evil will take control of us all. Doesn’t that mandate some kind of alliance? But suddenly he wasn’t sure of that. Suddenly he wasn’t sure of anything. It was one thing to dismiss such a creature in mere words, especially as it had been months since he had last seen Gerald Tarrant. But the Patriarch’s words, fae-reinforced, awakened memories far more direct, more horrifying. The Hunter’s soul, caressing his own. The Hunter’s vileness invading the deepest recesses of his heart, his soul, his faith. Leaving behind a channel that clung to him like a parasite, a reminder of the power that linked them. What would the Patriarch say if he knew about that? If he understood that Damien had submitted to a bond with the Hunter, which would endure for as long as they both lived?
    “That was your real fear,” the Patriarch accused. “Wasn’t it? That I would recognize your lies for what they were—”
    “There are no lies—”
    “Half-truths, then! Evasions. Deceptions. It all amounts to the same thing, Vryce!” He slammed his hand down on the report. “You write that Senzei Reese died, but never mention how! Never mention that in his last moments he destroyed a holy relic I had entrusted to you. That this treasure from our past was wasted. Wasted! And then there is the matter of the Hunter—”
    “I can explain—”
    “What? That fate flung the two of you together? That for the sake of your partnership he committed no sins while in your presence?” The cold eyes burned with condemnation, intense as the Hunter’s coldfire. “You saved his life,” the Patriarch accused. “When the enemy had captured him, and bound him, and sentenced him to destruction, you freed him. You. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” he demanded. “Is that why you sent me this ... this ...” He struggled to find a suitable phrase,
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