“Can you identify the Luminata who visited you?” Hannah asked without prompting.
The women trembled.
“No harm will come to you.” It was Michaela who spoke. “You have the promise of the Cadre.”
Josette’s amber eyes met Elena’s at that instant. Elena gave her a slight nod.
“Yes,” the Frenchwoman whispered. “I know the ones who came to me.” She named them one by one. “I was willing,” she added in fairness. “They said I could go afterward.”
Space appeared around certain Luminata as their brethren drew away in a whisper of robes.
Finishing her list, Josette whispered to Sahar, who nodded and, standing up straight, began to recite her own list. “Two don’t give name, say to call him ‘Master.’” Her descriptions of those two were very precise.
More spaces opened up.
In the end, the women marked twelve Luminata, not counting Gian—who appeared to have saved his sadism for Majda and Jean-Baptiste.
Faces holding no arrogance now, nothing but terror, the twelve marked men obeyed an order to join their leader, all going down on their knees, heads bowed.
“We strayed off the path,” one whispered. “Please forgive us.”
Elena recognized that rough voice. Gervais. The man who had referred to the Luminata’s victims as “sluts and toys.” Gritting her teeth, she gripped Raphael’s hand hard to keep herself from stabbing the bastard right through his lying mouth.
Blood spurted from his mouth in the next instant.
Elena jerked, wondering if she had thrown the knife. Then his eyes began to bleed, as did his ears. She didn’t know which archangel in the circle had done that, but as his body fell twitching to the floor, his brethren began to beg for mercy.
“Silence!” Alexander’s voice filled the air, cutting off all other sound. “I do not care for mortal concerns except in my own territory,” he said, “but I care that vampires were Made without permission, that immortals were murdered, and that the Luminata believe themselves beyond all oversight. That ends today.”
“First,” Caliane murmured, “we must dig out every piece of the rot. Thirteen alone could not have done this.” She began to sing, a haunting, beautiful song that brought tears to Elena’s eyes and had Majda and Jean-Baptiste clinging to each other.
The most interesting affect, however, was on the Luminata.
A number seemed compelled to drag themselves to join their marked brethren, some literally crawling there on their hands and knees as they fought the pull, their faces distorted into a mask of horror as Caliane stripped away their free will.
For the first time, Elena couldn’t bring herself to care. These men had stolen others’ free will; the punishment suited the crime.
Caliane stopped singing when the group in the center had grown to twenty-seven and no other Luminata crawled forward. “These are the ones who abused and murdered mortals, and who killed the vampires and angels who would not look the other way.” She flicked out a hand and twenty-six bodies, including Gervais’s yet-twitching form, turned to ash under the searing white of her power.
Gian stared unblinking at where his brethren had knelt.
“You may not care about mortal concerns outside your lands, Alex,” Caliane murmured, “but I have always believed that we rule only if we prove ourselves rulers.”
Heart thunder in her ears, Elena swallowed to wet a dry throat. Jesus, Raphael. Your mother doesn’t play games.
She is too old for it. Pure ruthlessness in his tone. And her song does not lie.
Oh, I’m not sorry the bastards are dead.
“There is a second layer of rot,” Elijah said into the stunned silence.
“Yes. The ones that knew and did nothing, though they did not participate.” The Archangel of India looked around at the Cadre. “We must make certain decisions.”
Whatever happened next, it wasn’t vocalized, but Elena could feel the violent energy in the air as the Cadre spoke mind to mind. It was Caliane who pronounced the judgment. “The Cadre is agreed. Lumia will continue to exist, as will the Luminata.”
No one shuddered in relief, well aware the hammer was yet to fall.
“Only Luminata who have joined the sect in the past fifty years are permitted to remain—we judge that these novices are apt to be untainted by corruption and offer the best hope for Lumia’s future. The rest are exiled forever from Lumia.”
Donael fell to his knees, his face crumpling into near-tears. “Mercy, my lady.”
Caliane’s eyes held no pity. “If you are a true seeker, you do not need Lumia. You will find luminescence on a rocky mountaintop or on sandy soil or in a ragged hut in the forest. You do not need the comforts of this place.”