Burning Glass (Burning Glass #1)(4)
Basil’s throaty voice rose above them. “Sonya, don’t do this! Don’t let them in. For the sake of all you love and hold dear—for Yuliya’s sake—do not let them in!”
I backed away from the doors. My hands shook. My heart beat wildly in my chest. A morsel of reason—of warning—wormed its way into my mind.
What was I doing? Had I gone too far?
The thought snuffed out like a breath on weak flame when the peasants’ tidal wave of emotion called to me. They waited for me. I had to deliver them.
I spun around and tripped over the hem of my nightdress as I raced through the corridor, down the winding flight of stairs, past the dining hall, and into the foyer of the convent. I tamped down all remembrances of how the Auraseers would tease me when the sestras took us to the market. Our abilities needed to be tested in crowded places, they said. Within minutes, I would inevitably be huddled on the ground, rocking back and forth and raving like a madwoman. But not now. Now I welcomed the multitudes. Now I knew with clarity what they felt and how to help them.
“I’m coming,” I whispered, my eyes wide and unblinking as I flung the lock and opened the cedar doors. The peasants were outside, waiting in the distance, and held back by the gate. I needed to grant them entrance, let them share our food and warmth, be even closer to their auras. I needed to be whole again.
Swirls of white danced past me and dusted the marble tiles. I stepped into the calf-deep snow. The cold was nothing new to my bare feet. I already felt the sting of a thousand frostbitten toes. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”
Hitching up my nightdress, I pressed forward, riveted to the peasants’ wash of torchlight like a beacon. Could they see me? I hadn’t thought to bring a candle. Did they know the end of their suffering was at hand?
I halted as a new sensation took hold of me, more ferocious in its desire—in its hunger—than the mob had yet been. The twist in my gut buckled me to the ground until I rested on hands and knees like an animal. The deep snow cradled my belly with a coldness I strangely felt numb to. I thrashed forward to the gate, certain only in my target of the peasants. I had to reach them.
Their cries broke apart until the night gave way to the silence of snowfall. The quiet was short-lived. Only a stunned, stuttering heartbeat.
What was happening? Three breaths later, I found my answer. I heard it. Far away, as if from the muffled madness of a dream.
The howling of wolves.
CHAPTER TWO
THE HOWLING FELL LIKE MUSIC ON MY EARS. IT LURED ME, MY shoulders rising and falling in rhythm. My lips pulled back to bare my teeth. Hunger—raw, pure, and deadly—encompassed me. My fingers clawed into the snow, ready to shred whatever necessary in order to satiate the greatest need I’d ever felt.
The chorus of wolves built in volume. Urgency flooded my limbs. I tore through the snow, and the gate loomed closer.
The peasants didn’t see me. They had their backs to the convent. Their murmured arguments sifted through the air. A few of them darted away, followed quickly by others, running in the opposite direction of the echoing wolves.
“No!” My voice ripped through my throat, garbled and guttural. “Wait!” I lunged forward, then ground my hands in the snow, trying to stand as the emotions of the peasants grew stronger inside me than the wolves’ deadly urges. “I’m coming!” I called to the people. “Don’t leave!”
No one turned. No one heard me above their own cries and growing frenzy. A single howl sliced through the frigid night, louder and much nearer than the others. The remaining peasants shrieked and launched after those who had left.
“No, please!” I kicked past the snow until, at last, I reached the gate. I shook the iron bars as I fought to gain their attention. “There is enough food for all of you!”
They fled into the forest without glancing back at the convent. Or me. I cried out in frustration and hit the gate again and again. My hands smarted with pain, but I didn’t care. All of this had been for nothing.
Crumpling to the ground, I hit the gate once more, then screamed as hunger bit inside me with renewed ferocity. A large wolf raced across the clearing between the convent and the forest. Its jaws gaped open to reveal a flash of deadly teeth. The howls of his companions mounted behind him, and they emerged past the evergreens. The pack ran, streaks of brown and gray against the field of white.
I thrust my arms between the bars and tried in vain to reach the wolves. They would feast on their prey without me. I threw myself to the icy ground and started digging. I could tunnel a path. Join them. I wasn’t too late.
I paused. Blinked. I’d forgotten about the keys. I must have dropped them in the snow. I crawled in a circle, sniffing at the ground. No, I couldn’t smell them. What was the matter with me? I stood, trying to think clearly and retrace my steps. I didn’t move one foot before I buckled over and growled again. My entire body trembled as I fought to gain control of my bloodlust.
Keys, keys, keys . . . I had to stay focused. The wolves’ howling softened with their growing distance. My hunger faltered. I clawed at my stomach, trying to trap it there. The wolves would have release when they ate—after they earned it. I would feel the same.
Dull silver winked at me. I flared my nostrils and flung myself at the ring of keys. Just as I touched them, the warm light emitting from a convent window dimmed and darkened a patch of snow. I clutched the keys to my breast and glanced up. Sestra Mirna’s unmistakable silhouette framed itself in an upper-story window.