Muire squeezed between the tight rock walls. The sound deadening into an overwhelming quiet. Her neck arched toward the cathedral cave ceiling hundreds of feet above. Awe throbbed through her chest. Rocks and streams of fresh mountain water spiderwebbed around her as her careful steps carried her to the alter.
Ancient. Grand.
She knelt, mumbling a prayer.
Tears streamed down her slack cheeks, as if the weight of the lie wasn’t enough. This place had always brought her solace, but not today. Not after what she’d done.
The itch crept up her spine. She held her position, resisting the temptation. She had to. She couldn’t feed again. The dead eyes haunted her.
A pressure startled her out of her contemplation
She turned with a jerk. A man stood before her. She slipped on the wet stone, but he reached for her with tender care, puling her beside him.
Her gaze searched his shadowed face. She reached out, hesitant, her hand barely brushing his face — and then she knew.
“I thought I was the only one.” Her voice faltered.
He clasped her hand. “We can do this together. We must.”
She nodded. They knelt side by side, hand in hand, praying.
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