Free Beautiful Blood by Lucius Shepard

possibly preparing to deliver a vow or an imprecation, but Rosacher stepped into the gap and said, “Put to rest any notion that your animist claptrap has any hold on me. Surely a man who has been in the religion business for as long as you can recognize a confirmed skeptic? I recognize you as such, so let’s do away with pretense and see if we can devise a circumstance that will guarantee your safety beyond morning.”
    Ruiz was stoic, yet his anxiety seemed to stir the air. “I will not speak with you so long as your men occupy the church.”
    Rosacher ordered the militiamen to withdraw and, once they were out of earshot, he said, “There. No witnesses save for Arthur, and you may think of him as an interested party to our conversation.”
    “You dare much,” said Ruiz. “Do you know the force that will be brought against you for this night’s work? Once news of your sacrilege reaches Mospiel, they will move swiftly.”
    “The news may never reach Mospiel,” said Rosacher. “At least in no form that you would sanction.”
    With a florid gesture he invited the bishop to sit with him in the front pew. Arthur leaned against the altar rail.
    “I’ve been speculating on the effect that a weakened church may have upon my enterprise for some time now,” said Rosacher. “I presumed the waning of the church’s influence would be good for business, but I didn’t anticipate the swiftness with which it would wane. Nor did I expect the church would be moved to acts of desperation. I take it the order for the assassination originated with that old fart in Mospiel?”
    Ruiz maintained a stiff silence.
    Rosacher made a frustrated noise. “There’s no point to your obstinacy. The boy has confesssed.”
    “If you already know the answer,” said Ruiz, “why ask the question?”
    “I wish to confirm that His High Holiness issued the order and not you. It will make a significant difference in my handling of the situation.”
    Ruiz deliberated for a matter of seconds and returned a minimal nod. “I have no voice in such decisions.”
    “Why send a boy to do the job?” asked Rosacher. “Is the Church’s opinion of me so low?”
    “Understand that I was against this from the outset. My opinion aside, they had used the boy previously. He was adjudged competent.”
    “Well,” Rosacher said. “He’s no longer capable of competence, let me assure you.”
    “They?” said Arthur. “Not we?”
    “I deemed it unnecessary,” Ruiz said. “When measured against the life of the church, the life of one man is transitory and unimportant. Even should you live out your natural span, you’ll die soon enough.”
    “Most reasonable,” said Rosacher. “But mab will continue to be produced long after I die.”
    Ruiz sniffed. “People tire of perfection.”
    “A verity that likely explains the longevity of the church.”
    Ruiz refrained from comment.
    “I suppose we could debate whose drug is superior,” said Rosacher. “But our time might be better spent in coming up with a strategy that will allow the two to co-exist.”
    “Are you toying with me?”
    “Not at all.”
    “I don’t believe you. I’m told you’re the kind of predator who likes to lick his prey all over before biting them in half. I refuse to engage in the process.”
    “Whom have I bitten in half recently?”
    Ruiz turned from Rosacher and sat facing the green-and-gold depth of the altar.
    “You won’t talk to me?” Rosacher asked. “Even though it may be to your advantage?”
    The bishop closed his eyes and sighed.
    “I’ll talk, then.” Rosacher crossed his legs and leaned back. “Almost fifty years ago the church convened a council to determine whether or not Griaule should be included in its pantheon. Not surprisingly, the decision was a narrow one in favor of the status quo. I’m of the opinion that the council should be re-convened to study the question anew.”
    It appeared that Ruiz was about to speak, but he pressed his lips