Chapter 1
…
London, 1665
The crowd in the chamber of the temple went from reverent silence to nearly desperate chaos when the young woman appeared. Some even rushed towards the stairs of pulpit trying to reach the figure whom was now kneeling in her red silk dress before the blind man sitting on the stone floor; oblivious to the growing chaos behind him save for what he could hear.
The young woman to her credit did not flinch at the mob trying to fight their way up the steps only to shy away moments later when they spotted the other figure standing at the top of the pulpit steps, his face obscured by the hood of a black velvet cloak. Nothing visible save his mouth which was set in a tight line of disapproval.
Those closest to the steps nervously stumbled backwards stepping on the toes of the people behind them until the mass of people had shifted back enough to leave two feet of space between themselves and the pulpit.
The chaos faded into hushed whispers the people's attention split between watching the young woman -trying to read her face which was hidden from their view by a red silk veil- and casting wary glances towards the black cloaked figure who guarded the steps.
The entire room seemed to hold its breath as the kneeling woman moved. Placing her hands on the blind man's forehead as she began to speak. The words so quiet that only her veil moved slightly with each breath as her hands began to glow from within with a soft red light.
The crowd watched in silent awe as the woman moved her hands from the man's forehead, down his face to rest gently over his sightless eyes.
Where they stayed.
The room leaned forward, holding its breath as they waited. The glow faded from the girl's hands and she pulled them away from the man's face.
The man blinked. Once. Twice, he began to quietly weep as he reached for the girl's hands again and kissed them.
The crowd erupted in cheers that rose up to echo off the faraway stone ceiling as the woman offered the sobbing man a sweet smile and helped him to his feet.
The formerly blind man turned to face the crowd, beaming as he looked out upon them.
A woman and two children pushed their way to the front of the crowd and rushed the pulpit steps heedless of the black clad figure who simply stepped aside to let them pass.
The children embraced their father with joyous cries whilst the man's wife embraced the woman; who returned the stranger's hug offering whispered reassurances to the teary-eyed woman.
"She is Godsend!" The man's wife cried, turning to address the crowd as they sent up another cheer.
The newly healed man approached the woman once more and the room fell silent but the next words were spoken so quietly that only the six people on the pulpit heard the man's request.
"May one of the first things my eyes see be the face of she who has blessed me with renewed sight?"
The woman paused, her fingers toying with the edge of her silk veil, uncertain.
No one saw the man in the black cloak move but in the next moment his hand rested on the woman's shoulder in a silent but clear warning. Regardless of whether the warning was for the woman not to reveal her face or for the man who had suggested such a thing. The family shied away from the black cloaked figure on instinct.
The woman in red offered the man an apologetic smile through her veil as she reached to place her own hand over the hand on her shoulder.
Reassured the man stepped away, lingering behind the woman's shoulder.
The woman turned back to face the family, shaking her head in response to the man's request and dropping her hand away from her veil.
The Master- a small elderly man- appeared from the shadows near the back of the pulpit where he had been silently observing the proceedings.
He rested a hand on the blind man's shoulder and ushered the man and his family down the steps.
The woman in red swept her veiled gaze over the people who waited patiently for her to make her next choice but before the woman could decide whom to bestow her next miracle upon, the man in the black cloak leaned over her shoulder, said something in her ear and began leading her to the side of the pulpit, ignoring the look of inquiry from the Master.
The black cloaked man reached out a gloved hand and opened a door.
The two of them disappeared and no one in the room dared say a word of protest.
"Let go of my arm Samuel!" Rosanna demanded, halting her footsteps so that her companion had no choice but to halt or risk pulling her hand from its socket.
Samuel released her hand, spun around to face her and threw back the hood of his cloak all in one seamless motion.
Pinning his blue eyes on her with a look that would kill...it was very possible it might.
"Don't look at me like that." Rosanna demanded, throwing back her veil just so that she could meet his intense glare with one of her own.
Samuel continued to stare disapprovingly at her but she refused to back down. He might scare the entirety of London- maybe even all of Europe- but he didn't scare her.
She didn't enjoy the idea of having a shouting match with him though, no point in testing his temper when she could already feel his powers threatening to spill over. She had to go about this rationally or he would hit the wall and cause the entire building to crumble down on top of them.
She met his unflinching stare and sighed. "The man didn't mean anything by it, they always ask to see my face...they don't understand... but would it kill you not to act like this every single time?"
"I wouldn't have to drag you off if you didn't always act so willing. They can't see our faces. That's the point."
"I know that, but would it be so bad if people knew-"
"Rosa."
She pointedly ignored the nickname, ignored the tone that was both stern and gentle.
"No, I'm serious, they put us on a pedestal! Would it be so bad to show them that we look like them? That we're human despite our abilities."
Samuel tugged off his gloves, tendrils of black smoke curling between his fingers, a silver ring set with a black obsidian stone glinting on his finger.
"They put you on a pedestal, not me."
"They respect-"
"They fear me, they fear this!" He waved his hand in the air and Rosanna could smell the scent of burning, of rot and decay. Of destruction.
"So wouldn't it make sense to show them that you're a person? That we're like them?"
She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth.
"We're not like them Rosanna, it's why we can't leave here," Samuel turned his face up to the ceiling, hands curled into fists and spitting black smoke.
"You know I didn't mean it like that." She tucked her hair behind her ear brushing her fingers against the red stone drilled into her earlobe.
"I just….I don't know why we have to hide from the people we're supposed to help."
"The Master says it's not safe."
"I know,"
She waited a moment and when he didn't say anything she continued.
"Do you ever wish that we could just- leave?"
He said nothing and when she turned to look at him, to try to read the answer on his face. He'd slid the emotionless mask into place, and she took that as answer enough.
This was not the time, nor place to discuss such things. They had other more pressing matters to deal with besides her wishful thinking.
She sighed softly, turning away and sparing a glance towards the door that would lead them back the way they'd come. Samuel's footsteps echoed in tandem with hers as Rosanna marched purposely down the hallway, retracing their steps.
The darkened and now empty corridors were silent. Nothing moved, not even Samuel as he watched her enter the empty chamber of the temple that hours before had been crowded with those desperate souls.
She cast a cautious glance towards the door that lead out of the temple and out to the street.
She turned away and crossed to the far side of the room, lighting a single candle from the mass of white candles along the back wall.
She spoke without turning to him.
"I know you're there, are you going to come and sit with me? Or do you want to just stand there?"
Her voice carried to him easily enough, echoing slightly despite the fact that it was barely a whisper.
She turned to look at him, draping her arm over the back of the wooden bench.
In any other circumstance he would have accepted her invitation but he felt like he would be intruding on something that should have belonged to solely her.
She was simply inviting him to sit with her because she had been taught her graces and was being polite.
She was still watching him, the patient, expectant smile twitched, threatening to turn into a frown.
It was in that moment that Samuel realized that he knew her better than any other person in London and that the sense of knowledge worked for her as well as it did for him.
Her smile had fully turned into a frown by the time he managed to pull himself out of his thoughts.
Her green eyes flicking like the candlelight dancing on the wall behind her, concern and curiosity mixing into one single emotion that he did not have a name for.
She turned slightly so that he could only see half of her face, pale skin turning gold from the light of the candle. She spoke again her voice even more quiet than the first time.
"Come sit." the words despite being quiet and gentle held an undertone of demand: Orders he could follow orders it was still a request but he chose to take it as a summons.
Samuel detached himself from the shadows, footsteps silent against stone as he approached.
She moved just as quietly, barely a whisper of silk as she shifted to make room for him on the bench.
She turned to look at the candle, he did the same and neither of them ventured to break the silence that settled between them so completely that he swore he could hear her heartbeat inside her chest.
She spoke once again, shattering the silence so unexpectedly that he turned to look at her.
"I have to apologize for what I said earlier- I didn't mean any of it."
He knew she was lying- he could always tell when someone was lying especially her. He felt his heart clench as if someone had stabbed him with a knife. The fact that she would lie to him at all- even if it was to spare whatever feelings she thought she might have wounded- it hurt him.
"You meant it, you might not have meant to say it, but you meant it."
She lowered her head, looking at her hands folded in her lap and he had the sudden urge to touch her because words seemed an inadequate form of comfort.
He reached for her... and pulled back, hand clenching into a fist before he rested it on his knee.
In all the years they had known each other he had never dared touch her unless it was absolutely necessary and even in those moments he would hesitate for fear of hurting her with the power that always seemed to hum underneath his skin.
Touching her felt like tainting her with his curse. He always feel guilty in the moments after he touched her shoulder or her hand when he had to pull her away from the masses of people whenever she felt compelled to reveal her face. Guiltier still when he realized that he missed it when they were not touching each other.
Where his touch was tainted, her touch was purified and the entire city of London had put her on a pedestal, worshipped her for the miracles that happened at her touch; and he was no better than the rest of them.
He was a desperate soul like the rest of them, he had accepted his cursed gift, damn what the rest of London thought of him, the only person he wished to be in the good graces of was her. She was his equal, his opposite but he often caught himself thinking of her as his better.
"Sometimes, I just- I don't know why it was me of all people, what if I make a mistake? I don't want to disappoint anyone, you, the Master-"
He turned to her, his heart giving another painful twist and consequences be damned. He reached for her a second time taking her hand and pressing his lips to the back of her palm, running his thumb along her skin in circles. "You could disappoint all of London, you might even disappoint the Master but you will never disappoint me."
He looked up when she didn't respond and saw her blinking at him her lips parted slightly in surprise.
He recoiled from the confusion on her face, her hand falling from his fingers and she rested it on her knee whilst he mentally kicked himself for doing something he had never had the nerve to do in all the years that he had known her. He had never touched her in such a way. Never should have dared.
She did not meet his face, only stared at her hand as if she had never seen it before and said nothing. He stood unable to bare her silence. He couldn't even bring himself to explain why he had done something so rash, his tongue wouldn't have worked even if he tried.
He pressed his lips together trying to ignore the taste of her that lingered on them as he turned away from her and made it half a step before he felt something stop him.
It was his turn to blink in surprise as his eyes flicked down to where her fingers had wrapped around his wrist. His gaze shot from her hand around his wrist to her face; shadows and light dancing across her expression cast from the light of the candle which still burned- forgotten to him until this moment.
He had been prepared to find disgust written on her face. He found nothing of the sort. Her face held nothing besides the soft and patient smile and her voice was just as soft as she spoke. "Thank you."
Those two words left him even more stunned than her fingers still on his wrist... she sounded….. Grateful and it shook him to his core, no one had ever thanked him for anything at least he couldn't recall a time that someone had done such a thing with that amount of sincerity.
"Sam?" Rosanna questioned letting go of his wrist as she tilted her head to look at him with growing concern when he remained silent.
The moment her fingers left his wrist the spell upon him broke. He took a cautious step away from her.
"I'm fine." He attempted to reassure her and failed miserably. He was a hypocrite, a bloody hypocrite insisting that she not lie to him and then turning around and lying to her. Her smile quickly morphed into a frown again but before she could question him again or he could dig his grave further by deepening the lie in an attempt to convince her as well as himself….the candle sputtered and died plunging them both into unexpected darkness and he reached for her a second time, to pull her up and lead her through the dark.
