Blood and Moonlight by Erin Beaty
I’m waiting for the moon. All other ground-level windows in the neighborhood are shuttered for the night as I lean out of ours to look. A breeze whisks up the deserted street, carrying the scent of rain and the distant rumble of thunder from the west. The city of Collis covers a large hill rising from the flat plains, but my view of the approaching storm is blocked by angled roofs. If I balance on my hips and crane my neck as far as it will go, the rose window and towers of the Holy Sanctum to the east are just visible through a gap between houses. Even without moonlight, the white facade glows against the ebony blanket of sky, washing out all the stars. Not high enough yet. I sigh and lever myself back inside as Magister Thomas comes down the stairs into the workroom behind me. The architect pauses when he sees me, his eyebrows so high they disappear in the chestnut hair peeking out from under his cap. “Catrin?” he says. “I thought you went to bed hours ago.”