Savage Saints (Monsters of Saint Mark's)

I look down at the gold ring on my finger and just stare at it for a moment. My idea back at the smithy comes forward again. What if I can wear two or more rings? What if this is just my base ring and this door that I just walked through is my base door, but each time I add a ring, a new door opens for me?

I open the bag, dump the contents out on the smooth dirt, and poke through them with a clawed finger.

One of them sparkles. A sign, I think. I pick it up—but it’s tiny. So tiny there isn’t a chance in hell that it will fit on my finger.

But just like last time, it wiggles and hovers, taking on a life of its own. And then it’s slipping onto my finger, widening, until it bumps into the one I’m already wearing. Then there is a small flash. Like a chemical reaction just took place. And the two rings become one.

“Huh.” I hold my hand up close to my eyes so I can get a better look. The new, melded ring has a winged lion motif. “Huh,” I say again. Because I’ve seen this lion. It’s the same lion on the banner of Saint Mark. Not Saint Mark’s the sanctuary, but the actual person, Saint Mark. The winged lion was his symbol. There are many lions carved into things here at the sanctuary too. But they are just a face. And it is always wearing a crown.

The winged lion is different. Though they could be the same lion, I suppose. It wouldn’t be a far leap to come to that conclusion.

Pie found a book about Saint Mark in the apothecary a couple days after everything went down with the sheriff and Grant. It was thick and beautifully illustrated with many pages illuminated in gold leaf. But neither of us could read the words. It wasn’t Latin, or any of the other languages Pie had magicked us into understanding.

A door appears, startling me. I scramble to my feet and wait, wondering if something will come through.

But no.

The door is mine. A new door because I’m now wearing a new ring.

I walk towards it, peering through, trying to get a look at where it might lead. But then there’s a small commotion behind me and I turn, fangs bared, ready to fight.

But there is no one there.

It’s just the rings. They are hovering in mid-air. Lined up, one by one. And one by one they spark and shimmer.

Then other doors appear.

But it’s not like a pop. It’s not like one moment they are there, the next they aren’t. It’s more like a smooth transition from empty air to something solid.

I watch, transfixed, as the rings begin to float towards the doors. I have a moment of panic that they will travel right through them and disappear forever. Which is ironic, since I’ve spent the last few days wishing they would do just that.

But they don’t go through the doors. They just hover in front of them. Like keys.

I smile. Then chuckle. Then laugh heartily.

Two thousand years I’ve been powerless.

Two thousand years I’ve been stuck here.

And now I have keys to more places than I could’ve ever imagined.

There is a loud, crackling sound behind me. And when I turn, another door appears. A bright, shimmering, violet door. And who comes through?

“Pie?”

She sees me, smiles, then there’s panic on her face as she whirls around to look at the door she just came through. But it disintegrates into empty air as we watch.

She turns back to me. “Holy fucking shit!”

“What are you doing?”

Then her wide, blue eyes find the doors just over my shoulder and she points. Speechless.

“Doors,” I say. “The rings are all keys to doors, Pie!”

She gasps, clutching at her chest with a hand. “Oh, my God. Oh, my fucking God, Pell.”

“What are you doing? Why are you here? And why are you naked?”