Page 197 of Alchemised
Ivy shook her head, staring down the tunnel, and her face twitched oddly. “My sister, she doesn’t remember things. Matron said it’s called a fugue––her not remembering––but it might all come back someday.”
“Don’t you want her to remember?” Helena asked.
Ivy gave a sharp shake of her head. “No.” She looked up at Helena and laughed. “You think I’m bad. If she ever remembers, she’d go completely mad.”
The door opened, and the stench of burned meat wafted out. “Marino. We’re done now.”
Crowther had drugged Lancaster with something synthetic. He was hallucinating wildly. He’d nearly bitten through his tongue, and Helena had to paralyse him to reattach it. His skin was charred all over, although Crowther was always careful never to burn deep enough to kill the nerves.
Lancaster was babbling. It seemed Helena and Ivy had converged in his mind. One moment he’d struggle violently, nearly biting her hands when they were near him, threatening to pour molten metal through her veins until her eyes burst like grapes, and the next he’d be trying to lean towards her and drawing deep rasping breaths, crooning that she was a sweet thing, how once he was Undying, he’d keep her as a pet with a collar and chain, just like Holdfast.
Then he’d think she was Ivy again, and he’d threaten to eat her. Cut her into pieces. Put her back together wrong. Violate her in every way imaginable.
When she was done, she wanted to peel the skin off every place he’d touched her.
“Why don’t you kill him?” she asked Crowther when she got out of the room. Her skin was still crawling.
He seemed amused by this. “Why?”
“You have what you want. He’s a waste of rations.”
He shook his head. “Until we’ve found the guard he was looking for, we’ll keep him. Morrough’s determination to unearth this Wagner in Hevgoss indicates a significant degree of importance. Lancaster is a uniquely devoted Aspirant. He could be useful as evidence if we are ever in contact with Hevgoss. Don’t worry about him. I’ve never lost a prisoner.”
“Can I go, then?” she said dully. Her clothes were stained with Lancaster’s blood.
“Yes, I’ll escort you,” he said. “You healed Ferron? Was it a success?”
She gave an idle nod without looking at him. Whether he was pleased or disappointed by this, she had no energy to care. “Yes. The procedure was a success.”
There was a pause as they ascended the stairs. Crowther blocked the exit, his eyes skimming across her. “I hear you were out all night and returned—dishevelled.”
Her stomach clenched. “It took longer than expected. The checkpoints were closed for curfew. I had to sleep there.”
Crowther waited but she volunteered nothing else.
His eyes narrowed. “Carry on, then.”
CHAPTER 39
Julius 1786
HELENA RETURNED TO THE OUTPOST THAT EVENING, but found the door in the factory wall locked, the necrothrall that usually appeared with the key nowhere in sight.
She went to the tenement, but the unit was cold and empty, too. She lingered for a little while, just to be sure.
The next evening was the same.
She told herself it was a good sign. The healing was a success. Still, it felt abrupt to suddenly have her evenings again.
Helena hadn’t realised how much time she’d spent making salves and journeying back and forth until all those hours were at her disposal once more.
On Martiday, she went foraging and then headed towards the tenements.
She wasn’t even halfway there when a necrothrall stepped out of the shadows, intercepting her. Helena’s stomach clenched. It wasn’t the normal man, but a woman. She showed an iron symbol on her pallid inner wrist and then held out an envelope.
Helena took it, and the necrothrall turned and walked away.
Helena didn’t usually open the missives, but this time she broke the seal and pulled out the contents, looking for instructions or a message.
