Page 358 of Alchemised
She would have stabbed him straight through the heart, but he managed to dodge. It was a pity for him that she had such broad resonance. She rammed the knife through his armour as if it were paper. She transmuted it, twisting, mangling his lungs before her hand went for his throat.
Fingers clawed into her hair, wrenching her off before she blew his brains apart with her resonance. She clawed at everyone gripping her, her fingers sinking through flesh, tearing at anything she could grasp.
“Break her hand. Break her fucking hand!” Lancaster was screaming as he clutched at the knife buried in his chest, unable to pull it out without ripping out his own lungs.
A hand closed around her forearm, and there was a horrifying crunch as a boot came down on her right wrist.
She watched the heel grinding her wrist into the stones.
They let go and she lay there in the street. Lancaster had already collapsed.
She tried to push herself up with her dislocated arm.
Run, Helena. You have to run.
One of the Aspirants had only one hand left, but he pulled out his sword and brought the hilt down on her head.
HELENA WOKE TO SCREAMING.
She was lying on something cold and hard, and when she tried to open her eyes, they were crusted shut. She lifted a hand to rub them, and white searing pain set her entire brain on fire. Her eyes tried to wrench open, but they still refused to part.
“It’s all right. Gentle. There’s blood in your lashes.” It was a familiar voice. She felt fingers rubbing along her eyes. “There.”
Helena peered out, vision swimming, and found Matron Pace staring down at her. Helena was lying with her head in Pace’s lap. It was still dark, the only illumination torchlight.
Her senses trickled back. She was in so much pain, but she could tell that she wasn’t even feeling all of it yet. She could smell blood. Dried blood and fresh.
There was screaming that kept going on and on.
And laughter, too.
She tried to sit, but Pace held her down.
“None of that. You’re badly injured,” she was saying. “I got your shoulder back in place, but they took your chest brace and your wrist is badly broken.”
“Where are we?” Helena managed to ask. Her eyes wouldn’t focus, but she recognised one of the healers as well as medics and orderlies. They were clustered around her.
Pace gave a strained smile. “At Headquarters. In the commons.”
Helena looked past Pace; there was something overhead. They were in a cage. A large kind used for animals. There were dozens of cages scattered around them.
“Let me up.” Helena struggled to sit up, her body beginning to scream in protest as the stimulants and sedative wore off. Without her chest brace, the strain bore down on her sternum as she peered past the bars. Looking for the source of the screaming.
Hanging by her wrists, Rhea was screaming. Titus stood beside her. He was covered in blood, and there were knives and sticks and spears sticking out of him. He pulled a knife from his leg and began slicing Rhea’s skin off with it.
Then he put it in his mouth and ate it.
He was dead. He had to be dead, but the sight of it still left Helena horror-stricken.
And Rhea was not dead.
Beside her there were pieces of meat dangling from chains. Helena squinted in the low light.
Severed arms.
A torso.
Alister’s head.
