Page 132 of Architecti
“Stay back,” he says.“I’ve got this.”
His nose erupts, blood pours over the floor, straight onto the salt circle.
“Oh fuck, he absolutely does not ‘got this’.”I lunge for Bastien and yank him back.
“SALT,” Lucy bellows at Lex, who is already opening the canister and hurling salt onto the floor to complete the circle.
The dark ribbons of magic surge and spiral into a funnel, swirling so fast it creates wind inside the room.
This was such a bad idea.
I drag Bastien away, but he passes out cold becoming a dead weight.Sweating and puffing, I manage to get us to the edge of the room—the safest distance I can.
“I’m sorry about this,” I whisper to him and then slap him hard across the face.
He jerks up, gasping for air.“Did I do it?Is she back?”
We glance behind us, and as the black sinuous ribbons dissipate, there, standing in their shadowy remnants, is the most hideous creature I’ve ever seen.
“Yeah, I think you did it.”
40
Lucy
Midnight won’t look at me.Her skin is mottled and taut, she cracks her neck, and I am grateful she’s this way and not the opposite.If she withdrew and became forlorn, I’d fear I’d done irreparable damage.
She drags an unconscious Bastien away from the salt circle and proceeds to slap him across the face.
I wince, but he comes around as the seething mass of magic and shadows coalesces and then evaporates.
The thing that stands before us is grotesque.Neither shade nor wraith, it is a gross violation of both species.
Patches of what was Calyx are ghostly like Mortem, shimmery white and translucent.But there are large areas of wilted skin.Necrotic and gangrenous, withering into flaking black pustules and blisters.One of her shoulders looks dislocated and where her mouth once was is a gaping maw with hundreds of teeth.
I glance at Bastien.He kneels before her weeping, not at her appearance, but at her eyes.They remain as they were when she was mortal.Round and blue and this evening, full of sorrow for her brother.
“I need your help,” Bastien says.
She nods slowly.“Always,” she says, her voice soft and dreamy, almost ethereal.
Then her body jerks and spasms, she hurls herself against the circle boundary, screeching.Some of the salt sprays out from the impact.Lex twitches, the jar open in her grip, ready to reinforce if necessary.Bastien shuffles back and throws his arm out.A loop of magic peels off the wall and encircles his fist, which he flings at his sister.
“Calyx, please stay with me, don’t let the wraith take over.”
He loops more and more sinewy ribbons of magic around her arms and feet.One slips around her neck like a collar and finally binds her in position.His expression is strained, years of regret etching grooves into his skin.
“Why should I help you?”she spits.This time her voice is gravelly and cold, every word rasped like she swallowed glass and sandpaper.
It makes me shiver.
He reaches towards me, his fingers wriggling.I hand him the parchment, and he shows her.
“I need to know what it says,” Bastien pleads, his bottom lip wobbles as he takes in the sight of his very dead sibling.
She laughs.It’s a shrill curdle that eats at your bones.“After what you did?You made me hurt them, Bastien.Our own flesh and blood.”
She twitches and a translucent projection appears before her.It’s wispy and sepia and plays in staccato movements.
