Page 59 of The Deathless One
Sybil had pressed the small sachet that smelled like herbs into her hand as she left. “A talisman for guidance and good luck,” she’d said.
But then the witch’s eyes had flicked to the hulking shadow that was so close to her at all times. They’d both known that the guidance portion wasn’t really necessary when the Deathless God had stitched himself to her shadow.
Literally.
She’d woken up this morning with him at her feet, weaving a needle made of bone through her actual shadow. When she asked what he was doing, he’d told her to be quiet and not ask questions. Apparently, he wasn’t a morning person. She’d pestered him until he admitted this way she didn’t have to continue summoning him to her side. He could follow her for longer without returning to his realm to replenish his energy.
They had a long journey ahead of them, and she supposed if he wasstitched to her, then he was preparing himself to walk just as much as she was.
With one last wave to Sybil, Jessamine turned her gaze to the road.
“Where are we going again?” he grumbled, already the most annoying companion she’d ever had to travel with.
“Callum said he grew up in the Factory District, and so did Benji. I can only assume that is the direction we should go.”
“I don’t understand how no one knows this man exists. Sybil sent out more than enough messages to whatever covens still survive, and not a single witch has ever heard of a Callum Quen.”
That anxiety churned a little more in her belly, shoving her hearty breakfast up her throat. “That’s why I’m a little concerned.”
“You don’t think he’s a real person?”
“Oh, he’s real.” She shaded her eyes with her hands, glancing down to the area of the road where they had murdered that infected man. There was still a black smudge on the ground where he’d died.
A shiver traveled down her spine. Hopefully, they wouldn’t run into another creature like that on this journey. Or if they did, at the very least, there would be other people to help. Or distract the monster.
It took half a day for her to get through the Water District. They couldn’t travel the same route as before, not without risking people recognizing her after seeing her so often. But thankfully, it was a rather uneventful journey. People were out already, cleaning fish in the streets until they ran bright red with blood. Carts with massive ice blocks waited to load the fishermen’s catch, and then those carts moved off to wherever people had money to buy. It reeked to the high heavens, and she pulled her shirt up over her nose so she didn’t smell the pungent scent of fish so strongly.
At one point, they passed a blockade that a group of men were putting up. She read the words on the sign they hammered into it. “Sick beyond.”
Then another home with all its windows bordered up. Each one was splashed with yellow paint in the same color as the warning sign they’d put on the blockade.
Glancing over at the Deathless One—Elric, she corrected herself—she grumbled, “You’re lucky you can’t smell this place.”
A flash of something darkened his gaze. “You’d be surprised how much I wish to smell it, nightmare.”
They didn’t talk for a while after that. Not even when she reached the border of the Factory District. It was like someone had drawn a line through the city. One moment, she was surrounded by leaning buildings decorated with fishing nets and streets running red with blood, and the next she was surrounded by smog.
She stood in line with all the other people entering the district. There were walls separating the two areas, ones with barbed wire wrapped around them. She had to open her mouth and let a woman with dirty hands look her all over before she grunted and said, “Healthy enough. She’ll be a hard worker.”
And then she was let through.
The buildings in the Factory District were shorter, squatter, but much more sturdy. A layer of smoke hung over the district, and every ten houses seemed to be framed by factory buildings that had tall stacks belching more smoke out into the air.
The streets were much flatter here. No grooves for blood to run through, although the ground was oily and dark, leaving everything a little slippery and shiny. Then she walked by one of the factories and noticed that slick shine was coming from the buildings.
Oil, she realized. A lot of it.
Soot smeared the faces of most people who walked by, but no one made eye contact or even looked at her. Their clothing was equally dirty, and they wore hoods and hats and helmets that covered their features from any prying eyes.
“I wouldn’t even know if one of them was infected,” she murmured, stepping to the side of the street to get her bearings. “How can they tell?”
“They can’t,” Elric replied. She didn’t think anyone could see him other than her, so she was the only one who noticed the wrinkles of worry between his eyes. “That is something we’ll have to figure out along our path.”
“What?”
“I could feel the infected when we got rid of the one on the path. They aren’t… sick.”
“Of course they’re sick. Haven’t you seen them? The boils, the pus, the drooling.” She shuddered. “I just don’t know how to fix them.”
