Chapter 28 #2
Florin worked fast, gathering a collection of strange ingredients.
He crushed a shard of peacock-blue coral and tipped the powder into a stone vessel where a roiling liquid shifted through rainbow hues.
He added drops of this and drops of that.
Cracked a tiny egg, its viscous black innards oozing into the mixture.
Amber steam hissed up from the vessel’s mouth, followed by a curl of pink smoke.
Then, when he sprinkled the barest pinch—just a few grains—of Skalki’s joyful tears into the undulating brew, the potion erupted in a thorn-laced shockwave that made my hair stand on end and my skin crawl as shadows buffeted the office.
I heard Mela gasp, trying to speak. I tore my gaze from Florin reaching for a dagger to Mela. Her fingers tightened weakly around mine as a tremor ran through her.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I hushed, stroking her sweaty temple.
“Elyse,” she rasped.
“Don’t… save your strength.” I knew what she was going to ask, and it broke my heart. “You’ll find her, Mela. And I’ll be there with you.”
A shift of shadows pulled my attention back to Florin.
He stepped closer, towering over me. His calloused hand brushed mine as he gently peeled it away from Mela’s.
It was a sudden gleam of silver and a burning sting at my fingertip as he pricked it with a dagger.
He held my hand over the potion, and a fat bead of blood dripped into the swirling liquid.
I shot him a questioning look.
“Your mother had many curious qualities about her,” he murmured, dipping a needle into the stone vessel and drawing the potion into the syringe.
“It can’t hurt to add a boost of her life’s essence into this.
” He straightened, offering a small, serious smile, one that faded as his gaze flicked over my shoulder.
A sudden, heavy sound of flesh hitting wood arose.
I half-twisted toward where he was staring.
Oh gods…
Blood-flecked spittle foamed from Mela’s mouth as her body seized, her limbs jerking as her muscles locked tight. Her back arched—held, held, held…
And then she collapsed, a thin, whistling breath leaving her.
Her hands thumped softly against the table.
Blood roared in my ears. I waited for her chest to rise… But it didn’t. All I could hear was that last breath replaying inside my head.
She lay still.
No. No. No!
“Out of my way!” Florin hollered. I stumbled as the Horned God barreled past, his elbow knocking me sideways. “I need your help!”
But I froze, staring helplessly at my friend.
“Now, young Crowther!” Florin bellowed. I jolted as he thrust the needle into my hand. “Inject it into her thigh muscle. On my count!”
I fumbled with the buckle of Mela’s armored pants, yanking them down enough to expose her thigh.
Florin rubbed a scarlet stone between his palms, eyes shut and lips murmuring silently.
His power unfurled in shivering waves, brushing my skin and whipping through the office like a restless wind.
Above us, the air thickened, shadows knotting together as a storm of aether gathered in the vaulted ceiling, writhing with dark, volatile energy.
He raised his hands, and the storm answered, spiraling downward, dragged into the stone clenched between his fingers until it glowed red-hot.
“DO IT NOW!”
I stabbed the needle into Mela’s outer thigh and injected the potion.
My heart lodged in my throat as I prayed to Mother Skalki to save her.
Florin slammed his fists down onto Mela’s chest.
Power exploded—a deafening boom, a blinding flash of energy that threw me off my feet.
Mela’s body arched violently, her spine bowing off the table.
She sucked in a deep breath.
Then another.
And one more.
Her eyes slid to mine. She exhaled slowly as her spine eased back. She blinked groggily, then managed a small, weak smile.
Mela—I mouthed, a shaky smile tugging at my lips.
Florin was already moving. He lifted a scalpel, about to tend to her wounds, when he whispered, “Crowther.”
I followed his gaze…and froze, watching in astonishment as the dead skin on Mela’s neck regenerated, the barbed nodes and darkened root-veins shrinking away as the venomous curse receded.
Florin clasped my shoulder and squeezed. “She’s going to be alright, Sticky Fingers.”
“Thank you,” I rasped, dragging over a footstool and collapsing onto it.
I sat quietly, holding Mela’s hand, rubbing the heel of my palm over my damp eyes as hers fluttered shut and she fell into a deep sleep.
Behind me, Florin shuffled around. A moment later, he placed a large teacup in front of me, steam rising in tendrils. “Here, have a cup of tea. It’ll settle your nerves.”
I burst out into a rusty, broken laugh at the fucking gross, stinky shit floating around in the mug, the dead flies and bits of chopped-up rat. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
He shrugged. “You have no idea what you’re missing out on.” Taking a loud slurp, he sighed with pleasure and eased into an armchair. He eyed me shrewdly over the rim of his cup. “So tell me, Sticky Fingers, you left me this afternoon as one thing and returned as something else.”
I hitched a shoulder, giving him a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I guess I did.”