Chapter Seventeen
A fter Lucian closes up the crazy gashes on Forsythia’s side, we decide to let her sleep for a few hours.
Her body needs the rest after expending so much energy and magicks.
Her heart, though?
I think a little piece of it will never be right again. No matter how much rest she gets.
Not after losing her familiar, and both of her parents.
I have no doubts that losing her mother was hard. But with Orobas, she was given a gift. A chance to get to know the man she had always wondered about. A chance to grow that relationship.
And then in a blink, that chance was brutally ripped away from her.
Lucian patches up my arm pretty quickly and I help with a cut on his back. Then we take care of business.
I look down at the ground around the creature’s body. It’s squishy from the blood-like liquid that oozed out of the wounds we inflicted. And the spot where its head once was.
Speaking of the head– where did it get off to?
I glance around and see Lucian picking it up on the other side. A clear look of pure disgust on his face.
I chuckle a little.
I know, I know. It’s almost– probably– definitely the wrong time for a laugh, but I don’t think I have seen the big guy grossed out by anything before. The expression just did not look right on his normally stoic face.
Getting my poorly timed amusement under control, I look down at the body of the Creatori.
I should feel something… right?
Relief maybe? Sadness, I suppose?
I focus hard on the fused bits that look like they were the former flesh of my mother. I even try rolling that thought around in my head.
This is my mother. My mother is dead.
Nope.
Nothing.
That doesn’t– make me a monster too… right?
I mean who wouldn’t grieve their mother?
I glance over at Forsythia. Even in sleep her face shows her pain. In the slight pinch of her brow. In the tear tracks cutting through the dirt on her face. In the hand with which she gently clings to the dead body beside her.
And yet… when I look back at this– thing that was my mother, I feel nothing.
No void. No loss.
Maybe a small amount of relief… like what you would get from completing a task.
But that’s it.
Before I can question my own heart and its crassness, Lucian interrupts me.
“Your mother passed a long time ago.”
I nod, but keep my thoughts to myself.
He’s right. She did. She died the very second she became this mindless killing machine. This disgusting perversion of nature.
And yet, I didn’t mourn her then either.
Probably because the crazy bitch hated me and tried to kill me numerous times. Like when she threw me off that cliff. My mouth betrays me as I voice my next thoughts aloud.
“She was a piece of shit mother.”
Lucian clasps my shoulder gently. A sign of support.
Huh. That actually feels– nice.
Not that I plan on telling him that.
“My own mother killed my entire race of brethren trying to find me so that she could sell me to the highest slave bidder.”
My mouth falls open and I turn my head to stare at Lucian in horror.
Guy barely talks and just randomly drops that bomb on me?
What the fuck?
“Wow. That’s– well… your mom was a piece of shit too.”
That seems to be the only thing I am able to get out around the shock. Lucian’s mom killed a whole race of people, and he was a slave. Questions buzz in my mind, but I just want to take care of the cleanup from today and deal with sharing our feelings later. After a bath and food. And sleep.
Lucian nods at the body. “We should get this burned before we wake Forsythia. Perhaps separate from the head?”
I look down at his hand and realize he is still holding the damn thing.
Ew…
“I’ll take this,” I gesture to the body, “if you take that. And go way over there with it.”
Lucian follows my directions with a simple nod and heads further away from the body and Forsythia at my back.
I blow out a steady breath with my magick infused words…
Redigendum In Cinerem
The ignites in low purples flames. The smell is horrendous. Of course, burning a body never has a pleasant smell, but this has an especially rancid aroma. Imagine cat piss and gasoline, mixed with rotting fruit and you are getting close to this.
I gag. Then I heave. I can’t help it. This is horrendous. And thanks to the extra liquid outside of the body, it takes longer to burn.
Lucian’s hand comes into my peripheral vision, and he holds a tiny piece of twig out to me.
“Chew on this. It will help.”
I snag the one-inch bit of twig from his hand and pop it into my mouth. He is our resident healer, so I am certainly not going to question his methods.
When the flavor hits my tongue, I realize it’s licorice root. I hadn’t spotted any in this wood, so he must have brought it with him. Quite handy.
Nothing like munching on a twig while burning a body.
Well that thought didn’t sound crazy at all.
Thank the Gods no one can hear inside my head.