9. Preparation #2
“You can,” I insisted. “There is no choice, Hester. All our fates will be death.” I met her terrified eyes. “Not one of us will walk free.” I took a deep breath. “Did you hear the tales of Lord Draven falling ill?”
“I have.”
“Soon, they will claim he died from the Hollow Plague.” She inhaled sharply.
I peeked over my shoulder, but Al and the officer remained in their places.
“He . . . is the only one that can end this. We need to free him.” She still seemed uncertain.
“I do not like it, Hester, but what else are we to do?” A hint of desperation slid through my tone. I rolled my shoulders to relax them.
“We will discuss further when we have another moment. Do not anger Al. You will need to be here.” I drew straighter, knowing that was all I could do. If she refused, I would have to find another way.
Thuds resonated across the work chamber. Two young officers came in carrying a wrapped up item. A corpse from the look of it. They stretched it over the metal work table closest to the entrance.
“Another corpse infected with the Hollow Plague?” Al exclaimed in surprise.
“Lord Vaner ordered any that have been infected in the Kingdom Village be brought to you.”
“Yes, yes,” Al said, standing and waving his hand at them dismissively. “Miss Amara, don gloves,” he ordered, putting on his own. “And bring some for the new helper as well.”
He reached for the sash tying the burlap together. The material parted and exposed a swollen corpse. The sickeningly sour and sharply bitter smells assaulted my senses.
“We will not contract it?” Hester remained where I had left her, eyes wide on the bloated body.
“Not in the manner you believe,” he murmured.
“It is not contracted simply from being exposed to it. One must imbibe contaminated liquid for it to take root.” He lifted his head with a grin.
“At least the virus has not developed into an airborne illness yet. But I do not doubt it possible.” The officers were still looking at the dead. “Dismissed,” Al said to the officers.
As soon as Al waved them off, they retreated quickly.
I went to the wardrobe beside his desk and crouched to the last drawer where the gloves were stored. Footsteps approached behind me.
“I will do it,” Hester whispered, closer than she had been.
I handed her the gloves, squeezing her hand as I passed them along. Now what was left was to have Cassiel working with us. With that thought, I touched my sternum, where the coldness lived.
I reached Al’s side.
“Begin notating,” he ordered me.
I went to his desk where a fresh parchment sat, titled: Hollow Plague Subject Eighty-Six. I masked my surprise and took the quill, poising it.
“It has reached the first level of putrefaction,” he hummed. What has caused this escalation in illness? Was it those six-legged creatures emerging from the ground?
He continued listing the state of the body. The sex, length, any boils or marked abnormalities. Al poked the Rot riddled skin.
The scent it emitted was so potent that it left a sour taste on my tongue.
“You two, peel the first layer of skin from the body, taking care not to slice deeper into the first muscle layer. You will cause it to explode. We will have to drain it before we move on to removing and testing the muscle.”
I set the quill beside my carefully scripted notations. As I approached, I squeezed my hands into fists making the leather of the gloves bunch.
“Before we begin.” I cleared my throat. “Is Cassiel well?” The question spawned from deep in my stomach, a remnant bit of the rekindled bloom. My concern hovered in the back of my mind since I woke, and I could no longer turn my back on it.
He studied me. For a few beats too long. I remained still under his regard, even when I could feel Hester shifting her weight.
Al grunted and nodded.
“I cannot have my assistant distracted. Very well, come, come.” Al shuffled around me, and I followed. Opposite to where I believed we would walk. Once again, we returned to the side where the shelves were. The shelf swung open, jostling the few items arranged on it.
I entered behind him into the dark chamber. No light came in because there were no windows. He reached for the gas lamp hooked beside the door. He turned the knob, and I could only see a few paces before me. Al strode over to the next gas lamp, going around until the hidden chamber was illuminated.
Cassiel lay in the same cell the prophet had been in. Cuffs bound his ankles, and they were chained to the thick hook near the furthest corner of the cell.
I pressed my palms against the glass surface.
“Why is he unconscious?”
“His body is weakened from all the harm it has been put through. With every break of a bone, he is healing slower. I hope he will be well for your Awakening.” He clicked his tongue. “He will need his strength.”
“Hope?” A thick knot formed in my throat.
“Yes, dearie. He will need his strength to care for you. From what I have gathered, Awakening is an incredibly difficult process.” Al reached and patted the back of my hand. “Come now, we have many things to do.” His steps retreated.
I hesitated a beat, watching Cassiel’s chest rise and fall in a disjointed rhythm.