Chapter Fourteen
She deserved to feel the effects of her own manipulation, of the anguish she inflicted.
Seraphina ached everywhere. She was in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware that she was in a bare room, lying in an old, creaky bed, on a lumpy mattress.
Her vision was blurry, as if a slippery fog was wrapped around her eyeballs; she blinked relentlessly, fighting it, and sometimes was rewarded with Idris’s concerned face hovering over her.
His undereyes were puffy and purple; there were harsh lines around his lips.
“It’s pneumonia,” he said. “But you shouldn’t be worsening this fast.”
He propped her head up and made her drink something. It tasted woody and bitter – willow bark tea. She sputtered and pulled away.
“You must,” he begged. “I pinned an Antipyretic Net above your head, but you must get some medicine in you.”
She shook her head and coughed.
“You need to eat something too, or your body won’t have the strength to heal.”
He pushed a piece of cheese between her lips, and she chewed and swallowed so as not to disappoint him. He fed her hardtack soaked in pea soup. It was all tasteless. At first, it seemed like her stomach welcomed the food, then she doubled over, gripped the edge of the bed, and vomited all of it.
“I can’t,” she whispered, wiping her mouth.
“It’s all right. We’ll try again later.”
He cleaned up, then wet a cloth and patted her mouth, cheeks, and forehead.
“Where are we?”
“Water mill,” he said. “The family living here must have fled. They took most of their things, but at least left the mattresses, some tools and pots. We’ve managed with less.”
“No, Idris, we can’t stay here. We’re wasting daylight.”
“Seraphina, you can’t travel. I need to get your fever down.”
“Briar… She and Rune must’ve already reached the convent.”
“We’ll find them there.”
“I don’t know her intentions. I need to…” She was interrupted by a coughing fit. “I need to get to him.”
“All right, then you have to hold down food. And medicine.”
She gave him a miserable look.
“You promise we’ll get going if I do?”
“Yes. Tomorrow.”
“Not tomorrow. Now.”
“There aren’t that many hours of daylight left, and Bramble is exhausted.”
“What do you mean? It’s morning.”
“Was.” He checked his pocket watch. “About six hours ago. The sun will set soon.”
“I was out for six hours?!”
“You needed rest. I used a Quietus Net to keep you from thrashing and waking up every five minutes.”
“Idris…” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Did I talk in my sleep?”
“Plenty. But I couldn’t make heads or tails of what you were saying.”
She vaguely remembered the nightmares. They were the same, plaguing her on repeat. They couldn’t be helped. Using the immense power of the thrall relic meant embracing the misery that came after. She deserved to feel the effects of her own manipulation, of the anguish she inflicted.
Idris helped her sit upright, with her back to the headboard.
“You’ll breathe better this way,” he said. “I’ll prepare something for the cough.”
She nodded and watched him get busy measuring herbs from various jars into a pot and setting it on the hearth. He’d boiled water already, in a different pot, and he poured a generous amount into a tin bowl, added a few dry sprigs of mint and thyme, and handed it to her.
“Breathe the steam in.”
She held the bowl close to her nose and mouth, bending over it.
A few minutes later, the congestion in her head eased.
She didn’t know much about medicine, but she wasn’t entirely clueless.
An inflammation of the lungs could kill someone, and quickly.
If Idris said she couldn’t travel, maybe it was smart to listen to him.
“I need you to open your dress a little. Only the top buttons.”
She returned the bowl to him and did as she was told. Idris placed a poultice on her chest, made of hardtack and water, wrapped in a linen cloth. It was so hot that it almost blistered her skin. When the tea was ready, he passed her a cup. She tasted thyme and licorice root. It was sweet.
“Did you add honey to this?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know you had honey.”
“I always carry a jar. Not many know that honey is pure medicine.”
After another cup of tea – willow bark with a few drops of laudanum; Idris couldn’t be convinced to forgo it – Seraphina felt weirdly numb. Beads of sweat ran down her temples, but Idris said that was a good sign.
The front door opened, and a gust of wind brought snow inside. Nine had to lower his head so as to not hit the doorframe. The low ceiling forced him to keep his back slightly curved. He wiped his hands on his pants and approached Idris.
“It’s time to keep your promise, master surgeon.”
Idris shot him a dubious look.
“I made no promises to you.”
“You said you would dissect me. That was your plan. We can do it in the mill. It has a table and plenty of space.”
“I’m not doing it, so stop talking about it.”
Seraphina saw how distressed Idris was. She glanced up at Nine, blinking hard to get him into focus. He was slightly turned away from her.
“Look at me,” she said.
Nine shuffled on his feet.
“You, look at me.”
He shook his head.
A chill ran up Seraphina’s spine. If he wasn’t listening to her, it meant the effects of the thrall relic had vanished. He had free will.
She reached inside her pocket and squeezed the bone, feeling its power seep into her skin. It was useless if she couldn’t make the revenant meet her gaze.
“Nine,” she said carefully.
“I’m not your puppet anymore, but you don’t have to worry about me. I won’t hurt you, and I won’t run. I won’t even lie to you.” He kept his eyes away from both Seraphina and Idris. “All I ask is that you do what you said you would.”
Idris pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I can’t. I won’t. I dissect bodies, and I do it for science.”
“Both your conditions are true for me. I am made of bodies, and you would do it for science.”
“But you’re alive! A human being with thoughts and feelings. You are conscious and aware, not an animal and not a monster.”
“I killed people.” Nine’s voice dropped low. “That makes me a monster.”
“It makes the people who ordered you to do it monsters. I’m done with this conversation.”
Idris made to walk away, but Nine blocked his path.
Seraphina swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She did it so fast that the poultice slipped from her chest and landed on her lap. Her head felt heavy, her vision was swimming.
The revenant opened his mouth and roared. The sound bounced off the walls, made the pots on the table vibrate, and sank so deep into Seraphina’s bones that she felt like she was going to be sick. She slapped a hand over her mouth.
Idris took a few steps backward, tripped and landed at the foot of the bed.
“You don’t know what being conscious and aware means to me,” Nine shouted.
He walked to the table and flipped it, sending everything on it to the floor. Luckily, all the important jars and bottles were safely tucked in their dedicated compartments in the medicine chest.
“I was made from thieves, murderers, rapists, and defilers of… of children! These accursed parts whisper in my head, bring the most despicable and debouched images to my mind. Did you think those who created me chose these limbs because they’re massive and strong, and filled me with organs to match?
That wasn’t all. They picked each chunk of me with care.
Flesh imbued with weakness of the soul, with pettiness and pathetic rage, misgivings and hatred of the self.
I cannot exist like this. All I ask is that you open this abomination of a vessel and learn if there’s something – anything!
– that will curve its life. If I could, I’d end it myself.
” He slammed his fist into his chest. “But no matter what I do – and trust me, I’ve tried many things – there’s something in here that just keeps going. ”
He fell to his knees, grabbed a chair, and crushed it with his bare hands.
“I beg of you, master surgeon. Cut. Me. Up.”
He hung his head, hands braced on the floor, breathing heavily.
Idris got up and straightened his clothes. Seraphina reached for his arm to get his attention.
“Do it,” she said.
“I see I have no choice.”
“He’s right, and our plan was sound from the beginning. This is how we defeat the High Harvester and end the war. It’s one piece of it.”
“I will have you know that I don’t like it.”
“Look at him. He’s in agony. You’d be doing him a favor.”
“He’ll be in real agony when I split him down the middle and he’s perfectly awake and feeling it. Because I have no way to sedate him.”
“Maybe he won’t feel it. He was shot so many times–”
“I felt every musket ball,” Nine said. “I feel pain. I simply ignore it.”
Idris turned to him.
“Will you be able to ignore it when it’s all-encompassing and overrides everything else? Or will you grab me by the throat and separate my head from my body?”
“I won’t move a muscle. I swear it.”
“Supernatural attributes aside, you are made of skin, sinew, muscle, bone. I will be cutting into live flesh.”
“She can use her relic on me,” he said. “To order me not to move.”
Seraphina nodded.
“Yes, that will work.”
He raised his head, but looked to the side, careful not to meet her gaze.
“I put my trust in you. I know it is not smart, and you might change your mind. Or he might persuade you to give up this plan. Though I think you mean it. You want this to happen.”
“I do,” Seraphina said. “I promise that the only order I’ll give you will be to not move or hurt us, no matter how much pain you’re in.”
“This is madness,” Idris whispered.
“He won’t change my mind,” she said, referring to Idris, “He can say whatever. I won’t listen to him.”
Idris gave her a loaded, reproachful look.