Alchemised: A Novel, page 98
She clutched at his shoulder, trying to make him listen. “But what if I reverse it—”
He shook his head as they neared the door. “You need a willing soul for that, and you’re not going to find one, because the only person who’d die for me is you.”
She stared at him as if he’d struck her in the throat.
“What? You’re not even going to ask me?” Atreus’s voice rose tauntingly from the ground.
Helena gasped, wrenching at Kaine’s shoulder in order to look past him at his father. Atreus still lay on the ground, bound in iron, barely able to move even his fingers.
“Would you?” Helena said.
“I’d rather die,” Kaine said before his father could reply.
“You need someone willing,” Atreus said, looking at Helena. “Isn’t that right, a willing soul? You have my phylactery there. It’s the middle bone of the index finger.”
She looked down at the rotting arm. It was oozing a thick, black slime in place of blood, but the middle bone of the index finger was among those remaining. Her heart thudded in disbelief.
“Why would you be willing?” Kaine asked, sneering down at him, his eyes scorching. “You’ve hated me since before I was born.”
Atreus looked away. “Your mother would want me to save you.”
“Well, you’re too late,” Kaine said.
He carried Helena inside, refusing to stop, even when she begged him to.
“I’m not having this conversation,” he said. “The only thing left is getting you out as quickly as possible. It’s lucky those necrothralls’ eyes have practically rotted inside their heads, or we’d already be caught.”
He passed the charred remnants of her room, stepping over a corpse. It was one of the maids. The remaining servants were inside the room, casting water to ensure there were no residual flames, gathering the bits and pieces of things that had survived. The windows were open, the air clearing, but it still stank of burned carpet, the sour scent of doused wood, and the tang of melted iron.
He set her down and unlocked a room a few doors down. There were medical supplies inside it, as well as packed bags. He pulled out a box.
“How do I—? For burns, I’ve never—”
“If your father …”
“We are not talking about this until I’ve healed you,” he said, his voice hard. “Now give that to me.”
He pulled the arm away from her, dropping it into a closet and closing the door to block the smell.
She doubted that he had any intention of discussing it after she was healed, but it had to be done either way.
“Cut off my dress; we’ll have to use saline to try to loosen the fabric where it’s sticking.”
He brought the crisped remnants of her hair forward and pulled out a pair of shears, carefully cutting away the back of her dress.
“I hated these dresses,” she said as he was washing her back, trying to soak free the remaining fabric. She touched her shoulder, using her resonance to feel the damage. The burn was deeper than she’d realised. The nerves were intact, but given the burn’s size and depth, it would take more time than they had to heal it completely. Kaine’s hands were spasming too badly for that kind of repetitive tissue regeneration, and Helena wouldn’t be able to contort her shoulders to reach it. He managed the shallowest sections, but eventually his fingers grew so uncooperative that his resonance kept failing. He stepped away, breathing hard.
“It’s fine,” she said.
“It’s not.”
“Even if your hands were steady, it’ll take too long to heal all of it now,” she said. “If it’s clean and numb, it’ll keep until later.”
He nodded slowly and rummaged through a carton, pulling out a familiar jar of salve. “Would this do?”
She gave a faint laugh. “Yes, that’ll do.”
He applied it carefully and wrapped her back in silk bandages, because they were gentler than linen.
“Your poor back didn’t get nearly such luxurious treatment,” she said as he worked.
She felt his resonance across her skin in all the places that were sore from the scalding air, and a small cut across her forehead that she hadn’t even realised was there. Little things he could manage.
“Kaine,” she said as he finished. “I need to talk to your father.”
“He won’t help; he’s just trying to make you hope in order to hurt you. And even if he wasn’t, I am enough like him already, I don’t want a piece of his soul inside me.”
She turned his face to hers. “You are all he has left of your mother. When he looks at you now, he sees her. He knew the risk he was taking, coming after me. He did it because he thought it would save you.”
She inhaled. “I know you don’t want to believe it’s possible, because hoping terrifies you. But I would rather die trying to save you than live knowing there was a chance and I didn’t take it.”
She could feel him wavering.
“You promised we’d run away together,” she said. “Remember?”
He dipped his head. “Why is it that I have to keep all my promises, but you never seem to keep a single one of yours?”
She shook her head, tilting up her face so their foreheads touched.
“The first promise I made to you was that I’d be yours for as long as I live. I’m keeping that one.”
HELENA’S ROOM WAS IN RUINS, her clothing nothing but ash. Fortunately, Kaine had travel clothes ready for her. Sturdy, neutral-coloured riding clothes. She dressed carefully, trying not to worsen the burns on her back.
The hallway was soaked with water, reduced to charred ruin, but the iron remained like the bones of a beast.
Atreus still lay on the ground where Kaine had left him, his eyes closed. They opened at the sound of approaching footsteps, his head lifting. He looked between Kaine and Helena and laughed.
Helena gripped Kaine’s arm before he could react.
“I want to talk to him alone,” she said.
“No.”
“He can’t do anything to me. Just wait here.”
She felt Kaine’s eyes on her as she walked towards Atreus. Atreus watched her approach with equally piercing interest.
“I didn’t make my offer to you,” Atreus said when she got close.
She knelt beside him. “You know he won’t ask.”
He looked away from her. “Then consider it withdrawn.”
Her chest clenched in dread. She was tempted to beg, but she knew that Atreus wouldn’t care about her humanity or humiliation.
“I’m going to escape regardless of what you do. Refusing will only kill him.”
Atreus looked past her, towards Kaine, who stood watching them.
Longing like hunger shone in Atreus’s eyes as he stared at his son. She wanted to speak, but waited. Finally Atreus broke the silence.
“I only realised how much he resembled her when I returned. I’d never noticed it when he was a boy.” His eyes were straining, struggling to make out Kaine from the distance. “I never understood why she wanted a child so much. I would have adopted an heir from another family in the iron guild if need be. I should have been enough for her.”
Helena watched him pityingly. He was pathetically jealous.
“He’s all that’s left of her now.”
He finally looked at her. “Can you really save him?”
“Yes, if you truly want him to live.”
He didn’t answer immediately. Her heart dropped like a stone. If he wasn’t completely willing, the bond would fade away, and Kaine would slip away just like Luc had.
“Enid was my life,” he finally said. “If she were here, she’d tell me to save him. I never could say no to her about anything.”
Helena reached out and bent the iron away. He rose slowly. He did not look at her or Kaine, but turned and walked into the house.
WHEN THEY ENTERED THE DRAWING room, Atreus could not tear his eyes away from the cage. Had he not seen it? Or simply never stopped to wonder at its purpose?
“How long was she—?” His fingers trembled as he touched the bars. He sank to his knees, as if intending to crawl inside to occupy the same space.
“Four months,” Kaine said, his voice dull. His eyes were darting around, the way they always did inside that room.
Helena wanted to comfort him, but they were running out of time. There was so much to do.
She began working across the array on the floor. The array she’d etched had been melted and destroyed by the fire, but she had every detail memorised. She only needed the central part of the original array, but the defacement had to be repaired and altered. She needed it to hold Kaine’s soul in place until she could secure it.
The new array was laid in iron. It was perfect for their purposes and readily available.
She and Kaine knelt on opposite sides. He closed his eyes and when they opened, they were glowing. Unsteady as his hands were, his resonance was stronger than hers. The air shivered as the house groaned, and iron began to flow towards them like water. When it reached the array, Helena used her own resonance to direct it, sending it morphing down certain pathways carved into the floor, moving towards the containment circle in the middle.
Industrial guild arrays could be as big as buildings, but Helena had never worked with an array larger than she could hold. The array on the floor was too large to see at once, and she had to crawl across it, verifying that every line and symbol was correct. It had to be perfect.
Her heart was in her throat, its jerky unsteady rhythm taunting her.
One chance.
“It’s ready,” she said at last, standing up in the centre of the array. “We can begin.”
Kaine nodded but then went towards the door. The remaining servants were gathered in the hallway beyond, Davies standing in the front.
“Is Amaris ready?” he said.
One of them nodded.
Kaine stood there, not moving. “I never—I never told you—I’m sorry I couldn’t save any of you.”
Davies took a hesitant step forward, mouthing his name as she often did. She smoothed his hair back the way a mother might and then placed both hands on his chest and pushed him back. Away from them.
Helena went over to where Kaine had left Morrough’s arm. The stench of it was like a kick in the stomach each time, and she worked quickly, disassembling it. The thing was repulsive. Holding it, she could feel all the power it contained, the lives of so many running through each bone. In the section of the ulna nearest to the hand, there was a horrible sense of familiarity. The piece used to bind Kaine. She removed what she needed and discarded the rest.
Kaine was standing in the centre of the room, stripped to the waist, covered in violent scars, the array on his back the starkest of all. Atreus was staring; it was obvious he’d never seen it before.
Kaine’s focus was entirely on her.
There was no platform over this array. She would be in it beside him.
“Lie on your back,” she said.
She knelt, guiding his hands to places she needed them on the array and then met his eyes. Her heart was struggling, threatening to grow uneven.
“This will work,” she said. “I promise. I’m going to save you.”
She pressed her hands on the cold iron and let her resonance flow into it.
She had never poured her animancy into an array except for small experiments on the etching plates. It took so much more power than she’d expected. As the array activated, a glow crept slowly along the iron until the entire array was humming. Kaine seemed to grow so translucent that she could see through him, his bones and organs and the talisman tangled beside his heart.
She pulled out the phylactery. The bone was so old it threatened to dissolve into dust, and she had to focus to feel the energy in it. It was like a package bound with thread, so tangled up it was hard to tell the strands apart. But she had to work carefully or risk causing damage. She unwound and unwound with her resonance, and the threads seemed to go on forever, until there was a sudden thump, and she looked up as one of the servants in the hallway collapsed to the ground.
She looked away.
She kept going, flinching as another hit the floor. And another. And another. And of course the last one, which meant she’d been the first to die, was Davies. She met Helena’s eyes the instant before she fell.
There was a rush of energy as the bone shard crumbled, the convulsion before the energy altered into that cold death surge, but instead of transforming it was dragged down into the array.
The air illuminated, and Helena’s hair lifted from her shoulders.
Kaine began to scream.
His eyes went stark, wide, and unseeing. His back arched up, his hands clawing at the floor until his fingertips and nails were torn bloody. Helena leaned over him.
“No. Don’t do this. Hold on,” she said, struggling to pin him down. He had to stay in the centre.
She forced his heart to calm, paralysing his limbs until he couldn’t struggle, but he didn’t stop screaming.
Her fingers fumbled for Atreus’s reliquary. She was frantic as she freed it, tearing the tangled threads of energy off. The bone crumbled, and the energy in the array tried to drag in Atreus’s soul, too.
She gripped it in her left hand and wouldn’t let go. It couldn’t mix with Kaine’s. She strained her resonance so hard, her hand cramped, pain shooting up her forearm. Using her right hand, she pressed down on Kaine’s chest, pulling at the sea of energy swirling through the array, trying to drag it into him, but his agony pushed his resonance outwards, against her, and no matter how she strained, she couldn’t push through.
She leaned towards Kaine until her forehead touched his. He’d stopped screaming because his voice had failed. His eyes were unfocused.
“I need you,” she said. “We’re almost to the end now. But you have to come back to me. We’re running away, remember? You, me, and our baby. We’re going to be free. I’m going to save you, but I need you to fight with me.”
There was a sudden shock of pain in her left hand, and two of her fingers lost sensation, falling limp, and she barely managed to hold her resonance to keep her grip.
She lurched forward, kissing Kaine’s face. “Come back to me. Stay with me.”
His eyes seemed to find her.
She pressed against his chest again, and it was like breathing in a roomful of oxygen, trying to force all the energy inside him. The outer edges of the array ceased to glow, slowly seeping inwards until the light vanished beneath Kaine and the strain on her left hand finally stopped.
He was barely breathing, a rasping, rattling sound emerging from him every time he drew a breath.
Helena worked fast. She wouldn’t allow what happened to Luc to happen again. She could fix it this time.
She mangled Atreus’s soul, her animancy resonance stretching it fine as a thread and binding it in the same way the souls had been bound around the reliquaries, wrapping the energy again and again, like a tangled spiderweb, through Kaine’s ribs and around the talisman.
Not enough to make a new parasite like Cetus, but enough to buy time until Kaine’s body remembered what it was to have a soul.
When she was done, Kaine lay still. She pressed her hand against his chest, feeling him. Alive and mortal.
No signs of seeping cold.
Helena slumped down, so tired she could have passed out beside him, but it wasn’t over yet. This was only the beginning.
She pushed herself unsteadily to her feet.
Crowther’s corpse lay dead once more beside the cage.
Her left hand was still cramped into a contorted fist, still holding the tattered remains of Atreus’s soul.
She touched the corpse, and it took only a little of the nothing she had left to reanimate him. She pressed her left hand against his chest and pushed what was left of Atreus back into it.
His eyes slowly came back into focus. Kneeling beside him, she could feel the same sensation she’d felt as Luc gradually died. That slow bleed of life ebbing away, but for now he was not dead.
He looked towards Kaine, lying still on the floor. “Is he alive?”
She nodded. “Will you help me carry him? I can’t lift him on my own.”
Atreus stood and went to Kaine, while Helena paused, trying to repair her left hand. She followed Atreus where he was pulling Kaine up, dressing him quickly. It took them both to lift Kaine off the floor. His head lolled back and his feet dragged. She paused again, reanimating the servants, one last time, needing their help.
It was past nightfall; Lumithia was barely visible, Luna a waxing crescent, the night sky lit with stars.
Amaris stood just outside the doors, stomping nervously. She was already saddled with travel bags cinched on. Her wings fluttered as the servants carried Kaine out.
“It’s all right. He’s all right,” Helena said, going hesitantly towards Amaris and shushing her, trying to calm and coax her to the ground because it would be impossible to lift Kaine onto the chimaera if she remained standing. She pulled down at the halter on Amaris’s head. Very reluctantly, the chimaera crouched, her yellow eyes following Kaine.
Kaine seemed to have just barely begun to regain consciousness, his eyes sluggish as he was draped across the saddle. There were straps and a harness, which had likely been intended for Helena. She secured him to the saddle.
Amaris kept trying to turn her head, a low whine in her throat.
“It’s all right,” Helena kept saying as she scrambled up behind Kaine on the saddle. She reached into her pockets, finding Atreus’s ignition rings and holding them out.
“The array has to be destroyed,” she said as he took them. “No one can know he’s still alive.”
Amaris rose to her feet, wings already extending in readiness for flight, and Helena was about to release the reins and let her run when Atreus spoke.
“Kaine …” he said.
Kaine lifted his head just enough to look at what remained of his father. Kaine’s face was exhausted, and pained, but the malice and hatred was gone as he stared at Atreus.
“Father …”
