My throat goes dry, and my heart drops like a brick. But whatever it is—the thing in my leg—I feel it.Insideme. I pull up my skirt and sink my fingers so deep into Rascal’s fur that he claws closer.
“Give me something to bite on.” The sick feeling swims through me again.
Ransom picks something off the ground and sets it against my lips. I bite, the soft leather cover of a hymnal tasting of ash in my mouth. My vision swims. I look at Bram and nod.
Do it. Get it out.
I swear there are tears in his eyes.
The knife slips against my skin, cold as winter wind, and my body bursts. The pain erupts, and I scream, biting down so hard I think my teeth might crack. Bram’s fingers, cold against the lifeblood leaving my body, wriggle into the cut.
I expect them to feel strange, wrong, but instead, they are unnervingly familiar while they grope, searching the tissue and bone for whatever piece of the rowan wood has made its way inside. Spittle soaks into the moldy binding of the hymnal, and all I want to do is rip the world in half. I bite down when the pain sears and makes my vision swim.
“Almost done,” Bram says.
Ransom shouts something, but I am not listening.
I am only screaming. Screaming while the pain turns to shock, my body rushing hot, then cold. Something latches against my skin,insidemy skin. Like barbed wire on tender flesh. I fight the urge to kick my foot away from Bram’s grasp, spit out the hymnal, and cry until my throat runs red. But I bite harder, and the tears pour hot from my eyes.
“Take a deep breath, Adelaide.” Bram’s voice is calm in the chaos, and I cling to it, allowing it to pull me back from the brink.
I inhale through my nose, filling up all the empty space. Bram pulls. Something gives. I spit out the hymnal and reach for my leg. The blood gushes, and I press down, letting it eke out between my fingers.
In his hand, Bram holds something. Like a worm, but thicker and made of dark ether. It squirms there, flailing its serpentine body against him. He hurries to his feet, runs to the nearest window, and sets it free.
It curls against the glass and shatters it, colored shards raining down on Bram. And then it is gone, twisting into the crimson sky like smoke.
I shake in the pew. Bram walks back over, my blood dripping down his hands.
“Will she be all right?” Ransom’s voice is more angry than worried.
Bram wipes his hands on the stained black of his trousers. “She’ll be fine. Just watch her for a moment. I’ll be right back.”
He nods to me, and then he’s gone, darting deeper into the church.
“Bloody hell.” Ransom is down on his knees beside me now. He fishes in his pouch and pulls out the needle and black thread.
I want to run as far away from that glinting point as I can. But Ransom’s hand is on my knee.
“You’re going to let me sew you up this time, Thorn, or you’ll bleed out.”
I grit my teeth and nod, tears leaking hot from my eyes. The metal slips into my skin, and it takes every ounce of strength I have left not to scream. The thread pulls through, rough against my flesh. Rascal whines, nuzzles closer. Ransom sews quickly, with precision that still surprises me. He ties off a knot and bites at the excess thread.
“Stay still,” he growls.
Quickly, he takes off the cravat tied around his neck and peels at my skirts. I let him. His touch is fire on the soft skin below my knee. There is no place for decency now. He wraps the fabric like a bandage and ties it tight.
Ransom drops back on his heels, brushes sweaty thatches of hair away from my face. “Ithrandril above, but you’re in a fine state.”
I manage a thin smile. “I’m not sure you’re supposed to swear in a church, Lord Black.”
His hand is tender on my cheek now, wiping the moisture still clinging to my skin. “A church in Erybrus’s realm, in a place where dead things turn into monsters and a hellhound seems like nothing more than a common dog—I’ll take my chances.”
The pain slowly subsides. The pressure of the tied cravat stems thebleeding. I look at Ransom, past the fear that still seems to beat there, to the broken man standing in rot, wishing for his mother.
“I suppose you’re right.”
He smiles, thumb stroking my jaw. “We’ve got to stop doing this, you and I.”
