She looks down at it, removing the apron to get a better look. “I think I’ll be fine. It’s not as deep as it looks.”
I try to gauge the damage, but all I see are the lines running over her skin. Calling to me. I shake it off. I can resist.
Pepper looks at us both, then her gaze lingers on Lazarus, observing him intently.
“You aren’t human, are you?” she finally says.
Lazarus smiles at her. “I am, assuredly, something altogether different.”
Then she turns to me, and her smile widens. “And you! The change suits you,” she adds. “And I’m so happy you found someone. You looked so lonely before.”
I run my hand through my hair awkwardly. I have to focus. The stench is fading, but the scent of food is only getting stronger.
Lazarus offers Pepper a hand. The way he moves looks odd. Courtly. Like a knight.
“We shall lavish you with riches,” he says. “It is much too humble an offering, perhaps, but…”
“Oh, gosh. That’s way too generous. I feel much better n-now that I…I…” she stammers.
“I must insist,” he says.
“I should go; I’m filthy.” She wipes her hands over her clothes.
“I shall see to everything,” Lazarus adds and bows.
Pepper giggles a little and leaves the cellar.
“Will she be alright?” I ask.
“Yes, almenara.” He strokes my cheek slowly. “I sense her strength. And now, at last, she is free.”
But then. The scent. The noise. The begging.
“I saw the light go out in his eyes,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says, squeezing my hands.
“I feel…” I say, holding onto him tightly. I don’t know how to explain it.
“I feel it, too,” he says, wrapping me between his arms.
We stand like this for a long time. When we finally part, I see Lazarus’ shirt streaked crimson.
I look down at myself. I’m covered in coagulated blood. Lazarus hands me a cloth napkin. I notice delicate black work around the edges and wonder if he had done it himself. Then, I wipe Bayard’s blood all over the intricate lace.
“Here you are, getting filthy again,” he whispers, lips grazing my ears. It makes me shiver.
I remember those words. Had it only been a week? It seems like two lifetimes ago.
It has, almenara. Several lifetimes, he says into my mind.
I feel strange. Different. Better.
“Now you are a god among men, my beloved.” He puts a stray curl behind my ear.
With a smile on my lips, I pull Lazarus down. We kiss long and slow, as if there was no corpse at our feet, no stench of death or decay or the scent of food in the air. When I step back, I see blood streaks over his cheeks and along his jaw.
Together we ascend the cellar steps. When we get to the foyer I stop, still holding Lazarus’ hand.
