Page 43 of Wraithwound

Defeat settled into the pit of her stomach like a stone, but resolve filled her heart. She didn’t know, couldn’t know, if the man lying before her was good, but she’d bet he was a better person than she was. Because she— she was a monster, both inside and out. Lena put her hand over her heart, imaging that she could reach Henry’s soul inside her, and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Henry. I tried. I really did.”

And then she got to work.

Chapter

Thirty-Three

She did her best to wash up with the last of the water and soap she carried and then settled in next to the soldier, pulling out her supplies. As she did, she felt a peace settle over her. She knew she was dying, but if she was going to die, she was going to do so having done something right. Instead of taking another life, she was going to die having saved one.

Lena pulled out the small blade, pushing the thoughts away about how she’d come to possess it, and sliced into the cloth of his tunic to reveal the muscled body below. Initially, she couldn’t see any injuries but then she examined the placement of his arm. Peeling his tunic away from his body further, she glanced below it, and there, covering his ribs and stretching towards his back, was a filthy bandage. It took a great deal of effort to lift his arm and place it above his head. Well, more like drop it there because, apparently, he was built of solid muscle. He didn’t so much as stir when she did. Lifting the lamp closer to inspect his injuries, she realized she didn’t need much light to work.

The soiled bandage was crusted with pus and the EverGods knew what else. Four gruesome slashes lay beneath, oozing with infection. Jagged and deep, the wound trailed off toward his lower back. She couldn’t help but wonder how he’d gotten them. While they appeared similar to her wraithwound, the spacing of the gashes was different, and they went much deeper into his flesh than hers.

Something about it called to her, like a frequency that gave off familiar energy. There wasn’t much in the realm that could take down a soulbound soldier, except for maybe a fully turned wraith. But that didn’t make sense because surely, he would have turned by now. She could tell by the state of the wound, that and the progression of her very own, it wasn’t recent. No, it’d likely been weeks. A sickening realization sank in. Perhaps it’d been a beast that had given him these . . . like the enormous creature she’d spotted in the forest. A memory of its wicked claws flashed in her mind. It was possible, she guessed. Infected beasts weren’t exactly wraiths, but they were still infected.

Grunting, Lena summoned her remaining strength to push. She knew he’d be difficult to move but hadn’t imagined that he’d be this heavy. For access to his lower back, she’d have to roll him onto his side. Scanning the tent, she found a blanket discarded on the other side. Perfect. Just as she’d been taught, she rolled it into a log and positioned it under his shoulders. Bit by bit, she pushed on his body and stuffed the blanket further under him until she finally gained the leverage she needed to roll him over.

Once she got him on his side and took in the full view of his back, she froze in horror. Not only because of the state of his injury, even though it was indeed grotesque, but because there were small crystal shards embedded in his skin all along his spine. Her mouth hung open as she stared, the small shards reflecting the flickering glow of the lantern. She couldn’t imagine the process he’d endured to have the crystals embedded, nor how long it had taken the flesh to heal after such a thing. Lena shook the shock of the crystals out of her mind and brought her attention back to the wound.

With an injury this severe, it was a wonder he hadn’t gotten blood poisoning and died long before now. The inside of each wound was black as pitch, and she worried briefly the flesh had died and she would have to cut some of it out. She would have a better idea after she cleaned it.

It took every last bandage she carried and his entire skein of water to get the area clean. Lena sent a silent prayer of thanks to Eduard for the wax bag that had preserved her supplies. Once that was done, she packed the soiled bandages in a piece of his torn tunic and set about making sure he’d easily be able to access his own supplies once he woke up. Aware that she was avoiding the next part of the process, Lena found that preparing the soldier’s space gave her a moment to consider where she might go after she was finished tending to him.

Her grandfather had a cabin near the Slate Mountains. If she could make it there, that was where she would spend her final days. She suspected she’d crossed through the Drowning Woods into the Forlorn Forest, which was close enough to that mountain range.

Feeling a sense of peace settle over her with that decision made, Lena pulled the small bud from the metal tin and stared at it in wonder. A different world. This flower was native to a different planet. It’s healing properties were as foreign to her as those from the Goddess’s Spring— able to heal or condemn, depending on the circumstances. Refusing to draw out the moment any further, Lena crushed the bud between her palms and welcomed the pain she knew it would bring.

Chapter

Thirty-Four

Rubbing the crushed bud into the man’s skin was absolute agony unlike anything she’d ever known. Tears streamed down her face, and she gritted her teeth as she worked, taking care to ensure the metal-like ore that bore the consistency of sand was pressed and massaged into each bit of exposed flesh, into each crevice. To her amazement, her hands did not bleed; instead the skin looked like it had melted and warped, giving the appearance of burned flesh that had already healed. She was almost finished with the second gash when she realized she’d have to use the second bud as well. Lena couldn’t find it within her to feel concerned about it. She wasn’t long for this world.

At one point, she thought she’d finished with the third gash, only to learn she had missed an area and almost sobbed when she had to push the tiny shards deeper into his skin. Once she was certain the third gash was completely covered with the bud, she sat back onto her heels, closed her eyes, and lifted her face to the roof of the tent. Hot tears streaked down into her hair and past her ears.

When she finally summoned the courage to look, she examined the damage done to her hands. The skin was tight and aching, but it no longer felt like needles were being raked over it. She released a shuddering breath as she braced herself for the pain and fought the urge to rush her work on the last wound.

Lena couldn’t fight the sobs that broke from her as she worked on the final wound, the pain nearly unbearable, but she would ensure her work was thorough and complete.

When she was finally done, she cradled her hands to her chest and fought to breathe through the pain. At long last, it eased and slowly faded. She flexed her hands, palms up, in front of her and marveled at the skin there. Patches of skin on her palms and fingers had turned black, as if the skin there had died.

She decided to wait, to ensure the flower would do its work. And if she was being honest with herself, the thought of watching how an otherworldly object could heal a dying man sparked the same sense of curiosity and purpose that had once led her to follow in her mother’s footsteps.

Lena marveled at the steel-colored bits of crushed flower as they began to flake and float away, disappearing into the air above her. Raw, open skin remained but free from the vile black ooze that once infected it.

Realizing the flower did not heal, necessarily, she understood the truth of what Eduard had said about it. The Bud of Brielle truly had only one purpose, and that was to consume darkness. In this case, the infection that was plaguing the soldier’s body.

Lena got to work stitching him up and rubbed salve onto the sealed flesh. She finished by securing clean pieces of cloth from a spare tunic she’d found in his bag, to ensure the injuries would stay covered, protected.

She had just finished rolling him onto his back when a soft glimmer from a chain around the man’s neck caught her attention. But she didn’t have the chance to get a closer look because a large hand enveloped her wrist and yanked her towards him.

Steely blue eyes bore into hers, and the man growled low in his throat, “Just who the hell are you?”

Chapter

Thirty-Five

Lena yanked her wrist from the man’s grasp, pulled her things from the ground, and ran, slipping through the canvas flaps and into the darkness. Terror coursed through her, not at the thought of being captured by the soulbound, but at having the wraith inside her emerge once again to kill, to consume.