CHAPTER 15
HELENA’S CAPTIVITY SANK BACK INTO MONOTONY.
She only saw Ferron when he came to check her memory, and then a few days later to perform transference again.
She didn’t struggle. Her mind still felt tenuous as spider silk. She was afraid that if she unravelled, Ferron would have free rein.
He didn’t try to push into the hidden spaces but simply settled himself into the landscape of her mind and stayed there. He blinked, and her eyes fluttered. Her left hand rose; she watched it open and close. Her consciousness was split between herself and him, but with every passing second, she felt more like him than she did herself. Slowly devoured.
She tasted blood.
It was streaming from her eyes and nose.
When it was over, she stayed limp where she was, head tilted back, gazing at the ceiling until the necrothralls came and picked her up, putting her to bed.
Because of her lack of resistance, she was only mildly feverish for a few days. It seemed she was the animancer after all.
The realisation lay like a stone on her chest. She’d been sure her memory loss had been part of the Resistance strategy, intended to protect some vital secret for Luc. That it was something grandly self-sacrificing that she had cooperated with, entrusting her mind and memories to the mysterious Elain Boyle.
Had it just been her, hiding herself all this time? Was that all it was in the end? Surely there was something, but nothing she remembered, none of her glimmers of returning memory, hinted at anything of importance.
Ferron was constantly busy, spending most of his time trying to hunt down the last members of the Eternal Flame. When she did happen to see him from the courtyard windows, he looked visibly ground down. Sometimes he came back covered in blood.
She couldn’t help but notice the strain around his eyes and the stiff way he often moved.
She began to suspect that Morrough was torturing him regularly.
Since Ferron couldn’t stay dead, Morrough got the pleasure of killing him over and over.
He wasn’t returning to the house pale with fury; he was in shock from torture. The symptoms showed more distinctly every time she caught sight of him. It was as though he were mentally eroding as the physical ramifications vanished.
She tried not to notice. When she couldn’t help it, she tried not to care.
He was trying to hunt down the Resistance. Every time he was tortured was a sign he had failed. Hadn’t she wanted him punished?
He’d chosen this, after all. Morrough was dying, and Ferron knew it, and yet he still chose to serve him, carrying out everything that Morrough now
lacked the strength to do himself.
He deserved to suffer.
WHEN SHE FOUND SPOTS OF blood between her legs, she sat staring in total incomprehension until it dawned on her that she was menstruating. Even before the war, the stress of her scholarship had kept her irregular. It had stopped completely after the assassination.
She’d forgotten that it was something her body was supposed to do.
When she’d been sterilised, Matias had wanted her womb removed, but Ilva had insisted that the procedure be as non-invasive as possible. A ligature.
Which meant she could still bleed.
She shoved a cloth between her legs, and when her lunch was brought, she had to ask the maid if she could have something for her monthlies. If it had happened sooner, she might have enjoyed thinking about Ferron’s discomfort at being forced to deal with the reality of a female prisoner, but now Ferron’s discomfort was something she tried not to think about.
Ten days after transference, when he came to her room to check her memories again, he seemed less on edge. When he encountered Helena’s reluctant but fixated concern over him, he broke the connection.o hunt down She blinked and found him staring down at her.ee him from “Worrying about me?” His face twisted into a gloating smile. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
Her face burned. “Don’t take it as a compliment. I hate torture.”
“What a saint,” he said dryly, laying a hand across his chest. “I’m sure sweet Luc would be touched by your tender heart.”
“Don’t use his name,” she said sharply. “You were never his friend.”
She sat up even though her head was still swimming.
He leaned against the bedpost. “You know, I wonder sometimes who’s ught sight ofresponsible for more Resistance deaths, Holdfast and his morals or me. What
do you think?”
“It’s not the same.”
His fingers twitched. He almost managed to hide it by crossing his arms.
“Is there really a difference between having someone die for you and killing them?”
Anger flared in her chest. “Yes. I’m sure you’d love to imagine there isn’t to soothe your conscience, but you are nothing like him.”
He gave a thin smile. “I don’t believe I have a conscience, but tell me, do you wish I’d kept them alive?” He asked the question softly. “Leaving the Eternal Flame members alive, letting people hope, would that be kinder?”
“They should hope, because there is someone out there. Someone from the
Eternal Flame that you haven’t caught.”
“Not for long.”
The blood drained from her face. “Did you—?” Her voice wavered.
He shook his head. “Not yet. But I can guarantee it.” There was anger in his smile. “Whatever happens to Morrough, the killer will be dead and gone long before he is.” e. A ligature.“You don’t know that,” she said fiercely.
“I do, though,” he said, his expression so hard he could have been carved from granite. “This is a story with only one ending. If your Resistance wanted something else, they should have made different choices. Perhaps some hard, s discomfortrealistic ones, and given up their fanatical notions that the righteousness of ow Ferron’stheir cause made their victory inevitable. They were fools, every one of them.” He sneered. “If the gods were real, they would have made Apollo Holdfast harder to kill.”
Helena stared at him, watching the way his face twisted, the tangible fury in his eyes.
“Who do you hate so much?” Until then, she hadn’t realised the depths of his anger. It was like the ocean that went on and on, and all its promises were death.
He seemed briefly startled by the question, then his emotions vanished like a box snapped shut.
“Many people,” he said with an insolent shrug. He smiled, mouth curving like a scythe. “Most of whom are dead now.”
LANCASTER’S VISITS TO SPIREFELL RESUMED as winter faded. Helena paid little attention. If there was any chance that he was a member of the Resistance, Ferron would have gone after him by now.
When she heard frequent footsteps, she knew that the Ferrons must be hosting some new event. The main wing of the house was bustling with activity. New necrothralls were brought in, and the decaying corpses constantly stationed outside the main doors were banished to elsewhere.
There were boxes of flowers scattered all over the foyer to be arranged.
They were shipped from somewhere farther south or grown indoors; Spirefell’s garden beds were still bleak.
Helena calculated the date and realised that it was the vernal equinox.
Aurelia would have a party.one from the There were large braziers set alight in the courtyard as the motorcars began pulling in. Helena watched from a high window as the guests emerged. It was a smaller party than the winter solstice. The solstices were Paladia’s most significant celebrations, while the equinoxes tended to be heralded more in agricultural countries. Novis was said to have grand parades each spring in celebration of Tellus, the earth goddess.
When all the guests were inside, Helena waited for half an hour before she slipped towards the main wing. The thralls were too busy with the guests to supervise her, leaving only the eyes in the walls to watch.tance wanted She could hear the voices before she reached the dining room. The partys some hard, sounded drunk. She crept into the next room. The voices were muffled through the walls, but when she strained, she could still make out the conversation.
“It’s a ghost, I’m telling you. Holdfast has come back for vengeance. No other explanation,” came a loud slurred voice. “Straight through the damned walls.”
“Do shut up,” drawled someone. “There’s no such thing as ghosts, you fuck.”omises were
vanished like“You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen Vidkun. He’d bricked himself up in his house with nothing but his thralls with him. A rat couldn’t get in there.
How’d anyone kill him?”
“Just because you can’t transmute anything that isn’t half copper doesn’t mean the rest of the world can’t. Everyone knows the Holdfasts collected alchemists from all over. It’s probably one of those freaks. Besides, Vidkun was an idiot. He stayed home and lived alone. If you don’t want to die, just fuck someone in their bed instead of your own.”
There was braying laughter.
“Speaking of fucking,” came a new, sly voice, “how many of you have been to Central lately? Stroud show you the works?”
There was audible chuckling.
Helena went still, not even breathing.
“Always glad to perform my civic duty. Paladia can never have too many
alchemists,” replied a leering voice.
“Stroud lets you have anyone you want?”
“Well,” the sly voice replied, “it probably depends on your repertoire.
She’ll give you a list of room numbers to choose from. There’s this one girl, orcars beganpretty thing, scars weren’t too bad. Little bitch managed to bite me, but she erged. It waswas very cooperative after I broke her jaw. I told Stroud to let it heal the old- fashioned way.” There was a dramatic sigh. “I’ll go back again this week, make sure she’s knocked up, and if not, I guess I’ll try again. I rather hope it didn’t take, I think I’ll like her better with her mouth wired shut.”
Helena felt as though someone had stabbed her. Pain twisted through her chest and stomach.
“Is that all? I thought from the papers that there’d be more of a process. I’ll
have to go see what I can get.”
There was more laughter then.
“You been in, Ferron? With your repertoire, they must have you working
through every room.”
Helena’s mouth went dry.
“No,” came Ferron’s cold voice. “I’ve better things to do.”
“Right, no need to commute to the city when you’ve got one here.”
“The prisoner’s not for that,” Aurelia broke in. “We’ll be done with her soon, anyway. And really—she’s nothing to look at. All she does is skulk around like a rat. I had to threaten her just to make her wash.”
“I saw the picture in the paper. Bit feral but I don’t think I’d mind,” the sly
voice replied.
There was raucous laughter then.
“Have you noticed the flowers?” Aurelia asked loudly.
A woman’s voice, much softer than the men’s, replied, and then Aurelia’s voice dropped, too. Helena strained her ears but only made out a few words about import taxes.
The conversation returned to the most recent murder.
“Ghastly. Couldn’t even sleep after I saw him. Cut him to bits, sliced so thin, light shines through the pieces. Stuffed it all down his throat.”
“After, though? Right?” A new, nervous voice. “He was already dead when—”
“No, they did it before. He had the alloy in his blood. Blocked the regeneration. Whoever we missed, they’re psychotic.”
“You’ve noticed the pattern, haven’t you?”
There was a pause and uneasy muttering.
“The Celebration Purge,” Ferron said when no one spoke. “The killer’s imitating the executions. Vidkun was a copy of Bayard and his wife.”
“So it’s all revenge, then?” It was the nervous voice again. “Durant, Vidkun, and all the rest, those are the Undying who were there that night. The
rest of us are safe.”
There were murmurs of relief.
“Fuck …” came the sly voice. “That means they won’t go after that frigid little bitch. I was hoping she’d be next.”
“Well, I’m not risking it,” boomed another voice. “Just had a safe room a process. I’llbuilt. Inert iron and solid lead for the walls, ceiling, and floor. I’m the only one with the combination. Nothing can get through that.”
They spent a long time describing various precautions they were taking— trick steps and hidden defences within their homes, all keyed to their repertoires.
Helena tried to listen carefully, but the conversation splintered into several smaller ones overlapping into an unintelligible murmur. Finally, there came the sound of chairs moving, and Aurelia saying something about flowers in the hothouse, and the voices dispersed into another room.
Helena slid down against the wall, unable to do anything but sit frozen with horror at the thought of everyone in Central.
mind,” the slyThere had been so many women in the Resistance. Not many in combat, but everywhere else; they’d staffed the hospital, gone to the front lines as field medics and dragged the wounded bodies to safety, operated the radios and relayed messages, washed and repaired the clothes and uniforms, and cooked the meals. All the ordinary tasks that never ended, not even when a war began. It had been women doing them.
They would have been in Headquarters, and they wouldn’t have been important enough to execute.
All this time, Helena had thought her imprisonment terrible. Now she was left guilt-stricken by how little she’d had to endure.
The house was quiet, the conversation a buzz several rooms away. She slowly headed back to the west wing, still in the stupor of horror.
She was almost around the corner when she heard footsteps pounding behind her.
She turned just in time to see a blur. Something struck her.
The breath left her lungs as she was slammed to the ground, head striking the wood floor. The world swung out of view, the arched ceiling a cavernous maw hanging above her.
She lay half dazed, trying to breathe as the thing on top of her righted hat night. Theitself, revealing the face of Lancaster.
“Got you,” he said, panting, his weight pinning her in place. He laughed quietly. “Who knew slipping off to take a piss would make me so lucky?
Ferron always has your wing crawling with his thralls. I didn’t know if I’d ever reach you. Had to get a party big enough to keep ’em all busy.”
His thumb dragged across her chin and cheek, his breath hot and thick with wine. “Fuck. Look at you. You’ve filled out since last time.”
Helena’s head was swimming. Do something.
“If I was Ferron, I’d keep you chained to my bed.” A hand slithered down to her breasts, squeezing hard, and then harder. “You were supposed to be mine. I’m the one who caught you while you were busy gutting Atreus. When I saw you in the ruins of the lab, everything in flames, the sky blazing, and all those thralls around you. You looked like Lumithia born from fire.”
Helena tried to shift and twist free but couldn’t make her arms move properly. She wanted to scream, but knew he’d smother the sound too fast.
She had to wait for the right moment.
He leaned close, whispering, “I should have been made Undying then; they wouldn’t have caught you without me. But you disappeared. I won’t lose you
this time. We’re finally going to have our fun.”
Helena’s heart was slamming against her ribs. She bit her tongue, biding
her time.
One chance.
“You’ve heard me scream plenty now,” he said huskily. “I wonder what it sounds like when you do.” He laughed softly. “I guess we’ll have to stay quiet for now. Don’t want Ferron interrupting us again.”
He reached into a pocket, fumbling as he searched for something.
Helena rammed her hips up, knocking him off balance, slamming her elbow into his jaw. She scrambled up, pain searing through her wrists as the core of the manacles bit against muscle and bone. Agony lanced up her arms.
She ran. The door at the end of the hallway was closed. Her hands were on fire, and she could barely feel the knob, fingers fumbling, scrabbling for purchase.
Her head was wrenched back as she was dragged away by her hair. Stars flashed in her vision, and an arm crammed hard over her mouth when she tried to scream, a thick coat muffling her terror.
“Clever little bitch.” He dragged her backwards a little farther and jerked her head to one side. A needle sank into her neck.
nd thick with
Atreus. When azing, and all
ng then; they on’t lose you
this time. We’re finally going to have our fun.”
Helena’s heart was slamming against her ribs. She bit her tongue, biding
her time.
One chance.
“You’ve heard me scream plenty now,” he said huskily. “I wonder what it sounds like when you do.” He laughed softly. “I guess we’ll have to stay quiet for now. Don’t want Ferron interrupting us again.”
He reached into a pocket, fumbling as he searched for something.
Helena rammed her hips up, knocking him off balance, slamming her elbow into his jaw. She scrambled up, pain searing through her wrists as the core of the manacles bit against muscle and bone. Agony lanced up her arms.
She ran. The door at the end of the hallway was closed. Her hands were on fire, and she could barely feel the knob, fingers fumbling, scrabbling for purchase.
Her head was wrenched back as she was dragged away by her hair. Stars flashed in her vision, and an arm crammed hard over her mouth when she tried to scream, a thick coat muffling her terror.
“Clever little bitch.” He dragged her backwards a little farther and jerked her head to one side. A needle sank into her neck.