Page 128

“Wait, where are you⁠—”

I squint through the rain as the stranger makes his way towards the dying soldier and crouches beside him, holding one pale hand above his chest.

I watch in disbelief as the soldier’s back arches away from the mud. Something blue begins to glow beneath his tunic, growing brighter as the stranger slowly draws his hand up, and before I can make sense of what I'm seeing, a great, shimmering mass of light spills out of the man's chest.

I try to scramble backwards, but my wounded belly will scarcely allow me to move, and all I can do is watch as the stranger gathers the strange blue light between his fingers. It twists and pulses in his grasp while the soldier gives one final shudder and collapses into the water.

The stranger returns to my side, kneeling beside me with the light still moving in his hand.

“The blood must prepare the vessel,” he murmurs, slipping his free hand beneath my head.

“Blood? What do you⁠—”

Before I can finish, he brings his wrist to his mouth and bites deep into the pale flesh. Thick, black blood wells from the wound, and I scarcely have time to understand what he's doing before he presses his bleeding wrist against my lips.

“Drink.”

The first drops strike my tongue, and I gag at the bitter, metallic taste, trying to turn my head away. But his hand holds me firmly in place, and when he tips my chin upwards, I have no choice but to swallow. The blood slides down my throat, and I barely have time to draw breath before heat sears through me.

“Oh, God!” I scream, arching against his hand as something pulls deep inside me. The pain is unbearable. I can feel the torn flesh shifting beneath my palms, drawing together with such force that I writhe in the mud, barely able to breathe as the burning spreads through my body.

And still, the stranger holds me steady.

“Now,” he murmurs, bringing the blue light closer, “the soul.”

I try to ask what he means, but before I can force the words from my mouth, he presses his palm against my wound, driving the strange blue light deep inside me. Oh, God, I can feel it moving. Something is pushing through my flesh, spreading beneath my ribs and forcing its way into places I cannot begin to understand, and the pain is so terrible that I scream until my throat feels ready to split. I claw at his arm, desperate to make him stop, but the light is already spreading through me, burning its way beneath my skin until I can see it shining through my own fingers.

“Please!” I sob, twisting beneath his hand as the heat grows unbearable. “Oh, God, please!”

My body convulses against the flooded earth, my back arching as the heat tears through me. I claw desperately at the mud, screaming as something deep inside my belly twists and pulls, wrenching the torn flesh together with such force that I can feel it dragging against my ribs. I writhe beneath the stranger's hand, choking on rainwater as another violent spasm seizes me, and somewhere beneath the sound of my own screams, I hear a little cough.

“Papa, please!” she sobs.

Avis.

I wrench my head towards the ditch, where her frail body is trembling beneath the rain.

Oh, sweetheart. I haven't forgotten you.

The heat surges into my chest and climbs towards my throat, leaving me choking as the blue light spreads behind my eyes. I stretch my hand towards Avis, desperate to keep her in sight, but her little face is already fading into the brightness, and then…

I cannot see her at all.

32

DOCTOR ISCAIRN

Through the blackness veiling my eyes, the flooded road slowly fades, and the familiar rooftops of York take its place. I blink against the rain, struggling to make sense of the deep blue haze before me, while beneath my trembling hands, the muddy earth has become the cold, wet stone of the parapet. I am back on the roof, with the city stretching out below me, though the membranes covering my eyes refuse to withdraw no matter how fiercely I blink.

Behind me, the rooftop door creaks open, followed by the careful sound of footsteps against the wet slates. I know it is Ophelia before she reaches me, her scent of camphor and damp wool drifting through the rain, and I tighten my grip on the stone as she makes her way across the roof.

Before I can turn my face away, she lowers herself onto the slippery stone beside me and reaches for my arm.

“Iscairn, what’s happened?” she asks, trying to catch my eye. “You frightened the life out of me down there. I’ve never seen you run from anything before.”

“I...” My voice breaks, and I shake my head, trying desperately to gather myself. “Ophelia, I…”

“It’s all right.” She moves closer, rubbing a soothing hand between my shoulders. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”