Page 42 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
‘He must have been working infected land, such a bite grows more deadly the longer the creature exists.’ I hoped whatever ancestors I had watching me were paying attention now. ‘Let’s hope this one was in its infancy.’
With every drop of fey blood the creature consumed, it would only grow stronger until it was impossible to kill.
‘Pass me those towels,’ I instructed. Emrys turned without hesitation to gather them out of the small basket.
I pressed my blade carefully to the man’s flesh. Sour-smelling black slime oozed from the wound instead of blood. Mr Thrombi still didn’t move, no matter how large I made the wound or even when his blood finally ran red again over the towels Emrys pressed in place like any other healer’s assistant would.
Mr Thrombi’s reaction to pain shouldn’t be this subdued, especially not with so much of the poison drawn from his blood. Even if he was dosed on whelm weed.
I turned to Emrys with that worry, realising just how closely we stood, the strange potency of his magic running over my skin, eyes dark and waiting.
‘My mother swore by a mixture of black bark and a purification charm in the brewing to ease the symptoms.’ I looked across the room to see a workbench in the corner.
He frowned. ‘Black bark is poisonous.’
‘More poisonous to dark beings than to fey,’ I replied. We were of the same coin, after all – black bark would make us sick, but it wouldn’t kill us outright.
‘Is that your equipment?’ I indicated to the desk in the same horrid disarray as the rest of Emrys’s workspaces in the house.
I didn’t wait for confirmation, making certain he had pressure on the wound before I crossed to the washing bowl. I put the knife down, the blade turning to nothing but a hilt the minute my palm left it. I sank my hands into the hot water and used the healers’ soap to try and get the offending black gunk off my skin. I dried them on my apron, opening my bag to rummage for my vial case and the black bark I had. Hoping it hadn’t dried out from disuse.
‘Do you always walk around with poisons in your possession?’ Emrys asked, considering me from across the room with both curiosity and caution.
‘Croinn,’ I replied by way of explanation, using his own ridiculousness against him.
From the work bench, I grabbed a jug of steaming water and a spare bowl that had been left discarded. I saw the container of marrow salt, which had been poorly labelled in Emrys’s illegible hand, tipping it all into the bowl and adding the water. I grabbed a handful of bandages, turned, and offered them all to Emrys.
‘You need to clean out the wound. The salt will stop it resealing for now.’ Perhaps I shouldn’t be giving a Lord such orders, but if he was offended, he didn’t show it. He took the supplies from me and returned his attention to Mr Thrombi.
I pulled the pestle and mortar closer, tipping a few flakes of the bark into it, rummaging through my healing case for arcaz powder to stabilise the bark and fight the fever as well as draw the poison out. I added some herb water, mashing itinto a slimy, lumpy paste that reeked of rotten fruit, muttering a purification charm. Then I carefully summoned my Kysillian flame so it engulfed my hand, heating the crucible until the stone glowed orange, the mixture shifting in the presence of my magic. Smooth and gleaming.
I dumped the mixture into another bowl to cool, grabbing more clean bandages before moving back to Emrys as he washed the wound. The area of infected skin was looking better already, but I could see the flesh trying to knit itself back together, trying to hide whatever poison was still left in there.
I pushed myself tightly into the space next to Emrys, oursides flush as I dunked the bandage in the mixture, coating my hands. Without instruction, Emrys made space as I packed the slimy fabric into the wound, pushing it in as far as it would go. Somehow reading my mind, he reached for the clean bandages and began the arduous task of wrapping them around the man’s waist, timing it perfectly to seal it just as I moved my hands away.
I located my healing case for one of my tonic concoctions that should keep the other symptoms at bay.
Moving to the head of the bed, I used my forefinger and thumb to pinch Mr Thrombi’s chin and open his mouth, placing three drops of the tonic onto his tongue as I tipped his head back, waiting with bated breath until he finally swallowed.
When he did, I sagged with relief, put the tonic aside and helped Emrys finish wrapping the wound. We worked as if drafted onto a battlefield, quick and efficient, unbothered by our tangling fingers until the bandage was neatly knotted and tucked.
‘He’s cooling down already,’ Emrys commented, pulling the covers over him from the bottom of the bed as we finished.
‘He needs another dose in three hours, and then half a dose six after that.’ I pushed the loose strands of hair from my damp brow with the back of my hand.
‘Are you certain you aren’t a witch, Kat?’ he asked, a softness to his features with his gentle teasing, appearing far younger than he usually did, unburdened for once.
‘I’ve come to understand that a witch is simply a being beyond a man’s control.’ A being beyond their limits. Power was theirs, made of nothing but fury and chaos, woven into perfect balance. ‘So perhaps I am.’
He nodded absently, the hint of a smile graced his lips as he moved to wash his hands before turning back to me.
‘Let’s leave him to rest,’ he said, and ran a hand through his dark hair, before holding out his arm to guide me out of the room.
‘We should tidy up,’ I protested.
‘I’ll come back in a moment to finish my notes, but the portal is running unsupervised.’
I allowed him to guide me from the room, unknotting my apron, folding it and returning it to my bag as he guided us back through the mysterious hallways.
