Page 89 of The Demon's Discovery
“Oh yes,” Lovette said, her breath warm as it brushed along my back. “Ophelia is a wonderful mentor. Many of us havehad the great honor of her tutelage.” The way she said it made me believe there was some joke there I wasn’t in on. “I see…” She tutted with her tongue as Calla inhaled sharply. “Horrible. Alright. I have to make a cut.” The tools rattled around as she chose one, her other palm flat against my spine. The fear disappeared under her touch, but the pinch and burn of the cut was still bright. “Now the tweezers.”
I felt the tool as it burrowed into my skin. I choked a sob into the pillow while Calla sat next to me, holding onto my arm in support.
Lovette made a frustrated noise. “It’s a fine thread of some kind. It keeps slipping. I’m sorry, I’m trying to work quickly?—”
“It’s alright,” I said, the pain not a normal ache but far from unbearable.
Calla frowned, watching Lovette work. “May I?”
“Of course.”
She stood, and I felt her fingertips join Lovette’s against my back. Something slithered under my skin, making my stomach pitch and roll. I tasted coins again, deep in the back of my throat.
Calla frowned in concentration. “I’m going to try to draw it out.”
“Okay.”
I inhaled and focused on my breathing as the pain flared hot, and something foreign tugged and moved inside my flesh.
“Greta, you alright?” Calla asked.
“Mm-hmm,” I muttered.
“Change of plans,” Lovette said. “Go ahead and lie down. We need to make a bigger incision.”
I squeaked nervously, but did as she asked. A cold swab brushed over my skin in the space between my spine and shoulder blade. Whatever it was offered some numbness, but the cut still burned. Lovette pressed a cloth against my skin as well to catch the blood.
“One, two, three,go,” Lovette said, and my vision went white. I screamed into the pillow, eyes welling with tears.
“I’m sorry,” Calla repeated over and over as the pair of them worked in tandem, the strange slithery sensation going on and on as they worked, a hot smell reaching my nostrils.
“Saints and devils,” Lovette swore, the sensation finally stopping. I let out a breath that was part gasp and part sob. “All done with that side.”
The relief that had started to wash over me evaporated when I was reminded that we were only halfway done.
“Want to see?” Calla asked. “If not, I’ll throw it all out.”
I turned my head and found an unwieldy tangle of thread barely as thick as a strand of hair. It was bloody, with pieces of my flesh stuck to it, but also rusty in places.
“Does it feel better?” Lovette asked, efficiently cleansing my wound.
“I’m not sure yet.”
“That’s fair.”
“It’s braided with a metal,” Calla said. “It was burning you as we pulled it through.”
“I’m allergic to iron,” I muttered, momentarily lightheaded.
They looked at one another and nodded solemnly, then shifted to the other side of the bed. I braced myself as well as I could, glad that if nothing else, they knew what to do this time around.
I was screaming into the pillow because of the incision when my heart skipped several beats. Without reason, I relaxed a bit.
“They’re back,” Calla said, glancing over her shoulder.
The pair moved their hands as fast as possible, the slide of the thread through my body more distinct on this side, perhaps because now that I knew what it was, what it looked like.
“It’s caught. Hold on, Greta. I just need to—” Lovette yanked, and I cried out again, the pain a strange mixture of seeing starsand wanting to vomit. Both Calla and Lovette increased the pressure they were using, keeping me immobile so they could work. “Almost done. Just a little more, I promise.”
