Page 52 of Alchemised
Ferron entered the room at eight. He said nothing, he just went and stood next to her chair, waiting.
She could have tried to struggle, but she knew it was futile. She went over, nauseous with dread, the memory of the fevers and the nightmares already gripping her.
As she seated herself, he slid his gloves off and stepped into place behind her.
She kept her eyes straight ahead until he tilted her head back.
He was more careful than he’d been the first time. Apparently febrile seizures were enough to merit a degree of caution.
The pressure from his resonance developed more gradually. It felt like diving too deep underwater, and when the weight finally began to crush her, it was too late to escape. His resonance smothered her consciousness until her thoughts fragmented, flattened. Her vision turned red, and something warm ran from the corners of her eyes and over her temples.
There was a horrible humming pressure, and then Ferron was melded into her consciousness as if they’d coalesced.
For better or worse, she was brutally conscious and coherent this time.
“I hate you,” she rasped out, and let him feel every ounce of her loathing. If there was a time to provoke him, it was surely now. During a procedure this dangerous, he couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, but she couldn’t move.
I hate you. Traitor. Coward. I hate you.
Ferron paid no notice. He was eerily still, as if distracted by the alien plane of existence he had forced himself into. He didn’t do anything this time, didn’t even look around.
After an eternal moment, he untangled himself. He didn’t rip himself free but withdrew slowly. It was worse because it took so long. Like being flayed from the inside out.
The room tunnelled, all red and scraped raw, her mind like flensed skin.
She toppled forward.
A FACE SWAM BEFORE HER eyes. Red then white. She blinked and the red smeared. Her eyes refused to focus. Her hands and feet had gone numb. The right side of her face and body was rigid.
The face in front of her was strangely pale, emotive for an instant and then blank as she managed to focus her eyes on it.
It was a man.
“You’re all right. You had a seizure. It’s over now.”
He touched her jaw, and she felt warmth under her skin where the muscles were so rigid that they might crack, coaxing them to relax.
“Can you speak? You were screaming for several minutes.”
She fought to swallow, head throbbing, a wet membranous pulsing in her skull. Her mouth tasted like copper.
She tried to talk but the muscles on the right side of her jaw were still so tight, she could scarcely part her teeth. She pressed her face into the warmth of the hand, wanting to cry.
She felt so cold, as if something poisonous was spreading through her, freezing her solid. A low, gasping sound emerged from the back of her throat.
She didn’t understand. She didn’t remember—
“Who are you?” she slurred through her teeth.
Myriad emotions flashed across his face. He opened his mouth, then shut it firmly.
“I’m in charge of your care,” he finally said very slowly, saying each word precisely. His hand slid across the side of her neck, making her tremble. His fingertips touched the dip at the base of her skull. “Go to sleep. You’ll remember when you wake.”
Helena wanted answers, not sleep, but the warmth seeped under her skin like water. The room blurred, the edges disappearing. The face softening as it faded away.
“Do I know you?” she asked as her eyes slid closed.
“I suppose you do.”
