Page 87 of Alchemised
Her wrist was yanked, pulling her forward. Pain shot up her arm as she stumbled.
She was dragged through the gravel as a strangled scream escaped her. A gaping mouth loomed over her.
The gate. It was open.
“Almost there. Gods, I’m going to turn you inside out.”
The shadow’s face was close again. She could see it in the moonlight. Red lips and teeth. Lancaster. A grin like a jackal.
She tried to speak. There was something she needed to say, but the words wouldn’t form. They were trapped, pulsing in her throat. There was a sudden jerk. Her legs gave out as Lancaster vanished.
Then a loud crash.
She turned, eyes dazed, and found Lancaster crumpled against the wall as Ferron stood over him, kicking so violently that bones cracked each time.
Ferron picked up Lancaster by the throat until they were eye-to-eye. The moonlight illuminated them both as if they were cast in silver.
“Going somewhere, Lancaster?”
Lancaster’s lungs gave a wet rattle. “I assumed you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed her, seeing how you let Aurelia out to play. I’m the one who caught her. She should be mine.”
“She’ll never be yours.”
Without lowering Lancaster from where he was holding him, Ferron shoved his hand into Lancaster’s abdominal cavity as easily as if his hand were breaking water. He pulled out Lancaster’s organs, winding them slowly around his fist.
Lancaster screamed, his legs thrashing.
Ferron drew out the intestines so far that they twitched, glittering in the moonlight.
“If I ever see you again, I will strangle you with these,” Ferron said in a voice of deadly calm. “Pity you’re not immortal yet. I could do it so slowly then.”
He dropped the intestines so that they hung down Lancaster’s front like watch chains, then pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his hands as Lancaster stumbled through the mouth of the gate, whimpering and trying to stuff his organs back into his stomach.
When Lancaster had disappeared, Ferron turned towards Helena. His face was rigid with fury.
“You idiot—why did you come out tonight?”
Helena just looked at him.
She thought she should say something. What she’d tried to tell Lancaster.
“Ferron always comes for me,” she whispered.
He stopped short. His jaw locked, fists clenching, saying nothing for a moment. Then his throat dipped, and he sighed.
“What did he do to you?” he asked in a low voice, kneeling next to her.
Helena looked down at herself. Her dress was ripped open, her stockings shredded. All her things were ripped. There was blood and white gravel all over.
Ferron reached out towards her, just barely touching her shoulder, and she felt a little flush of warmth. She huddled towards him, but he drew away.
“Drugged,” he said. “Did he make you swallow something?”
She shook her head.
“An injection, then. Let’s go to your room.” His eyes went briefly out of focus, and then he helped her up to her feet. Helena gasped as pain shot up her arms.
Ferron said nothing, but he draped his coat over her shoulders, covering up her ruined dress.
