Page 74 of A Shadow in the Reaping
"Do you know who I am?" the old man asks. His voice is low and thick, like it's filled with fluid. He growls a rumbling cough. His body is failing, I can smell it in the scent of living decay. Organs that ooze their poison. Skin that rashes and blisters and peels. I smell ointments and witchcraft, time and suffering.
I shake my head. I have no fucking clue who he is.
"I am Adamen."
Oh shit.
"Adamen Sarno. Barbossa’s father."
This is super not good.
"I thought you were dead," I say, looking at the lines that etch his face and the whisper of white hair that flows across the flaking skin of his scalp.
"You and I have something more in common than just my son." Adamen grasps the wheels of his chair and rolls himself closer to my bed. His progress is slow and laboured. He coughs and grumbles with the effort. "I faked my death when my enemies closed in around me. I stayed hidden. I helped Bobby acquire power among the covens. And as society evolved around us all, I helped him run his businesses, make his money. Build his connections. Grow his empire. And then you took my son from me."
I scoff. I know Bobby was his son and all, but he was no guiltless angel. And he certainly was at the centre of enough trouble that someone was bound to come for him eventually. "He sold me out to the Reapers. He told them where to find me. And then he watched as I burned. He got what he deserved," I snarl, biting the words out at him.
Semyon steps closer, stopping at Adamen's side. The old man rolls up his sleeve and holds his arm out. Adamen's eyes never leave mine, not as Semyon ties off his arm, not when the needle pierces the thick vein at his elbow, not when the vial fills with blood.
Semyon removes the needle and twists the vial free, then uses the half-filled syringe to draw the fresh blood in with the black fluid. He passes it to the old man to hold as he takes the syringe of silver liquid and taps it free of bubbles.
"I have willingly given my power and my youth and my health for this moment," Adamen says. He coughs, spitting phlegm into a tissue. I can smell the blood. It's as though his body is breaking down before my eyes. And then something changes in his face. It morphs, from aging man into something cat-like, changing back again before I can be sure of what I saw. He does it again with a wicked smile, and this time I know it was not my imagination.
“A shapeshifter,” I whisper.
"That’s right. The last of my line. The magic in my blood will bind to the magic in yours and strip you of what you are,” he says, his menacing smile deepening the wrinkles in his skin. “And now I will watch asyouget whatyoudeserve."
I erupt with fury, twisting against the shackles, hissing and growling into the man's weathered face.
"Be calm, little leech," Semyon says as he grips my throat and presses my neck down on the bed. He climbs onto the mattress, using the weight of his knee to keep my chest still. "I made something special just for you, as a thank you to Adamen here for giving his blood and his power to our cause so willingly. Anything you'd like to say before we begin?"
"Fuck you," I snarl. I spit in Semyon's face and he laughs.
"Very well then," he says. A needle pierces into my throat and Semyon pushes the plunger down. Liquid fire burns in my neck. He smiles down at me. "Just a little silver. Not enough to kill you, but definitely enough to kill your siren song. I hope you are happy with your last spoken words."
I twist and writhe and burn in Semyon's grip.
But those are not my last words.
My last words are a whisper of hope. My last words areNinmen Eslal.
Chapter 32
Idon't even try to make another sound. The silver burns so hot that I can't swallow. Adamen chants some kind of spell but I don't really listen to the words. I just squirm in pain as tears cascade across my skin, mixing with the sweat that dampens my hair.
Semyon pulls the needle of silver from my neck. He releases my throat from his grip and reaches over to exchange the empty vial for the syringe of black liquid in Adamen's hand. He plunges it into my jugular. "The witch serum first. Once this takes hold, we give you the wolf serum."
Semyon climbs off my body and I hear his footfalls as he walks to the table. I press my eyes closed in a silent sob. Adamen continues his incantations. I catch the occasional word.Namtud.Usutuku.
Rebirth. Warrior.
This witch serum of Semyon's hurts like a fucking bitch. It's cold, so icy cold it burns. I feel it crawling through every vein, snaking its way through my body. But my skin, my skin is on fire. Sweat trickles from my hairline, pools on my sternum. My torn shirt clings to my body, itchy and wet.
The heart monitor beeps a rapid rhythm that sounds nowhere near as fast as it feels in my chest. I swear my heart is going to squeeze itself through my ribs and make a run for it. My stomach twists like a fist and bile climbs my throat.
I turn my head and projectile vomit a spray of blood on Adamen's thin cotton shirt. He looks down with disgust and meets my eyes with a fierce glare.
I cackle a silent, fiery laugh.
