Page 85 of The Teras Trials

“It?” Victoria ventures, and it’s like she knows. I see it in her eyes. The hurt, the fear, the blistering anger that wants to rail down on me.

Weakly, I supply, “Him,” as a concession, and Victoria’s entire face crumples. She doesn’t ask is it Bellamy? And I don’t tell her yes.

Leo turns to Silas and Fred. “Did the Artificer say how long it will take?”

“Didn’t ask. Just grabbed it,” Fred says sullenly. “We don’t have any time. So just do it.”

Fred heads towards the doors. I stop her. “It’s Bellamy,” I whisper, and she pales and briefly closes her eyes. I watch her tense like she’s about to turn to Victoria, but she stops herself in time.

“I can help you take the body out,” she whispers. “Leo and the two of us should be enough. Silas can stay with Victoria, out of sight, and never have to know.”

We stare at each other and I don’t know if I can live with that. There’s an assumption on Fred’s face, a blaming I can hardly stand. But I say, “Okay,” because she’s right. We don’t have time for this.

Bellamy’s body will do.

“Leo, with me,” I mumble and head to the door. He falls in line and when we are around the corner, he puts a hand on my shoulder and spins me.

“Who is it?” he asks. “Is it Bellamy?”

I don’t know what comes over me but I hiss, “Why? What does it matter? It’s a corpse. The man is gone.”

“A yes, then,” Leo murmurs to me, unfazed by my emotion. “You are more ruthless than I thought you were.”

“Not ruthless”, I say, feeling Bellamy's ghost nestle somewhere in my bones, ready to haunt them for an eternity, ready to keep me in melancholy should I ever surface towards happiness. “Don’t mistake me acting as I must for acting how I want to. And don’t look at me like that, I can’t stand it. I can’t stand you thinking I’m a monster, Leo. You wanted me to leave them both. You were ready to close the door.”

His stare is confronting. His eyes are prisms through which light refracts, and with it emotion, and judgement, and a despairing conclusion I hate. For once, I despise the way he looks at me.

Leo says, “Maybe monsters are the only ones to survive here.”

That feels grossly insufficient, an easy way of navigating what is happening here. How we are changing. But I’m too exhausted to say anything. I just nod towards the door, wait for Fred to come up behind us, and slowly push on the wood.

The door yawns open once more with that waking groan. I push it wider than it went the last time, trying to be brave, and it comes to a muffled stop as it hits flesh. The dull sound gets the teras’ attention in the way the creaking door didn’t; it looks up from its meal with piercing, blood-drunk eyes. The fur around its mouth is matted with blood. Splatters of it coat its face and ears, and all down its chest is red. It watches us and waits. None of us move. I don’t know how well it can see, I don’t know if hunger dulls its urges, but I pray to God it finds us boring. There are closer breathing humans hunkered down around it. Why should it care for three more?

I can’t signal to the others without moving so I just have to hope they have enough sense to stay still. Cautiously, I lean past the threshold and peer around the door to see whatever’s stopped the door.

It’s Bellamy’s hand. Still attached. Which doesn’t make sense because a few minutes ago he was an arm’s length from the door. Now he is—here. Right near the threshold. Fingers touching the wood. God. God.

He’s still alive.

Horror bludgeons me. He’s alive, Bellamy is alive, he is still crawling towards the door, still desperate to live—only he’s not moving right now. Is he on the precipice? Does he feel the pain of whatever open cavity is causing his blood to flood around him? I can’t wait. I can’t do this the smart way or the safe way.

My duty now is to Bellamy. I must drag him out, must see he lives a few breaths beyond the room he’s fought so hard to leave.

So I say, “Now!” and drop to my knees and hope the others follow suit. I wrap my hands around the fabric on his back. Leo staggers over the threshold, half-tripping over Bellamy and the sight of the room. Fred starts gagging at the smell—blood, urine, faeces, whatever other gory substances are crowding my periphery—but she hooks her hands beneath his arms anyway and pulls.

Instantly, the teras notices. There’s a growl like thunder, a rumble deep within the room. I promise myself I won’t look up, won’t look this living devil in its face in case I freeze again. We haul Bellamy back, and the body is heavy or I am weak. My heart is in my chest, the beast is growling; I look up.

The lion leaps into the air. One leap is all it needs. From the end of the haul it jumps and I crane my neck. I see its gold-furred flank and blood-splattered mane. Stringy flesh has caught on its claws. An open-throated roar bearing down on me. I see its red-rimmed gullet, smell the stench of rot wafting from its throat. We panic, all three of us, and desperately haul Bellamy back. One arm moves at an awkward angle, and the body isn’t budging. I feel him grow heavier and I know that means someone has let go. The teras lands. I scream and half fall. Its mutated, massive jaw unhinges and bites down on Bellamy’s other leg with enormous strength, and when I scramble back and desperately tug at Bellamy’s body, the teras just holds fast and growls.

There’s only one thing left to do. “Get the salve! Get the fucking salve!”

Fred is fucking frozen in fear until Leo reaches over and punches her arm. Her body spasms and moves suddenly, automatically, and with automaton-like finesse she reaches into her pocket and yanks the salve free.

“But I don’t know—” she says, and I snatch it off her, wrenching the stopper free. Bellamy’s—no, he’s dead, isn’t he? The body’s—hamstring has been torn open. There’s a fleshy cavity, the stark white of bone peeking through, and I make my decision as I’m uncapping the salve.

I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.

I go to plunge my hand, salve and all, towards the open cadaver. I am about to pour the salve when the teras lunges.

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