Page 119 of Alchemised

The metal sang through the air, moving like an avian murmuration, and hit like a spray of bullets, tearing through the necrothralls’ skulls.

Rather than fall, the metal stayed suspended in midair, sweeping back, dripping blood and gore. Kaine drew his hand up and they came darting back, cutting through more bodies. A flick of his fingers and they shot out again.

When he reached Helena, his eyes were burning with rage behind his mask, glowing bright as molten silver.

“You idiot,” he said, and dragged her up out of the water, crushing her hard against his chest.

His resonance in the air grew heavier. A wave that swept outwards.

She watched it hit the nearest necrothralls and Aspirants.

They began jerking and seizing, dropping into the water.

The necrothralls crumpled, while the chimaeras and those living were gasping as if their lungs were being compressed, clawing at their throats.

Helena could still breathe, although laboriously, but everyone around her was suffocating.

Sebastian was trying to reach Luc but collapsed into the water. Luc was tearing gouges down his throat as his face turned blue, eyes bulging.

“Stop it,” she gasped, realising that Kaine was making no distinction between the Undying and the Eternal Flame. He was killing everyone. “Stop it! You can’t kill them! Stop!”

She tried to wrench away as Luc’s eyes rolled back and he slumped in the water.

The invisible wave reached the walls. Penny collapsed. Alister followed.

The struggle was coming to an end.

“Stop. Stop! Stop!” She fought to get free. “Stop!”

“Shut up,” he snarled through his helmet, letting go of her. “Wait here.”

He stormed over to Sebastian and Luc, Penny and Alister and even Wagner, although she hardly cared if he died. He placed a hand on their chests, and one at the back of their heads, and she watched them jerk and start breathing again without regaining consciousness.

She tried to stand up, but her legs wouldn’t hold her. By the time Kaine was coming to her again, everything was swaying.

He dragged her to the far wall, where several tunnels disappeared into darkness.

“Can’t leave them,” she rasped, trying to pull free.

“Shut up.” The water was only to their ankles, and there was a ladder leading up to a walkway that was shoulder height.

“You can’t leave them,” she said, struggling. “Bring them, or I won’t go.”

He turned without a word and went back, kicking most of the necrothralls into the current, but pausing beside a few dead Aspirants and reanimating them.

They crawled to their feet and began helping to carry Luc and the others over and shoving them up onto the walkway while Kaine lifted her as gently as he could.

She nearly bit through her lip at the pressure on her ribs.

His palms were red with her blood, but he said nothing as he swung up the ladder and scooped her up again.

The necrothralls hauled the rest of the rescue team up over their shoulders and followed.

Helena faded in and out of consciousness in the dark, briefly coming to as she heard the sound of grinding metal and a loud roar of rushing, rising water coming from the flood cathedral before they continued on.

Kaine stopped walking and kicked the wall. A door almost invisible along the endless passages swung open. He carried her into a small room.

There was a table against one wall, and he laid her on it. He turned away, shoving the door closed, and reached up to rip off his helmet. His face was twisted with fury.

“Tell me you can last long enough for me to get a doctor.” His voice was shaking.

She shook her head.

He was breathing fast, but he swallowed. “Then you’ll have to tell me how. Can you still do that?”

“All right,” she said unsteadily, even though she wanted to pass out more than anything.

“The first is—my liver. It’s where the blood is coming from.

I think. There’s air—in my chest, collapsing my lung.

After—after you—fix my liver, you can—stimulate blood generation.

I don’t have the tonic, but you should be able to manage some. ”

He unbuckled the straps on her satchel and cut away her soaking clothes so he had clear access to the wound between her ribs that had been ripped wide.

She flinched, trying not to recoil as he staunched the bleeding. He listened carefully as she described what he needed to sense to identify and repair biliary ducts.

Without her hands working, without resonance, it was like instructing the blind.

“Shut up,” he told her when she apologised for not being sure of what was wrong. He reached into his cloak, pulling something out. “This one’s for blood, right? Does it work for you?”

He held up a familiar green-blue vial.

Her throat tightened and she nodded. “Yes. That works for me.”

The process of siphoning the air collapsing her lung was difficult because she didn’t have the supplies for it. She swallowed hard. “There’s a tube in my satchel.”

He found it, and she gingerly indicated where to numb and puncture, giving only a small whimpering gasp as it sank through the tissue and into her chest cavity.

She swallowed, staring up at the ceiling overhead, able to think more clearly as breathing grew easier. “You need to look for damage to the lung tissue next, then you wash the wound and close the diaphragmatic muscle and—”

His fingers brushed near the wound, and her mind stalled, careening violently.

“Don’t—don’t touch it!” The words came out a strangled scream. She almost fell off the table, trying to get away.

He snatched his hand back as she collapsed and lay there, drawing sharp laboured breaths as she tried to calm down, choking back panicked sobs.

Her heart was pounding so hard, she could feel it in her temples.

“He was going to—going to—” She tripped over her own tongue, trying to protectively cradle that side of her body. Keep it from being touched.

“He’s gone.” Kaine’s expression was pulled taut, a forced flatness to his entire demeanour. “He won’t ever come back. Should I just cover the wound and fix your hands instead?”

She shook her head. “No. I’ll stay still. Just—” She swallowed. “Sorry.”

The muscle in his jaw set. As he worked, he began telling her each time he was about to touch her, what he was about to do, his voice low, calm, and she realised he was imitating the way she used to narrate her treatment of the array.

It was the simplest part of the procedure, but she wanted to throw up because she was so sick with terror.

“There.”

The immediate danger had passed. Kaine also seemed to finally breathe.

“Why were you there?” he finally asked.

She stared at him for a moment and then looked away. “The Council was going to do whatever it took to get Luc back.”

“You aren’t experienced in combat,” he said. His hands trembled as he wiped blood off her face. “Why would they bring you without even giving you a partner.”

“I had a partner,” she said. “She died in the fight.”

“Who?”

“Purnell. She was an—orderly.”

He glared at her.

“It had to be a small team; we were supposed to get in and out without being noticed. Sofia and I weren’t supposed to fight.”

“You knew it was a suicide mission. That is what the Bayards do, they die for the Holdfasts. They know nothing else.”

“Yes, but if Luc dies it’s over, for all of us. It was worth it to go.”

“And if you’d died?” He looked up, his eyes glittering with rage.

“There’s plenty of people to replace me. I’ve always been expendable, remember?” She used her elbows to sit up. “I need you to fix my hands now.”

The strain showed around his eyes. “I know.”

She forced herself to inhale. “Start with my left. It won’t matter as much if it doesn’t all set right.”

He blocked off most of the feeling from her elbow down but left enough that she could sense if he was setting it correctly, working as gently as he could. The broken pieces ground together, sending a sudden pain through her arm into her shoulder, even with most of the sensation gone.

“Good,” she choked out, dropping her head onto his shoulder as she fought back tears.

He rejoined the bones in her wrists before he worked on her hands directly. He had to physically move several bones back into alignment, twisting the parts that Blackthorne had mangled.

The pain without the adrenaline surge of battle bore into her. She was sobbing into his shoulder by the time he finished aligning the bones and began fusing them.

Her hand was swollen, purple and red from bruising when he finished.

He cradled it in both of his and ran his thumbs across her palm and up to her wrist, his resonance like a balm, repairing the damaged tissue and the broken blood vessels with the sweep of his thumbs, then working along each finger. He was so gentle.

She recognised the technique. She hadn’t realised he’d paid attention.

“You could be a healer,” she finally said as he removed the block on her nerves. She flexed her hand, opening and closing. It was still sore, and fragile as though hairline-fractured. “You have a natural talent for it.”

“That’s one of the most ironic things anyone has ever said to me,” he said quietly.

He turned his attention to her other hand.

“You can numb it all the way,” she said. “I can use my resonance now.”

Working together, it was surprising how quick the process was. When he finished, he massaged her hand again, in the same way he had with the first.

“Don’t ever go on another mission,” he said without looking up, her hand trapped in his.

She looked away, drawing a deep breath.

“That’s not your call,” she said, slipping her hand free and standing.

The room swam. She was dangerously lightheaded.

She didn’t have a saline drip or the plasma expanders that would be on hand in the hospital.

Tonic or not, she didn’t physically have the resources needed to regenerate all the blood she’d lost.

She pulled her satchel gingerly over her head, trying to be gentle with her hands as she prepared to leave. They’d never said goodbye before, and she didn’t see any point in starting now.

He blocked the door, his eyes gone cold. “Remind Crowther that if the Eternal Flame wants my continued assistance, they will keep you alive.”

His eyes had that cold silver gleam in them as he stared at her. Her heart wavered for a moment and then turned to lead. He’d been quite clear about what she was, how he regarded her, and how much he hated her for having any hold on him.

This concern, this obsession with her preservation, wasn’t about her at all. It was about his mother, Enid Ferron, and his failure to save her. To him, Helena was an opportunity to try to get it right. A consolation prize he didn’t even want but couldn’t bring himself to give up on.

No wonder Crowther had been so pleased. Well done, Marino.

She knew she was supposed to accept that, but she couldn’t bear it anymore. “You’re doing this for your mother, Kaine. Would you really give that up because of me?”

She knew that would anger him: to outright insinuate that what he felt towards her was in any way comparable to his feelings for his mother. He would make a point of proving her wrong.

He went very still.

She stepped around him, reaching for the door, but he caught her shoulders, turning her back, the expression on his face stark.

“She’s dead,” he said. “You are not. My loyalty was to those least responsible for her suffering, but if the Eternal Flame has decided that you are an affordable casualty, I will not be noble or understanding. I can exact dual revenge. I will make them pay if they get you killed.”

She stared at him, startled. She hadn’t accounted for this.

She knew Kaine wasn’t a spy because of any ideological reasoning; it was purely a sense of personal interest. He hated the Holdfasts and the Eternal Flame but he hated Morrough and the Undying more.

That fact was immutable. The source of all his motivation.

But now, because of a careless comment from her, he was re-evaluating whether the Eternal Flame served his interests.

She swallowed hard. She should be cold. She should remind him that she would always put the Eternal Flame’s interests first. If he expected more than that, he would have to wait. And earn it.

She looked up at him, willing the words to form, but they stayed trapped in her throat. She was so tired. Life had been cold for such a long time.

The others are hurt. You don’t even know what’s been done to Luc, and you’re wasting your time here.

She flexed her hands, feeling the new tissue, focusing on it as she attempted to pull away. “I have to go.” Her voice shook.

He wouldn’t let go. He gripped her tighter. “You are not expendable. You don’t get to push everyone away so that they’ll feel comfortable using you and letting you die.”

She shook her head.

“This is war,” she said, forcing her voice to stay steady.

“It’s not some sort of tragic self-condemnation to be expendable.

It’s a strategic liabil ity not to be.” She met his eyes.

“That was why you picked me, remember?” Her voice broke.

“Well, thanks to you, I’m worth less now.

They added all these new healers after you asked for me.

I had to train all my replacements.” She gave a bitter laugh.

“You made me as expendable as I am now. And you didn’t even want me, either. ”

He flinched, his grip loosening enough that she pulled free, turning again. He caught the door as she opened it, shoving it closed.

“You are not replaceable,” he said, his hands trembling against her shoulders.

“You are not required to make your death convenient. You are allowed to be important to people. The reason I’m here—the reason I’m doing any of this—is to keep you alive.

To keep you safe. That was the deal.” He searched her face. “They didn’t tell you.”

She shook her head, giving a broken sob and—before she let herself think—she kissed him.