Page 77 of Alchemised

S HE NOTICED THE STREAKS OF SILVER WHILE treating Kaine’s back. They were just barely visible at his temple, glimmers of silver-white threaded through his dark hair.

She stopped and leaned closer, inspecting them. “Did this just start?”

He reached up, brushing the spot with his fingers. “I noticed it this morning.”

“I thought you couldn’t change.”

“Well, I am an experiment now,” he said dryly. “It’s not as if anyone knows what will happen. That’s why people perform experiments.”

She leaned in closer, trying to convince herself that he was simply going grey, and that it was not the exact shade of silver-white the stone had been.

He swivelled his head to face her, their faces a breath apart. “Do you mind?”

She blushed, drawing back quickly. “Sorry.”

He spoke again as she was applying the bandages. “Apparently I’m being gifted a chimaera.”

“Gifted?”

The casual way he said it made it sound like he’d been given an unwanted house pet rather than a rabid monster that had a tendency towards decomposing while still alive.

“So far, they’ve all been savage, but a tameable chimaera would be ideal.” He stood up. “Those of us with the ‘resources’ to raise one are being ‘given’ a chimaera to train. It’s a test, obviously.”

She stepped around him, helping him put his shirt on. The haggard bruising under his eyes had almost faded entirely. “But you’re injured. It’s not fair to expect you to tame something like that when you can’t heal properly or raise your arms.”

He looked condescendingly down at her. “Marino, this may be a shocking revelation for you, but the High Necromancer does not care about fairness. It’s his opinion that anyone without the wits and will to survive deserves to suffer and die. Ideally for his amusement.”

She could tell he was baiting her. “Do you know what kind of chimaera it will be?”

“Well, given the use of the word ‘train,’ I imagine it will be at least part dog. But I’m not Bennet’s favourite person. Whatever it is, I’m sure to get the worst one.”

The idea of a chimaera that could be trained was horrifying. More and more of them kept appearing. They died quickly, but the deaths associated with them were slowly increasing.

“Could you—kill it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think I should kill my gift that I’m being tested with?”

She went hot and cold all over, not sure how to reply.

He was already injured. If the chimaera he was entrusted with were to die, he’d undoubtedly be punished, but—

He caught her chin, tilting her head back until her eyes met his. There was a vaguely silver gleam in them. “If you were me, what would you do?”

“I—” she stammered. “I would see if I could make it loyal.”

“And if you couldn’t? If a monster can’t be made loyal, what would you do then?”

Their faces were close. Helena’s throat tightened, her heart beating too fast.

“I’d look for flaws in the transmutation,” she said. “The splicing isn’t very good, so there are mistakes that could be aggravated to accelerate deterioration. You wouldn’t have to kill it outright, you’d just—speed up the inevitable.”

He leaned forward, so close she could feel his breath. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her.

“You’re so pragmatic.” The words brushed against her lips.

He released her chin abruptly and stepped away, eyes glittering.

Her cheeks were still hot as she packed up all her supplies, refusing to look at him again.

He spoke just as she was leaving.

“Don’t die, Marino. I might miss you.”

V ANYA G ETTLICH WAS A STUBBY-LIMBED spinster with small eyes, a large round nose, and sharp ears. The combination, she’d always said, that was the secret to her success as one of the best scouts in the Resistance. No one ever noticed a homely woman.

Generally, scouts didn’t live very long. Months was considered impressive. For many it was far less. Vanya had been a scout for years, crossing in and out of enemy territory collecting intelligence and information that no one else dared obtain.

But when she vanished, everyone knew that she wouldn’t come back. She was marked missing for two weeks before being listed among the presumed dead.

It was a shock when Helena received an emergency summons to the gatehouse after one of the patrols radioed in, claiming to have found her.

Gettlich was grievously wounded. They’d verified that she wasn’t a necrothrall, but it was harder to be sure that it wasn’t a lich trying to infiltrate Headquarters using her wounded corpse.

When she was checked for any signs of a talisman, they’d found anomalous forms of metal distributed through her body, including detectable lumithium.

There were no exceptions to the rules. Anyone found with lumithium inside their body could not enter Headquarters without full restraints.

They strapped Gettlich down while she screamed, begging them not to, promising it was her, but Helena was not allowed to treat her otherwise.

Helena had just stepped forward when the doors burst open and Luc entered, threatening to put his own guards in the ground if they tried to stop him.

Lila stood beside him, weapons ready, conflict written across her face as Luc leaned over Gettlich, indifferent to the danger.

“Gettlich,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

Gettlich calmed then. Luc had that effect on people. She hushed his apologies, called him a silly boy. While Helena worked, unnoticed, she gave her final report.

She’d been caught while investigating the new lab near the West Port. The Undying had used her as a test subject there, trying to suppress her alchemy. They’d injected her with metal over the course of days. The experiment was deemed a failure when her organs started to shut down.

The guards ordered to dispose of her had decided to make use of the dying prisoner. They’d taken her out of the building for privacy and left her for dead once they were done.

As Gettlich told Luc all this, Helena verified it.

The metal in the blood interfered with Helena’s own resonance, making it blur like static.

Her arms and legs were mottled with old bruises from restraints.

She was slick with blood from the waist down.

She would have died from metal poisoning her blood, but the internal damage was going to kill her first.

All the metal interfered with Helena’s vivimancy too much for her to do anything. She had to keep shaking her head each time Luc begged.

Laudanum was all Helena could offer. Relief until it was over.

Gettlich’s heart kept trying to rally whenever Luc spoke, promising that the Eternal Flame would never forget her, that he’d find everyone who’d hurt her. He’d make them all pay.

The Council had to lock Luc in his quarters to keep him from trying to take his battalion and find the lab. The Gettlichs were an old family. Luc had known Vanya his entire life.

Because of the circumstances of the death, the traditional mourning and cremation processes were suspended. The body was placed in a secure room, still strapped to the gurney, covered with a sheet.

Helena was summoned to Falcon Matias’s office, a drab little room with no decorations except one very large painting of the sun. She always felt cold in any room that Matias occupied.

“The Council has determined that an autopsy on Gettlich is necessary,” Matias said without preamble, his face puckering as he looked at Helena. “You have been selected to perform it.”

“I’m not trained—”

“There are books on the matter. You can ask Surgeon Maier for them,” Matias said, waving his hand.

“Then shouldn’t Maier be the one to—”

“I am told the state of Gettlich is deeply disturbing. You have already seen it, it will do you no harm to see it again,” he said, cutting her off once more.

“You will be observed throughout to ensure you take no untoward actions.” His watery blue eyes narrowed.

“If you are suspected of any violation of that body, I will have your hands cut off and your soul cursed to sink into the dark fires of the earth. Do I make myself clear?”

He glared at her, sticky strings of saliva visible in his mouth as he spoke. He only imbibed enough water to survive, considering the demands of the flesh as something to conquer. It was a common idea among those of faith, although Matias took it further than anyone else Helena had ever met.

Helena stood, her stomach knotted in dread. She’d never performed an autopsy.

Gettlich had taught introductory alchemy, one of Helena’s first instructors. She knew her.

But nothing from Matias was ever a request. His word was law for Helena.

She gave a slow nod.

“The procedure will take place tomorrow, when Sol is at his zenith.” Matias’s tongue smacked again. “Go purify yourself in preparation.”

Helena left, her head hollow, but there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t bring Luc into this. He was already shattered by the death and wouldn’t want an autopsy at all, but the Council was right: They needed to know what had been done.

She spent her evening researching autopsy methods until it was time to head to the Outpost. She felt almost comatose with dread and was grateful for a routine to escape to.

Ferron was in his usual place, a tumbler dangling from his fingers, but the furniture in the room had all been shoved to one side. His expression was languorous, eyelids lowered, but a sharp, almost silver gleam glittered beneath his lashes.

Helena didn’t ask. She had her own preoccupations.

It was undeniable that he was in one of his moods. There was an edge to him, a strange quality in the way his eyes landed on her when she arrived. Not his typical resentment.

Helena feigned obliviousness, removing the bandages without a word and studying the wounds. His colouring was almost back to normal, and there was no sign of rot or infection anywhere. Only tiny traces of dead tissue in the immediate area around the symbols.