Page 85 of Alchemised

She entered another tunnel, trying to get away, but no matter which one she took, or which way she turned, they all seemed to lead back to the same room. As if to mockingly remind her that she could not escape herself, and what she had become. This was what the war had made her.

Finally she turned slowly back, walking towards the screaming, tired of running from herself.

She’d climb over tortured bodies, sell herself, and tear out Kaine Ferron’s heart if that was what it took to win.

S HE WAS CALLED IN TWO more times before Lancaster finally broke. By the third time, Helena didn’t think he was still sane.

Waiting in the underground passages, ears plugged to try to keep from hearing what was happening in the next room, she’d reevaluated her assessment of the previous night.

Now that it was a little less fresh, her missteps felt less disastrous.

Kaine did feel some sort of partiality towards her. After all, he’d wanted her to stay.

However, whatever flicker of desire or fondness he felt was barely kindled. Too much fuel too fast would smother it. It was for the best they’d stopped when they did. That he was left wondering what could have happened.

She suspected he burned for things more deeply than he knew. Therefore, the key would lie in cultivating that spark into something beyond his control.

He was too calculating for anything else to be effective. It was all or nothing. Leave him as the threat he was, knowing that he was now infinitely more enabled by her to achieve his desires, or try to redirect his ambition and obsessive nature onto her.

People always said there was no greater temptation than the forbidden.

As for the fact that she wanted him back … that she was so willing.

She chewed anxiously on her thumbnail.

It was for the best. Everyone had always said she was a terrible liar.

The door opened, and Ivy came out. Helena looked over at her. “Again?”

Ivy shook her head, shutting the door. “Crowther’s still working on him.”

Ivy crouched down next to Helena, drawing a finger idly through the dirt on the ground. Helena watched her in silence, trying to ignore the smell of burned meat beginning to permeate the air.

“You know,” Helena couldn’t help but say, “there’s other ways to get information out of people. You don’t have to torture them.”

Ivy looked up with her sharp eyes glittering. “I like hurting them. It’s the best part of the job. The rest is boring.”

“Oh.”

There was a long silence. Finally Ivy spoke up. “Can vivimancy get rid of memories? Make someone forget something so they’d never remember it?”

Helena watched her curiously. “Is there something you want to forget?”

Ivy shook her head, staring down the tunnel, and her face twitched oddly. “My sister, she doesn’t remember things. Matron said it’s called a fugue––her not remembering––but it might all come back someday.”

“Don’t you want her to remember?” Helena asked.

Ivy gave a sharp shake of her head. “No.” She looked up at Helena and laughed. “You think I’m bad. If she ever remembers, she’d go completely mad.”

The door opened, and the stench of burned meat wafted out. “Marino. We’re done now.”

Crowther had drugged Lancaster with something synthetic. He was hallucinating wildly. He’d nearly bitten through his tongue, and Helena had to paralyse him to reattach it. His skin was charred all over, although Crowther was always careful never to burn deep enough to kill the nerves.

Lancaster was babbling. It seemed Helena and Ivy had converged in his mind.

One moment he’d struggle violently, nearly biting her hands when they were near him, threatening to pour molten metal through her veins until her eyes burst like grapes, and the next he’d be trying to lean towards her and drawing deep rasping breaths, crooning that she was a sweet thing, how once he was Undying, he’d keep her as a pet with a collar and chain, just like Holdfast.

Then he’d think she was Ivy again, and he’d threaten to eat her. Cut her into pieces. Put her back together wrong. Violate her in every way imaginable.

When she was done, she wanted to peel the skin off every place he’d touched her.

“Why don’t you kill him?” she asked Crowther when she got out of the room. Her skin was still crawling.

He seemed amused by this. “Why?”

“You have what you want. He’s a waste of rations.”

He shook his head. “Until we’ve found the guard he was looking for, we’ll keep him.

Morrough’s determination to unearth this Wagner in Hevgoss indicates a significant degree of importance.

Lancaster is a uniquely devoted Aspirant.

He could be useful as evidence if we are ever in contact with Hevgoss.

Don’t worry about him. I’ve never lost a prisoner. ”

“Can I go, then?” she said dully. Her clothes were stained with Lancaster’s blood.

“Yes, I’ll escort you,” he said. “You healed Ferron? Was it a success?”

She gave an idle nod without looking at him. Whether he was pleased or disappointed by this, she had no energy to care. “Yes. The procedure was a success.”

There was a pause as they ascended the stairs. Crowther blocked the exit, his eyes skimming across her. “I hear you were out all night and returned—dishevelled.”

Her stomach clenched. “It took longer than expected. The checkpoints were closed for curfew. I had to sleep there.”

Crowther waited but she volunteered nothing else.

His eyes narrowed. “Carry on, then.”