Page 67 of Bitten & Burned

Thirty-Six

NOT NORMAL

Kravenspire, Sol, Verdune

I ran my fingers down Vael’s spine, chuckling as he shivered against me.

“Stop that,” he murmured, but with no real venom in his words. Instead, they sounded soft and content.

“But I like making you shiver,” I murmured.

“Hmm, yes, I know. But if you keep that up, we’ll never get out of this bed, and I believe you have books you wish to read?”

“Only you would suggest getting out of bed to read books when with a nude woman.”

“And only you would actually get out of bed with your naked lover to read said books,” he countered, kissing my chin. “I know you too well, Witchling.”

I paused, closing my eyes and savoring the way his lips spoke that word. The way his tongue hit the back of his teeth in the middle, softening at the end. Gods, I’d missed that.

“Everything alright?” he asked, and I opened my eyes. He looked worried, genuinely worried.

“I just… missed you calling me that.”

His gaze softened, and he kissed me on the lips. “I’ll have to do it more to make up for my reckless stupidity. Witchling.”

I grinned and acquiesced, stretching my arms over my head as he pushed up and back to his knees. He sat and looked down at me. “Gods, you truly are so beautiful.”

I smiled up at him. “And don’t you forget it.” I sat up and brought both my legs to the side of the bed. I reached for my robe and tied it around my waist as I walked to the table where the books now resided.

Vael stood, fastening his trousers and righting his shirt and jacket before crossing over to lean behind me and read over my shoulder.

“Ah, you still do that?” I asked.

“You still comment on it,” he replied, kissing my shoulder. “What are you searching for, my love? Perhaps I could be of some use.”

“Some more use, you mean? I certainly found a use for you earlier.”

I could feel him beaming. “Yes, well. I suppose another use, then.”

“I wish to commission a pair of daggers, crafted by my father… but I need to find the right method to send to him so I can enchant them once they’re here.”

“Enchant them how?”

I laughed. “That remains to be seen as well. I suppose I have some research ahead of me.”

“Music to my ears. Point me in the right direction. I’m utterly and completely yours to boss around, after I’ve completed my task for Cassian.”

“What task for Cassian?” I asked.

“He needs me to go speak to Rellin in the basement and uh… dispose of him. Or instruct someone else to do it.”

“Hmm,” I said slowly, thinking.

“A florin for your thoughts?”

I smiled. “Once I’ve gathered them, they’re all yours, free of charge.”

“Right, so, before I go, what is your goal?”

“I wish to use Witchsteel… which, as you know, repels certain… enchantments… by its very nature. But I seem to recall seeing somewhere that if you were to smelt the metal in a certain way, it is actually more apt to take on those enchantments.”

“Ahh, sounds like you’re speaking of Emberlacing…” Vael murmured, reaching for the metallurgy book and flipping to the index. “Yes, here it is, page eight-seventy-two…” He repeated the page number under his breath as he flipped to it.

“Emberlacing. That does sound familiar…”

“Yes, here it is. Emberlacing: the process of sprinkling the silver with saltfire, in between steps of the Inerian fold…” He looked up at me, a question in his eyes yet unspoken.

“The Inerian fold is a process, one of folding the silver and dunking it in moonwater,” I explained. “Because moonwater is blessed by Inera.”

“Ah… yes. Good. So…was that what you were looking for?”

I looked back down at the page. “Only through emberlacing are you able to enchant Witchsteel. The Final Emberlace is crucial; otherwise, the witchsteel will repel every enchantment thrown at it.”

“And you want to enchant it… How?”

I pulled another book towards me: one on weapon enchantments not commonly used. “Pyraxis.”

“Pyraxis…” Vael trailed off. “You’re trying to burn these bastards where they stand? From the inside out?”

“Only if I’m forced to,” I said with a smile. “Anton wanted me to be armed. I no longer have full access to my magic. At least, not reliably. Therefore, I feel I should play to my other strengths.”

“Oh, and what strengths those are, Ms. Marlowe…” He smiled fondly. “Alas, I cannot stay with you to expound on them longer, for I must go attend to… other matters.”

I paused, my hand on the book in front of me. “Can I come with you?”

“I… don’t know if you would want to see that, Rowena. Rellin’s been in the dungeon since the Ashbornes attacked, and… he’s not been healing properly, I suppose one could say.”

“I know,” I said. “I’d imagine he’s well and gangrenous now, and certainly not long for this world even if you weren’t about to… dispatch… him.”

Vael didn’t reply at first, but that was a reply in and of itself. I raised an eyebrow, prompting him.

“That’s putting it mildly,” he admitted. “Anton had to anoint the door down to the dungeon with peppermint oil. The scent was that repellent.”

“I need to ask Rellin about this,” I said, gesturing at the mark on my thigh.

“I don’t wish to go into this encounter with Silas again without knowing all I can about this specific brand.

I know the man well. He will pick apart any weakness whenever he finds one.

He used to take down many a pompous final-year student that way.

And, I imagine, with this? It’d be even worse. ”

“I don’t relish the idea of you being exposed to that… to Rellin again.”

“I don’t either. But, if I can find something out? You know how valuable that would be, Vael.”

He sighed. “I’m not certain if you are making sense or if I’m just… loath to tell you no. But… I suppose. Just stay in the shadows, don’t let him look at you, and… mind the smell. He’s… pungent."

I nodded. “Of course, Vael, I just need to get dressed first.”

The walk to the basement set my teeth on edge.

I’d known Rellin was being kept down there all this time, but I’d tried not to think about it.

Hells, the windows in the front study weren’t even fully fixed yet; it hadn’t been that long ago that the Ashbornes had attacked us here at Halemont.

Still, I faltered as I approached the door.

I never made a habit of coming down to this part of the house; I was pretty sure I’d been everywhere else but here.

The dungeons.

As far as I knew, before the attack, they hadn’t seen use in decades.

Vael was at my side, and he squeezed my hand to remind me of it. I took a deep breath. I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t doing this alone. It was going to be alright.

Information was all I needed. Information was my greatest weapon.

I could do this. I would do this. Besides, Rellin was chained and injured.

There was no chance of his doing any of what he’d threatened to do to me before.

The memory of his grimy hands on my thighs wasn’t one I relished.

However, one doesn’t soon forget words of that nature, hissed that way, in those circumstances.

My footsteps echoed as I went down the stairs, pausing about halfway down to rub at my thigh. The sigil wasn’t burning so much as it was throbbing. I could feel it seeping through the bandage I wore.

Vael touched my hand, looking at me as if to say, I will do this for you; you needn’t be here for this.

But I smiled bravely at him, squeezed his hand, and we continued.

As we approached the heavy wooden door to the dungeon, Vael touched my hand again: “Are you certain you want to do this?” His honey-gold eyes were soft as he scanned my face for any sign that I was changing my mind. “I’ll speak with him for you, if you wish.”

I shook my head. “I need to do this.”

Vael reached for the door and opened it. I heard scuffling and sniffing the second he did. The smell hit me next. Putrid and rancid, more so even than I’d come to expect. Sickly sweet and rotten. Gods, I nearly choked on it and was forced to pause to get my bearings.

As soon as I was certain I wasn’t going to vomit, we continued. But my skin still crawled as we stepped into the room.

Rellin was chained to the wall opposite me. The scuffling sound was the sound of his broken legs as he tried in vain to get free of the chains holding him. The sniffing was, of course, him. Sniffing the air. How he could smell anything but his own rot was beyond my comprehension.

“Are you there, leech-whore?” he keened into the room. “I can smell you; gods, you smell like mine…”

I wrinkled my nose in disdain, and Vael stepped in front of me. “Behave yourself, or we’re leaving.”

“We?” he asked, latching onto that word immediately. “She’s here? You brought me the blood-bride?”

Vael cringed. “I didn’t bring her to you; she wishes to speak with you.”

Rellin made some kind of wet snarling sound, and I nearly gagged. But I moved forward nonetheless.

I opted to speak his real name, even if it pained me. Perhaps I could build up a rapport so he’d tell me everything he knew.

Or perhaps I’d throw up the second the name left my lips.

“Rellin?” I said softly.

His sniffing and snarling ceased, and he craned his neck to see me in the darkness. “Come into the light, let me look at you, foul-blood… please let me look at you.”

“No,” I said, remaining in the darkness. “Talk to me like this.”

“Just as well, I smell you just fine from here,” Rellin crooned. “Ask me what you came to ask me, smelling you is driving me insane…gods, my legs are broken, but I could still put one over you.”

“I want the truth,” I blurted, not wanting to hear what he could do with his broken legs. “How is Drummond controlling the sigil?”

He was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know how he’s doing it. I know how we do it.”

“How’s that?” I asked.

“Come into the light, rotblood. Let me see you. Your sweet face, your soft, clean skin. So clean and so rotten. Come closer and I’ll tell you.”

“Godsdammit, Rellin…” Vael stepped into the light and grasped his throat, squeezing. “Tell her, or I’ll quiet you permanently right now.”