Page 146 of Brimstone

“Oh gods, no, Archer. You don’t have to worry about that, I promise. I don’t have any staff from my house. I didn’t evenhavea house back in Zilvaren—”

“It’s true,” Carrion said. “She was as feral as a hellcat. She would slink through any open window and take a nap when she could.”

I gave him a look. “Yes,thankyou, Carrion. The point is, I wasn’t asking because I wanted to fire you. I only wanted to know if you’d been here before, when Edina was still here. But I suppose you would have been if you took your place at Cahlish before Fisher’s birth.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, absolutely. I knew Lady Edina very well. She was quiet. Very considerate. Always thinking of others. A very graceful female, too, my lady. When she moved, it was as though her feet never even touched the ground.” His tone had turned wistful, his eyes glassier than normal. The fire within them seemed to glow a little hotter. “I didn’t know that she was an Oracle. Not for a long time. Some Seers become distant as their gifts grow. They know too much. They see too much. But not Lady Edina. She remained exactly who she had always been. Even when that monster sent for her, and she had to go . . .” He shook his head. “She was sweet about it. Didn’t put up a fight.She was scared, though. I could tell. You know,sheused to love coming to this forge, too!” He brightened as if he had just remembered this fact. “She knew nothing about metalwork or the workings of a forge, but she would come and sit in that chair, yes, that one, the one next to yours, and she would say that she was visiting with a friend. I never understood what she meant, but . . . but!” He held a stubby index finger in the air, and I noticed for the very first time that Archer only hadthreefingers, plus his thumb.

“Her favorite flowers always grew here, out in the courtyard, along the far wall. I used to pick them for her. She loved the smell. Wait right here! I’ll fetch you some.”

“Archer! Archer, it’s okay. It’s cold out there, away from the fire!”

He paid me no heed, bolting out of the forge. In less than a second, he was up to his knees in snow, and then little more than a glowing spark of light smoldering in the dark.

“The fire sprites are dying out. Did you know that?” Carrion spooned some stew into his mouth, eating with far less fervor than usual. He barely seemed interested in his food at all, in fact, which meant the situation must have been dire indeed.

“I didn’t know that,” I confessed. “How doyouknow?”

He jerked his left shoulder in an approximation of a shrug. “A water sprite told me.”

“Oh? Whatelsedid this water sprite tell you?”

“That it was rude to pry into other people’s personal conversations.”

“I seethatlesson didn’t stick.”

“What’s that supposed to—”

A ball of fire ignited in the courtyard outside, a pillar of flaring orange in the dark. I dropped the spoon I was holding. It landed with a clatter in my stew, splashing food all over the bench. A weapon. I needed a weapon. I grabbed the first thing Icould lay my hands on and charged outside, arms pumping as I sprinted.

“Help!” Archer’s terrified cry rang loud in my ears.“Help!”

The fire sprite was past the large live oak that sat in the middle of the clearing; his body was wreathed in flames . . . and there was afeederlunging at him.

“Archer!”

My blood sang a hymn in my ears. Magic tore up my right arm, my runes flaring bright blue in the dark. Copper coated my tongue. My canines. Gods, my canines had grown so long in my mouth that they sank straight into my bottom lip.

It took but a second to cross the clearing, but it was a second too long. The feeder had Archer by the arm, and it was trying to drag him back over the wall.

In life, it had been a male. A tall one, with long, warm brown hair that reminded me of Ren’s. Now that I was closer, I could see that therewerewar braids in his hair—and he was wearing worn, brown leather renegade’s armor as well. My heart skipped a beat at the possibility—was it him? Had something awful happened to him while he’d been gone? But the feeder twisted unnaturally at the waist, turning a full one hundred and eighty degrees to look back over its shoulder as it attempted to scale the wall, and I saw its features.

A broad, flat face, with a wide, square jaw. Crooked nose. Lips that were too thin, and torn to shreds besides. The male had been dead for days before it had risen. And the rot . . .

Oh, gods.

“Infected! It’sinfected!” I skidded to a stop five feet away from it, alarm rattling my nerve endings like a jailer rattling a set of keys.

Thick black veins spiderwebbed beneath the feeder’s sallow skin. Its eyes were completely black. A strange white light pulsed through its waxy throat and glowed within its chest. Its armwas on fire now, but for some reason, the rest of it remained unaffected by Archer’s flames.

“My Lady!” Archer wailed.“Please!”

The fire sprite was a ball of fire, his black, rock-like body kicking and scrambling at its center. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t get free. The feeder bared its teeth, snarling, and then itsprangup the wall, holding on to the thick vines of ivy that covered the face of the stonework with its free hand.

I reacted without thinking.

I threw the blade I was holding—not Erromar or Selanir. Thenullblade. I must have grabbed it from the bench. Fuck! I sent it sailing through the air, praying as it flew . . . and then rocked with relief when it speared the feeder through the shoulder and pinned it to the wall. My relief was short lived. The second the dagger struck the feeder, it sankintoits body, as if it were being absorbed. The monster threw back its head and unleashed an unholy shriek that sounded more like ecstasy than pain. Muscles bulged along its back, multiplying, its biceps doubling in size. It was responding to the blade somehow. Growing. Becoming stronger.

Horror warred with amazement inside me. “What thefuck?”