Page 25 of Brimstone

Feeder. High blood. Deadstock.

There was so much to unpack in that statement and no real time to do so. Taladaius continued, “Why? What have you noticed?”

Carrion shrugged and dropped into a crouch, humming thoughtfully as he studied the head that was half sticking out of the bag. He quickly grew frustrated and took hold of the sack, upending it so that all eight of the heads toppled out and went rolling across the floor.

He went to the female head first—the one that had been sticking out of the bag—and carved himself off another slice of the apple, sliding it into his mouth and crunching loudly. “Two things. The first is right there,” he said, nodding down at the head. “On its neck. That looks like a pretty intentional marking to me. Saeris, come and tell me what you make of it.”

One of the dismembered heads opened its mouth, thick black ichor running over its chipped teeth and pooling on the floor. Its bloodshot eyes rolled wildly in its head. Nasty. “I can see just fine from here, thanks.”

Carrion rolled his eyes. He huffed as he made his way across the council chamber and reached out for my wrist—

Kingfisher was suddenly there, angled in front of me. Surprisingly, his expression was blank. “Do you like having fingernails, Carrion?” he asked politely.

“I—” Carrion gaped. “I do, actually.”

“I thought so.” My mate said nothing more.

Carrion quirked an eyebrow, pulling a face, widening his eyes as he looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “All right, then. I take it that means that I shouldnotattempt to touch your girlfriend?”

“Oh, sinners,” Lorreth muttered under his breath.

“She isn’t my girlfriend. She’s my mate,” Fisher said quite amicably. “And if any part of your body, literallyanypart of it, comes into contact with hers, then I will remove it.”

Carrion thought about this. “What about if she’s hanging off a cliff by one hand and can’t hold on much longer? Can I touch her then?”

“Where am I in thisunlikelyscenario?”

“Probably dead.”

Fisher just gave him a tight smile. “IfI’mdead, then—”

“Urgh! You’re ridiculous, both of you! I’d rather poke a dismembered head than bear witness tothis. Just stop already!” I shoved them aside and crossed the chamber to the godscursed heads. Lorreth stooped and picked up the female feeder’s head by the hair, holding it out for me to see.

Sure enough, there was a mark on its neck, just as Carrion had said. My stomach bottomed out the second I saw it. Carrion had knownpreciselywhat it was. “Oh,” I whispered.

The mark, anXbehind the female’s earlobe, had once been a simple tattoo, but now it was made of knotted veins, bulging up beneath the skin. They looked necrotic, and they pulsed, echoing with the memory of a heartbeat that no longer fed them.

My hand raised of its own accord, moving tomyneck and the small black cross hidden behind my hair.

I couldn’t say the words. Fisher did it, albeit a little breathlessly. “Your sterilization mark? Is that what . . .” He nodded to the head that Lorreth still held.“Does she have it, too?”

I nodded.

“Thesecondclue that these feeders aren’t Yvelian is staring you right in the face,” Carrion said.

My stomach rolled at the weightless, sick feeling that formed there. “Their ears.”

“Gods alive,” Taladaius groaned. “How did none of us notice? They’re round! Their fucking ears are round. They’rehuman.”

“They could have been here from before,” I said. “Yvelia was full of humans once, back before the blood curse, right?”

But my maker was shaking his head. “Deadstock have a limited shelf life here. The dark magic that causes them to rise from death reanimates them, yes, but it is temporary. Their bodies still decay. Eventually they fall apart and go back to the dirt. Five years. Maybe ten. These feeders have been dead weeks rather than months. They still have their hair. Some of them have their tongues—

“All right. All right. I . . . get the picture.” I was suddenly overcome with the need to sit down. “What does this mean, then? People are jumping into the quicksilver pool in Zilvaren wheneverweopen the gates? They’re coming through in Cahlish and . . . being attackedthere?”

“No.” Fisher’s expression was stormy. His leathers creaked as he paced up and down, trying to piece this together. “They can’t have come through in Cahlish. They would have been found immediately. And anyway, they would have towantto come here specifically for the quicksilver to deliver them here. And forgive me if I’m wrong, but the people in Zilvaren know nothing of this place.”

“Right.” Carrion nodded.