Page 25 of Maneater

Mag stood beside Caz, one hand on his shoulder, the other gripping his arm.

She muttered something under her breath before yanking sharply, pulling the joint back into place.

A sickening pop echoed through the room, followed by a crack.

Caz doubled forward with a cry of pain. Mag moved quickly, securing the joint with a cloth sling.

Sweat beaded along Caz’s brow and neck as he clutched at his shoulder.

“Syrup of poppy will ease the pain,” Mag said, turning to me.

“A dose every sixth chime. You’ll see to it.

” Then, looking back to Caz, she added, “As for your palm, I’ll need to prepare a salve.

Possibly a tincture, as well. It’s no simple fix.

The preparation will take until nightfall, maybe longer.

I am not to be disturbed during this process. ”

She leveled a hard look at him. “You would do well to remember the ways of Brier Len. The old gods do not forget easily.”

“I will,” Caz murmured. Pain still clouded his expression, but he managed a respectful, “Thank you, Mag.”

Mag’s eyes bore into his until Caz finally dropped his gaze, his attention shifting to the frayed edges of his tunic .

“You,” Mag said, pointing at me. “Come.”

“I’ll be back,” I whispered to Caz, brushing my hand gently across his back.

Mag passed through the narrow doorway of the cramped infirmary, barely large enough for a cot and a stool. I followed quickly, stepping into another room crowded with shelves stacked high with jars and bottles. Wooden crates overflowed with bundles of dried herbs and plants.

The air was thick with an overwhelming blend of scents that made my head swim.

We stopped at a workbench, one of the only spots in the apothecary that was even remotely tidy.

Mag crouched, her back bending with effort.

If she felt pain, she didn’t show it. Her weathered hands sifted through a chest until she pulled out a small jar, no bigger than a plum, and handed it to me.

The liquid inside was milky and slightly thick. Only a quarter full.

“I did not expect our paths to cross again so soon. Yet, I do not control the threads of fate.” She gestured to the jar in my hand. “For your companion. Enough for two doses. Another batch will be ready by sunrise.”

“Thank you,” I said. I glanced at her hands, now working a mortar and pestle filled with dried herbs. “It’s good to see you again.”

There was a pause before she replied. “Is it?” Mag’s voice carried no curiosity, no warmth. “Truth slips away from those who chase it, yet haunts those who try to avoid it.”

She intended for me to feel the bite in her words and I didn’t miss “I see you still prefer to speak in circles.”

“The first dose is to be taken now. Go.”

When I didn’t move, Mag’s hands stopped mid-motion. She had a way of becoming so utterly still, it felt as if even the god of death might pause to watch.

“What is it, child? Spit it out,” Mag demanded. “Say what you fear to ask. ”

I stiffened at the sharpness in her voice. For a moment, I considered turning on my heel and heading back to Caz, but something held me in place.

“Tell me what happened that day,” I said. It came out more like a command than a question. “I need to remember.”

“It is not my tale to tell,” Mag replied, shaking her head. “If the gods will your memory to remain buried in shadow, then so be it.”

A knot of unease twisted deep in my chest, something dark and restless rising to the surface. The harder I tried to shove it back down, the more it clawed its way up.

You were there, I wanted to shout. Instead, I forced the words through clenched teeth. “You found me. You’re the only one who can make sense of it.”

Mag turned to face me, and though I stood taller by half a head, I felt myself shrink under her gaze. Her face was carved with wrinkles so deep they looked like they held centuries of secrets. Her eyes, hard as stone, pierced through me. Her mouth was a grim, unforgiving line.

“I am no fool, and neither are you. Three souls walked that night.”

I closed my eyes, shaking my head. “No.”

“Yes,” Mag replied flatly.

“It happened again,” I whispered. “Tell me, I need to understand.”

“It is as the gods willed. I cannot help. The decision was yours to make years ago.”

“Please, Mag.”

I searched her face, desperate for the smallest sign of softness, some flicker of change. But she remained immovable. Offering nothing.

With a sigh, I turned and walked back to Caz, my strength worn thin.

“Sleep well, child of ravens,” Mag’s voice called after me distantly.

Caz lay on the cot, eyes half-lidded, already slipping toward sleep. When he heard me settle onto the stool, his eyelids fluttered open, and he greeted me softly, “Odessa.”

“Here,” I said, offering him a spoonful of the white liquid. “It’s meant to ease the pain. Mag’s preparing a tincture for your palm. She said it should be ready in a day, maybe two.”

Caz took it carefully, nodding his thanks.

“I studied at the healer’s keep at the Academy for a semester.

I wasn’t any good at it, which is why I didn’t make it my concentration.

I couldn’t stomach it. The students there.

.. they’re made for it. They see life, healing, and death as one long cycle.

Their tools are their minds… their will and skill.

Me? I’ve only got a pen, paper, and a spool of metal thread. ”

“There’s more to you than just that,” I said. “I think under different circumstances, you’d agree.”

“I know.” He sighed. “I just have a lot of admiration for folk like Mag.”

“Mm,” I murmured, still carrying the weight of how my conversation with her ended.

“Can I ask you something?” Caz asked.

“Yes?” I met his gaze.

“How did Mag know I was a scholar? You said most folk around here wouldn’t even recognize one, let alone identify our uniform and emblem.”

I sighed. “Mag is... unusual,” I said, giving Caz a resigned look.

“Like I mentioned, I’ve only crossed paths with her once.

There’s a lot I don’t know about her, what secrets she keeps, what she’s hiding.

” My gaze drifted to my hands resting in my lap.

“She guards those secrets carefully, and I don’t think anyone really knows what’s in her past, or what she’s hiding beneath the surface. ”

“I see,” Caz murmured, his voice starting to slur.

“You weren’t exaggerating when you said I’ve got a lot to learn about Brier Len.

” He rubbed his temple, sinking deeper into the cot as his eyelids drooped.

His speech slowed, thick with sleep, and a small, drowsy smile tugged at his lips.

“Thanks... for looking out for me, Odessa. Even if I can’t finish my assignment here.

.. I’m still glad I met you. Lost tools and all. ”

His eyes finally closed, his breathing turning soft and steady.

The syrup of poppy must’ve taken hold. Caz looked completely at ease, almost peaceful.

I let myself study him for a moment. The way his golden hair fell across his brow, the way his lashes rested against his cheeks.

He curled into the cot like someone who had long since forgotten the weight of the world.

But as I stood there with him, that familiar dark sensation crept back, pulling at me. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to fight it off, but this place, the shop, Brier Len, all of it, always brought it to the surface. Moving quickly but quietly, I stepped closer and adjusted the blanket around Caz.

“I’ll be back,” I whispered. “Rest now.”

I threw my cloak over my shoulders and tugged the hood up, hiding my face.

As I stepped out of the infirmary, I cast a quick glance down the hallway.

The door to Mag’s room was shut tight. The apothecary felt unnervingly still, as if the silence of the night had slipped inside and made itself at home.

After chimes in Mag’s shop, darkness had finally fallen.

I moved cautiously, staying alert for any sign of Seraph, hoping to stay unseen.

Moments later, I stood at the front of the shop.

The once-bright hearth now flickered weakly, its embers barely glowing.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady the chaos inside me.

The dark presence began to swell, sharper, more urgent, and I let it slip from my control just a fraction.

The moment I did, the weight of it nearly shattered me.

I loosened my resistance again, and the storm inside eased into a steady drizzle .

My cheeks grew wet and slick. My breaths came heavy.

And with one last glance toward the infirmary, I turned to the door and fled into the night.