Page 49 of The Lost Reliquary

He raises his sword and points, a mean grin spreading on his face. “Wicked abomination. When I’m done with you, there’s not going to be enough left to bother making anything of—”

I raise my sickle and throw. The words cut off as its point embeds deep in his skull, and Baldy goes down like a dropped doll.

“Uh-huh.” I go over and retrieve my weapon from his twitching corpse. “Sorry, but I win.”

Well, almost.

Nolan, head lifted what little the chains will allow, strains against his bonds, muffled words caught behind his gag.

“I’ll get to you in a minute.” Returning to the corridor, I assess what remains of the situation. The cleric is on his back, still. The Renderer I hit with the liquid is also dead, with an unpleasant amount of his face melted away. But the woman is alive and attempting to crawl her way down the corridor. I retrieve my other sickle, then grab her by the collar, drag her back into the Renderers’ workroom, and leave her slumped against the wall. She’s as pale as a gravestone.

“I can stop that.” I gesture with one sickle at her trickling stump. “You could live, walk away mostly intact. And all I’d ask in return is the answers to a few questions. Which I personally think is a pretty good deal for a bitch that would have boiled me for broth.”

Her eyes find me, watery orbs in increasingly pallid skin. With every beat of her heart, a little more life spurts onto the floor.

“You were going to hunt Chosen if the Goddess fell. That part I know. So, what else are you up to, besides plying the grossest trade of all time? How many more of you are there?”

She glares. Says nothing.

“Okay, let’s try something else. What do you know about reliquaries?”

This time, she looks surprised. And then angry. She spits at me weakly, teeth tinged red. “Monster. Lapdog of the Butcher Goddess. May you both drop dead tomorrow and usher in the return of the fallen divine.” There’s a distinctly pious flavor to her vehemence. And here I thought Renderers were all about the financial gains. Regardless, she has information I need.

I steel myself for the unpleasant task of getting it out of her.

“Mleesh!” Nolan’s full mouth exclamation is louder this time. “Pees. Lut ne oos.”

I sigh and turn. “Notnow. Honestly, stop being so needy. I’m trying to work here!”

When I turn my attention back to the woman, it’s just in time to catch her remaining hand drop from her mouth. She bites down.

“No!” I grab her, try to pry her jaw open, but it’s too late; the poison goes to work immediately. Her face flushes as thick, cloudy drool seeps from the corners of her mouth. Within a minute, she’s dead. “Fuck!” I spin toward Nolan, more annoyed than ever. “See what you did? She knew where the reliquary was. She—” I pause. Take a deep breath. Irritation bubbles like the liquids surrounding me, but there’s no point being pissed off at a corpse.

I turn back to Nolan. “She knew where the reliquary was. Andyourdistraction cost us that information. Remember that.”

His eyes narrow.

“Yes,us,” I repeat, picking my way through the carnage. I find a rag among the Renderers’ supplies to clean the blood and gore from my sickles. I take my time. I need to think, and this next bit is going to be important.

Even if I hate every moment of it.

When I’m ready, I return to Nolan.

“Okay,” I say, looking directly into the eyes that I can’t believe I ever found gentle, or caring. “You and I are going to have a little talk.”

Twenty-three

The path to victory is not always the clearest, easiest, or—and this is the most difficult to accept—smartest.

—WORDS OF WAR, WRITTEN BY BELLATOR PRIME NAEVE, IN THE ERA OF TEMPESTRA-TERTIA

NOLAN IS VERY, VERYstill as I raise one of my sickles and rest the point lightly on the ridge of his cheek.

“First off,” I say, “fuck you for trying to kill me.” To his credit, he doesn’t flinch as the blade skims over his skin, then hooks into the gag, cutting it away. “I want to know why.”

He doesn’t respond right away, only flexes his jaw with an expression of irritatingly patient consideration. “You know why,” he says finally, frowning. I flick my wrist, sickle kissing him again. This time, his head jerks away instinctively. The frown shifts into an amused smirk. “You survived.”

“One of my better habits.” I let my weapon drop. “You were planning to get rid of me from the start.”