Chapter 1

ChapterOne

When had the scent of blood in the evening become so comforting?

Katherine sat with a bag of ice pressed against her hip, leaning against the outside wall of the almshouse. They mostly treated the wounded who had gotten in Gluttony’s way. Whether their patients had angered him or sparked his insatiable appetite, every victim ended up in the same place. Here.

She was covered in grime from the day. Sweat had slithered down her back as she worked to close wounds and heal injuries. And then there were the various—and copious—amounts of blood that she hadn’t scrubbed completely off.

Though today, they had a bit of a reprieve from their illustrious leader. A mining operation from another town had encountered a rather large hiccup. Three kelpies and twin vodyanoy had attacked their camp. Katherine expected they might have been fine if it had only been the vodyanoy. Sixteen men could easily fight a few water spirits who looked like overgrown toads. But kelpies? No one could fight them.

The water horses were wily and cruel. She still shuddered when she thought of the men’s injuries. So many broken limbs, flesh chewed through by sharp teeth that had scissored through muscle with ease. Deep furrows showed how wide the kelpie’s jaw could open. Some large enough to sink a man’s head into the darkness while they chewed his chest and shoulders. She’d had to remove so many limbs today, and there were still more in there. Each of them hoped someone would have time to save their lives, and few would receive that help.

Most of her crew were getting ready to leave. The second shift had arrived and that meant her coworkers were all about to stagger home through the muck and the fog. The safe planks were marked with yellow paint so no one would fall through rotting wood. Soon they would get to their floating town that was already sinking back into the swamplands. But for now, they were safe as long as they stayed on the path.

She nodded as three of them walked by her, everyone with dark hollows under their eyes and a staggering gait that suggested they might already be asleep on their feet.

One of them paused beside her seat outside, staring into the fog for a few moments before her eyes slanted down. “Do you need help getting home?”

Grace was a lovely young woman with blonde hair, a slight frame, and surprising strength at holding someone down by the shoulders while someone sawed through their mangled leg. She was also one of the most thoughtful companions Katherine had ever met.

However, she wasn’t in the habit of taking help from her friends. So she smiled tightly and shook her head. “Just have to rest it for a few moments, and then I’ll be on my way. Get started or I’ll catch up to you.”

It was meant to be a joke, but Grace just winced.

They all knew Katherine was at a disadvantage. Her hip couldn’t take long hours like today. Standing was one of the many things that exacerbated the fused bone that gave her a rather awkward limp and made her slower than the others. It didn’t help that Grace and Katherine lived in the same boarding house in town, and Grace had likely seen the scars that covered Katherine’s side.

Her cheeks flushed bright red with embarrassment, but she still flashed a grin at her friend. Hoping, please, don’t mention it.

Grace gave her another tight nod and moved on.

So it went with the few others who were still inside the almshouse. The ones who lingered were always the ones who offered their help. And Katherine appreciated it. She really did. But also she wanted them to see her as a woman who could take care of herself.

She’d lived with this injury for fifteen years just fine. They didn’t have to look at her with that pity anymore. She knew what her life was. She’d made it better through practice and...

She had to get going.

The moors were no place to walk after dark. Will-o’-the-wisps were very convincing when they wanted to be, and all manner of swamp creatures unearthed themselves from the muck. Awkwardly getting to her feet, she reached for the railing.

The worn wooden railing fit into the palm of her hand like an old friend. When she was little, she’d pretended it was a hand she held to get from place to place, and those memories still lingered as warmth bloomed in her chest. The walk home would be long, but maybe it would get rid of the stiffness that plagued her.

She started off, ignoring the creaking wood beneath her and the echoing moans that always filled the air around the building. It was why they’d built the almshouse so far from the town. No one enjoyed hearing the sick and the dying.

These walkways extended all throughout their kingdom. Wood that constantly had to be replaced because the ever prevalent rot would sink in. But this was a well-maintained path, considering the injuries that happened in this kingdom, so she knew the boards were steady under her feet.

Katherine let her gaze wander over the moors themselves. So pretty. So deceiving. As night settled in, everything came to life around her. The willow trees, with their long hanging tendrils, made a hushed sound as the wind blew through them. The bog water smelled like peat and greenery, decorated with lily pads, bright flowers, and emerald patches of algae that suddenly glowed in the darkness. Fireflies burst to life, swirling around her and blinking in every direction. Will-o’-the-wisps hid among them, but one would never know.

If her eyes cast downward, she might see the souls of the fallen. Those who had died in the mud always stayed where they were. Their ghostly features glowed a sickly green in the nighttime as they waited for someone to fall into the depths.

There were, of course, creatures to fear other than the kelpie and the vodyanoy. Rusalki with their beautiful calls, loup garou who haunted the land, näkki who only hunted children brave enough to stray from their mother’s sides. They were all there.

But Katherine had never been afraid in the moors. Not once. She’d always seen the beauty in the wild.

Her shuffling steps were uneven, the clunking sounds followed by silent footsteps until she saw the town reveal itself in the mist. She hadn’t realized how swallowed she’d been by the swamp until she could see civilization again. Home, and it was pretty, although some didn’t agree with her.

They had to wash the walls constantly to get rid of mold and algae, but it had given the entire town a soft green hue. Vines grew from the rooftops, burying the buildings into the swamp. None were over two stories, and even that was rare. Small walkways reached out to each house, all the individual homes spread out across the water and blinking fireflies. Quaint. Quiet. It was a beautiful little town full of people that were kind in their own way.

The boarding house was the largest building in her town and had good reason to be. A monolith of its own, and one of the few two-story buildings, she lived on one side with all the other women and the men lived on the opposite end. Rather archaic, considering they were all in the boarding house for the same reason. If they couldn’t afford a home on their own, how could they afford marriage?

Sighing, she walked up to the front door and headed in. Her room was on the first floor, which meant she was frequently woken by people passing by. Tonight? She was so tired that she doubted she would wake for anything. Even a fire wouldn’t get her to leave the dreaming realm.

The interior wasn’t much. Just a dusty entryway that they were supposed to clean, but rarely did, considering all the mud others tracked in. Dim lights hung above her head, blinking and clicking, considering their electricity was spotty. The rug used to be red, she thought, but now it was just a frayed rag that laid on the floor to collect more mud. Hadn’t there been a desk here at one point as well? Someone usually was here to greet people in case they needed lodging...

There hadn’t been a free room in ages, she remembered. No one ever left the boarding house.

Pausing in the doorway, she gently shut it behind her as she tried to massage out the spasm in her glute. Just two minutes. Two minutes to pause and she’d start down the long hallway that led to her lumpy bed. It was better than what it could be, she reminded herself. She was so close to rest, even if it was an uncomfortable rest.

Until Grace came careening down the other hall. Her blonde hair was streaked with blood, red and fresh. Eyes wild and fear making her shake, Grace pointed behind her.

“I’m sorry,” she wheezed. “There’s another one, Katherine. She couldn’t make it to the almshouse. Said she couldn’t pay, but it’s... it’s so bad.”

Sleep would have to wait, she supposed. Or at the very least, she could maybe sleep on her feet for a few moments while she stitched.

Gritting her teeth through the pain in her hip that now seared down to her knee, she plodded down the hall toward the kitchens. They all shared the room, and this wasn’t the first time they’d all banded together to patch up one of their own. But it was the first time she’d seen this much blood.

It was everywhere. Slicking the floor, leading in a trail up to the massive table where most of them ate. Katherine batted a hanging bundle of drying basil out of her way as she stomped toward the crowd of people clustered where the benches usually were. At this point, she was dragging her leg rather than walking on it. She put all her weight on her cane as she shoved people out of her way.

“Get me light,” she scolded. “Just the flames from the fire won’t help. Move.”

A few people parted and revealed the young woman on the table and everything froze as Katherine took it all in. Grace was already setting up her tools on the opposite side of the table. Twin, raking wounds slashed across the woman’s neck so deep she could see muscle. Blood sluggishly rolled down her neck, dripping onto the table and creating a small river. Wet plops hit the stone floor, dripping like the ticking of a clock. Counting down until the moment where Katherine had wasted too much time.

She recognized her.

The woman’s dark brunette hair had always looked so sleek and clean, but right now it was filled with brambles and prickers. Wide eyes locked with hers, and then she heard Grace snap her name.

Everything came back in a rush. The sound of the others moving around them, the murmur of “what happened?”, and the scent of blood so strong it was like someone had slapped her.

Katherine reached silently for the needle and thread. Placing her hand on the woman’s chest, she breathed in and out slowly. Mimicking the movements so the woman would start to follow her.

“Breathe,” she said quietly. “This will hurt, but no more than what caused this, yes?”

Her calm tones hushed everyone in the room. A young man in the back, his face far too pale, quietly asked, “Is she going to make it?”

Maybe.

Perhaps.

Katherine wasn’t a magic practitioner, and she certainly was no witch. Healing took time and energy and effort. That’s how it worked. There was no magical way to snap her fingers and say yes, this woman would live. She’d lost a lot of blood and that would be tiring to remake.

But she’d also seen so many young women in the same state as this, and they survived. So she could say, while staring into the woman’s eyes, “Yes.”

And so she worked. Hunched over the table with Grace at her side, both of them silently stitching and holding the skin together. Katherine hadn’t started doing this job. She’d been cleaning the almshouse at night when she first got in there, but then their boss had seen how neat her stitches were and he’d thrown her into it.

Now, she almost found the work soothing. She knew how skin wanted to be tucked in, folded, held together by thread and pierced by needle. Nothing startled her anymore. Almost as though her mind now recognized injuries and went numb the moment she got her hands on the patient.

Sighing, she finally tied the last knot in the skin and let Grace bandage the young woman up.

Rose. That was her name.

They’d met at one of the dinners. She was particularly good at making lemon tarts, even though the fruit was so rare to find here in Gluttony’s kingdom. Perhaps she hadn’t been born here. She’d been carted off like cattle, discarded in a kingdom of nightmares.

Someone had brought her a seat. Katherine hardly even noticed it while she worked, but she sank down onto it as she watched Grace’s fingers put salve over what must be a searing wound. But Rose’s eyes were on Katherine.

“What happened?” Katherine asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

“They said he’d give me money,” Rose croaked. Her voice didn’t sound like its normally beautiful lilt. It was hoarse and rough, so filled with pain it was almost difficult to understand what she said. “My ma is sick.”

“Who?”

The young woman’s eyes went wild and wide again. “Him.”

Everyone in the room sucked in a breath, because they all knew who him was. Gluttony. Their king. The man who feasted upon their women and sent them home bleeding like he didn’t care if they died on the walkway home or if the scent drew creatures to the one he’d wounded.

The pale young man lurched forward, gripping Rose’s hand in his. “I’ll kill him.”

“No,” Rose rasped.

Even Katherine felt the need to step in after that declaration, and she wasn’t the type to care what someone said at the bed of an injured loved one. “Attacking Gluttony will only end in your own death. You know this.”

He glared at her. “He’s going to keep doing this to our women. He’s going to keep hurting people if someone doesn’t stop him.”

“And you think that person should be you?” Katherine had to look away from him before he saw the pity in her eyes. “No one can stop him. He’s a demon, remember? He rules us all.”

And her words rang true throughout the room. Others drifted out of the kitchen, heading who knows where. Perhaps just finding a quiet space where they could process what had happened to one of their own.

As Grace finished up, she helped Rose upright and then handed her off to the young man who handled her like she was precious. He cast a glare in Katherine’s direction, of course. Why should he thank her for saving Rose’s life when he could be mad at her for pointing out the obvious?

Everyone left until it was just Grace and Katherine, like always. Then Grace looked at her and shook her head. “You have to work on your bedside manner. Really, Katherine?”

“What?”

“The boy just wants to help.”

“By throwing his life away the moment he steps foot near Gluttony and tells him... what? To stop feasting upon women? He’s been doing that for the better part of a year, other than those few months when he disappeared.” Katherine shook her head and tried to stand, but her hip locked up. “Someone has to be the voice of reason. That boy will get himself killed.”

“So? If he wants to be the hero, let him. Even if he wants to just be a fictional hero to make her feel better, let him.” Grace shook her head. “That big mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble someday, Katherine.”

Then she left. Not offering to help this time, Katherine noted.

Sitting by the firelight, pain lancing up and down her spine, all the way to her toes, Katherine wondered if her big mouth had already gotten her into trouble. It sure felt like this loneliness was the definition of it.

Wincing, she used the table as leverage and forced herself to limp back to her room. Alone. Covered in blood.

Life never seemed to change here.