11. Chapter 11

We hurried down the dunes toward the belt of vegetation around the property. Hiding among the trees, Cyn put me down, and we snuck to the front entrance.

The noises of torment had ceased, leaving the house eerily quiet. Without animals, without the flap of a bird's wings or the buzzing of an insect, the scenery seemed undeniably fake. But panicked prey was unlikely to notice their absence, instead attracted to the welcoming exterior and the prospect of help.

Planters with cheerful patterns and shimmering glazes lined the outside walls, each growing a different species of beautiful flower or fragrant herb. The plants themselves were neither uncommon nor expensive, but someone clearly took pride in tending to them, no dried leaves or wilting blooms to be found.

The white double doors stood wide open, orange curtains obscuring the view inside. Above the frame hung a handwritten sign. On it was a large, sloping phrase in Xar'vathi, and below, smaller letters in Elvish and Common.

Clinic— All are welcome.

Eli walked ahead with a ghost-like grace, his movements silent except for the soft clinking of bones and teeth. He parted the curtains a finger's width before he nodded at us and slipped inside.

Cyn and I followed into the relative coolness of a small waiting area. Two benches with crochet cushions occupied the middle of the room. Overlapping rag rugs in varying shapes and sizes covered most of the yellow-tiled floor, mercifully softening our steps. A little drinking fountain extended from the wall, the babbling of clear water providing cover for Eli's whisper.

"I can sense the Demon." He waved at a door to our left. "They're close."

"Me, too," Cynthian said and took up his hatchet, bouncing on the pads of his feet.

I slid the bow from my back and nocked an arrow, the head shimmering with my paralytic. We advanced quietly, nerves tingling along my bones, the need to stay clashing with the urge to flee.

I'd learned early on that running from a fight wasn't necessarily a coward's choice, but that of a clever survivor. Today, avoiding a confrontation wasn't an option. If we wanted the key, if we wanted salvation, we'd have to rip it from death's algid grasp.

Elias pushed the door open, and my stomach hardened.

The hall beyond was … terrifyingly lovely.

The airy, light space took up the entire left wing of the house. All windows were open, floor-length curtains in bright colors bellowing in the gentle draft. A plain altar had been set up in the corner to our right, a resinous, spicy scent streaming from sticks of incense burning next to the statuette of a horned Xar'vathi deity.

The figure's arms were spread in a welcoming gesture, smiling as she held a sun in one hand and a bloom in the other. An offering of those round, red fruit was placed in a ceramic bowl at her feet. Maybe she was the Goddess of healing or harvest for their kind, maybe both.

Elias scoffed quietly as his eyes followed mine. For a second, Cyn seemed like he was going to walk over to the altar, cleaver raised and one foot in the air, but he stayed at our side as he had promised.

Simple wooden beds stood in regular intervals along the walls, between each of them a nightstand, a clay vase full of fresh flowers and a glass of water on it. There were at least two dozen beds, and every single one was occupied. Tucked in neatly beneath swirly patterned, linen sheets, hands folded atop, and heads propped up on fluffy pillows, laid corpses.

Nausea bubbled in my belly.

Not a drop of blood stained the puffy mattresses, no signs of violent injury marring the bodies. They were dried out, skin like brittle, ancient parchment, stretched over lengths of stark, protruding bones. Their cheeks were sunken, and streaks of white hair clung to their parched scalps, as if something or someone had sapped even the tiniest spark of life from them.

And there, by the last bed on the right, stood Denial, dressed in a red, sleeveless robe, a collar around her neck. She was so absorbed in her task; she hadn't noticed us entering.

The sturdy woman with brown curls and twisted black horns bent over a half-covered body—an elven male—this one yet supple, slow breath still moving his chest. A gentle smile graced Denial's features, red eyes sparkling with genuine kindness. The triangular tip of her tail flicked with joy as she set her hands on the person's heart.

I lowered my bow and arrow, quirking a brow as I mimed a speaking mouth with one hand, but Eli's lips formed one syllable. No.

"Poor dear," Denial said in Elvish with a pronounced accent, fingers combing through the unconscious man's thick, black hair. "Don't worry, I will care for you. I'm sorry I had to stop you from screaming, but you were scaring the other patients. With the power of Thalyxia, I will take away your suffering. Look at how happy the others are. I healed them, too."

At once, I knew where Denial had gotten her name.

A pang of compassion burst in my chest, but the ashes of my empathy were scattered by the storm of covetous love raging in my soul.

I didn't care who she was, or if she knew what she was doing.

I didn't care if she was a good person or a detestable wretch.

All that mattered to me were my brothers. This woman was nothing but collateral damage.

The world didn't reward the kind. It belonged to the brutal and the cruel, those willing to scale a mountain of carrion to reach the heavens.

And for Cyn and Eli, I would have committed an eternity of every atrocity known to mortalkind. I would have walked the Hells and drenched my path in blood if it meant we would be together.

I didn't care who had to fall so we could rise.

Denial closed her eyes and hummed, swaying. Smoky shadows swirled around her hands as she pushed them to the Elf's sternum. Black splotches appeared under her touch, spreading like a wave of rot.

A rapid change took hold of her victim's body.

His skin darkened, then grayed. The strands of healthy hair turned white and fell out, onto the pillow. His cheeks sunk and his eyes shrunk, his flesh desiccating as it caved into the hollow of his bones.

Within a few seconds, the young Elf had joined the ranks of Denial's patients, almost indistinguishable from the others in his mummified state.

"A healer whose healing magic has become her curse … a mockery of her power, taking life instead of restoring it, and she doesn't even realize," Elias mumbled under his breath. "Cyn, we can't allow her to get to Myna. A single touch will be enough to—"

"Who are you?" Denial interrupted, her head cocked as she straightened, looking at us. "Are you hurt?"

Cyn grabbed my arm, pulling me behind him and Eli, his other hand firm around his hatchet. "Give us your key and, in turn, we'll give you a quick death!" he bellowed.

"Key?" Denial echoed, still smiling. "What key? Why do you need a key? My doors are open to all souls in need, day and night."

Cyn growled. "I won't say it again, bitch!"

"Why are you so mean?" Denial asked. "I wish to help. This is my clinic, my home. I'm only a healer."

Suddenly, she was gone. Before I could blink, she appeared halfway across the room, closer to us.

My heart jumped into my throat before taking a nosedive into my gut.

"Fuck …" I tugged on Cyn's sleeve. "D-did she just teleport?"

It was Elias who answered me, his tone low. "No, but she is incredibly fast. My demonic eyes can follow her movements."

Denial stretched her arms toward us, much like the Goddess on her altar. "You two are healthy. Though that frail little thing at your backs …" Her grin widened, strange malice sparking in her gaze. "She needs to be cured."

"I can't see her, Eli," Cyn urged, stiffening. "I can't fight her if I can't see her."

"Then we must distract her, get her to neglect her movements. If I raise the bodies in this room, they won't be fast enough, either. You must draw her attention, Cyn," Elias whispered, all eyes fixed on Denial. "I have an idea, but it will take a moment to channel the spell, and I need her to stay still."

"Understood," Cyn said. "I'll think of something."

It felt as if the floor had been pulled from beneath my feet. I was nothing but a liability in this fight. My bow and arrow, my dagger, all my practice counted for nothing against an enemy too fast to aim at.

"Oh, and brother," Elias added, his face expressionless, a single eye sliding to Cyn. "Don't let her touch you."

"Damn, you got any more fucking unreasonable wishes?" Cyn spat, but he grinned. "I'll be okay. You keep our little Hellspark safe."

"Give her to me!" Denial screeched. "Don't make me hurt you! She needs to be healed!"

In an instant, she was beside us. Her robes brushed my arm, but Eli yanked me back in the nick of time.

I fell, my side hitting the frame of a bed. I couldn't breathe from shock and pain echoing through my ribcage. Eli stood in front of me, protecting me with his body, necromantic green flickering at the tips of his raised fingers.

Had he not pulled me to safety—

"Hey, you heretic bitch!" Cyn's voice cut through the room alongside the crack of a whip. He had swapped weapons, the cleaver back at his belt. "What about your precious little shrine, huh? You love this false piece of shit wannabe Goddess so much? Worthless trinkets, all of this!"

He shook with laughter as the sole of his boot met the altar table. It tipped over, everything atop tumbling to the floor with a crash. The incense dish shattered, as did the bowl with the offerings, fruit rolling along the tiles. By some miracle, however, the statuette was still in one piece.

Cyn rolled his eyes and raised his foot one more time. He brought it down on the figure with full force, the material cracking and splintering.

"Oops," he said, cackling. "I absolutely did that on fucking purpose. Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Denial shrieked, the sound nearly bursting my eardrums. A ball of black energy formed on her palm, and she threw it toward Cyn. He ducked at the last moment, sticking his tongue out at her. It seemed her body moved fast, but the projectiles of her spells traveled at a regular speed I could perceive.

"Ha, you missed!" Cyn shouted. "Useless whore, just like your Goddess."

With another cry, she was gone, reappearing in front of Cyn. She swiped at him, enraged and imprecise, and he jumped back, out of her reach. He was still giggling, shrill and delirious, the same way he had when he chased me through the village.

Cynthian always knew how to piss someone off, a talent he'd possessed since he was a boy.

He pushed himself off the wall and vaulted over Denial, dashing to the other side of the ward. The bone whip weaved in smooth ripples around him, keeping the Xar'vathi at a distance. It hit the beds, shattering wood and tearing curtains.

Denial kept slinging dark energy toward Cyn, her face twisting with wild rage. The more he laughed at her, the angrier she got, the fiercer she attacked. But her movements slowed.

"Stay down there, Myna. Hide," Elias said, looking at me. "This one time, for the love of the Creators, please listen and do as I say, little one."

I pouted. Staying out of the fray of battle wasn't like me, but I couldn't be of help. I gave a nod, and Eli rewarded me with the briefest of smiles before he turned toward the fight.

"Lost souls, hear my call," Elias chanted quietly, the glow around his hands intensifying. "Rise from the depths of this dark soil, grasp of the dead to shackle and coil!"

Denial had backed Cyn into a corner, the flicks of his whip growing less volatile, his range of movement impaired. She only had eyes for him, howling in frustration. Point blank, a projectile of shadow energy hit Cyn in the neck below the collar, and he cried out. Denial used the distraction to grip his bare lower arm. Shadows crept outward from both spots, but with the ensuing struggle, it was hard to tell how fast they were spreading.

My heart stuttered.

I wanted to call out to him, wanted to rush to his aid, but I bit my tongue and stilled my feet. If I drew attention to myself now, my brothers' efforts would have been in vain.

Denial was so occupied with the success of her attack, she didn't notice as spectral hands sprouted from the ground, in unison with the slow rising of Eli's arms.

Two. Then four. Then six. Ten. Countless.

Their translucent, green-glowing digits wrapped tight around Denial's ankles, around her calves, holding her in place. She screamed incoherently as she thrashed, but she didn't let go of Cynthian.

"Now, brother!" Elias yelled. "Do it now! Kill her! I can't hold this spell for long."

Cyn groaned in agony as he tossed the whip aside and reached for his cleaver. With a flourish, he yanked it from his belt and sliced at Denial's neck. A wide gash opened along her throat, above the collar, thick black ooze flowing from the wound as she gargled.

"Why?" she choked out, dark blood streaming from her mouth. "I was … just trying to … help …"

"Fuck off," Cyn grunted and raised his cleaver again. "Rot in the Hells."

The blade connected with flesh once more, and Denial's head fell to the ground. Her body followed.

Elias breathed heavily as he released the spell, the hands disappearing while he braced himself on the bed next to me.

Cyn grinned, giving us a thumbs up as he tripped in our direction. He didn't make it far before slumping against the wall. The black along his neck had almost reached his jaw, and the spot on his forearm was spreading toward his heart like a streak of infection.

"Good work, Eli!" He laughed; the strained sound broken by a wet cough. "You know, I'm kinda tired. I think I need a moment. Just a minute."

The cleaver dropped, and with a last thin giggle, Cyn collapsed.