Page 166 of Godslayer
Don’t look at it, Tyse. Don’t look at it.
But I do. I always do.
The harvester is on the right-hand wall. Luther prances around it—fists filled with needle-thread tubes as he inserts them into the machine. His movements jerky, uncoordinated, and seemingly without reason as he feeds the tubes into the ports.
He looks up, spies us, and starts babbling his incoherent sentences filled with unspooling metaphors that really, only make sense in his demented mind.
He drops the needle-threads and calls her Dolly. “Come here, Dolly!” Comin’ at us with both arms outstretched, making grabby-hand gestures with his fingers.
I growl. Not an exaggeration.
He backs off. “Needles and thread!Needles and thread!”
I look down at Clara, take her face in my hands, look her in the eyes. “Be strong.”
She presses her lips together, straightens her back, tilts her chin up. And with her most up-city, Spark Maiden voice, tells me, “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got this.Youjust worry aboutyou.” Then she pokes me in the chest, smiling. Like this is no big deal.
She gets drained of her lifeforce all the time, Tyse.
She’s a pro.
And she is.
But this is it. It ends tonight.
It took days for her to wake up last time. She hasn’t even gotten her memories back. It’s gonna kill her. You’re gonna come back too late this time, and?—
Epsilon!Epsilon!Epsilon!
I kiss her, she kisses me back, and this is when she loses it. It’s a moment. A single moment when a soft, small, sob escapes her well-polished fortitude.
It kills me, this sob.
Fuckin’kills me.
“Dolly!” Luther screams. “Come here now, Dolly! I need to thread you with the needles!”
I want to kill that little monster. Drag his soul out through his throat and braid it into a leash. Lead him around like a dog beggin’ for mercy.
Just FYI, Luther—I don’t grant mercy to anyone.
“Later,” I mutter.
“What?” Clara asks.
“Nothin’.” I take her hand, squeezin’ it one last time. “Youtake care ofyou, Clara.” And this time it’s me pokin’ her in the chest. Then, and only with my eyes, I say,Please.
She nods like she heard me. Then she turns on her heel and walks into the lab.
Luther slams the heavy, metal door in my face.
And then I’m alone.
Youtake care ofyou.
I start prayin’…
I am the executioner and the death.
