Page 63 of The Heartless One
Jessamine knew exactly what kind of power they would get. Elric had done that for ages, and he had made witches the most powerful creatures in this realm. He had been the one to show what true power was, but none of his siblings had been so willing to offer their lives. That was why he was the god of the dead. None of his siblings could die, and they feared what would happen if they did.
But then Fortuna reached into the chalice and drew out… a piece of flesh.
Leathery and ancient, it wasn’t a piece that had been recently removed. It looked like a bit of back skin, but Jessamine couldn’t guess where it had actually come from. She could hear the paperlike sound as Fortuna lifted it into the air. She caught a glimpse of more scraps of skin in that chalice. Thin. Leathery. Ancient.
“What is that?” she asked, her voice shaking as Fortuna lifted the skin and let it go. Like a bird in flight, it drifted to the center of the circle that had been made with her own blood.
“This is all that remains of the Crone,” Fortuna said, her voice vacant of emotion. “The Crone herself allowed her priestesses to preserve her body. She knew all the gods were going to die, and she wanted to make sure there was a small sect of us who could still use her power.”
So the Crone was still dead. That was good. But… there were pieces of her?
“You’re using her actual body in spells?” Why did that make her want to vomit? She knew the price of working with powerful magic like this. But…
Jessamine shook herself free from the paralysis that had caught her in its web. She pressed her hands to her mouth to hold the bile in, fearful of what Fortuna would do with that bodily fluid as well.
“Yes, the Crone was always very useful. But we’re running out of her, so the power can only be used in dire circumstances.” Fortuna’s mouth split into a grin that looked far more evil than any other expression she’d worn. “Taking over a kingdom counts as dire circumstances, wouldn’t you agree? Soon, a priestess will walk beside the ruler of two kingdoms, and together we will take far more than that.”
Jessamine watched as her blood slowly converged on the skin. The ring grew smaller and smaller until it was all absorbed by that dried, mummified piece of a fallen god. And then… The skin pulsed and power surged out of it, forming a ghostly image of the ancient goddess. She could see that the Crone had once been a kind-looking woman with skin honeyed by the sun. And yet, her power was bloodred, flowing out of the skin and speckling itself on the floor until it seeped between the floorboards and disappeared below.
Jessamine could feel it tugging at her stomach. It was a terrible feeling. An awful, ice-cold surge that trickled down her spine and turned her breath to frost. She gasped at the feeling, watching Fortuna’s eyes as her cousin crowed with glee.
“You were once a useful enemy,” Fortuna said, her words tinged with laughter. “But now? Now you’re going to shamble through the streets, just another forgotten woman who has no one left to remember them.”
The infected? Was Fortuna telling herthiswas where the infection started?
A rough jab of magic thrust itself against her belly like a sword had been jammed between her ribs. Coughing, she bent over at the waist, hugging her arms around herself as she tried to stop the feeling. There was a fist in her guts, twisting them this way and that as it tried to wriggle inside her body. But the new magic inside of her fought back. Elric’s black power merged with her own, both of those powers reacting like a fever burning through her entire form.
She heard the faint sound of movement, and turned to see Fortuna crouched low to the floor, staring at her with her fists pressed against the ground, watching every reaction Jessamine had to this spell. Jessamine could feel it breathing, writhing, trying to shove its way into her body when it had no right to do so.
“You’re feeling sick right now, aren’t you?” Fortuna asked. A fervency lit her gaze, turning those pretty dark eyes into swirling orbs of madness. “You want to vomit. But if you vomit, it’s only going to crawl its way deeper inside you. If you don’t vomit—and some people don’t—you’re going to claw out your own eyes. You won’t be able to see soon enough, anyway. The death is the easiest part. Then I will take all that makes youyou, and I will use it however I please. Your body can wander your home, though. At least you’ll have that.”
What was she prattling on about? Because Jessaminedidwant to claw at her eyes. They were suddenly so itchy that she wanted to scream with the sudden ache of them, but she wouldn’t give Fortuna the satisfaction. Instead, she ground her teeth and stared her cousin down.
“You’re so stubborn. But I can see how bloodshot your eyes are, Jessamine. Soon enough, they’ll cloud over, and you’ll fall to it just like everyone else.”
Then it all clicked into place. She’d seen enough of the infected to know that their eyes were constantly weeping and blood trickled out of their mouths, dark as merlot. Just like the color of the spell seeping through the floor.
“The plague?” she whispered, feeling like she might fall onto her hands and knees soon. “Youstarted the plague?”
“The Crone saw that there was a kingdom we could take. We had to clear it out, though, remove all the inhabitants without alerting the other gods. After all, we knew she was going to die, and we needed to figure out how to live without her. A mummified body only lasts so long, and so much power would be required for our plan. The kingdom was ours, and we are a patient bunch. Why wouldn’t we just…” Fortuna shook her head. “So silly of me to prattle on like this. It’s rude to talk about plans while you’re dying.”
“I’m not dying,” Jessamine hissed, but then fell to her hands and knees. She couldn’t quite prop herself up. One side could only balance on her forearm, and the other arm refused to work at all.
Fortuna crawled closer until her breath fanned the back of Jessamine’s neck, lording over her in the way her cousin always believed she should. “Of course you’re not, dear. You’re already dead. What a pity.”
The chalice was in her hand again. When had she picked it up? Jessamine swore she’d set it on the ground, but now Fortuna was reaching in to pick out another bit of dried-up skin.
“I know that these are supposed to be conserved, but we’re so close. I suppose using one more to hurry this up won’t make anyone too angry. Open up, Jessa.”
What?
Jessamine tried to struggle, but her body was already so heavy. There was very little she could do to stop Fortuna from prying her mouth open and placing that bit of skin on her tongue.
A burst of salt hit her immediately. It was like a coating of dust filled her mouth, so salty that it dried up all the saliva on her tongue. The magic of the Crone writhed on her tongue, and she could feel it sinking bitter barbs into her lips as it tried to force its way deeper inside of her.
Fortuna watched with that mad gaze, clearly waiting for the moment when it would all burst free. But it didn’t. Instead, black shadows poured out of her body. The magic she had taken from the Deathless One leaked out of her eyes and streamed from her nostrils like blood. It gathered around her mouth, prying her jaws open even as the Crone’s magic fought to keep them closed. Her jaw muscles screamed, but then she rolled onto her side and spat out the withered bit of flesh.
The wad of spit and skin splatted on the floor at Fortuna’s feet, but Jessamine didn’t have very long to celebrate the small win.
