Page 225 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
“Sweet mother of Felias!” Morus swore.
I didn’t know who Felias was, let alone his mother, but I swore an oath to her too and snapped my fingers into a torch. I held them up to inspect Pete’s eyes.
Thank you, Felias’ mom!Pete, eyes like ginger snaps in caramel, wasn’t turning demonic. Great news.
But bad news—he had other problems. Besides the wracking cough and shortness of breath, his eyes were glassy, the heat of his arid skin scorched my hand, and he shivered against me when I drew near.
I goggled at Pete. “I think you’re sick.”
His gaze returned to mine, dry as his wheezing, which was beginning to scare me. He sounded just like every horror movie corpse who’d risen from the grave.
Had one of his countless open wounds already become infected? Even if it had, could he have already gone septic? Didn’t that take days? Not hours. Besides, I scented no festering bacteria on him.
“Could a few death poppy petals make someone sick?” I asked Morus.
He examined Pete’s eyes for himself. “No, Amaranthine. Even a minuscule amount would corrupt a soul with all haste. If he’s not demonic now, then they didn’t feed him death poppy.”
“But theysaidit was a death poppy!”Whathad those carrot-topped assholes given Pete?
Morus’s mouth twisted. “They’d likely confused it as such—the dimwits.”
“Confused it with what?”
“Shorty.” Pete fisted my shirt strap. “I can’t smell you.” His chest rattled, his eyes widening in panic. Because he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. “I can’t smellanything.”
Something about that complaint struck a chord of terror within me.
“Did you see the bloom?” Morus licked his snaggletooth. “How did it look?”
“I don’t know!” I squealed. “Like a black poppy! Oh, uh—it was green in the center. Lime-green.”
Somehow, that disturbed Morus more than the threat of Pete going demonic. His black pit eyes rounded. “Death poppy stamens are gray, Amaranthine. What you’re describing—a black poppy-like bloom with a green center—is known as a bane bonnet, a posy cultivated with corrupted magic to foster dark magic on earth—by spreading plagues.”
“Plagues? Like the black death?” The disease that had killed half of Earth’s population in the 14thcentury!
“Aye, well, bane bonnets did start that, but Pete’s is likely a new breed—if Gentian was growing it. He thrives on innovation in killing.”
Holy mother of Felias!I thought, puzzle pieces clicking together. The diverted river. The stolen mine.Gentian’s growing bane bonnets!
“We must curry Pete back to Eden and our healers as fast as we can.” Morus took Pete under one arm to heft him up. “If he’s in this condition now, he’ll likely be dead by dawn.”
No! No! No! No! No!
“Wait!” I grabbed Pete and shook him to get his faltering attention. Because I now understood why Myrrdin’s fates thought I should know about myscoránheart. “Pete, stay with me, dude!”
Shit! Are his lips already blue?
“Do you haveanythingin your talismanic sphere that could help you?” I squeezed his head, trying to keep him alert.
His fatigued, swollen eyes dawned with a moment of clarity. “Locked.”
“Not to me it isn’t.” I smacked his cheek when his eyes rolled back. “Will anything in there help you?”
“Maybe—” His voice drifted, as did his awareness.
I smacked him again. “Maybewhat? What, Pete?What?”
Jarred by the violence, Pete bleared, then whispered, “Breath—breath of life—”
