She lay on her back upon the hard wooden table, right leg propped up on a small box. Landon stood over her, holding her hand while he watched the surgeon work on the wound. The herbal balms and medicines had dulled the minor pains, and they’d been able to stitch up the cuts on her ribs and arm with only minimal discomfort.

Fennor Wright, the clinical surgeon and retired field medic, tapped on the metal shard embedded in her lower leg. She cried out through gritted teeth and felt Landons grip tighten around her hand. She’d never felt anything in her life that hurt nearly as much.

“Damn,” The old man muttered. “Give her the leather.”

Landon nodded and picked up a thick chunk of leather strap from off the table. He pushed it into her mouth and told her to bite down before she could even ask why. A sudden jolt of horrible pain wracked her body and she bit into the strap while screaming as loudly as she ever had. A few seconds later the foreign object was removed and the trauma began to subside.

Fennor poured a foul smelling liquid onto the wound and began to stitch it up. “It was lodged in tight next to the bone, and may have fractured it. I don’t believe there is any serious damage though.”

Landon nodded. “How long until she can walk safely?”

The old man shrugged. “She can get around on crutches. I’ll check on her in about a week and we’ll see then.”

Landon went to go pick out a crutch appropriate for her size and let the doctor finish up his work. Danica studied the leather piece, noticing the hundreds of tooth marks imprinted on it. She hoped to never have to suffer that kind of pain again, but it seemed inevitable given the recent circumstances of her life.

It took her only a few moments to learn how to walk on crutches and she was able to hobble on her right leg if necessary, though it was extremely painful to do so. Landon helped her down the hallway, heading to what she thought would be her room for the night. He stopped in front of his office door and motioned for her to come inside.

“I’m rather tired,” she said with a hint of annoyance. “I’m sure whatever it is can wait until tomorrow.”

He gave her a stern look and motioned again. “If you wish to get rest, as I do, then get moving.”

He led her to a padded seat by the fireplace and helped her into the chair. Then he added two small logs and stoked the coals with a small bellows. Soon the room was bathed in the flickering firelight, chasing away the chill lingering in the air.

He took a seat facing her. “Now, I would very much like to hear how you ended up being found by the night patrol, bleeding out in a filthy alley, next to a mutilated corpse.”

She looked into the dancing flames and started telling her story. “I was just out for a walk. I was being careful to avoid everyone, and I saw someone that apparently passed out from drinking. Moments later I heard a scream and I ran back. By the time I got there he was cutting him, like someone carving meat. Then he attacked me. I almost had him though.”

Landon nodded along, listening to every word. “You almost had him, and by the looks of it, he almost had you as well.”

She wanted to deny it, but the truth was that the strange man did almost kill her. The cuts she bore could have been worse, the near misses could have found their mark. Had she been even a fraction off or been slower to dodge, they would have found two bodies this night. She bit her lip, unable to admit that he wasn’t wrong.

He shook his head and sighed. “All that aside, can you describe him?”

She played the moments over in her mind, trying to remember anything important. “He was a little taller than me, lean, and he was somewhere about middle aged I guess.”

“Not much to go on,” he said. “Is there anything else?”

She nodded. “He’s got a broken nose.”

He sat up in his chair, obviously intrigued. “Like it was misshapen?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

She shook her head “No, I mean it’s broken now”

Danica thought she’d seen the briefest flash of a smile on him, but then he coughed as if to clear his throat. He went across the room and poured them each a cup of wine. He brought it to her and sat back down, looking serious as ever. She drank deeply of the potent beverage, savoring the warmth that washed over her body.

He took a smaller drink and set his cup upon the table. “Just last week some of my men found a corpse in an alleyway. An adult man, with pieces of his flesh cut away. His heart was missing as well. This murder seems eerily similar, and we’ll know more about the body tomorrow after we examine it.”

Through the fog of her mind, she remembered what the man had said. “He told me he was going to try my heart right before he attacked.”

The flickering flames cast an eerie light over landon as he spoke. “That doesn’t bode well. It could be that we might now have some sort of ritual killer running loose in the city.”

She drained the cup and set it down on the table with a hard slam, angry at her own failings. “I almost had him,” she seethed.

Landon held his hand up to calm her. “Don’t blame yourself, he only barely escaped. I assume it had something to do with that mangled piece of metal in your leg though. How did that happen?”

She shook her head, obviously confused. “He had a lantern, but it wasn’t lit by candle. You can’t move like that without it going out, and it was so bright. He threw it down on the ground and there was a brilliant flash and we were pushed away. Then it was gone.”

He rubbed his chin, raking at the unshaven stubble. “It wasn’t oil, that would have simply burned. If it was magelight, then that adds a whole other twist to this. I have no idea if those things explode though.”

She mouthed the word a few times. “What’s a magelight?”

“Magical balls of light trapped in a glass orb,” he said. “They glow brilliantly and require no fuel. You won’t see them around here of course. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

He helped her to her room and she bid him a good night. She made her way to the window and opened it up to the chilled night air. The stars shone brilliantly and the moon cast a silvery glow to the city below it. He was somewhere out there now, wounded just as she was. She knew deep down in her damaged soul, that their business with one another wasn’t finished.

****

Galen struggled to breathe as he unlocked the door into the dilapidated building where he made his home. It was a ratty little shack on the outskirts of the slums, but it was enough to satisfy his simple needs. A place to rest and enjoy his culinary delights without raising too many suspicions. He slung the bag off of his belt and onto the counter with an almost sickening plop.

“Corley!” he called out quietly, fighting to get the words out. “You should have… seen it.”

He rummaged around a ratty wooden crate, throwing the unwanted contents to the floor. Finally he found the small candles that had been stored away for emergencies. He worked at the fireplace, trying to stoke the coals enough to get a flame to light one. He regretted tossing that irreplaceable magelight away like that, but it was a desperate situation.

“She had… that look Corley,” he wheezed. “That look… of a killer… in her eyes.”

Finally a single small flame danced about and he was able to light the wick. He let out a gleeful laugh and carefully lit the other two on the table. The room was bathed in a soft glow, enough to let him start administering to his own wounds.

He held up his left hand, the one that had been holding the lantern and was closest to the explosion. He winced at finally seeing the amount of damage that he had sustained. No wonder it had gone numb. The whole of it was riddled with metal and glass and two of the fingers were completely missing. The remaining fingers were twisted wrongly, adding up to a completely mangled mess.

“Well… only one thing… for it.” he said in a whisper to himself.

Galen grabbed an iron skillet off the wall and tended the fireplace until it was burning hot then placed it into the flames. He grabbed a leather cord and started working it around his forearm, tying it off tightly. It helped with the dull ache and gave some amount of relief at least.

He pulled a bottle of hard spirits off the wall and tipped the bottle, drinking deeply of the usually foul liquid. “Hey, I can’t… taste anything! That… bitch broke… my nose.”

He laughed at the memory of their battle. It was the first time in a long while that something had truly got his blood pumping and made him feel alive like that. He thought someone like her would be an easy victory, and he could almost taste that succulent young flesh. She was fast and knew how to handle a weapon, an unexpected surprise. They both walked away this time, but would forever bear the scars from their time together.

Sitting at the corner of the table, a human skull faced him with a silent grin. He looked at its hollow eyes and scowled. “Don’t you… dare mock me… Corley. That’s… why I’m living… In your house… and you’re not.”

He looked at the skillet and figured it was hot enough by now. Perhaps he’d use this opportunity to his advantage and make a few modifications. One thing at a time though. Galen grabbed the nearby meat cleaver and with one swift motion, brought it down on his wrist, severing the destroyed hand. His cries of agony echoed distant in the night.