CHAPTER 12: STRANGE MEDICINE
“Banes burn; that just a rule of existence. Put a Vampire in sunlight, they burn. Stab a Sidhe with iron, they burn. Bless a Demon, they burn. Sure, some burn different, like a Werewolf touched by silver, but they are still cooking. I don’t know why banes burn; I just know they do. Some folks say it's the world rejecting somethin that shouldn’t exist; others say it's the Gods’ wrath. I don’t really care, all I know is you find a Monster’s bane, and then you burn the jagger with it.” - Words of (self-taught) Exorcist Fergus of Fallstone.
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“I cannot believe you talked me into this!” snapped Cat-eyes as she stared at the mind-controlled Screamers on the other side of the cell bars.
Cole sighed and rubbed his face. “I asked if you would be willing to suffer a little to help Mina; you barely hesitated.”
Cole, Alia, Rihan, and Yara stood before the jail door separating them from the Screamers. The four of them were Isabelle’s improvisation; she’d been denied criminals to experiment on, so she would make do with volunteers.
Considering his nature and duties, Cole was the obvious choice, but Isabelle feared his resurrection from the plague would muddle the results. Natalie and Cole both expressed concern at Yara agreeing to the experiment, but the thrall seemed woefully unconcerned; she was just eager to be useful again. Alia didn’t take much convincing, Mina was doing surprisingly well post-extraction, and the City-warden was tired of feeling helpless. If subjecting herself to Isabelle’s ministrations was what it took to do some good, then she would. Rihan was let in on the secret of Natalie’s possession and seemed interested in becoming immune to the plague, so she signed on to be a baseline test subject.
As the quartet waited, Isabelle extracted a mixture of blood and saliva from the Screamers. As far as the Temple knew, Mina was the only person who’d been reinfected with the plague, and the only abnormality she signified was being bit by a Screamer and surviving. Of course, every plague warden was undergoing additional purging, just to be sure. Hierophants Nyanmi and Bertram managed to produce a very large quantity of stable holy water they were using to purify infected at a much faster rate.
With syringes filled with the foul concoction, Isabelle gestured for Cole to approach the jail door. He did and shut his eyes as Isabelle injected the mixture into him. Glancing down at the spot on his arm, Cole uncorked the bottle he’d been given for this moment. Drinking down the healing draught, Cole ignored the metallic taste and hoped it would be enough. Saliva from even uninfected people was dangerous enough; the potion should protect him and the others from mundane diseases.
The other three volunteers took the injection and the potion without complaint. They were just glad they wouldn’t need to be bitten by a Screamer for this to work. Shutting his eyes, Cole called up his power and opened his Aether sight. Looking down at his arm and the injection spot, he saw a nodule of darkness bleeding into his flesh. Roots like rat tails extended out from the nub and quested into his flesh but found little purchase. A tiny leech mouth grew from the nub and tried to bite into the Aether but couldn’t; it stretched itself like a sapling seeking sunlight, only finding cold death in its place. Some of the rat-roots were already withering away, and the central nub became shrunken and malformed. Cole didn’t need to do much more than focus on the nub for it to dissolve into the Aether.
Glancing at his fellow test subjects, Cole winced. The infected nub was burrowing into Alia, already fading into the swirl of emotions and thoughts representing her soul. There wasn’t even a trace of the seed, just the black tendrils of plague seeping off Alia’s soul. Rihan was worse; she’d been infected fresh, and if Cole hadn’t been looking for the tiny wisps of pestilence within her ice-like essence, he’d not have noticed them. Yara was completely unaffected; as Cole watched, he saw the plague seed actually detach from her arm, trying to escape into the Aether, where the currents of emotions tore it apart.
Cole then looked at Isabelle and Natalie. He’d known about the possession without looking into the Aether but couldn’t resist the morbid curiosity of seeing what Mina apparently noticed. Blinking in surprise, Cole felt himself rock back a little in shock. In the Aether, Natalie looked like she was wearing a blood-drenched skull as a helmet. A representation of Isabelle’s current body, overlaying Natalie’s soul in a very blunt metaphor. Additionally, half-formed bones floated close to the shared body, drifting in the Aether but attached to Natalie by tendrils textured like muscle fiber. Whenever the body moved, the few drifting bones would bounce and flow after Natalie’s flesh, like sloppy puppets imitating her movements.
Frowning, Cole let his Aether sight fade; he’d dealt with Ghosts possessing people, but this looked different; it was more solid and coherent. Cole wondered if it was a side-effect of Isabelle’s nature or something deeper; he’d need to ask her and maybe check the archive if he ever had time.
Isabelle, wearing Natalie’s flesh, looked at Cole expectantly. “Well? What did you see?”
Cole returned his mind to the current problem and explained. “The plague tried and failed to infect me; it actually refused Yara but infected Alia and Rihan. It seemed to move quicker with Rihan as well.”
Isabelle nodded and went to the cell door. “Well then, we best get started; I believe Glynn is waiting for us in the clinic.”
The group left the Screamers, and made their way to a private room in the clinic. The chamber was set aside for surgery and healing rituals, or more often, both simultaneously. Hierophant Glynn was indeed there with a pair of Priests to assist him. Both wore the copper badge of mundane healers and seemed nervous to be dragged into this experiment. Glynn’s eyes were unfocused, and he muttered to himself, only stopping when Isabelle stepped over the room’s ritual circle. The chamber's center was a cushioned stone slab inscribed with runes and blessings. It was surrounded by twin circles of Healer’s Gold and Cleaner’s Copper, both enchanted dwarven alloys.
Glynn said. “I take it you are ready to proceed with the operation? Also, I’ve arranged for a Hierophant of Mistress Void to meet with us in three hours. Will that be enough time?
Isabelle nodded to both questions and gestured at Alia. “City-warden, you’ve been infected for longer and have a hardier constitution; best if you go first.”
Alia looked at the slab and cursed. “Oh fuck…”
Still, she stripped off her shirt, clambered onto the slab, and grumbled. “Just get it over with.”
Glancing at the assembled Priests, Isabelle rattled off instructions and started her magic. Ten minutes and one unconscious Alia later, the group stared at the malformed Faerie dangling from Isabelle’s shadowy grip. This one was shrunken and ill-proportioned, even more so than the strange hybrids encountered before. Miscarried and mutated, the Faerie seemed similar to the mouse-silverfish extracted from Mina. Cole approached the twitching creature with a large glass specimen jar obtained for this purpose. The Faerie was deposited into the jar, and an iron cap was screwed into place.
One of the two Priests working on Alia glanced up and gave his report. “She’s suffered some damage to her lungs and intestinal tract but well within our ability to treat. I think blood loss is what knocked her out, not shock. I’ll cast a marrow ministration to help her recover.”
With Cole’s help, Alia was moved onto a waiting cott, and the Priest started his spell work while Rihan took her place on the slab. The Priestess stripped and revealed skin matching Natalie’s pigmentation, and guessing by her occupation, Cole doubted her color had anything to do with the plague. Staring up at the painted ceiling of the room, Rihan said. “Do it.”
Rihan stayed conscious throughout the ordeal and now stared down at her left arm; a large bruise and freshly bandaged cut marked the limb. Considering she’d only been infected for maybe twenty minutes, the plague wasn’t as bad, and neither was the Faerie ripped from her flesh. The lump of chitin and fur was barely the size of Cole’s thumb and died quickly upon ‘hatching.’ Its remains now sitting in another jar for later study.
Looking at the two samples, one malformed, the other deceased, Rihan asked. “What’s next?”
Glynn answered instead of Isabelle. “I assume, meeting with the Ninth Temple Hierophant?”
Isabelle looked to Rihan and asked. “Are you healthy enough for us to proceed with what we discussed?”
Rihan flexed her arm and grimaced. “We can try.”
Glynn stepped into the circle then. “Wait, what are you doing?”
Reaching into her clothes, Isabelle produced a new syringe, another sample of the plague fluids acquired earlier. “Rihan presents an opportunity for experimentation. She wasn’t infected until now, and her biology is normal, unlike Cole and his regenerative miracle. We discussed if the extraction went well, then other experiments might be in order.”
Lips narrowing into a perfectly straight line, Glynn asked. “And you consent to this, Priestess Rihan?”
The corpse-tender in question just shrugged. “We need information, and I can help provide it.”
The Hierophant gave the barest of nods, and Rihan settled back onto the padded slab. Cole watched as Isabelle gently tapped the syringe and prepared it for use. Fifteen minutes after the injection, Rihan lay on the cushioned stone, breathing heavily as a bean-sized lump of Faerie was deposited into a specimen jar. Both of the Priestess’s arms were bruised, and she was missing a rather large amount of blood, but she was awake and intact.
Shaking his head, Glynn hissed. “No more, she’s done enough.”
Isabelle nodded and snapped her fingers at Yara. “Attend me, please.”
Cole noticed Isabelle’s face spasm slightly after the command was given, something Cole was quickly realizing meant Natalie was swatting her headmate in annoyance. Clicking her tongue, Isabelle corrected herself. “Yara, if you would, I could use some help.”
The thrall scurried forward, and Isabelle gently bit her and took a few mouthfuls of blood. Everyone in the chamber watched this with varying levels of discomfort, which Isabelle appeared not to notice. Stepping over to the row of captured Faeries, Isabelle nodded to herself. “This should be enough; I can start to compare them to learn more about the plague’s spread and reinfection rates.”
Spinning to face Glynn, Isabelle said. “Now I believe I can meet with the Hierophant.”
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They’d arranged for the meeting in the Temple library, where one of Glynn’s subordinates prepared a chamber and texts on the Fae for their use. Alia and Rihan were left in the care of the healers, so only Cole, Isabelle, Natalie, Yara, and Glynn to awaited the Hierophant of Mistress Void.
Existing as a passenger within her own mind, Natalie was back to being conflicted about events. She’d fully intended to go into the earlier mental meeting with plans to rebuke and interrogate Isabelle. But then Cole’s damaged psyche proved a bigger issue, and the two women were unified by their shared love for him. Somehow in the shadow of Cole’s night terror and the emotional exchange following it, Natalie’s intent to pick a fight with Isabelle went forgotten.
Now, back as a spectator, Natalie was free to think about events. So far, Natalie came to a few conclusions: Isabelle could be trusted to look after Cole, herself, and, to a lesser extent, Natalie. But Isabelle’s moral compass and behavior were both erratic, ensuring her ‘help’ couldn’t ever be fully trusted. The fact she was almost completely unapologetic about her research being used to create the plague while also willing to help cure it on a matter of pride and professionalism was a perfect example of this.
Watching Isabelle flip through some of the texts about Fae as Cole and Glynn discussed matters of the city, Natalie decided she could trust Isabelle more than she initially thought. The idea of being possessed was unsettling on many levels, but what really scared Natalie was the possibility of Isabelle taking permanent control. The temptation of a new body, especially one with the Alukah’s power, seemed the exact sort of thing Isabelle would scheme to acquire. But once fully possessed, Natalie realized it would be fairly easy to dislodge her mentor if need be, and better yet, people she knew recognized the possession, both through Isabelle’s behavior and Aetheric presence. These factors turned the idea of lending Isabelle a body from a dangerous threat to an annoying chore.
In light of these revelations, Natalie hoped the distance born of her refusal to acknowledge Isabelle’s request would fade, and their mutual trust would continue growing. Even though Natalie knew she needed to press Isabelle on a few fronts the old vampire would not like, Cole’s creation being chief among them.
The door to the private room clicked open, and everyone turned to look at the newcomer. Natalie was getting much better at handling another person moving her head and eyes, but it was still discombobulating, especially when Isabelle actually blinked in surprise as the Hierophant of Mistress Void entered the chamber. He was very tall, probably taller than Cole, but also willowy thin, to the point of absurdity. This wasn’t where his strange appearance stopped; the Hierophant’s skin was black, not dark brown or ebony like those of the southern continent, but actually black, to the point he seemed dipped in glistening pitch. He lacked hair, his scalp was marked with rich purple tattoos, and loops of gold hung from his ears. A large fluffy scarf covered his neck and shoulders while he wore a strange mix of ritual robes and traveling clothes.
Everyone in the room except Isabelle got up to greet the Hierophant. Glynn took one of the Hierophant’s offered hands and shook the long fingers coated in rings. “Ah, Walker Jacq! Thank you for joining us.”
Jacq bowed his head and spoke in a Guyennian accent flavored with alien inflections. “You spoke to my Temple, requesting an expert in the Sidewalkers, and here I am. Now tell me, is it true you have captured a few lesser Faeries?”
Isabelle got up then and went over to the cart they’d wheeled into the room and pulled the rune-sewn tarp off it. Revealing a collection of captured parasites. The three living Faeries hissed and warbled from inside their cages while the bottled remains started to rot. Stepping over to the captured Faeries, Hierophant Jacq bent down to observe them; as he did, his scarf fell to the floor and revealed itself to be no scarf at all but a strange creature.
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Uncoiling from the Hierophant, the furry animal landed on six padded feet. It was covered in strawberry-blond fur, with a lanky body reminding Natalie of both a weasel and a fox. Moving with unsettling speed, the creature scurried onto the cart and poked its long muzzle into the fly-rabbit’s cage. The Faerie shied away from the newcomer and squealed its displeasure. Pulling back, the weasel-fox went to the mouse-silverfish and repeated this before leaping from the cart to Jacq’s shoulders, an impressive jump it made without issue. Secured there, it brought its fanged muzzle to the Hierophant's ear and squeaked to him.
Jacq nodded and scratched the creature behind its pointed ears; the weasel-fox shut its eyes, both sets of them, and purred in contentment. The Hierophant then said. “This is my familiar, Tybert; he’s a Pucka, a type of Faerie. He says your prisoners are mutants Galarwylls.”
Natalie tensed up on realizing the familiar's nature but settled down upon deciding if anyone was equipped to have a Faerie familiar; it was a servant of Mistress Void, the Goddess who watched the myriad worlds and movement between them.
Isabelle cocked her head to the side and asked. “I’ve never heard of a Galarwyll; what are they?”
Jacq’s eyes fell upon the vampire, and just then did Natalie realize how small his pupils were, tiny dots in large green-brown irises. Nodding his head to Isabelle, or maybe Natalie, the Hierophant said. “Ah, I hear you are the undead we are entrusting to save the city. Well, to answer your question, Galarwylls are lesser fae, extremely lesser, in fact. They are parasites akin to fleas or ticks, attaching to mightier creatures and suckling upon their emotions for sustenance.”
Tybert, the familiar, brought its head close to Jacq’s ear again and whispered something more in melodic squeaks. Jacq smiled, reached into his robes, and produced a bit of candied chicken for his familiar. The Pucka gobbled it down, and Jacq said. “Tybert would like to add there is something seriously broken within the Galarwylls. They grew wrong from mutilated larvae.”
Isabelle pursed her lips and said. “I force-fed them power to accelerate their growth; could that be responsible?”
The familiar cocked its angular head at Isabelle and chirped something Jacq translated. “He was wondering about that; he thinks you didn’t help the situation but weren’t the original source. Tybert seems to think someone crippled these Faeries before they were born, trapping them as larvae and pupa until you interfered and forced them to grow.”
Isabelle drummed her fingers on the table, and a smile started to grow on her face, hints of mania reaching Natalie. “That is interesting, annoying but interesting. Tell me, what do Galarwylls usually feed on? What emotions or ideas do they favor? And more importantly, what do they dislike.”
Tybert cocked his head and made a whining noise that seemed to surprise Jacq. “Really? Well that does answer some questions.”
Scratching his familiar behind its ears, Jacq said. “They are vermin by the standards of the Kaleidoscope Kingdoms and will feed on anything except for anger. It's something of a metaphysical allergen, and they flee from it. This is interesting, considering you extracted these Faeries from Screamers, who appear to be nothing but rage.”
Nodding, Isabelle said. “This has been enlightening; I think I have everything I need to start working on a true bane for the pestilence.”
Glynn’s canted eyebrows shot up, and he said, “Truly?”
Isabelle gave the Keeper a cool look, clearly questioning his intellect if he doubted hers. Natalie just sighed internally; ego, thy name is vampire. The elder vampire in question started to list her needs. “I’ll need a fully stocked laboratory; Rihan’s will make due; I’ll also need blood samples from both Screamers, normal infected and Cole. I’m taking the Faeries and will eventually need test subjects for the cure. Now, it's time to get to work.”
Before Glynn or anyone else could object or demand clarification, Isabelle scooped up the jars containing dead Faeries while handing the caged live ones to Cole before heading for the door. She started to step past Jacq, and Natalie realized she was needed.
+ Thank him. +
Rolling her eyes, Isabelle snapped. “Thank you, Hierophant Jacq, You’ve been useful, and if I require more of your skills, I will inform you.”
A bemused smile crossed Walker Jacq’s face, and he said. “As are you, the city is making great use of your talents. We are both valuable tools serving the common good.”
Natalie couldn’t help but laugh at this; Jacq didn’t bridle or balk at Isabelle’s noble entitlement but marked them both as equals in service. Isabelle ignored the slight and headed towards the door. Cole quickly followed, offering his own more acceptable thanks to the Hierophant.
Isabelle moved towards her destination, half-jogging, forcing Cole to take long strides to keep up with her. “What conclusions have you come to, Belle?”
Isabelle licked her lips and said. “I better understand the mechanism of the Screamers. The mutant Faeries consume every emotion the infected has but rage, pushing them into a vicious cycle of psychotic anger. It’s also probably why the city is having such problems keeping order among the infected. I can’t know for certain until I do further experimentation, but it seems likely rage might be a component in the pestilence’s bane.”
+ How would that work? How do you put an emotion into medicine? +
+ Emotions alter the Aether, and those currents can be infused into a substance; it's a standard practice in some types of alchemy. +
Holding up one of the jars and examining the dead Faerie within, Isabelle remarked. “I’m fairly certain I can already brew a bane for the Screamers, but developing one for the cleansed will be trickier. Removing the Faerie is the right decision, but limits some of my avenues of attack.”
Looking at the malformed lump of flesh in the jar, Cole asked. “What do you need of me?”
Isabelle glanced at him and smiled warmly. “I always do better with someone listening and poking holes in my assumptions, which you’ve always been good at.”
+ I take it Cole’s replacing me in that duty? +
Shrugging at Natalie’s question, Isabelle replied. + You are lending me a body and your insight; I will need both of those to succeed. +
Natalie frowned internally. + Usually, you dismiss my perspective; what’s changed? +
Isabelle’s quick steps slowed slightly, the barest hints of a strange emotion filtering through her to Natalie. Warped, dusty with time, and coming from another mind, Natalie almost didn’t recognize what Isabelle was feeling as uncertainty.
+ You could help Cole when I could do nothing but watch and worry. This is not the first time you’ve done something like that, and I’d be a fool to dismiss your potential value +
Pride kept Isabelle from specifying what she meant, but Natalie understood. The older vampire wanted a fresh set of eyes upon matters, especially a set belonging to someone with Natalie’s skills. Things were definitely changing between the two women, and Natalie prayed the direction they were headed was a good one.
They reached Rihan’s laboratory, and Isabelle quickly got to work. She cleaned off the main slab and started collecting tools for experimentation, the old monster diving into the project with zeal. Beakers were set out, ritual circles drawn, and the dead Faerie was prepared for study. Natalie watched with fascination and disgust as the malformed Faerie pulled from Rihan was placed within a rune-marked circle and dissected physically and metaphysically. Two separate but connected information flows passed through Isabelle’s mind as she studied the creature's anatomy and Aetheric echo. The dark art of haruspex perfected by Isabelle’s steady hand and brilliant mind.
Isabelle repeated the process with all but one of the Faeries, killing and dissecting each with methodical precision. Once the collection of Fae lay dead and disassembled upon the slab, Isabelle came to her conclusions. “Mina was very, very lucky; she was probably within a few minutes of becoming a Screamer when she confronted us. It’s probably why she attacked us; the nasty little parasite was increasing her aggression. Then, in an ironic twist, she saved herself by trying to kill me; the magic she cast slowed the larva’s growth and bought some time.”
Washing her hands in a basin of water, Isabelle continued. “It seems the Faeries can’t infiltrate people alone; they need the physical pathogen to provide a pathway, like those burrows and anchors seen in the Aether. But once secure inside the infected host, the Faerie larva grows into the pupa form, turning the host into a Screamer by consuming all their emotions but rage. Leaving them as a berserk shell of pain and wrath, spreading the disease until they die.”
Clicking her tongue, Isabelle sighed. “Whoever has my research isn’t nearly as cautious as me. This plague is vicious and unwieldy, clearly a weapon of war, and a difficult-to-control one at that. My usurper seems to be counting on the Sting’s protection to keep this pestilence in check. ”
Gesturing at Cole, Isabelle said. “I need a blood sample from you, Screamers, and the cleansed; Can you acquire them for me, please?”
Cole nodded and said. “I’ll be back shortly; what will you do next?”
Isabelle looked at the single surviving Faerie, the fly-rabbit, and smiled wickedly. “I want to experiment with the Sting. Speaking of, could you let my servant in?”
Raising an eyebrow, Cole opened the laboratory door, finding Yara standing there silently. The thrall bowed her head and said. “I’m here to serve.”
Looking down at Yara, Cole blinked in surprise and asked. “How long have you been out there?”
Not meeting his eyes, the thrall asked. “I followed Mistress Isabelle from the library. I’ve been here waiting until I’m called.”
A look of guilt flashed across Cole’s face; he clearly felt bad he’d not noticed the thrall’s presence. “You didn’t need to wait outside like that.”
Yara shrugged slightly. “You and the Mistresses are busy; I’m happy to wait until I’m needed.”
Cole wasn’t the only one feeling guilty and confused; Natalie was distinctly off-put by Yara. She remembered her coming with them to the library, but then the Thrall sort of ‘dropped out’ of Natalie’s mind, going unnoticed until now. The more she thought about it, the more Natalie realized this was a pattern: Yara would slip in and out of events, barely being registered unless she was needed. A slight suspicion this phenomenon wasn’t natural started to form in Natalie.
+ I completely forgot about her! How does Yara do that? Also, don’t call her your servant. +
Isabelle gestured for Yara to sit in a chair as she collected a few vials for use. + Just because you are unwilling to use her doesn’t mean I’m not. She’s a good thrall, and I won’t waste her value. +
This was another point of contention Natalie refused to give in on; she truly hated how older vampires so easily dismissed her objections and justified keeping thralls.
+ As for your other question, I have no answer other than perhaps you forgot about her out of guilt, which is shockingly silly and self-defeating. Yara wishes to serve, and by denying that and dismissing her, you do far more harm to the girl than you might by using her properly. +
Isabelle handed a few corked vials to Cole, instructing him on who to acquire samples from. Watching this from behind her loaned eyes, Natalie wondered if there was any truth to Isabelle’s words. If she was being honest with herself, Natalie knew there was, but she still couldn’t dismiss the fact that something about Yara’s ability to be forgotten felt unnatural.
After Cole left, Isabelle grabbed two empty vials and approached Yara. “I need some of your blood; I trust you can provide?”
Yara nodded and exposed her neck; Isabelle obliged the thrall and bit her. Instead of staying to drink, she pulled back and let warm red ichor flow free, filling one of the vials before leaning down and shutting the wound.
Licking the little bit of blood on her fangs, Isabelle remarked. “Ahh, this will make things easier.”
Then she raised the second vial to her mouth and placed one fang into it. A strange sensation washed over Natalie, an involuntary tightening in her palate accompanied by a sharp stinging flavor. As Isabelle pulled back the second vial and capped it, Natalie saw it held a thick yellow fluid. Feeling the odd taste in her mouth, Natalie suddenly understood why the blood-spice venom was called ‘The Sting.’
Taking both samples to her workspace, Isabelle started whispering a spell and gently shaking the vial with Yara’s blood. Natalie was getting better at interpreting her mentor’s magic and was fairly certain the spell was meant to detect abnormalities in the blood.
+ Find anything useful? +
+ Not as much as I’d hoped. This cantrip was created to determine blood quality, and my modifications aren’t that effective. But I’m getting a better idea of exactly how the Sting leaves its mark. +
+ Well, what’s next? +
Isabelle set the vial of blood down and turned to the sole surviving Faerie, while dancing the venom-filled glass tube between her borrowed fingers. + Next, we learn exactly how much our Fae friends dislike the Sting. +
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It took Cole perhaps an hour to collect the blood samples and return to the laboratory. When he opened up the solid door to Rihan’s lair, Cole learned an important thing about the room: it didn’t leak smells or smoke. Cole was assaulted by a cloud of shining vapor that stunk like burning soap. Coughing violently and trying not to drop the blood vials, Cole ducked beneath the smoke and entered the laboratory proper.
By the looks of it, a small explosion just went off; the ceiling was obscured by shimmering smoke, and dislodged papers were scattered everywhere. Yara was on her knees, trying to scrub away a multi-hued stain with a wet washcloth. Cole was no stranger to the scorch marks left behind by explosions, but he’d never seen rainbow-colored ones like those currently marking the laboratory floor, stretching out from a split open cage. Isabelle or Natalie stood next to the broken animal cage and wore a maniacal grin, telling Cole who was controlling the body.
Isabelle’s arms and chest were smeared with faintly shiny gunk while her fingers finished regenerating from bad burns. Brushing off her healed hands, Isabelle said. “That was slightly more dramatic than I expected but very informative.”
Stepping closer, Cole checked over Isabelle and realized her hands weren’t covered in the sparkling filth; she’d not damaged her fingers; she’d practically blown her hands off. Shocked by this, he asked, “What did you do?”
Finding a rag and starting to clean herself off, Isabelle said. “I tested something on the Faerie, and the results were interesting. When exposed to a large dosage of modified Sting, the Faerie’s body reacted… intensely.”
Setting down the rag, Isabelle collected the blood samples from Cole and placed them in a vial rack, joining four other glass tubes. One was filled with a pinkish-red fluid labeled faerie blood, another held sticky yellow Sting, and the last two were blood supplied by Yara. Going over to the Thrall, Cole got her to cease scrubbing the floor as he asked. “You gave the Faerie Sting, and it exploded?”
Isabelle shook her head side-to-side in a non-commital gesture. “Not quite. I tried giving it the Sting at first, and that merely caused it pain.”
Gesturing at the dissipating smoke cloud and stained floor, Isabelle continued. “What did this was a substance I alchemically refined and concentrated from Yara’s blood. It's a byproduct of how she metabolizes the venom, not the actual Sting. I theorized this is what stops the plague from infecting thralls, and judging by what just happened, I’m probably right.”
Cole grimaced. “An impressive discovery; just please be careful.”
A slight laugh escaped Isabelle. “I don’t need your rebuke, darling. Natalie is cursing up a storm for blowing off her hands. I expected the substance to be toxic to the Faerie, not cause it to explode. With this in mind, I’ll be more cautious going forward.”
Frowning, Cole asked. “Do you have any idea why the Faerie reacted like that?”
Shrugging, Isabelle reached out to the blood vials and tapped the one holding Faerie blood. “My extraction process forces the Faerie to build a body from infected tissue. The magic at work converts the cells into something the Faerie can use, but there is an echo of its original form. I don’t know for certain, but I think the substance I refined acted like a very powerful bane, affecting every cell of the Faerie at once.”
Isabelle paused then and rolled her eyes with theatrical exaggeration. Cole asked. “Is something wrong?”
Shaking her head, Isabelle said. “No, no, Natalie was pestering me until I explained what a cell is. It’s depressing how poorly educated she is.”
A spasm of pain went across Isabelle’s face, and she bared her fangs in annoyance. The sight of Cole’s two lovers squabbling within the same brain danced the line between humorous and disturbing. Sighing, the Homunculus said. “Please be nice to each other.”
Lips curling in a mixture of smile and snarl, Isabelle said. “We will take it under advisement. Now, much work needs to be done. The substance, the Sting byproduct, its pure form, won’t work as a cure. I fear it would simply cause infected tissue to explode, which, while interesting, doesn’t suit our needs. I must find something to modulate and better direct the effect.”
Glancing at the rainbow scorch marks on the floor, Cole said. “That sounds like a good idea.”