Ghost Perfume | ✔

Chapter 16: Sew Me Back Together (Part 2: Alexander)

I doubled back around as soon as Michael texted that her ghosts were with her, and therefore far from the scene.

I parked. I took my black bag with me, the bag with the tools.

The stupid humans lay, more or less, how we'd left them. Two had attempted to drag themselves out of the clearing with their functioning arms. They were very loud about it. I found them easily, following the music, and stomped on their elbows. That put a stop to that.

I tossed them back with their friends.

Some stolen handcuffs remained on the throats of the living, gleaming thin and silver; some lay on the ground where they'd fallen. I collected them all to put in the black bag.

She must have seen the handcuffs in order to free her ghosts, but I guessed she then forgot about them. She was young and easily overwhelmed by the sight of violence. She had disobeyed Michael and kept her eyes wide open, I'd seen when I'd glanced in her direction ... I regretted that look on her face. But if there was a silver lining, excuse the terrible pun, it might be that she wouldn't remember the cuffs and not ask further questions about them.

I counted the cuffs, frowning. Twenty-four. Why not twelve? The Inezchet would have only needed a single manacle between each of the initiates and their prey. I could only guess they'd additionally manacled the ghosts to each other in a chain .. or maybe, more likely, they'd manacled two ghosts to each of the living. So each would have a backup, in case the rituals failed. They famously failed quite often ...

My gaze fell on the husks of the Inezchet elders. It was a shame that she'd disconnected the ghosts they'd been cannibalizing; probably the elders would have been able to tell us a great deal about the state of the Inezchet now, how many there were and where they gathered. We might have been able to dispose of them within the week. I would have enjoyed delivering their heads at her feet.

But it was a fantasy.

She was too soft to enjoy their heads at her feet.

She was too soft even to wait to disconnect the cannibalized ghosts.

When she said she wanted to free the prisoners, I assumed she meant the newly dead they wanted to use for the initiates, not the ones who were past the point of no return ...

No matter. The initiates would have to do.

I chose the one who cried the least. I propped him up against a tree.

"Enough,'' I hissed. "You want to live?''

He stopped his blubbering, peering up at me from red eyes.

"Go on,'' I smiled. "Tell me what you want.''

The others quieted, listening.

He worked his mouth, blood trickling from his busted lip. "Wh- what?''

"I want to help you,'' I said encouragingly, tapping his cheek with the flat side of my serrated knife. He blanched. "But I can't help you without knowing what you want.''

"I want to live,'' he whispered.

"Is that all?'' I asked. He nodded frantically. I let my gaze lower leisurely over his body.

How fucking boring. How many times did I need to play out this scene? There was no more pleasure in it.

"Do you want to keep your ability to walk?''

He swallowed. "Yes.''

I tsked. "Well, that's two things that you want, isn't it? You mustn't lie to me. Now I suppose you'll tell me that you want to keep your spine, your knees, your feet, your - I will gouge out your tear ducts if you keep it up,'' I snarled, flipping my tone, because he'd begun crying.