“You’re quiet,” he said, lacing his gloved hand with mine. The air froze around his words before dissipating into the air.
“Tired, is all.”
“It is bad luck to start a marriage with lies,” he teased, squeezing my hand playfully.
“So is blackmail, but here we are.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not feeling good about the answers—or lack thereof—to the corrupted problem.”
“Whatever answers are out there, I doubt it was back at that town.”
“At least we had some sort of rope to tug on. Now I don’t know where to start,” I admitted.
“Well, consider it a new puzzle. Start from the first piece.” He shrugged.
My expression must have turned him off from jokes. His arm wrapped around my shoulder, holding me close as we approached downtown.
It was a single comfort. Warm, quiet, content.
We arrived in town by mid-morning, but it looked to be deserted.
The shops were closed, the streets were empty, and there was nothing left but the clinking of a flag against the pole in the square.
We rode through the street, the entire width to ourselves. We passed by a stack of newspapers scattered across the street. As we rode past it, there were pink stains of blood in the snow surrounding the papers.
We stopped at the apothecary, empty like every other place in town.
“What in the hell...” I rubbed my sore neck, Silas’s bite marks from early morning starting to ache. The venom was making me a bit spacy, but I knew I wasn’t imagining how off the town appeared.
I peeked through the glass door, the sign flipped to “Open” and the door unlocked. There was an inescapable itch in the back ofmy neck, the heat rising around my cheeks, and the gut-curdling feeling that something had gone wrong. It was more than a feeling; it was grossly apparent.
With a quick wind at my heels, I ran across the street.
“Alina!” Silas shouted after me. “Where in God’s name are you going?”
I ran for the mortuary door. It wasn’t just unlocked; it was shattered, the glass crunching beneath my heel as I stepped through. The hallway loomed, long and dark. Even through the ringing in my ears, the only sound was the dripping of water.
Silas grabbed my wrist, and I glared back at him. He shook his head slowly, a nervous glance toward the hallway before returning to me.
I ignored his silent plea and went anyway, listening for any sign of life lingering past the walls.
The door to the embalming room was ajar, only a slight glow of light coming from within. I reached out, my fingers grazing the wood. Before pushing, I could see inside, just the slightest crack.
The smell was horrid. I could see the hand of a long-dead corpse, a limb here or there. Ripped apart in frustration for the lack of blood. Frustration manifested into one singularity, a red smudge across the floor, a blond head cut off from my view.
I grasped the doorknob and pulled it gently shut.
The hallway got longer, my hand smoothing against the wall to remind me it was not really moving, it was all in my head. It was all in my head, and these past few months were merely dreams.
Silas wrapped his arm around my waist to pull me out. I didn’t even have to move my feet. He swept me outside. The cold air burned in my lungs as I struggled to breathe. My daze was disrupted when my back hit the brick wall.
“Look at me,” Silas demanded.
He was going in and out of my vision; the adrenaline was too much. He lifted my own hand, placing it on my neck.
“Breathe.” His other hand steadied my head. “We have to go home.”
“Edith!” I gasped. “She’s at the hospital, we have to go?—”
“We don’t know if it’s safe. If this was a horde of corrupted, the hospital is a buffet of sitting ducks, roasted and seasoned. You’re in no state to go.”
