“Magic,” Sahira said. “The only thing they don’t have is a pulse.”
“Please tell me they don’t have a brain,” Lexi said.
For some reason, that would make it worse.
“It doesn’t function,” Sahira said. “But if they were cut open, they would have organs.”
“Bloodless organs?” her dad asked.
“I’m not sure,” Sahira replied. “They don’t bleed, but that’s probably because they don’t have a pulse. Orin and Varo’s blood helped weave them into existence, so I’m sure their blood is inside the doppelgangers too.”
“Shit,” Brokk muttered, and he looked almost as disgusted as Lexi felt.
Varo took the blade from Orin. He admired it for a second before closing his eyes. A wave of grief passed over his face before he composed himself, opened his eyes and slid it across his palm.
Varo bent to smear blood over the chest of his clone before brushing some across its cheeks. Orin splashed some blood across the face of the head on the ground.
“Let’s get your clothes on them,” Cole said. “So they’ll have your smell too.”
Lexi averted her gaze as Varo and Orin stripped. When their clothes were in place, Orin splattered and smeared more blood over the tunic now adorning his clone’s body.
Cole lined up the blade of the sword with the hole he’d already pierced through Varo’s chest and shoved it through again, so the hole in his clothes and chest lined up. Varo bent to add more blood to his clothes.
Next, the three of them used dirt to smear the hands and faces of the duplicates. In some places, the soil resembled a bruise. It wasn’t so obvious as to be apparent that the dirt was trying to replicate a bruise if the Lord decided to examine them more closely.
When they finished, everyone stood back to examine their handiwork.
“I don’t think it’s getting any better than this,” Brokk said.
“Neither do I,” Orin agreed.
“It’s my turn now,” Cole said.
“What do you mean?” Lexi asked.
“I can’t go before the Lord looking as if I haven’t been touched,” Cole said. “Orin and Varo are survivors; they wouldn’t go down without a fight.”
“What do you expect us to do? Punch you in the face?” Orin asked.
“And a few other places,” Cole said.
“Shit,” Orin muttered.
Lexi wanted to protest against this, but she bit her lip and turned away. Cole was right; this was necessary, but that didn’t mean she could watch it.
She walked over to stand near the closed door separating this tunnel from the next one. It was solid metal, but she was well aware of what lay beyond. In her mind, she pictured the tunnel twisting its way toward the stairs leading to the fireplace.
She winced and her shoulders hunched up when the thwack of a fist hitting flesh rebounded off the concrete walls. Her teeth ground together when the scent of Cole’s blood wafted to her. It took all she had not to scream at them to stop.
She yearned to cover her ears, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t watch this, but she couldn’t completely shut it out either.
Another thwack sounded, and Cole grunted. She was about to shout for them to stop when silence descended. Holding her breath, she counted the seconds to see if it was over or if they were taking a break.
When those seconds stretched into a minute, she braced herself before turning to face them. If she didn’t get control of herself, the second she saw Cole, she might fly across the room and beat Orin.
Even prepared for what she was about to see, the blood oozing from Cole’s nose and the black already surrounding his swelling eye unleashed a torrent of fury inside her. Most of the time, she only half despised Orin, but right then,sheloathedhim.
Another bruise shadowed Cole’s jaw while a streak of blood ran across his cheek. She didn’t see any cuts on him, and it took her a minute to realize the blood was from Orin’s scraped knuckles.
