She glances at me, then shrugs. Releasing her patient’s arm, Deirdre pulls out a knife and stabs her in the wrist.
“What are you doing?” I cry, watching in horror as she pulls her blade free. Blood spurts everywhere as she picks up the woman’s other hand.
“I’m anecromancer. I can’t do anything when they’re alive.” She stabs her in the same place, then drops her hand on the ground. Cleaning her knife on a wayward corpse, she sheaths it and lifts the upper half of the woman’s body.
Her wild blue eyes land on mine in a silent scream, and I whisper to her, “Sorry.”
“Healing magic works with one’s body,” Deirdre says. “Necromancer magic is more blunt force, and if practiced on a live body… Well...” She shivers. “It is not pleasant.”
“But you can bring her back?” I ask, unable to lift my gaze from the woman’s horrified face.
“Yep. Just have to wait for her to – There.”
Dropping the woman’s head back onto her lap, Deirdre places her hands over the woman’s ears and closes her eyes. For a moment, nothing happens. Then the air fizzles around them.
My mouth falls open in awe as Deirdre’s pale-green hair billows over her shoulders. A vortex of energy circles them, healing the corpse within seconds. The necromancer’s eyes snap open. I instinctively step back, a chill running down my skin.
Her orange eye seems to fade slightly, as if part of her is dying, while the green one glows brighter and bits of dark matter flicker behind its iris. All of the tattoos on her body light up, and the temperature in the room reduces to the point I can see my breath.
Gasping, the woman’s torso jerks off the ground. The air starts to lose its electrical charge, and Deirdre’s hair settles once more.
“There. She’s back.” Pushing her head off her lap, she starts to rise, only to stop half-way to standing, her eyes bugging wide. “Ohshit.”
“What?” I ask, panicking.
“She has a DNR tattoo!”
“What? What is that?”
“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” Pulling out the knife from earlier, she looks at it, then pulls out another one that was sheathed on her back. This one is even bigger. Handing it to me hilt-first, she says, “You have to help me.”
“What?”
“Her body has an influx of magic in it. We have to cut off her head and carve out her heart to kill her.”
“What?” I drop the knife. “No!”
“You have to! She has a ‘do not resurrect’ order.” She points at the tattoo of a DNR on the side of the woman’s neck. “I could lose my license. You got me into this mess. You’re helping me out of it.”
“But –”
“Do it before she gains consciousness!”
She drops to her knees and starts hacking at the woman’s chest. Reaching in, she grabs hold of two of her broken ribs and snaps them off, granting herself more access.
“I’m so sorry,” I say to the woman as her eyes flicker open, but with Deirdre already stabbing her in the heart, there’s really nothing I can do. I might as well helpsomeonein this mess I’ve made.
Crouching down, I place one hand over her eyes, pick up the blade I dropped, and then slice open her neck. Over and over and over again, I work almost in rhythm to Deirdre. My arm starts to get tired when I hit bone, but I eventually get through. My stomach twisting with the urge to crawl out of my mouth, I collapse to my knees as I grab the head to make sure it’s completely off.
It lifts easily, making me vomit all over her face. Feeling some hit my hand, I drop her head and vomit again. “Ugh.”
I start to wipe my hand on my trousers, but then I notice they’re completely covered in blood. As is the rest of me.
Looking over at Deirdre, I feel the urge to vomit again. Covered in just as much blood as me, she breathes heavily as she wipes the back of her hand across her forehead. “Well,” she says slowly, rocking back on her heels as she looks at me, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
Fifty-Three
A king trusts his queen.
