“Do not,” he orders. “You must survive this.”
“It hurts,” I sob, my voice so thick I’m not even sure he can understand it.
“I know,” he answers. “You are strong enough to survive it. I know you are.”
My Fang clatters to the ground as I give into his words. If Cipher thinks I can survive this, then I can.
“Chances?” I ask, but I don’t know how he could possibly know what I’m asking. My voice is so garbled with pain that it only comes out like an agonized growl.
Somehow, he understands me. Cipher always does. “Ninety-nine percent, Vespera.”
That makes me feel better. At a time like this, the statistics are in my favor and they make me feel impossibly better despite the literal creature cutting its way from my skin.
Another razor-sharp blade cuts through my flesh, before I get my first sight of the head. It’s covered in my blood as it jerks and cuts and drags itself from my forearm, right where the new tattoo had been. Its body is green and long as it’s revealed. It carves its way through my flesh, tearing and cutting as if only my arm holds it back. The insect continues to hack at my skin, blood gushing around it as it slowly appears, bit by bit. My blood coats the thing, too, dripping from its body, its wings as they’re revealed, its legs. It’s a gory sight to watch something burst from your own forearm, dripping with what should remain in your body. I grow faint from watching it, when I realize the creature literally was born from my flesh. My stomach cramps from the pain, but I hold myself together. Just barely.
The final tug feels as if my very bones are being scrapped with a hot knife. My vocal cords strain as the final, rough scream rips from my throat, and then my voice cuts off as if it can’t sustain the sound any longer. The insect looks at me with large black eyes as it pulls its last leg free and then jumps to the ground before me. It looks up at me, this creature the size of my forearm, tilting its head to study me where I’m on my hands and knees, panting from the brutal pain I’d just endured.
The pain disappears as quickly as it came, disappearing the moment the creature is fully out of me. My arm is raw and bleeding, my skin flayed open like someone carved pieces off. I suppose it did just that. I’m gasping, my chest burning with the air dragging into my lungs. Locke immediately rushes forward with a strip of cloth. I don’t know where it came from, but he quickly wraps it around my wound, tying it so tight, it makes me grit my teeth again.
I stare at the creature before me, afraid to touch it in case it causes me more pain than before.
Familiars require respect to bond, Cipher had said. Is this thing my familiar?
My throat is rough and painful as I sit up on my knees, trying to appear stronger than I feel. I’m going to need to rest after this. I’m going to need to heal.
“Hello,” I croak. My voice doesn’t sound like my own. It sounds damaged. How long until it returns to normal?
The creature tilts its head unnaturally at me, watching me.
Locke seems to finally notice that there’s something new here and jerks back from the creature when it tilts its head. “What . . . the fuck . . . is that thing?” he asks, staring at it in horror.
It’s clearly an insect of some sort, but not one I’ve ever seen. Not in Dross and not here. I don’t know what it is either, but I can feel . . . her . . . life force I realize. I canfeelher. The more I focus on it, the more I can feel her. And she’s?—
“Thing?” the creature says suddenly, outrage in the word. My eyes widen at the sound a second before she leaps forward onto my knee and points one of the dagger arms at Locke. “Thing?How dare you, you unsufferable aphid! I amnotathing.I am Svetlana, Destroyer of Worlds, Slicer of Heads, Praying Mantis Prime! You should fear me! Thing. Bah!” Her wings flare wide and she darts so fast to my arm, it takes everything in me not to freak out. Still, I flinch and jerk when her little legs stick to my skin. She scuttles up to my shoulder and leans out toward Locke who almost falls back on his ass in disgust. “I’ll take your head for that insult, you?—”
“Stop!” I say, scrambling to my feet and trying not to startle her too much. She’s large, easily the length of my forearm, but she isn’t so large that Locke can’t step on her if he’s not careful. All insects are large in The Leafcutter Empire. But this is my familiar. I need her alive long enough to figure out what that means, which means no epic battle between Locke and this insect. “He’s sorry,” I tell her quickly. Besides, Cipher said that a familiar requires mutual respect. “He didn’t mean to insult you. He’s just never seen something as unique as you before.”
Svetlana looks from me back to Locke to confirm. Locke nods, understanding where this is going even if his face is a particularly ashen color. His hammer disappears back into his inventory and he holds his hands out in supplication.
“A man afraid of a bug,” Cipher purrs. “How quaint.”
“What do you say to Svetlana, Locke?” I say, gesturing at her with my head and giving him the look.
He narrows his eyes on me, clearly annoyed at my request. He’s not a fan of bugs. I know that. He knows that. But here I am, asking him to apologize to the one that just ripped its way through my arm.
“Please accept my apologies,” Locke finally grits out when I widen my eyes at him and gesture again.
Svetlana tilts her head the opposite direction and clicks her sharp arms together. “Grovel, you bumbling June bug, and perhaps I’ll accept.”
Locke snorts, but I give him another look when he starts to argue. He sighs. He was already on his knees beside me when I was fighting the pain and he hadn’t yet stopped, so he just sort of settles back onto his ankles and puts his hands together in front of him. I’ve seen the position only a few times, mostly from the Suffer Saints back in Dross. I don’t hate the way Locke looks in this position and I straighten a little at the realization. “Please,” he grunts, and I can tell that’s the best we’re going to get. Locke will not beg anyone or anything for forgiveness, but he’s trying. For me.
Svetlana flutters her wings and moves along my shoulder. “Acceptable,” she sniffs before turning to meet my eyes. “And you? You are my familiar?”
I blink and glance from her to Locke and back again. “Uh . . . I think . . . you’remyfamiliar,” I say.
She laughs. “Sure,Umnitsa. We are of the same flesh, like holy twins.” She clicks her front arms together and rubs her antennae. “Clearly, I am the better-looking twin between us. You don’t even have any tibial spines. I must have gotten all the nutrients in the womb,” she continues, laughing at my raised brow. “Whatever makes you feel better though,Umnitsa.” She touches her arm to my shoulder. “Now, you’re much too weak to be my familiar anyways. We must work on that immediately. I find the act of chopping heads off works wonders for leveling up one’s XP.” She flutters her wings again and touches her sharp arms to my cheek. I flinch, expecting a cut, but she just seems to be touching me. “What is your name, twin? You have not yet told me.”
Her large black eyes stare at me as she waits for my answer. I can see myself reflected there in the inky pools, and I realize that this could be a good thing. A familiar can help me through this place, help me survive it. She’s small, but clearly mighty.
