Page 123 of Down Comes the Night

“You’re awake.”

She gasped, nearly wrenching her neck in surprise. Lowry sat in an armchair in front of a rain-streaked window. Droplets steadily drummed on the roof—a strangely calming contrast to Lowry’s voracious gaze. “I was beginning to worry you’d died in your sleep. How unfortunate that would have been.”

She was still woozy from the anesthetic, but even with her blurred vision, there was no denying he looked awful. Against hisall-black formalwear, his face was ashen, and his eyes were so hollow, he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. Sweat plastered his curls to his temples like seaweed dashed against slick ocean rock. His experiments had clearly taken a toll on his system.

“Where are they?” Her voice was ragged.

“Are you always so impatient? It’s maddening.” He rose from his chair. “You’ll see them soon enough.”

Step by agonizing step, he circled her like a stalking beast. She couldn’t turn her head enough to follow him when he slipped out of her peripheral vision. Only his footsteps echoed in the emptiness of this chamber. When he at last stood behind her, he grabbed the back of her chair and turned her around. The wooden legs scraped against the stone floor with a high-pitched squeal.

The light from the wall sconces was orange as rust. It caked the sharp edges of the surgical instruments lined up on the surface of a wheeled cart. Beside it was a slab of a table, and on it, a shape draped in a white sheet. The shock of it emptied her out, left her dizzy and reeling with fear. She did not want to see what was underneath, although she alreadyknew.

“Shall we take a look?” Lowry pulled off the cover, and the blood drained from her face.

A thousand feelings careened through her, but she couldn’t manage a single word, a single movement. Hal lay outstretched on the table, strapped down with leather belts around his forehead, chest, and limbs. An intravenous drip punctured his arm like a plant taken root, steadily feeding him an anesthetic. Judging by the plum-purple marks streaking his forearm, he’d fought its insertion.

Lowry turned a crank on the operating table and, with a tinny whine, the platform lowered until Hal was nearly level with her knees. “Everything’s already set up for you.”

The full, horrible weight of his expectation threatened to crush her. She hardly felt it as he took a scalpel and cut one of her restraints. It broke with a cleansnap,as easy as paring viscera. “Remove his blindfold.”

“No.”

“You’re hardly in a position to deny me.”

She wasn’t. “My magic is gone. I can’t.”

“Do it.”

Wren flinched at the ferocity in his voice. With her jaw locked, she reached out with trembling hands and carefully unfastened the blindfold. He looked so peaceful, she could almost believe he’d dozed off there.

“Tell me. I’m curious. How does this procedure work, Ms. Southerland?” He was so casual, he may as well have been inquiring about the weather. Lowry ran his gloved fingertips almost lovingly along the instruments on the surgical cart and chose a speculum.

Wren felt sick. Two thin blades would be inserted into the eye socket, slotted in alongside the conjunctival fornix. Once cranked, the speculum would pry back the eyelid and hold it during the enucleation procedure. The clinical facts came easy to her. But the reality of it now… It was unthinkable. The very thought of Hal beneath her scalpel made her want to sink into the earth.

“It seems quite easy to plunge them in too deep.” Lowry unhooked the locking mechanism and wrenched the speculum apart. It clicked and rattled, a sound like a windup toy. “Or stretch too wide.”

“Stop.”

“Even damaging the cornea would be so painful. I’m afraid my supplies aren’t as advanced as what you’d have in a hospital.…”

He was threatening her. Sincere or not, the image of him so coldly, clumsily gouging out Hal’s eyes… “I saidstop! This is madness. You can’t possibly—”

“I understand my limitations.” Lowry placed the instrument on the armrest beside her free hand. “If you’d be so kind, you could spare us any accidental mutilation.”

Through clenched teeth, she growled, “I would sooner die.”

“We’ll see what we can do about that stubborn streak, won’t we?” Lowry snapped his fingers. “Bring her.”

A door opened with a rattling creak. A figure emerged, and as it approached, the shadows pulled back from its face like a veil.

Isabel stepped into the candlelight. She wore a diaphanous gown made of layers and layers of delicate fabric. Her silver-blond hair was unbound, spilling down her back so long and straight, it pooled on the stone floor like liquid mercury. Now more than ever, she looked like something born of the divine, cruel and cold. In her small, fragile hands, she held a thick rope that bound Una. She was gagged, and her arms were twisted behind her back, but her eyes blazed with determined fury.

“Una!” Wren lurched against her restraints, but they held fast, tearing at her wrist.

“Now,” Lowry said. “What was it that you were saying? You’d rather die than help me?”

He traced a slow path to Una and untied the gag. As soon as she was free, she rounded on Isabel without sparing Lowry a glance. “Your Majesty! You must stop this, this…” She trailed off, casting her frantic gaze at the scene in front of them.