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“Nourishment. It grows stronger with nourishment.”
“Which it relies on the host for.”
“Correct.” He leaned forward over one of the books and ran his finger over its pages, as if skimming the text. “According to what I’ve read, there are two ways to banish the unbound. The first is as we’ve seen with the soul stripping. Incredibly painful and possibly risky for the host, as it could cause damage.”
“And the second?”
Brows knitted, he lowered his gaze. “By killing the host. The unbound doesn’t care to be stuck inside a lifeless body, and so they exit rather willingly. It compromises the host, of course, but it, at least, releases their soul from subspace and allows for redemption.”
“Oh, well, we wouldn’t want the soul to be unredeemed, would we?” The bitter sarcasm in my voice was the result of too many hours spent studying. Bargaining in my mind what I’d be willing to do for Farryn. “Is there no reasoning with this entity? Perhaps striking a deal of some sort?”
“I suppose it’s worth a try, but if it is contented inside its host, it certainly won’t be inclined to leave.”
I stared down into my drink, swirling the dark, bubbly, red liquid around the glass. “You remember Syrisa of Soldethaire, not just the soul stripping, but who she was?”
“Of course I do. I was there when they pulled those boys from her cabin in the woods. The village had asked me to evaluate their wounds, as I’d studied a small bit of human medicine.”
“What happened?” My mother had refused to give me the details, fearing that speaking such evil aloud would invite it into our home. And so I was left bereft, curious, but I’d never bothered to inquire about her further.
“The rumor going around was that she had molested the boys for some time and tortured them. And certainly, when their bodies were pulled from the cabin and laid out on the grass, it was clear that torment had, in fact, been carried out.” He exhaled a long breath, rubbing his hand over his forehead. “Aside from bite marks all over their flesh, their torsos were concave, as if something had been drawn out of them. Entirely disturbing. But the worst of it was their eyes. Often times, with bodies, you see what we now know is corneal clouding. Back then, they believed it was a sign that the soul had left the body.” He circled his hand by his own eyes, staring off in thought. “Theireyes were a deep red. Blood red. Beyond petechial, or subconjunctival hemorrhaging, which can affect the whites of the eyes. That’s often associated with asphyxia.” Eyes still fixated, as if reliving the moment, he shook his head. “The entire cornea, including the iris and pupil were red. Absolutely disturbing to look at.”
“And so, what did she ultimately do to the boys?”
“She was known to take boys in, to entertain them sexually, but in this case, it appears that she consumed them.”
“Consumed the souls? Their flesh?”
His throat bobbed with a swallow, and he cleared his throat. “When I opened the boys’ bodies, I found their torsos to be completely hollow. No organs, no blood, no bones. Their torsos had essentially been carved empty. Yet, they bore no evidence of having been previously cut. No stitched wounds. Nothing that could possibly explain the oddity.”
“I’ve not heard of this story. No one ever spoke of it, and surely such a thing would’ve sparked rumor.”
“Of course it would’ve. That is precisely why I never shared my findings. With anyone. Until now.”
I rubbed my hand across my neck so incessantly, it burned there. “So, what you’re telling me is that Syrisa was an entity that fed on human organs.”
“Not entirely. She fed strictly on the organs of children. And I believe she chose those boys for a reason. Young boys were how she managed to remain youthful.”
The knock that interrupted held a frantic beat, and I swung my gaze around. “Come in.”
Anya pushed through, breathing hard through her nose. The sight of urgency in her eyes wound my muscles tight.
“What is it?” I asked, already striding toward her.
“Master Van Croix, I … It’s Farryn–”
Alarm pummeled at my muscles, and I didn’t wait for her to finish. I shot past her and up the staircase to Farryn’s bedroom.
43
FARRYN
Thirty minutes before …
Whispers reached my ears in the dark. So many whispers. They spoke so fast, I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Slamming my hand over my ears proved futile. They were in my head, deep inside my skull. Over and over, the same sound, but the words lacked clarity.
I sat up from my bed and the room shifted, like a glitch. The whispers grew louder, the wisps of the voices crackling inside my head. The sound vibrated down my spine, stirring a queasy sensation in my stomach.
Pressure swelled and throbbed in my ear, and I opened my jaw in a poor attempt to release it.
