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I stared at the factory doors, zeal burning in my chest, and drew Chun Yi. Flames shivered over the blade and hissed in the rain. Squinting, he retreated from my sword. I wondered if he mistrusted blood magic.
“We should assess the situation first,” he said.
“Fine. I’ll start.”
The doors squealed open on rusty hinges, and the mustiness of decay rolled over me. I stepped into the gloom, tense and ready to fight.
The coffin factory’s ceiling, spiderwebbed with mildew, floated high overhead. Decrepit iron machinery hulked like the black bones of giants. The floorboards creaked under my feet. I glanced at a machine with a press in the shape of a cross, meant for a coffin lid. Clearly, this factory hadn’t profited enough from the dead.
Rain drummed on the roof. Wait, that couldn’t be the roof. There should be a second story above me, judging by the number of windows I had seen outside. I followed a zigzagging steel staircase upstairs.
Half of the roof had collapsed. Rain splattered on the splintered furniture and floorboards. There must have once been offices here. The faint glow of distant streetlamps leaked through the jagged chasm in the ceiling. In the shadows beyond, I could barely make out the opposite wall and the jumble of dark shapes there.
One of the dark shapes moved.
I slid my feet forward, wary of rotten floorboards. Chun Yi burned brightly enough to light my way. Slowly, the darkness yielded to my sword’s fire.
Horror hit me like a blow to the stomach.
38
Wendel slumped against the wall with his hands shackled above him. He lifted his head. Blood stained his mouth and trickled down his jaw. His long hair had been hacked away, the ragged remnants falling to his chin.
My heart broke into a thousand pieces.
I ran across the rain-streaked darkness to him.
“Wendel! Wendel. I’m here.”
When he opened his mouth, more blood trickled down his chin.
I knelt beside him. “Are you alone?”
He shook his head.
Pain glittered in his eyes. No, it wasn’t only pain. Fear. Shame. I swallowed past the fierce ache in my throat. The chain on his handcuffs looped through the iron frame of a window with shattered glass.
“Wait here,” I said. “Let me get Konstantin.”
Wendel yanked against his handcuffs. The chains rattled. He shook his head again, harder this time. The incessant rush of rain filled the silence.
Why wasn’t he speaking? What was he trying to tell me?
The tiny hairs on my arms prickled. When I stood, Wendel lunged against the chains, the muscles in his arms straining. He didn’t want me to go. But I wanted to break him free, and I needed the Eisenkrieger for that.
A floorboard creaked behind me.
Armored hands closed around my neck.
I barely had time to suck in a breath before darkness constricted my vision. The pressure on my arteries was relentless. I struggled against my unseen attacker, but it was too late, I was losing consciousness already.
My cheek hit the floorboards. Rain splattered my face.
The sensation faded as I sank into oblivion.
Blood whooshed through my ears.
I blinked open my eyes. Where the fuck was I?
