“You are the fool,” Malachi said. “Taking half-measures and not thinking things through. When you don’t return, what will they think? They’ll think you had something to do with this man’s disappearance. And they’ll ask your Lady Jocasta, who in turn will come to suspect you. They are aware of us now after Jamshir’s bungling. How long do you think it will be before they come to the conclusion that we were responsible?”
Darius tried to answer, but he still couldn’t make a sound.
“No, you’ll need to go back.” Malachi took the glass from Darius’s hand and set it carefully back on the sideboard. “We’ll need a convincing story….”
He came up with it on the spot, telling Darius his plan.
Darius’s eyes widened and he tried to move. Leave the room, leave the House and maybe become Jocasta’s aide for real. When he tried, his legs obeyed him no more than his mouth now did.
Malachi went to the door and summoned two servants, who removed the unconscious Samuel. Then he turned back to Darius, and with a sudden downward slash of his hand and a growled word, cut him open from shoulder to stomach.
Inside, Darius screamed. The pain was horrifying.
“Now. We need to make it more authentic. Willow is at Towering Oaks, and she will know this wasn’t made by a Soul Gaunt. The wound needs to be more…vile? Evil? Well, no matter, whatever word you want to use, it needs more.”
He smiled as he approached Darius, and Darius realized that Malachi was enjoying this.
“Let’s see…” Malachi mused. He put his finger at the top of the wound and began to trace it. If the gash felt like fire before, it was an inferno now. It blazed with agony and Darius was sure that he was being opened up like a pheasant at dinner, but he couldn’t move his head to see.
“Almost done,” Malachi said, then he stepped back, raised his hands and pushed them toward Darius. Darius felt his heart stop, the room started to grow dark and his eyes fluttered. Something was wrong. His torso felt…strange…like it didn’t belong to him, even though the pain from it was still sending shockwaves through his mind.
If he had could have moved he would have thrown himself from the windows or found a sword and cut out the foreign presence in his body. He would have stuck his fingers down his throat and vomited until it was gone, no matter how many times he needed to do it.
But he still couldn’t move.
“Now, that will take a while to settle in. When we’re done, even Willow will have a hard time telling that apart from a wound by a Soul Gaunt. Stay put, I’ll be back later.”
He left the room, leaving Darius frozen in place, able to feel the pain and the wrongness, and do nothing about them.
♦ ♦ ♦
When Malachi returned the next morning, he made a motion and Darius was free to sink to the floor. The front of his clothes was shredded, and he was covered in blood.
“Go back now,” Malachi said. “Tell the story as I told it to you. Convince them of it. Let them draw what conclusions they would. I suspect Jamshir will be getting a visit. Then, you may return to Whispering Pines.”
Darius groaned as he climbed to his feet. When he looked up, Malachi was smiling.
“Yes, like that. Very convincing.”
Darius had stumbled past him, managed to conjure up a portal and returned to the Greenweald. He’d returned to a place near the clearing, deeper in the woods, in case anyone was there. No one was, so he’d made his way back to the Towering Oaks compound.
♦ ♦ ♦
After Willow was done, Darius didn’t really care about the danger she posed to his story. He felt so much better. His wound still ached, the edges itched, and that sense of something being wrong was still with him, though all of it greatly diminished from what it had been when he first returned.
It was a shame they couldn’t convince Willow to join Subtle Hemlock. But Malachi had determined that she would never do so and forbidden anyone from approaching her with the idea. A pity. Someone of her talents could do truly amazing things with the right training and focus.
“How do you feel?” the healer asked him when Shireen and Orlando departed.
“Better,” he smiled. “Thank you.”
“Good enough to try to get up?”
“I think so.”
She put an arm under his shoulders and helped him to a sitting position, then to his feet. He took a moment to steady himself, then smiled again.
“A miracle. Towering Oaks is lucky to have you.”
“Towering Oaks doesn’t have me. Healers work for any House. You know that.”
“Then why do you live here?”
She shrugged. “They offered. And from here, I can go where I am needed.”
“Well, Towering Oaks, independent, or anything else, I’m glad you were here.”
He shuffled across the room and back under her watchful gaze. “What do you think? Am I ready to get out of here? Go back to Whispering Pines?”
“No, but soon. Another day or two of rest. Somewhere more comfortable than this. Then you’ll be ready.”
Darius smiled at her. “More comfortable, huh? Got any ideas in mind?”
To his surprise, the Healer blushed. “No. I think you’ll be fine in the quarters that Orlando showed you to. That will be comfortable enough.”
Inspired by her reaction, Darius decided to push it. After all, the Healer was beautiful, if aloof, and if he needed to be here anyway. “I might need more attention. Later.”
“Of course, I already said. Oh, I see.” She looked away. “I’m afraid you’ve misread my intentions. It happens sometimes when—"
Darius laughed. “My apologies, Healer. I’ve
