Saithorthepyro
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Chapter 37 - Nightmares IX
🕑 Added 2025-04-11 04:13:03 +0000 UTCWhen Golvar came back with no Watchman, I was on the ground, gagging and coughing while Pieter’s blood continued to pool around my knees.
“Well, guessing he wasn’t keen on taking the deal?” Golvar mused.
I tried to say something, only to feel the bile rise in my throat.
“Girl,” Golvar said irritably. “I have seen some bad reactions to a killing. I’ve seen some bad timings of a killing. You are combining both, and even worse we got told you’d wetted your blade before, so this is a really bad showing.”
I tried to say something, only for me to hack and cough and try desperately to get it out. I could still taste it on my tongue, feel where that chunk of him had traveled down my throat to my gut and I needed him out right fucking now!
But I couldn’t, no matter how much I tried to force it, no matter how much I made my stomach ache and my vision swim and tried it wouldn’t and worse. Worse. The appetizing smell of what was just a room away and..meat was so rare it was.
Oh ancestors please stop me if I ever try to take another bite.
“Up,” Golvar said irritably. “We don’t got much time until either that Watchman comes or one of the staff, and I’m not gambling on if they have a squad around.”
Faintly, I could hear whistles being blown, and the sight of fighting dying down inside picked up.
“Shite,” Golvar said above me. “Alright, this place is going to be swarming with coppers and people trying to escape them in seconds. Move!”
I hacked, coughed, then stilled as I felt something metal and harder push against the back of my neck, the cold metal breaking through my urge to try and puke up the flesh.
“Girl,” Golvar said, pressing the pistol harder against the back of my head. “I don’t care if you eat. Honestly, I’ve done worse in some really bad winters. But either you get the control to not do it, or if you do be fucking quick about your chewing. Seriously. I will leave you here so you can tell Edwards why you’re crouched over the partially eaten corpse of one of his customers. Or you can show some spine, and grab him so we get something else out of this.”
A second passed, two of me doing nothing but breathing raggedly as the whistles got louder.
“Your choice.”
I gasped, nearly choked, then reached out with trembling hands to grab the corpse’s legs. I pulled him along, his head slumping to the side, throat squelching as blood continued to pour. The head scraped along the dirt and stone of the alley, horns catching on rocks as I pulled and pulled. Neck flesh stretched and I could hear tearing and I stopped.
“For. Fucks. Sake!”
Golvar moved to the other side of the corpse, grabbing underneath its arms and lifting it up. I felt the urge to puke again as the dead face stared at me, but I got moving again.
“Drain-pipe leading to the half-destroyed wall, then to the roof. Once you get up there, stay low and make sure the body is hidden out of sight. Wait a second, you’re not dragging it up there by yourself, hold on, one, two, three! Alright. Once we’re up here we should be safe. If they don’t spot the body, Watch ain’t gonna make the effort when we can get off the other end or leap to another roof before they’re even halfway up.”
We struggled and made our way up with the corpse, and maybe I didn’t help by not looking at it, but we made it. On top the roof, it gave us the perfect view of the unfolding fight down below.
Watchmen were rushing the Hells’ Own main and back entrance, and everyone was scattering out of every other exit like rats. There weren’t enough Watchmen, just a single squad divided into two groups of five. The wave of Infernals avoided them entirely, keeping away as they fled. Until one of the squads moved in towards an exit, trying to apprehend the runners and stem the flow.
They didn’t have anyone bigger than your average human, and soon it was a free-for-fall as steel short swords clashed against claws, maws, and whatever the tidal wave of fleeing patrons carried. It took seconds for the low of the crowd to redirect, and in that time at least eight fell, maybe more in the mess chaos. Some tried to drag themselves away, while the Watch mostly licked their own wounds, at least two badly hurt, one screaming as a comrade tentatively grabbed the horn impaling her under the arm.
Infernals were shattering windows now to make their escape, over the indignant yelling of Edwards, but the flow had slowed to a trickle. A heavily battered half-orc stumbled out of the front door, panting heavily as he made it to the Watch detachment.
“What a mess,” Golvar groused. “At least they didn’t bring too much back-up. Morder and the rest will make it out if they’re smart. Unlike certain others have been. You good to go?”
I wasn’t. My stomach was still in knots, I shivered and could feel sweat dripping down my forehead as I stared down at this. It wasn’t supposed to go like this, and the corpse was right next to me, blood still dribbling out onto the rooftops.
But. The sensation of cold steel kissing the back of my head, pressing deep. The rough bark of Golvar. Would he have hesitated if I’d taken longer?
I couldn’t risk that, and getting on his bad side was no longer any kind of option. Not til I had power and importance enough that him shooting me wasn’t an option.
“Yes,” I said drily. “I just needed a second to get my bearings.”
***
Daver’s workshop was lit like an old dungeon. A single lantern in the middle with a single guttering candle inside, anywhere but directly underneath dimly lit at best. He insisted it made Diabolsim easier to call on, that it responded easier to casters who followed the old ways.
I thought he considered bright lights a personal offense to him after so long underground.
Dim light fell one on of many metal tables strewn about, and for once the metal restraints are clamped down around someone.
“Please,” the watchman whimpered. “Please don’t do this.”
I ignored him, waiting instead for the instructions of the master of the workshop. The old diabolist himself sat on a stool on a raised section of his little dungeon, his tail slowly lifting a pipe to his mouth. Ragged like he was, old scar tissue covering chunks torn out and old wounds dotting the limb. He kept that little raised section all neat and tidy, a metal circle for rituals in the middle, desk to one side, cupboard loaded with reagents on the other.
The main room on the other hand was a chaotic mess. He’d claimed it was to call on Diabolism better, much like the light but it was still a jumbled together mess of furniture that looked better suited for a scrapyard. At the center were two metal tables, one with a living occupants fastened in, the other one dead.
Despite his whimpering and the occasional scream, the living occupant was the easier one for me to look at. The Watchman has been stripped of his armor and most clothing, just enough left to leave him is dignity. Not enough to hide the deep wounds and cuts across his body, or the three clipped-off fingers on his right hand. A pale, sweating face looked at me, panicked green eyes darting around as I waited patiently.
Was this punishment? Being forced to watch because I’d messed this up? We’d been here for thirty minutes, both of us awaiting the judgment of Daver.
The stones underneath my hooves still had dried blood on them, the smell making my nostrils itch as I waited, hands behind my back, tail idly waving. I…I couldn’t show weakness. Golvar was probably busy already talking about what had happened in that alleyway. I don’t know what was worse, the fact I’d fucking eaten Pieter or the mess I’d been afterward and how he’d needed to threaten me at gunpoint.
“You know,” Daver said, finally speaking, blowing out smoke in between words. “You’re usually much more talkative. Something got your tongue lass?”
I didn’t say anything, just looking at the Watchman as he struggled.
“Seriously lass, beginning to scare me some. Which I suppose is good, if I’m supposed to teach you the arts. In all seriousness, go get a saw. I need this one carved up fast, then we can discuss you summoning a devil into his flesh.”
The Watchmen started screaming, shrill and loud.
“Varrow told you?” I asked, the both of us ignoring the Watchman’s screaming. He’d tire himself out quick enough. I hoped, trying to stop my hands from trembling.
Daver snorted, thick smoke blowing out of his nostrils and mouth. “Lass, you think he wouldn’t mention you rotting the face off one of his best prospects?”
“I guess not,” I said, turning back to the rack. “At least now I know why they had me fetching your alcohol all the time.”
“Oh, that’s got nothing to do with the arts, you’re just quick on your hooves, don’t drop the bottles, and you don’t drink as much. Also, don’t try replacing the missing parts with water or piss which is greatly appreciated. I will admit the talking about diabolism we did? Yes that was intentional. Bottom saw, left-hand side.”
I grabbed the indicated instrument, a rough handsaw that looked like it might be older than me, the wooden handle rotted but surprisingly solid as I gripped it.
I looked at the edge of the saw. Bent teeth, some missing, most rusted, the rust blending with the dried blood already on the saw.
“Like that for a reason girl,” Daver muttered. “It’ll cut fine, just make sure you put some grit behind it. Now, don’t keep us waiting. Lad’s already been treated by interrogators and T’rr. Ain’t nothing left in his head worth anything, only thing worth a penny is the meat.”
I shivered, they weren’t going to make us eat the Watchmen instead of rats were they? I’d take the rats. Every time.
“We need the flesh to summon a devil girl, so do it precisely where I said. Where the limbs meet the torso. Cut there, cut quick, cut deep, till all the limbs are severed.”
A stiff simple nod. At least it wasn’t the other. Please let me not do the other..
The Watchman struggled against the restraints, pushing and rattling them to no avail. The metal might be shite but they held up to a human’s struggle easily enough. I moved closer, trying to not let my stomach tie itself into knots as I neared.
This was…simple. Easy. Just pull out a saw, set it down, back and forth. They were already mad enough as is, I could not make them more angry.
I put the saw against the upper thigh, ignoring the attempted flailing as the Watchman strained against the chains and cuffs. Far too tight to allow more than an inch of give, he actually made the saw pierce his skin, teeth cutting lightly into the edges, a trickle of blood welling at one spot.
I breathed in and out in desperate ragged gasps as I tried to set the saw properly.
“Stop,” Daver said, getting off the raised flooring, and moving towards me, a bottle of whiskey clasped in a swaying tail now. “We ain’t getting nowhere when you’re this off. The other one.”
“The other one?” I repeated, looking over to Golvar. Underneath me the Watchman writhed, metal shrieking as he desperately pulled and pushed.
“The other one,” Daver repeated firmly. “The soul is long gone, girl. Any feelings you have over that decaying lump of flesh I suggest you kill and get to work. Just meat and bones now.”
My stomach twisted at the word kill.
“I can do this one,” I insisted, only for Daver to shake his head.
“You can do that one second. Let’s get the hard part over first.”
Reluctantly, I turned my gaze to the other body.
Ragged flesh torn where my teeth had bitten through, dried blood, and beyond that-I tore my gaze away from Pieter’s ripped-open throat. I couldn’t, not when I’d been joking and laughing with him just days before, sharing a laugh. Malachti had nearly ruined that, making some comments on both our ancestry, but it was easier to shrug off when the little shite wouldn’t do anything more than throw words as barbs.
We’d bonded over that, both halves of our ancestry not being considered native. Neither half Anglean, neither half really belonging.
My hand, shaking, put the sawblade to where the shoulder met the bicep.
“Enough stalling,” Daver rasped next to me, the smell of whiskey still on his breath. “Bad enough we gotta start with the dead ones because your hand shakes too much on the live ones. So stop shaking and start sawing.”
I breathed in heavily, looking at the body in front of me. Don’t look at the face. Anywhere but there. Pieter, why?
“Child, I’ve been about as patient with you as I can. I get you knew this one, but it’s meat. By now his soul has left. All that’s left is flesh. Be glad the boss only demanded the body be used after instead of both.”
I hesitantly pulled on the saw, wincing as teeth carved into flesh, blood leaking out on either side. I’d cut before, but only when some Watch officer tried grabbing me or someone else came after me for my stuff or the hut me and mother lived in. This…this was…
“Child, he’s mad enough as is. Betrayal bites deep. Makes him bleed his anger, when one of his own turns, no matter the rank. Best not to cut him any more today.”
I shuddered, then put my effort behind my next stroke with the saw, teeth biting deep, shredding skin and muscle underneath, fibers parting as sharp teeth cut through them. This was fine, this wasn’t even the worst because I’d killed him, stabbed a knife into his throat because I felt threatened then ate his flesh and now here I was dragging a saw along his corpse. Then again, and again, and again till I reached bone and deeper and further until-
“Enough!” Daver snapped, and I halted, the saw scraping along the metal of the table, a line half an inch deep sliced into its surface. “Bloody Hells girl, you want to break my table? I said deep cuts to get through the limb, not bloody saw the table in twain.”
“I..” my mouth dry, I tried to find something to say. The truth? That I was sawing into a person who I’d failed, who I wasn’t even sure had attacked me, that I’d eaten for no other reason I could think of besides being hungry?
Daver sighed. “You need to kill that reluctance girl. It’ll kill you soon enough, and I don’t just mean Golvar thinking you’ll break down and collapse when something critical happens. This ain’t bloody games. If you balk at this, you ain't making it much farther, and you're already too far in to let loose, so bury it, and get back to the Watch bastard.”
The Watch bastard was still whimpering as I put the saw back on his leg.
His fault, not mine. If he hadn’t approached Pieter, none of this would have happened. If he had kept his nose out of the Quarter, if the Watch hadn’t, if none of them had done any of this, Pieter would still be alive-
“Please,” he whimpered. “You don’t have to do this. He said you were a friend. We can still-”
I yanked on the saw, teeth dragging across the skin, biting into it and he shrieked. I moved mechanically, fast enough to keep the Watchman from saying anything else. Screaming filled my ears but all I did was focus on the saw. Back and force, cutting through skin, slicing through flesh underneath. Blood spewed out, spraying all over me but I ignored it, just focused on making sure the saw went back and forth, even as teeth bit into thicker and tougher things. Muscles, bones, everything split and frayed as the scream continued, drilling into my ear. The limb thrashed in the restraint, throwing off the saw but as long as it remained wedged inside that wound, I cut.
It died as I made it through the bone, just cutting through and into the flesh on the other side, past that, flecks of flesh flying as the rough teeth shredded and sliced.
The teeth scraped along the stone, a harsh discordant whine that made me stop. The body was motionless, the leg entirely detached. The Watchman’s face was dead, limp, expression fallen apart from horror and pain. Blood continued to flow out, pushing into my hand and the saw, soaking my sleeve.
“Other limbs,” Daver said. “We only need the torso and the head for the summoning ritual. Everything else we’ll store for later.”
I nodded mutely then moved to the next leg, sawing once again. Short, repetitive movements, made easier by the lack of struggle
“Alright,” Daver said, walking over. “It ain’t pretty but it doesn’t need to be. If we need more precision work, I’ll teach you then how to cut it right. You know why we do this?”
“No,” I said plainly, my voice rid of emotions, and Daver side-eyed me as he moved to the table, hands in thick leather gloves grabbing and moving the limbs off.
“Haven’t told you yet,” he said after a second. “But Devils don’t tend to like this world. Loved it fine, till the priests made it so the air burned their skin and ate away at their natural essence. Dead flesh offers protection, even if restricts them. Better to be limited and be here than never come at all though. So we cloth them in skin, feed ‘em blood for vitality.”
I was listening, focusing on the words as I cut. It was…informative, and at least gave me something to focus on as I finished the next five limbs.
***
I’d slept, but it hadn’t been a deep sleep. That alleyway lurked in my dreams every time I closed my eyes, the taste of blood and meat in my mouth. It had almost been a relief when Golvar had woken me up and told me to come here.
An empty arena, empty except for a single person here down in the sand in this little arena that had been made in the underground. I’d asked before where the sand had come from, and never gotten a straight answer. The air tasted of blood, and I could see why as I clopped onto the sand.
Lying on the sandy ground were Pieter and the Watchman, their torsos bound together with rope, the chopped-off limbs scattered all over the table. ‘In case the devil wants some extra flesh’, Daver had said as I’d been in a stupor after carving up Pieter’s corpse. Now both were here, just waiting as a green Infernal in a suit better than I’d ever seen in the Quarter stood over them.
“Hello Miss Harrow,” Giovanni Versalicci said, turning to look at me, piercing eyes that felt like they would impale my soul. “I think it’s time you and I talked.”
Comments
Baumlaus
...what... O.o? Did... that... yolks in computer mice? think i just forgott how to english... ...what?!
UnderwhelmingBird
We're almost through, a little more and we get a step closer to Mal having a chance at a Proper Comfy Hug. Who's gonna be that comforting presence?? I have my thoughts on the matter, but until it happens they remain purely conceptual. Ooooor maybe Malvia just sticks to being a blend of "ultra-shriveled lemon" and "thrice boiled egg" As in, the hardboiled egg method that people used to use the yolks of as a replacement tracker ball in Ye Olde computer mice.
Baumlaus
HUG! HUG HER! NOW! 😭
