She Dreams in Blood by Michael R. Fletcher

Author:Michael R. Fletcher [Fletcher, Michael R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-16T06:00:00+00:00

I woke later in the day, the tent a sweltering oven. Untouched by the heat, Henka puttered about, laying out food and folding my clothes. She’d opened the flaps on each side to let a breeze through but sweat still beaded my chest.

I sat up, watching her, the swing of new hips, the way everything swayed and moved, thin fabric straining to contain it all.

“Sometimes,” I said, “I think you use sex to distract me.”

She stopped what she was doing, turned to face me. “Quite the opposite. I use sex so you can think clearly, so you have no distractions. You’re a young man. Or at least in a young man’s body. It has needs. Too often you ignore them.” She gave me an appraising look, eyes narrowed. “You need to eat and sleep more.”

Many nights I dreamt of murdered women, flayed flesh, red muscles dripping blood. I saw sockets, empty and accusing, beautiful eyes stolen. Corpses, limbs hacked away, stacked like cordwood. Skulls glistening crimson with gore, raw, the scalp cut carefully away. When I ate, my stomach turned on me, rebelled.

“There was an undead woman,” I said, changing the topic from one violence to another, “when we were in the dungeon under the pyramid. She hurt—” I cut myself off. “She tried to hurt you to hurt me. I promised her she’d suffer.”

I wasn’t sure why I brought her up. Henka was fine. She felt no pain and hadn’t suffered. Maybe it was the fact I’d promised the apewoman pain. Maybe I wanted one promise to go unbroken.

“Karrie,” said Henka. “Put it from your mind. I have a confession,” she added, moving to stand before me.

Unable to imagine what she’d consider confession worthy, I waited.

“I saw the way you looked at Tairese.”

“You know it’s only you.”

She accepted that without comment, as if it were her due. “Much of what I am came from her. She was his favourite and already had the best of what could be harvested.”

Tairese, a necromancer, was already dead, I reminded myself.

Had Henka given her a body to replace what had been taken? Did she have ugly new eyes, a motley patchwork of inferior flesh? Had Henka claimed limbs as well? Was the once beautiful necromancer now a shambling monster?

“Why butcher many when you can get what you need from one source,” I said, trying to sound casual. “And one that doesn’t feel pain.”

She nodded, happy. “Come. Brenwick will be waiting.” She put a cool hand on my shoulder. “You did the right thing,” she said.

“I did?” I couldn’t imagine when.

“Saving him. I was wrong. He was worth saving. If you treat him right, he will serve you loyally for the rest of his life.”

He would? Did I want that?

“Such men are rare,” she added. “They can’t be bought, but the right gesture at the right moment will have lasting impact.”

I rose from the bed, padded to the clay pitcher on the table. Sniffing it, I discovered it was filled with rum. More in need of water, I returned it to the table.

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