The Homunculus Knight

Chapter 10: A Costly Cure.

“The Final Gates are simultaneously the greatest hindrance and help to the Summoning arts. They make contacting and summoning Beyonders annoyingly difficult while also giving us mortals a shocking amount of bargaining power. The Gates limit what sort of entities we can feasibly contact and ensure that intelligent deals are reasonably fair. This is why summoning magic isn’t taught to any but the most qualified and experienced Magi. The only way a Beyonder can easily do harm is if they are bound by an idiotic contract. Something unfortunately common with young Magi and Shamans who stumble upon the knowledge of summoning.”- Arch-invoker Issio of the Witchlands.

Cole woke up cold, confused, and naked, which he, unfortunately, had some experience with. Blinking away his post-death malaise, he looked down at himself and then his surroundings. He was still in the tenth temple judging by the stonework, but he seemed to be in a laboratory of some kind. Looking at the jars of pickled organs and the bloody dissection instruments on a tray next to him, Cole swore. “Oh, hells….”

He’d died, and the Temple took him for an autopsy, which spelled all sorts of trouble. Slowly getting off the slab he’d been lying on, Cole checked his surroundings for clues and clothes. It became clear someone with some talent split him open and poked about his innards, going as far as to excise his infected lymph glands and prepare them for further inspection. Feeling at his chest, Cole traced the new scars running along his chest and shivered. It had been a while since the last time he’d been dissected or vivisected, but memories of those horrible experiences still haunted him.

Shaking his head, trying to dislodge old and recent nightmares, Cole found a few sheets of paper sitting at the edge of the slab. Picking one up, he stared at the first sentence but didn’t read a single word of it. The handwriting, he recognized the handwriting! It was Isabelle’s cramped scrawl, so compact it was barely legible. Color draining from his face, hand trembling, Cole set down the notes on his dissection and let out a shuddering breath. He’d thought his half-remembered memory of Natalie speaking with Isabelle’s voice was plague delirium, a nightmare brewed up by his ill mind. As he looked through the notes, interpreting familiar shorthand, Cole knew better.

Cole needed information and fast, something he couldn’t get in this mortuary laboratory. Squatting down, he found the remnants of his clothes peeled off him for dissection now sitting in a crusty pile on the floor. Picking up his shirt, Cole winced at the smell. Stained and soaked in all the lovely substances of plague death, the clothes weren’t usable. Still, Cole couldn’t just run through the Temple naked while trying to find Natalie or… or Isabelle. Reaching the tray of instruments, Cole found a knife and got to work salvaging what he could. Eventually, he fashioned something close to a loincloth from the unstained fabric sections. With the tiniest bit of modesty in place and the knife in hand, Cole went to the door and found it magically sealed.

A simple locking spell jammed the door’s mechanism and stung any who touched it. Flexing his fingers, Cole debated using his powers to destroy the spell and escape. Then, an idea struck Cole as his hand hovered over the jinxed door. Tentatively he made an arcane gesture with his fingers and whispered, “Culsan.”

The spell dissipated with an immaterial pop, and Cole clenched his fist so hard his knuckles turned white. Sucking in a breath, Cole pulled open the door, identified where he was in the Temple, and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Isabelle usually included a backdoor in her protective spells, a way they could be safely neutralized by an ally while also alerting her the spell was undone. Cole just used one of those backdoors, and it worked perfectly.

Sprinting down the hallway, trying to think where Isabelle might be, Cole heard a loud scream echo down the hallway from the opposite direction. Spinning around, Cole headed towards the sound, wishing not for the first time he had a vampire’s speed.

Isabelle gently moved the floating Faerie through the air, bringing it closer to her borrowed body and back toward Yara. It twitched and recoiled whenever it got close to the vampire, but it didn’t seem even to register the thrall’s presence. Speaking to her thrall and her student, Isabelle said. “Change of plans, I need to examine this more closely. If the plague reacts differently to Nobility and their servants, this presents new opportunities.”

+ We need to bring that monster to the Hierophants! This is already enough of a mess without running off with a jagging Faerie! +

+ It won’t take long. Besides, we should check on Cole; I’m worried my estimations are off. +

That quieted Natalie, and Isabelle altered their course, heading for Rihan’s laboratory. The corpse tender proved to be a surprisingly useful connection. Her curiosity and intellect were not what Isabelle expected from a follower of Master Time. Perhaps Isabelle could find a better use for Rihan than her current job of cutting up atypical corpses. It mattered little currently, just another opportunity Isabelle’s ancient mind was primed to notice.

Turning a corner, Isabelle sniffed the air, catching hints of antiseptic, fresh bandages, and… cat hair? Confused and cautious, Isabelle walked towards the scent, her prisoner and servant trailing behind her. Taking another corner, Isabelle was confronted by two women who clearly recognized Natalie’s body. One was short with dirty blond hair and an impressive array of bandages and bruises. The other was tall for a woman with dark skin and eyes that reflected light.

The shorter one was being supported by the taller one as she hobbled towards Isabelle. “Natalie! We’ve been looking for you! Cole is missing and-”

The faerie and Yara rounded the corner then, startling the blond into silence. By contrast, the werefolk woman yelled, “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?”

Isabelle gestured for the captured fae to drift closer and watched as it reacted to the newcomers. It started to hiss and warble, pushing against Isabelle’s grip, trying to attack the two women. Nodding in confirmation, Isabelle remarked. “A Faerie; I pulled it from a plague victim.”

The werefolk woman actually spat on the floor and unsheathed a dagger. “Gorey-guts! We need to kill that thing now!”

Before she could surge forward with her weapon, the injured blond woman stopped her companion and asked in a very calm voice. “Natalie, why are you talking like that?”

+ Who are these two? They seem familiar from some of your shared memories, but I don’t know them, +

+ They are- AGGHH! +

A jolt of cold struck Isabelle and Natalie. Blinking away after-images, Isabelle looked at the injured woman and realized her eyes were glowing silver.

Baring her fangs, Isabelle tried to contact Natalie but felt a wall of cold separating them. “What are you doing!”

In the gentle tone reserved for dangerous animals and the mentally unbalanced, the Priestess asked. “Who are you? What are you doing inside Natalie’s body? And why do you have a hostile Outsider with you?”

Isabelle licked her lips. “I’m a friend of Cole and Natalie, one with expertise in magical plagues. Natalie is letting me borrow her body to help treat the pestilence. I extracted the Faerie from the Screamer it was pupating inside. You found me while I was taking it to the mortuary for a better examination.”

The werefolk woman was rocking on the balls of her feet, and silver light flickered in the Priestess’s eyes. “Okay, I might be able to believe that. Now where is Cole?”

Wincing, Isabelle weighed her options and tried to batter down the psychic ice trapping Natalie. Rihan knowing about Cole was too much, and if these two women found his corpse, things would escalate badly. “He’s very sick and being treated by my magic. Disturbing him right now would be dangerous for him and you.”

The two women exchanged glances, and the Priestess spoke a word. A solid wave of silver light exploded from the Priestess and slammed into Isabelle. Skin burnt, blood froze, and the vampire screamed. Knocked onto her back, Isabelle forced blood into her eyes, undoing the horrific damage done to the sensitive organ. Blinking away ash, Isabelle turned away from the glowing Priestess and knife-wielding Catblood; they weren’t the biggest threats. In the shock and pain of the magical attack, Isabelle let go of the Faerie.

A blur of iridescent chitin sped down the hallway, hopping and flying with physics-defying speed. Isabelle pulled herself up and ignored the pain of having most of her skin burned off. Reaching out, she tried to grab the fly-rabbit with her mind, but the pain and numbing cool stunted her effort. Bounding along, the Faerie went for the Catblood, eager to sup her emotions. The Catblood charged to meet the coming monster, expertly dodging it and lashing out with her dagger. Steel sliced off one of the Faerie’s legs, and it tumbled to the ground, keening.

Isabelle tried and tried to use her magic, but focus slipped through her mind like slick ice. The Catblood kicked the stunned Faerie, and it smacked against the wall with a crunch. Before it could recover, the Catblood unsheathed a second dagger and charged the creature, driving both blades into its wings and pinning the monster in place. The Faerie squealed and thrashed, the daggers burning its insectoid flesh.

Breathing hard, the Catblood turned on Isabelle and pulled yet another dagger from her belt. “Okay, so here’s the deal. You will let go of Natalie, and Mina won’t fry you again.”

Eyes wide, trying to call on any of her magic, Isabelle hissed. “I’m trying! Whatever the Priestess did is interfering!”

The Catblood spun the dagger in hand and said. “Yeah… I’m not buying that. Hey, Natalie, if you can hear me, sorry about this.”

Isabelle scrambled back as the Catblood lunged forward, aiming for her heart. Every movement caused pain; the entire surface level of the body’s skin was burned off by Mina’s attack. The dysfunction of Isabelle’s powers extended past her magic, calling up blood to empower her limbs, and healing was sluggish. Whatever was done to her was nearly perfect for crippling a vampire, which Isabelle guessed was the point.

The Catblood was fast and agile, natural talents nurtured to a pinnacle; enough to match a discombobulated and limited vampire. As Isabelle ducked under a dagger swipe, the Catblood yelled. “All right, Mina, blast em again!”

Isabelle shut her eyes and mustered her defenses, just for nothing to happen. Cautiously opening her eyes, Isabelle looked to the Priestess, expecting to be burned any moment. Mina was slumped against the hallway wall, coughing so hard she vomited up a mix of blood and bile. The Catblood saw this and hesitated, torn between her partner and enemy, a mistake Isabelle punished.

With pitiful strength (for a vampire), Isabelle struck the Catblood sending her skidding along the smooth stone floor. Leaping forward, Isabelle pounced on her opponent and decided to see how many bats she could hit with a single stone. Fast as an adder, Isabelle bit the Catblood’s neck. Carefully, Isabelle injected a mix of venoms into her prey. The prey in question gasped and then went limp, the mix of Sting and muscle relaxant doing its work. After enjoying a mouthful of hearty werefolk blood, Isabelle licked her bite close and got off her opponent.

Looking down at the stunned and paralyzed woman, Isabelle remarked. “Natalie wouldn’t like it if I killed you.”

Moving towards the sick Priestess, Isabelle licked her lips and mused on the blood she’d taken. The Catblood was sick, but her people’s constitution kept her together for now. It was an annoying fact about Werefolk making them difficult to treat; they could push themselves through a lot, only breaking down when illness reached a cataclysmic point.

Mina was on the ground now, a pool of sick spreading out from her. Skin finally regrown, Isabelle approached the plague-stricken Priestess. A voice from behind her slurred. “D-d-don’t hu-hurt her.”

Isabelle rolled her eyes and said. “Yara, watch the Catblood for me; I don’t mean either of these two harm, but neither seems to understand that.”

The thrall who’d been observing all of this bowed and moved towards the Catblood. As an afterthought, Isabelle said. “Oh, and Yara? What is the Catblood’s name?”

“Alia, her name is Alia, mistress.”

Nodding, Isabelle reached the Priestess Mina and said. “I suggest you undo whatever binding you put on me. The strain on your sick body is killing you.”

Sucking in a wheezing breath, Mina looked up at Isabelle with glazed eyes. “I serve the God of Death and don’t fear a worthy end. Stopping something from running off with my friend’s body seems pretty fucking worthy.”

Mina started to glow faintly as she called another miracle; Isabelle tried to pull away, but Mina gripped her ankle with shocking strength, or perhaps Isabelle was just that weak.

“STOP!”

Priestess and Vampire turned to see a familiar figure running down the hallway. Cole never exactly looked like the knight in shining armor he was at heart, but at that moment, he seemed especially far from the Paladin ideal. Clad in a scrap of filthy cotton, his amulet, and nothing else, Cole ran down the hallway toward the melee. Isabelle blinked in surprise, then smiled. Freeing herself from the shocked Mina, Isabelle went to meet her darling.

Cole struck out, slamming Isabelle into the wall and pinning her, one hand on her throat, the other holding a very sharp surgical blade to her chest. In a voice calm and cold as an arctic plain, he said. “I don’t want to hurt you, Belle, but I can’t let you take Natalie’s body. Explain what happened, or I will put you into torpor.”

Still smiling, Isabelle reached out and set a hand on Cole’s chest, he didn’t stop her, and a low sigh escaped the vampire. He was always so warm, a side-effect of his altered metabolism. “Natalie spoke with me; the plague is bad, and she wanted me to help cure it. She agreed to let me borrow her flesh for three days and nights. When I visited you in the clinic, the plague was killing you; I stole you away to fix your body and find out what I could about the pestilence.”

Reluctantly taking her hand off his chest, Isabelle gestured at the damaged Mina and Alia. “They came looking for you and realized something was wrong. One thing escalated into another, and… well, I tried not to hurt them. But the Priestess here did something to me, and it cut my connection to Natalie.”

Mina was now leaning against the wall, sucking in rattling breaths and shivering. Looking at the Priestess, Cole’s eyes glowed silver, and Isabelle flinched; seeing how the Tenth wormed its way into her darling was distressing. Slowly, Cole withdrew both his hands and freed Isabelle. Crouching down next to Mina, he said. “Can you release the binding spell you put on Isabelle?”

Staring at him with glazed eyes, Mina frowned. “How… how are you healthy? The nurse said you were knocking on the Master’s door!”

Grimacing, Cole sighed. “We can talk about that later, but I need you to release the spell.”

Mina started to shake her head, but nausea stopped her. “If I do, she’ll have access to her power! I don’t know who this thing is, and I can’t…”

Cole gently squeezed Mina’s shoulder. “I trust her, but if she betrays that trust, I can stop her. So please, end the binding.”

Shutting her eyes, Mina let out an icy breath, and Isabelle sighed as the bindings melted away.

+ Fire-and-iron! That… that was not fun! What happened? +

+ I don’t know, but I think we will find out soon. +

A slight palsy showed in Isabelle’s face for a few seconds as her magic returned. Cole then asked. “Natalie, if you are safe and consenting to this, tell Isabelle what food you offered me the first night in the Silly Goat.”

+ Mutton Stew. +

“She says Mutton stew,” Isabelle quickly answered, hoping to end this stressful farce.

Nodding, Cole slowly reached out and took Isabelle’s hand. In a gentle rumble, he rasped. “I’ve missed you.”

Smirking, Isabelle took his hand and put it to her cheek. “I know.”

Shaking his head slightly, Cole sighed and said. “This will be confusing and stressful, but we have more pressing worries for now. I need to know everything that’s happened, and we need to get Mina to a healer.”

Mina was teetering on the edge of consciousness; her skin was clammy, and her breath wheezing. Gently, Cole scooped the Priestess up and went towards Alia. “Is she injure-WHOA!”

Cole just apparently noticed the trapped Faerie. Isabelle winced and felt a wave of bleak humor come from Natalie.

+ In case you are wondering, I’m not demanding back control for two reasons. First, I know Cole misses you, and I don’t want to break up this reunion yet. Second I figured it was someone else's turn to be stuck explaining everything. +

Isabelle rolled her eyes at her student’s snark and explained. “The plague is fae-based; I managed to collect a sample. As for your friend Alia, she’s mildly drugged but for a good cause.”

Bewildered, Cole watched as Isabelle collected her sample. Hands of shadow flicked out from Isabelle, freed the Faerie, and gripped it tight in a telekinetic grip. With a thought, Isabelle moved the Faerie towards Cole and Mina. Cole twisted slightly, keeping the semi-conscious Priestess from the monster. Injured and exhausted, the Faerie only managed a trilling growl as it hovered near Cole and Mina. Nodding in confirmation, Isabelle floated the creature back towards the incapacitated Alia. In a testament to Werefolk hardiness, the Catblood managed to spasm a little in fear, the venom already wearing off.

The Faerie didn’t react this time, simply dangling there like an overgrown grasshopper on a fishermen’s hook. To add to the metaphor, Isabelle let the Faerie drift toward Yara and even bobbed it up and down, trying to get any reaction.

Smiling with all the warmth of Cole’s magic, Isabelle whirled to face her darling. “Well, this little mess might prove to be worth it after all!”

Stepping over to Alia, Isabelle said. “I’m going to cure the paralysis; please don’t attack me once I’m done.”

Leaning down, Isabelled gripped Alia’s wrist and bit her, pumping the anti-venom into her bloodstream. Licking the wound shut, Isabelle remarked. “The fangs are perhaps the most unique part of my kind; it's a shame so few of us know how to use them to their full potential.”

Slowly, twitchily, Alia managed to pull herself up. Smiling cooly at her recent victim, Isabelle handed Alia the two daggers once driven into the Faerie. “You might still need these, just not for me.”

Alia stumbled, but Yara caught her, and the Catblood regained her balance after a moment. “The fuck did you do to me? I didn’t know vampire bites were… were like that.”

Holding up her fingers so they were a millimeter apart, Isabelle explained. “I gave you a very, very, very small dose of the Sting. Not enough to be dangerous or addicting, just enough to test my hypothesis.”

Rubbing her neck, Alia asked, “A hypo-what?”

Already turning from her test subject, Isabelle said, “We best get the Priestess some healing, Cole some clothes, and me a laboratory.”

To those ends, the strange group made their way to the Temple Fane, passing stunned templars and confused priests as they went to speak with the Hierophants. It took Cole’s gentle but firm insistence to get Isabelle to agree with this course of action. She, of course, wanted to drop Mina in the clinic and return to Rihan’s laboratory post-haste.

The Countess took the time as they walked to explain events to Cole and, to a lesser extent, the listening Alia. Mina was unconscious, a ragged bundle in Cole’s arms, checked on by a nervous Cat-eyes every few seconds.

Watching Isabelle walk and talk, explaining events, Cole was at something of a loss. Natalie’s body, with Isabelle’s movements and behavior, was profoundly disorienting. Part of Cole wanted just to take Isabelle into his arms and hold her for as long as he could, and another part wanted to rip her out of Natalie’s body on sheer paranoid principle. It was embarrassing to admit, but Cole long imagined what a true reunion with Isabelle would be like, not just their shared dreams. Somehow her wearing the skin of his other lover and going on a long lecture about pestilent magic never occurred to him.

Isabelle was convinced the Sting conferred some kind of resistance to the plague. It wasn’t a cure, as Alia was still sick, but the captured Faerie's reaction to her and Yara’s status was enough for Isabelle to start making plans. She was already explaining how she needed convicted criminals to experiment on. And what stages of infection she felt could be treated by removing the Fae influence. Cole didn’t know if it was comforting or disturbing that even after twelve years as a skull and now wearing Natalie’s flesh, Isabelle didn’t seem much different.

Finally arriving at the Fane, the group was reluctantly allowed into the sacred underground grotto. They’d failed to find Cole some clothes, but somehow his impropriety paled in the face of Isabelle, bringing a Faerie into the Hierophants’ presence. Glynn, Hedwig, and Bertram were the three Keepers inside the Fane, and they reacted to the Faerie as well as you could expect.

“ABOMINATION!” cried Bertram, hoarfrost swirling around him as he prepared whatever miracles he could summon.

Isabelle nodded and floated the injured monster forward. “Yes, yes, it is. Now can any of you help imprison it so I don’t have to keep dragging it behind me everywhere?”

Bertram was stunned by the snark dripping from Isabelle’s words, clearly thinking Natalie had lost the little decorum she possessed. Glynn knew better; he stepped forward and looked over the two vampires in one body. “Countess Isabelle Gens Silva, I presume?”

Isabelle nodded and offered her hand for him to kiss; Glynn didn’t take it and just raised an arched elvish eyebrow. “I’m guessing the Faerie has something to do with the plague?”

Nodding again, Isabelle gestured to Mina, still clutched in Cole’s arms. “Yes, but I think your subordinate needs your attention first. Natalie and Cole both seem reasonably attached to her, so I’d prefer if she didn’t die.”

Hedwig helped Cole lay the younger Priestess onto the central altar of the Fane, already whispering words of power as she did. The old woman’s face was creased with worry as she spoke. “Priestess Mina dramatically overtaxed herself, I don’t know what magic she worked, but it was potent. Some kind of binding of significant complexity based on the little imprint I can sense.”

Placing her hands on Mina’s forehead and stomach Keeper Hedwig called upon her power. Cold light danced through the air and wrapped around Mina like northern sky fire. Eyes glowing with magic, Hedwig said. “She’s sick with the plague, injured, and now suffering from this… I’ll do what I can, but I’m pessimistic.”

Isabelle clicked her tongue in annoyance and gestured to the Faerie. “Keeper Glynn, would you mind?”

The faint shadow enclosing the Faerie and keeping it immobile faded, and it plummeted to the ground. Eyes wide, Glynn rushed forward and bellowed something in Saint-speech. A wave of water from the pool ringing the Fane splashed up and over the Faerie, freezing where it touched, trapping the creature in a prison of enchanted ice.

Relaxing slightly, Glynn turned to Isabelle, choice words on his lips, but the vampire was already approaching Mina. Cole stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

A wicked smile alien to Natalie flashed across her borrowed face. “Alia damaged my sample; I’m going to collect a new one and save this annoying Priestess.”

Looking at Hedwig and Bertram, Isabelle asked. “I’m assuming the pair of you are competent healers and warders?”

Both Hierophants, respected and powerful Priests, were caught between being affronted and stunned by Isabelle’s words. Taking their silence as agreement Isabelle reached out and placed a hand on Mina’s chest, then took one of the Priestess’s hands and bit her wrist. Licking up the little bit of blood she’d spilled, Isabelle remarked. “I’m not surprised the plague does little to interfere with the taste, a little sweeter perhaps…”

Alia stepped forward then, and so did Glynn, both looking to protect Mina. Not even turning to face them, Isabelle said, “You wanted my expertise in these matters. So let me use it and save this little Priestess.”

Cole was torn, the Isabelle he knew wouldn’t be so confident unless she were completely certain, but that was the Isabelle before twelve years of isolation. Seeing his hesitation, Isabelle’s wild smile softened into something sweet. “I can help her, trust me.”

Looking into a familiar face and seeing the different but equally familiar soul hiding behind its eyes, Cole nodded. Isabelle’s smile grew back into its maniacal form, and she pointed at the two Hierophants. “Natalie says you are called Hedwig and a talented healer. Please prepare yourself to stabilize someone in shock with organ damage. As for your Bertram, call up an iron-dirge ward and lay it upon all of Mina except the skin of her lower torso.”

Bertram glanced at Glynn, who gave the barest nod. Holding out his hands, Bertram started a deep resonate chant as gritty solid power pushed through the Aether and cloaked Mina. Once that was done, Isabelle placed both her hands on Mina’s chest and rasped something in a wet groaning tongue. Oily darkness spread out from Isabelle’s fingers and quickly covered Mina in an inky cloak.

In the calm, almost bored voice of a lecturing preceptor, Isabelle explained as she worked. “The Sting I’ve administered should calm the fae larva so I can extract it without issue. I’m using my mind and soul to isolate the larva before forcing it to grow quickly through an injection of magical power and creative joy. As it grows, it will seek mundane matter to construct a body, and thanks to its connection to the plague, infected tissue will be the easiest source to procure. Bertram’s ward will ensure the little monster doesn’t take unaffected flesh and help me aim its manifestation. Once the Faerie fully manifests, Mina will need immediate dramatic healing. I’m starting the processes now.”

Everyone watched as Isabelle shut her eyes and whispered incantations so fast they blurred together. Those with senses attuned to magic could feel the Aether around Mina warp and twist. Hierophant Bertram balled his hands into fists and started to sweat as he kept up the precise ward. The shroud of darkness Isabelle covered Mina with started to bulge; something was pressing out of her stomach. As the parasite swelled into the size of a small cat, Isabelle spat a word that hurt to hear. The shroud instantly retracted, slithering away from Mina’s flesh and coiling around the parasite.

With a wet sound, the shrouded Faerie was ripped free from Mina and suspended midair in a cloud of roiling darkness. The priestess was hyperventilating, and blood was oozing out from a cut on her stomach. Hedwig quickly got to work, placing her hands on the wound and pouring power and focus into the beleaguered Priestess. Bertram dropped the ward he’d summoned and got to work helping Hedwig, the two Hierophants putting their considerable skill into repairing the damage both plague and Isabelle inflicted.

Reaching up, Isabelle touched the sphere of darkness containing the new Faerie and sucked much of the power back into her, leaving the prisoner suspended in a faint shadowy grip. This Faerie lacked wings; its body was segmented and insectoid except with a mouse’s head and two similar tails sticking from its rear.

Cocking her head to the side, watching the new Faerie thrash and squeak, Isabelle remarked, “Mouse and Silverfish this time… I think Mina needs to clean her kitchen or find better dining options.”

A distressed Alia asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Turning to look at the city warden, Isabelle explained. “I’m fairly certain the Faerie is using organic samples it acquires from the infected to construct its body. Preferring to use materials similar to its native form, which I’m guessing is a mix of rodents and insects. So bluntly, I think Mina here ate something with trace amounts of mouse and silverfish in it. Just as my last subject had some rabbit dish that an unfortunate fly probably landed in.”

A round of disgusted noises passed through the people in the Fane. Isabelle brought the hissing Faerie closer and watched as it recoiled from her presence. “Well, this method of extraction does work, but I don’t think it's feasible on a large scale. I’d only feel confident doing it with a reasonably healthy infected and support from talented magical healers. Perhaps I could refine it with additional subjects, but I doubt I could teach it to many. The required anatomical, biochemical, and magical knowledge isn’t exactly typical. So while this remains an option for those of significant value, a wide-scale cure is not yet in my grasp.”

Clapping her hands together, Isabelle turned to Glynn. “I’d like to requisition some prisoners from Vindabon, preferably uninfected and the type no one will miss. Murderers, rapists, child molesters, the type headed for the Hells anyway. Also, I’d like to speak with a Hierophant of Mistress Void specializing in the Fae or at least a Magi from the Ivory Tower of a similar status. I’m no expert on Fae and think information about whatever breed is being used will be useful.”

Glynn frowned deeply, “I can easily arrange a colleague serving the Ninth God to help; as for your other request, that won’t be possible. Unlike the Duchies, we of the League don’t treat people like resources to be expended, no matter their crimes.”

A bitter snort escaped Isabelle. “No, you let them sit in a cage or separate their head and shoulders. You waste opportunities just so you can congratulate each other on being cruel in socially acceptable ways. I’m offering a way for scum to work off their debt to society in the face of a calamity. I’ll do my best without the necessary resources, but every death caused by delays will be on your head.”

Glynn’s neck started to visibly throb, and he started to say something but stopped himself. “I’d be wasting breath trying to explain morality and its complexities to you.”

Shaking his head, the Keeper sighed. “The threat of a caul forming is almost over; we Hierophants will be more active moving forward. Countess Isabelle, I would like to accompany you to monitor your progress and behavior.”

Lips curling in a humorless smile, Isabelle asked. “I’m assuming Cole can’t be my sole chaperone for these events?”

Cooly, Glynn replied. “No, no, he cannot.”

Rolling her eyes, Isabelle turned and grabbed Cole’s hand. “Let's get you some clothes and then head for the Ninth Temple. Also, Natalie wants to know if you have anything to say to her.”

Still trying to process everything, Cole laughed morosely. “Tell her happy birthday.”