House of Salt and Sorrows(91)

“Fisher?” I sobbed, crawling toward the corpse. My trembling hands reached out to somehow help before falling back. There was no helping him. He’d been dead for a long time. The fetid stench of rotting flesh was overpowering, coating my tongue and throat. A wave of sickness climbed up into my mouth, and I turned, spitting it out. “I don’t understand,” I moaned.

Cassius was at my side in an instant, arms around me, pulling me away from the decaying body of my childhood friend.

“I saw him not five hours ago. How is this possible?”

A low chuckle came from the shadows, seemingly from Fisher himself. It grew louder and louder, morphing into a cackle of triumph. Cassius pulled me to my feet and pushed me behind him as he stood guard, and drew a hidden dagger from his boot.

“Who’s there?” he demanded, pointing the blade at the corpse. “Show yourself.”

There was an impossible ripple across Fisher’s chest, and his arm lolled off his body, thudding to the floor with a slap.

“Fisher?” I breathed, daring to hope that somehow he was still alive.

The arm flexed, contorting as his legs struggled to push the lower half of his body from the floor. They couldn’t seem to find purchase and had to push again, testing their strength. His other arm jerked beneath him, so that he looked like a crab flipped on its back and scrambling to right itself. His torso twisted and writhed, muscles and sinews crunching, snapping, and popping into painful angles.

A low, keening wail rolled out of my chest as I cowered behind Cassius, my fingers tight around his sides, anchoring myself to him. He was real. He was here. Everything else seemed like something out of a dark nightmare I’d soon wake from.

Fisher righted himself, standing on legs too far decayed to hold weight. Knees bowed low, his back lurked over, hunched and hulking. He eyed us for a moment with a flat, stony glare, then began to cough.

Thick, viscous phlegm spewed from his mouth, landing on the floor like globs of tar. His body shook from the force, struggling to expel whatever was lodged deep in his throat. When his lips began to peel away, curling back like rolls of coiled tree bark, I pressed my face into Cassius, fighting the urge to throw up. I did not want to see whatever came next.

But I couldn’t mask the gasps and groans as my very dead friend heaved and wrestled against the foreign object. With a wet burst, something awful gave way and fell to the ground. I peeked over Cassius’s shoulder, unable to not look.

Fisher’s body lay split open, pieces and parts flung out in a gruesome explosion. In the center of this absolute horror stood a figure, her back turned to us. Covered in viscera, she rolled her neck from side to side, stretching her muscles, delighting in her sudden freedom after such a tight confinement.

She turned slowly, gazing about her surroundings. When she saw us, her dark mouth flashed into a smile, even as oily tears ran down her face.

Her terrible black eyes met mine. “Dance with me?”

“Kosamaras?” Cassius gasped.

“Hello, nephew,” replied the Weeping Woman, squinting at him.

My mouth fell open with alarm. “You know this…thing?”

“My aunt.” Cassius lowered the dagger, putting things together that I was not privy to. “The balls, the dancing…that was all you?”

The Weeping Woman’s eyes were wild in the pulsing light. “It was, it was. It may be my best work yet. Of course, it’s not quite finished.” She cocked her head to the side, staring around him at me. “I do hope you’ve not grown too attached to this one. She’s next on my list.”

“List?” I repeated. “Cassius, what’s going on?”

Every fiber in my body was screaming at me to leave, to bolt down the stairs and out into the cold, away from this creature, away to safety. But where was safe? Not this island, and certainly not Highmoor. And with the storm’s rapid approach, even the sea would be dangerous. There truly was nowhere for me to go.

“Kosamaras,” I whispered, repeating the name he’d called her. I’d heard it before. Dredging up memories from childhood lessons on the canon of the gods, I sifted through them until it came to me. Kosamaras was Versia’s half sister, not wholly a goddess but definitely an immortal. “Harbinger of Madness.”

She ran her tongue over the pointed tips of her teeth. “And Nightmares,” she added. “Everyone always forgets the Nightmares. It shouldn’t bother me, I know, but it really is my favorite part.” She spread her hands out, gesturing to the ruined bits of Fisher. “I’m just so good at them.”

“What are you doing here?” Cassius demanded.

She laughed, a nasty little clicking tone deep in her throat, like a cicada seeking its mate. “I’ve been summoned, dear boy, why else?”

“By whom?”

“You know I won’t tell you that, darling nephew of mine.” She breezed past him, making a beeline for me, and I nearly tripped over my skirts to get away from her. Backing me into the glass window, she pressed her body into mine. It was surprisingly cold, sending a shudder of goose bumps down my arms. “We’ve had quite a few fun times, haven’t we, little Thaumas girl? You always were my favorite partner.” She cupped my cheek, running her fingers over my jawline.

“The dancing?” Every inch of me ached to squirm free of her grasp, but she was stronger than she looked, and her grip on my wrist was like a shackle. “The parties weren’t real? Any of them?”