INFIRMARY PROCEDURES—WESTERN ENTRANCE

As decreed by HIS EMINENCE, THE ARCHBISHOP OF BELTERRA, all guests of the cathedral infirmary must present their name and identification to the initiate on duty. Failure to do so will result in removal from the facilities and lawful action.

Feuillemort Asylum representatives—

Please check in at Father Orville’s office. Packages are distributed from the Eastern Entrance.

Clergymen and healers—

Please utilize the register and inspection form located at the Eastern Entrance.

The following procedures must be observed at all times:

1.The infirmary must remain clean and free of debris.

2.Irreverent language and behavior are not tolerated.

3.All guests must remain with a member of staff. Guests found unaccompanied will be escorted from the facilities. Lawful action may be taken.

4.All guests must wear appropriate garments. Upon entry, healers will distribute white robes to don over layperson garments. These robes must be returned to a member of staff before departure from the facilities. These robes aid odor control throughout Cathédral Saint-Cécile d’Cesarine and Chasseur Tower. They are required. Failure to don robes will result in permanent removal from the facilities.

5.All guests must wash thoroughly before departure from the facilities. The guest inspection form is located in the washroom near the Western Entrance. Failure to pass inspection will result in permanent removal from the facilities.

Holy hell. This place was a prison.

“Of course, Father Orville.” Coco grabbed my hand and steered me away from the sign. “We’ll stay out of your hair. You won’t even notice we’re here. And you”—she glanced over her shoulder at Ansel—“run along and play. We don’t require further assistance.”

“But Reid—”

“Come now, Ansel.” Father Orville made to clasp Ansel’s shoulder and found his elbow instead. “Let the young ladies tend the sickbeds. You and I shall join in prayerful communion until they are done. I have accomplished all I can with the poor souls this morning. I regret two are heading for Feuillemort in the morning, as their souls are unresponsive to my healing hand. . . .”

His voice trailed off as he led Ansel down the corridor. Ansel threw a pleading look over his shoulder before disappearing around the bend.

“Feuillemort?” I asked curiously.

“Shh . . . not yet,” Coco whispered.

She opened a door at random and pushed me through. At the sound of our entrance, the man’s head twisted toward us—and kept twisting. We watched in horror, frozen, as he crept from the bed on inverted limbs, his joints bending and popping from their sockets unnaturally. An animalistic gleam lit his eyes, and he hissed, scuttling toward us like a spider.

“What in the—”

“Out, out, out!” Coco shoved me from the room and slammed the door shut. The man’s body thudded against it, and he let out a strange wail. She took a deep breath, smoothing her healer’s robes. “Okay, let’s try that again.”

I eyed the door apprehensively. “Must we?”

She cracked another door open and peered inside. “This one should be fine.”

I peeked over her shoulder and saw a woman reading quietly. When she looked up at us, I jerked back, lifting a fist to my mouth. Her skin moved—like thousands of tiny insects crawled just beneath the surface.

“No.” Shaking my head, I backed away quickly. “I can’t do bugs.”

The woman held up a pleading hand. “Stay, please—” A swarm of locusts burst from her open mouth, choking her, and tears of blood streamed down her cheeks.

We slammed the door on her sobs.

“I choose the next door.” Chest heaving inexplicably, I considered my options, but the doors were all identical. Who knew what fresh horrors lay beyond? Male voices drifted toward us from a door at the end of the corridor, joined by the gentle clinking of metal. Morbidly curious, I inched toward it, but Coco stilled me with a curt shake of her head. “What is this place, anyway?” I asked.

“Hell.” She guided me up the corridor, casting a furtive look over her shoulder. “You don’t want to go down there. It’s where the priests . . . experiment.”

“Experiment?”

“I stumbled in last night while they were dissecting the brain of a patient.” She opened another door, surveying the room carefully before pushing it open wider. “They’re trying to understand where magic comes from.”

Inside, an elderly gentleman lay chained to an iron bedpost. He stared blankly at the ceiling.

Clink.

Pause.

Clink.

Pause.

Clink.

I looked closer and gasped. His fingers were tipped with black, his nails elongated and sharpened into points. He tapped his forearm with his pointer finger rhythmically. With each tap, a bead of inky blood welled—too dark to be natural. Poisonous. Hundreds of other marks already discolored his entire body—even his face. None had healed over. All wept black blood.

Metallic rot mingled with the sweet scent of magic in the air.

Clink.

Pause.

Clink.

Bile rose in my throat. He looked less a man now, and more a creature of nightmares and shadows.

Coco closed the door behind us, and his milky eyes found mine. The hair on my neck stood up.

“It’s just Monsieur Bernard.” Coco crossed the room and scooped up one of the manacles. “He must’ve slipped his chains again.”

“Holy hell.” I drifted closer as she gently clasped the manacle back around the man’s free hand. He continued staring at me with those empty eyes. Unblinking. “What happened to him?”

“The same thing that happened to everyone else up here.” She smoothed his limp hair from his face. “Witches.”

I swallowed hard and walked to his bedside, where a Bible sat atop a lonely iron chair. Glancing at the door, I lowered my voice. “Perhaps we could help him.”

Coco sighed. “It’s no use. The Chasseurs brought him in early this morning. They found him wandering outside La Forêt des Yeux.” She touched the blood on his hand and lifted it to her nose, inhaling. “His nails are poisoned. He’ll be dead soon. That’s why the priests have kept him here instead of sending him to the asylum.”

Heaviness settled in my chest as I eyed the dying man. “And—and what was that torture device Father Orville was carrying?”