Part 7: The Trip of a Lifetime
The docks were seeing more activity than they had in months. It seemed the Baron's Watch had secured a port for prisoner transfer to Moira Asylum, and were using a large ferryboat to transport people and supplies to the island. A few of the prisoners had to be caged like cargo while others were shackled together and walked in a line. I could only wonder how much of the city's population they planned to get rid of in this way.
The next ferry was leaving soon and I intended to catch a ride. All of the guards were staying alert but the distraction I needed was easy to find: There was a boy at the end of the chain gang who couldn't have been much older than I was when I started my career. It would have been a waste of true potential to let him board that boat.
"You're a little far from home." I whispered to him from the shade of a tall crate that the procession stood near. His eyes were fearful when he turned to look at me but that was more from his current situation.
"I'm going to give you a do-over but you had better not waste it." I gestured for him with a lockpick in hand. He inched closer to me but did the smart thing and kept his eyes on his surroundings.
I popped the lock on his cuffs and pointed across the pier. "Run." He took off like a shot and by the time the guards saw him, he had already climbed several crates and made his way up to the balcony of a fish market. Definitely a lot of potential there.
While some of the guards chased after the boy, the rest were distracted by keeping the prisoners from acting out. I took that opportunity to slip on the ferry and hide among the cargo. When the boat launched, the guards stayed with the passengers and I was free to move around discreetly. By the time it arrived at the dock of the island, I had moved to the roof and flattened myself out to wait for the most opportune time to disembark.
Moira Asylum barely looked different form the last time I was there. All the wreckage was cleared away but the grounds hadn't been landscaped. I guess if the good, upstanding citizens didn't have a need to visit, there was no point in redecorating for the ones who would never leave.
I couldn't go in through the front door this time; instead, I crept the grounds until I found an air duct on the west wing. It took me to a dining hall which turned out to be in decent shape. At least they were feeding the inmates. I knew I was near the women's ward because I could hear the wailing of a few female prisoners.
I hid in the walk-in pantry when the head chef and her assistant came in. They were talking about one of the prisoners. "We're going to have to make the sloop real thin again so the nurses can spoon more down Preggers' throat. She's still refusin' to eat. That poor babe won't have a chance with a mum that stubborn."
"I get the feeling that the Missus isn't going to let her be a mum at all. She'll probably be sent to the basement with the others after she's given birth."
"Missus. Don't you mean 'Doctor?' Now there's somethin' new for you. Wonder if her husband tends the house while she's away."
"I wouldn't trust mine to it... If I had one. Mind the kitchen while I run this supply order to the office."
The assistant was left alone to prepare food. She certainly wasn't expecting to see me when she opened the pantry. I put a hand over her mouth before she could scream and held an arrowhead close to her throat. "Scream and I'll push this through your neck."
"Wh-what do you want from me? I don't have any money!"
"I want to know where Doctor Sarto is."
"I-in the basement, most likely. She goes down there to check on the prisoners too unruly to keep up top."
That wasn't all I wanted to know. "Preggers. Is she a small woman with brown hair and hazel eyes?"
The cook nodded rapidly. "In room six. Kept strapped down, for the good of the baby."
"Thanks." I put away the arrow. The second she relaxed, I spun her around and knocked her on the back of the head. There was plenty of room in the pantry to leave her tied up behind the sacks of potatoes and rice.
I slipped past the room's revolving door, stepping out just as the head chef went in the other side. Most of the ward's personnel must have been up front taking in the new inmates. The only guard I saw was reclining in the office. I pulled myself onto the wide top molding that ran along the walls like a long shelf. It made for a convenient place to creep, especially with the shadows caused by the depth of the ceiling. Each room had a barred window above the molding and I moved along quickly until I found the one above Scribe's room door.
She was strapped to her bed just as the cook described. Food stains were all over the front of the gown they put her in, and her belly's bulge was far more obvious. I couldn't take her with me but I knew there was one thing I could do to make her situation better.
"Scribe!"
She picked up on my sharp whisper and looked up to see me through the iron bars. "Garrett! Gods among us, get me out of here!"
"I will, I promise, but it's going to take some time."
She struggled in her straps and tears ran down her face. "I can't have my baby here, Garrett. They're going to take it away from me. It's the only thing I have left of Six..."
I sighed while she sobbed. "Listen to me. I'm going to get you out of here, but I need you to be patient. You're also going to have to start cooperating so they will let you out of those straps. Eat. Get your strength back, for you and the baby. I'll make sure you get out of here, but you have to put yourself in the position to be rescued, got it?"
Her sobbing muted as she focused on my words. Once I was done talking, she nodded quietly and relaxed. "What... What're you doing here?"
"What I always do," I whispered casually. I certainly couldn't tell her about the Gloomers, or that Six was one of them. "I'll come back for you when I can."
Scribe had hope now, which is exactly what she needed in this place. I could tell by looking at her that she still had several months before she would give birth. If the cooks' gossip was to be believed, I would have plenty of time before the staff at Moira would do much more than keep her in the women's ward. I meant to keep that promise to come back for her someday but for now, I had another reason for lurking around the asylum grounds.
I worked my way down the women's ward elevator shaft and found another duct to enter. This one filtered air to the lower levels. Not a whole lot had changed there from what I had seen before. There were more torches to light up the area and I was certain I knew why. I could hear them on the second level of the prison sector, snarling from the cells that were kept dark for their comfort. The guards that walked the hallway moved single-file down the center to avoid the adventurous claws that tested their reach. Each Gloomlurker that tried to grab a guard learned that light would burn them. They seemed to forget it just as quickly and try again. They were so mindless, I had to wonder if I imagined the intelligence I saw in Six's eyes.
There were more Gloomers on the third level but they were different somehow. Their sounds were more passive and none of them made any effort to reach out for the guards. A few had their arms draped out of the small window on their doors. The intense lamp light had no effect on them. A different breed, perhaps, but where were they coming from?
I hid in an air duct near the start of the hallway and watched Doctor Sarto enter the third level from the main elevator. Funny, she wasn't dressed like a doctor at all. Her dark blue dress and jewelry suggested that she was heading to an important engagement rather than making the rounds to check on violent inmates. My eyes were especially drawn to a large tourmaline set in gold wire netting draped from a thin neck chain. A fine piece. She was going to part with it after I got some much-needed answers.
The doctor waved away the guards as she traveled the hall. "Leave me. See if they need any help upstairs." Once she thought she was alone, she took the hand of a Gloomlurker who was reaching out beyond its cell. Interesting. The Gloomer held her hand as if it were comforted by her.
"My perfect angels." She looked at the cell doors with admiration. "Your numbers are growing and soon you will be ready." Sarto went back to the elevator and went down to the last level. I had to step out of the duct and use the stairs around the shaft to follow her, but there were enough shadows to keep me concealed while I kept on her trail.
The bottom level of the prison had a wide central area where eight prisoners stood in chains. They were shackled by their wrists to wooden beams that were fixed into the concrete. One of the beams looked like it had been recently repaired. That must have been why the prisoners moved sluggishly, as if they had been drugged. The larger room was surrounded by corridors that hid additional cells not in use. I moved along one of the corridors to get a better view of the doctor's actions.
Sarto stepped into the center of the open space, walking over a circular pit that was covered by a grate. She moved calmly across the iron despite several claws reaching up to try and grab her ankles. There were Gloomers in the pit below her and unlike the ones on the third level, these were not happy to see her.
She made it to the safety of a wide iron disc in the middle of grate, though I had a feeling she wasn't ever in any danger. Then the heavy door that we came in closed on its own. Unexpected. I looked for an alternate escape route just in case.
"You are all very privileged to be a part of my plan for this city."
I watched the doctor for the most part but I also kept looking for another way out.
"Not too long ago, I sensed that a great opportunity was unleashed here. Sadly, my husband lacked such vision. He never wanted to leave the comfort of Illyria, which is why his bones are now buried there, rest his soul."
She didn't sound very regretful over that fact. "Beneath my feet are the products of the power that drew me here." Sarto had my full attention then. I watched as she gestured to the Gloomers in the pit. "They're so imperfect... so unrefined. Crafted by someone who lacked the control to truly mold them into something special."
Her eyes burned with a blue flame, just like the Gloomers, and the tourmaline that hung from her neck burned as it floated in front of her. She was a witch, not a doctor, and I needed to get out fast. I turned to search for an exit but was caught in a sudden feeling of vertigo. When I looked back at Sarto again, her feet were several inches off the ground.
She spoke in a language I didn't understand and the tourmaline lifted from its trapping to float above her. It lit the room with a bright flash and the Gloomers were instantly vaporized, even in the darkness of the pit. But their ashes didn't disintegrate; instead, they drew upwards through the grate and were drawn into the witch through her mouth and nose.
I had dropped to my hands and knees when the gem expelled its light and my head felt extremely heavy. What was happening to me? I crawled as far back into the corridor as I could before my whole body became too listless to do anything but lean against a wall.
I could still see Sarto from where I was. She had held in the breath that drew in the Gloomlurkers' ashes, but now she exhaled and released those ashes in eight directions: Towards each prisoner. They couldn't stop it from entering their bodies the same way it had entered hers. Each one struggled in their bonds while the witch landed and continued her ritual.
"Become perfection, my angels," were the last words I heard before my head was gripped with pain. I knew she was transforming the prisoners into Gloomlurkers, but why was I feeling this way? I hadn't breathed in the ash that she forced into the lungs of the others.
The pain in my head spread to the rest of my body. It was getting so I couldn't breathe. I had to regain control—
"The primal energy within you called you home to me..." Sarto was standing over me with a motherly smile on her face. I was strangely comforted by it. I didn't want to be comforted by it. A surge of pain reminded me of the danger I was in and forced me to concentrate on trying to stand.
"When I saw you at my home, I sensed your power and wanted to take it from you to increase my own." She reached a hand towards me but I managed to inch away. "Now, I think I shall leave it within you, and let you become the most perfected of my perfect creations."
Sarto reached for me again and I swiped my hand up to knock hers away. It wasn't my hand. There were claws where my fingers should have been. I couldn't stop the panic after that. I was more than scared, I was terrified. I couldn't control the feeling and that frightened me even more. I was changing. I couldn't resist it. I tried to cry out but my mouth was no longer there. How was she doing this to me? The primal energy was supposed to have been purged when Orion's ring touched the book!
My senses began to change. I was seeing things I didn't know were there. Everything had a vibration that tried to steal my attention. I could hear each chain rattle from the Gloomlurkers that yearned to be free. The reverberation of Sarto's laughter called my attention back in her direction. I couldn't see her anymore but I could see the primal energy that pulsated within her. It was beautiful. Alluring. Why was I so attracted to it? I managed to work myself to my feet but for my own sake, I could not move from her immediate reach.
"You are more beautiful than I could have imagined." Her words were comforting me again. I was both soothed and frightened by it. I had to regain control. She said not to forget who I was... Who was she? Who was I? I knew the answers but they were becoming harder to make out by the second. I had to get away from the comfort. Away from the beauty. I couldn't see the world anymore. I could only see its vibrations and energies, and the one that demanded the most attention from me was hers.
"Why don't we lose that silly cloak and let your new perfection be seen by the world?" She was reaching for my hood when I sensed the answer: A rat scratching at a duct high in the wall behind me. I stopped resisting the fear and let its adrenaline push me out of the witch's reach. I didn't think twice about reaching the duct—I scaled the wall effortlessly and pulled the grate away as if it had been paper. All I could think about was escape and putting distance between myself and the witch.
