Merc could almost feel sorry for the bastards, workers and cursed alike. He wondered what would happen to them out of the pit. The whole curse thing was brand new to him and the Legion. Would removal terminate the curse?
Keeping himself hidden from the regulars, he followed one of the trucks carrying bodies out of the jungle. Several trucks were parked on a hillside. Corpses were lined up in rows with workers putting them into body bags.
That was uninteresting.
What was garnering a lot of excitement were the pits’ living victims. They behaved as if they’d been paralyzed…which fit with the curse he’d laid down.
The scientists, a corps made up of anthropologists, sociologists, and physicians, couldn’t revive the half-dead men. Instead of prolonging their situation there in the jungle, they loaded them into the beds of several trucks to cart them off to spot where they could be medevaced to a hospital.
Staying hidden, Merc hopped into one of the trucks and rode out of town with it, curious to see how far his curse reached. The only road out was through town. Kids, dogs, and curious adults crowded around, slowing the trucks. Several villagers crossed themselves and mumbled prayers of protection from the terror in the woods.
The half-dead thugs in the truck bed started to convulse as soon as it passed the town’s borders. The doctor sitting across from Merc banged on the cab window, ordering the driver to stop.
He and another doctor started working on the men, but it was a futile effort. When the convulsions stopped, the men were dead. Maggots spilled from a man’s eye.
Huh. So that was what happened. Merc jumped off the truck and waited for the next one to stop. It did. Same thing happened with their living victims.
The last truck in their short convoy carrying living patients neared the border, but the doctors shouted at it to stop before it could leave town. The cursed in that truck remained alive, but barely responsive.
The trucks with their loads of now-dead pit victims turned around and drove back into the area inside the town’s border. Doctors were doing everything they could to resuscitate the victims, but to no avail. One doctor jumped back from a spider that climbed out of a man’s mouth.
There was much discussion among the aid workers as to what was the best course of action to take. The living victims all needed urgent medical attention, which wasn’t available in the little village. None of the residents wanted the cursed to be treated in their homes, so a field hospital was set up in the town square.
Despite their valiant efforts, the medical crews could not save the dying. And Merc knew that in the morning, more bodies would be removed from the trenches that had been emptied the day before.
Eventually, the town’s priest came out of the jungle. Merc knew he had himself well hidden, but it seemed the padre looked right at him. His eyes were somber but not full of judgment. Awe, maybe. Like a witness observing a spiritual event.
Merc wanted to consult him about how to end a curse. He didn’t, however—he couldn’t risk being drawn back in to the drama he’d set in motion.
“God will end it, when it’s time,” the priest said, to no one in particular, but in a quiet voice that only Merc would hear. “It would help to pray on it and ask for guidance.”
Merc left the pit cleanup crews, keeping himself hidden from the padre and everyone else. The man was so tuned in to the energy of his village that he must unconsciously be aware of Merc.
Maybe he was right. Maybe the curse had its own life span and would wind down in time. While Merc waited for that to happen, he still had to get himself into the mine.
He settled on the futon in his rented room. His first step was to find a host. As best as he could tell, besides the guards on the perimeter, Flynn had a few dozen workers inside the mine. Merc was going to have to dip into the minds of each one to find a suitable host. That was going to take time—not because the work was hard. It wasn’t. It was a matter of logistics. He couldn’t get close to them, even in astral form, anywhere inside Flynn’s dome of protection. He was going to have to wait for the workers to come into town on their off-hours.
Merc sent his astral spirit into the village. He focused on the men—as far as he knew, there were no female workers at the mine. Merc could go through the houses in town and find where they stayed on their days off, but it was more likely he’d find them while they interacted with the villagers—they needed food, drink, and women.
Moving around in astral form was a lot like having a lucid dream. He could go where he wanted, moving at the speed of his mind, as he had no physical constraints. He could walk through walls, jump across town, follow one person, then another.
The one thing he couldn’t speed up was the time his discovery was going to take.
Regulars did nothing to hide themselves. It had been easy for Brett to find Ashlyn DeWinter. He let himself into her house, then wandered through it. Ash was in the bathroom, showering, when Brett found her. He looked her naked body over, trying to stir some reaction within himself. Of course, none came. His life was wrecked. And now he was going to wreck hers. He smiled.
He didn’t yet understand the connection between her and the Legion, but that was why he’d tracked her down. He leaned against the counter and closed his eyes, pouring his focus into his exploration of her mind.
He took a walk through her mind, feeling all her worries, wants, and bruises. He moved through the noise in her head, pushing through it to the cause of the pain she was feeling.
She wanted Merc, who did not want her.
Brett grinned, seeing the image that Ashlyn held in her mind of Merc in agony in that pit. Aw, such a sad thing. Who knew the Legionnaire was so encumbered with remorse?
This woman was friendly with Liege’s daughter and his woman as well. A twofer. Sometimes, life just presented Brett with an easy gift. Ending Ashlyn would hurt a whole bunch of people. And though it was a pity that it would bring no sorrow to Merc, perhaps it would rack up more guilt in his already troubled mind.
Even better news was Brett’s discovery, through Ash, of the bloodied robe the church was keeping as a relic. No wonder he’d been blocked from entering the hallowed premises.
The next few days would be delicious. He would follow Ashlyn around, learning all that he could. Most likely, he’d get her back down to Valle de Lágrimas so he could use her to retrieve Merc’s bloody robe. After that, he’d feed her to his pets in a horrible death that he would make certain the Legion learned of.
Keeping himself hidden from her, he spread his arms and gripped the top of the shower door. Mashing his face up against the glass, he smiled. Admit it. You miss your Merc. You felt everything for him, and he felt nothing. His words were a compulsion. He felt the pain slice through her mind. She bowed her head and wept into her hands.
Easier than taking candy from a child. This was his first strike. He had to be careful he didn’t overdo it—Merc’s friends would check in with her, no doubt. He didn’t want her so despondent that they’d butt in to his business.
No, little by little, he would simply crush her mind until the only thing she could do to reclaim her sanity was exactly what he told her to do.
Brett turned away from the shower. Lying on the counter was the ugliest necklace he’d ever seen, a strange, flat glob of colored glass with a dark center. He picked it up, but as soon as he held it, it singed his palm. He released it fast, dropping it on the cold tile floor, where it shattered.