Mask of Poison (Fall of Under Book 1) Kathryn Kingsley (best e books to read .txt) 📖

“I’ve been warned.” She looked over at the altar at the head of the church. “Sadly, I’m not sure I want to go home, even if I could.”

“Why?”

“My world was dying. There was so little joy left in the world. So little life. Here, even just walking the streets for a few minutes, I see so much more than what was left of mine. I see love. Friendship. Kindness. The people here have a reason to live, not just survive.”

“For now. Until I burn it all to the ground.”

“Right. Your revenge.” She smiled at him. “So, I have a question. I’m not from Under. I arrived here this morning.”

“And not from Earth?” He passed her the bottle.

She took a sip of it. “Nope.” She passed the bottle back to him.

“Interesting…From where?”

“A world called Gioll. I think it’s gone now.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. That sounds upsetting.”

“Don’t be. I…My world was being consumed.” She paused. “Like I said, I don’t know if I want to be here, but I don’t know if I would go home if I could, either. Does that earn me a spot on your revenge list?”

He went silent for a moment, took a swig from the bottle—she glanced away again out of politeness, even if he didn’t seem to care. It was so dark it probably didn’t really matter. He took a second swig before he handed the bottle back and rested his cheek on his arm again. “No…that wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

“Life isn’t fair.” She sipped the wine. “And you people are close enough to gods compared to me. You could do as you like. I expect you could rip me to pieces.”

“Mmhm.”

She shut her eyes. “I’ve always existed at the mercy of creatures greater than myself. I suppose that’s why I pray. I feel like I have no other control.” She paused. “Oh, and because I was raised to. Although I suppose that’s why most people pray.”

“Not me. I was in control of my own life. Or so I thought. I used to pray to creatures I know could hear me. I simply learned that the truth was…they didn’t care.” He pulled in a wavering, overwhelmed breath and let it out in a long sigh. “I didn’t deserve their love in their eyes.”

Frowning, she reached out and gently placed her hand on the man’s head. She didn’t know why. She wasn’t even sure if it was welcome. But the desolation in his voice broke her heart. His hair was matted, tangled, and damp. He was a far cry from all the others she had met in Under so far. They all looked clean. But not the sad, angry stranger in front of her. “I’m so sorry you feel that way.”

“I don’t feel. I know.”

“Sorry. I forget your gods are far more present than mine were.” She stroked his hair when he didn’t seem to complain. Indeed, if anything, he leaned into her touch. “And now, they’re dead. I spent my whole life praying to gods that now can never answer me, even if they wanted to.”

“Better that than those who choose to ignore you.”

She went quiet. She tried to summon a reason why that wasn’t true. But with a sigh, she found she couldn’t. “You’re right.”

“Look at me again for a moment.” He paused as she did. “Pretty.”

She furrowed her brow. “What?”

“What?”

There was a long pause. He coughed.

“What’s your name?”

“Ember. Yours?”

“I’m.” He paused. “I’m…shit.” He growled. “It’s gone again. I’ve forgotten it again. It comes and goes. I’m sorry.” He chuckled. “I’m not quite myself today.”

“That’s all right.” She stroked his hair again. “What’s happened to you?”

“I…think I was dead.”

“I hear that happens frequently in Under.”

“No. Not like that. I mean I was dead.” He lifted his head, let out a grunt, and reached for the wine bottle.

She passed it to him.

He gulped from the bottle. When he finished, he coughed. It sounded wet and sticky. He handed it to her. “I was no more. I had ceased to be. I had expired and gone to meet my maker. I had shuffled off my mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ choir invisible. I was an ex-person!” He giggled. “Sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

She took the bottle where he had been holding it, by the label. She blinked. It was wet. She looked down at her palm, and in the dim purple lighting, it looked like something black was covering her palm. “Are you hurt?”

“Oh, yes.”

“By the gods!” She put the bottle down on the pew and stood. “You’re hurt, and I’ve been sitting here like a fool.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” The man stood, placing his mask back on his face. He was tall, even hunched over. He teetered on his feet. He took a step into the aisle of the church. “I should probably g—”

He collapsed.

She ran to his side and knelt, and carefully turned him onto his back, cradling his head. “Sir? Sir, are you all right?”

He laughed quietly. “Oh. No. That, I’m most certainly not.” He coughed.

Now that he was in the full light of the dim purple moon, she could see his shirt wasn’t filled with holes—it was made of sparse, intersecting bandages. They covered him hastily, like he had wrapped them himself in a hurry. And they barely did anything to hide the wounds that covered his body.

It looked as though he had been torn apart by a bear. Entire sections of his body were missing. The carpet around him was turning a darker color, little by little, from the blood seeping from his body.

“Oh—oh, gods. What can I do to help you? I’m a medic, but this…this is far outside my training.”

He coughed. “Help me up, like a dear, for starters, will you? My legs aren’t quite what they used t’be, y’know?”

Carefully, she helped the man to his feet. He leaned on her heavily, and she had to wrap an arm around his waist to keep him from falling over. He felt