The Gembound: The Price of Keeping Chapter 16: Chapter 15 — The Taking of Runewick

Read chapter 16 of The Gembound: The Price of Keeping by Taliorn on NovelPedia.

Chapter 15 — The Taking of Runewick Noon. The sun came through ash-choked air, turning everything the color of old copper. Yara's feet were bare, boots worn through days ago. The cobblestones were still warm from fires. The Horror limped behind her. The Scion walked ahead, each step cracking stone. Between them, they hunted. Yara could feel heartbeats through the Gem. Like drums in her chest. People hiding in cellars, behind walls, under debris. They hide. Find them. Feed. She kicked the first door open. Small room, smoke-filled. A woman crouched by a makeshift stove, stirring something in a dented pot. A man lay on a pallet nearby, feverish, sweating. The woman had draped wet rags across his forehead. The woman looked up when the door crashed open. Saw Yara. Saw the Scion filling the doorway behind her. She didn't scream. Just slowly set down the spoon and picked up a kitchen knife from the floor beside her. Her hands shook so badly the blade rattled. "Please," she said. Voice quiet. Resigned. "He's dying anyway. The fever—it won't break. Just let me stay with him. Let me be here when—" The Scion moved forward. The woman stepped between it and the sick man. "No. Please. Just a few more hours. That's all I'm asking. Just let me—" The Scion's claw came down. The woman fell. The knife clattered across the floor. The Gem drank. Warmth flooded into Yara before she'd even decided. The woman's life pouring out, filling the hollow in Yara's chest. She gasped at the relief of it. On the pallet, the man stirred. Opened fever-bright eyes. Saw his wife on the floor, not moving. Saw Yara standing over her. "Mara?" His voice was a croak. "Mara, what—" He tried to sit up. Too weak. Fell back. "What did you do?" He looked at Yara. Not angry. Just broken. "She was—we were going to—" He coughed, body shaking. "She stayed. Everyone else ran but she stayed. Because I couldn't walk. She stayed." Yara stood there, the woman's warmth still spreading through her veins. "Please." The man reached toward his wife's body with a trembling hand. Couldn't reach her. "Please let me—just let me touch her. One more time. Please." The Gem pulsed. Finish it. Feed. Yara stepped forward. Crouched beside the pallet. The man looked at her. At her glowing palm. Understanding dawned in his eyes. "You're going to kill me too." "Yes." "Can I—" His voice broke. "Can I hold her hand? When you do it?" Yara looked at the woman's body. At the man's outstretched hand, shaking with fever and grief. At the pot on the stove—soup, probably. She'd been making soup for a dying man who would never eat it. She dragged the woman's body closer. Close enough for him to reach. His fingers found hers. Laced through them. Held tight. "Thank you," he whispered. Yara put her hand on his chest. He didn't fight. Didn't try to pull away. Just held his wife's hand and closed his eyes. She pulled. His life came into her like the woman's had. Warm. Filling. Good. She stood there afterward, looking at them. The man's hand still holding his dead wife's. The soup still sitting on the stove, steam rising from it in thin curls. They'd been married, probably. Had loved each other enough that she stayed when she could have run. Enough that his last request was to hold her hand. And Yara had killed them both. Drank their lives like water. The Gem purred, satisfied. The hollow in her chest was filled. Strength had returned to her limbs. The constant ache was gone. She felt good . She'd murdered a dying man and the wife who loved him, and she felt good . Yara turned and walked outside. Made it three steps before she doubled over and vomited. Nothing came up but bile and ash-taste. Her whole body shook. "I'm a monster," she said out loud. Testing the words. They fit. The Horror made a questioning sound behind her. "I killed them for nothing," Yara said. Her voice sounded distant in her own ears. "He was dying anyway. She was just—she was just making him soup. And I—" She couldn't finish. Pressed her hands t