Bloodrush (The Scarlet Star Trilogy Book 1) by Ben Galley Page A

you can stomach it? I’ve seen you go green before, you know. Remember that dead bird? With the maggots?’
    ‘Stop it.’
    Rhin just chuckled to himself.
    ‘Just don’t break anything while I’m gone. The same rules apply here as they did at Harker Sheer, understand? Nobody else knows,’ Merion lectured him as he stepped through the door and out into the hall.
    ‘I know, I know.’
    ‘Good boy,’ Merion added, just before the door closed. Rhin could have sworn he saw the lad wink sarcastically. He growled and strangled the life out of an old sock.
    *
    Somebody was singing. It wasn’t the septic smell that reminded him so much of his father’s autopsy, nor the dripping of old pipes, nor the carts with shapes hidden under old blankets, lying up against the earthen walls that disturbed him. It was just the singing. It was Lilain of course, warbling away at some strange old tune whilst she went about her work, pulling bits out of one cavity and sewing up another.
    It wasn’t long before she noticed him, hovering in the shadows. ‘Come to stare at the dead?’ she asked, in a low voice. It sent a shiver running down Merion’s spine, and was quickly followed by another as his aunt lifted up the corpse’s head so its dead eyes could look at him. He immediately clamped a hand over his mouth.
    Lilain stifled a giggle and laid the head back down. ‘Bucket’s in the corner, Tonmerion.’
    Merion found it just in time. He spewed his guts until he had no more to give, and then sat with the bucket cradled in his lap for another few minutes.
    ‘You okay?’ Lilain asked, in her singsong voice.
    Merion belched. ‘His face,’ he whispered.
    ‘Half of it is missing, yes. Railwraiths have a thing for tongues, so they say. They go for that first, but they’re not the most precise of creatures, not with bits of railroad spike and twisted iron for fingers.’
    Merion looked up to see if his aunt was smiling. She wasn’t. ‘Have you ever seen one?’ he asked, making quotes with his fingers. ‘A railwraith?’
    ‘Two. From a distance, thank the Maker.’
    ‘Are they big?’ Merion felt his natural boyish curiosity creeping out, despite the nausea.
    ‘Some can be twelve feet, maybe more. Most are nine or so.’
    ‘And they hunt us?’
    ‘That they do.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because we’re building a great big railroad straight through their territory, so the scientists say, and the wraiths apparently like the taste of railroad worker. And guard too. Pretty much anything with two legs, two arms, a face, and boots on.’
    Merion couldn’t help himself. ‘And what are they, exactly?’
    Lilain laughed, and put down her scalpel for a moment. ‘My, you’ve got a mouth full of questions, Tonmerion. Why the sudden interest in the wraiths?’
    Merion pushed himself up from the cold floor and staged over to the table. He thanked the Almighty his stomach was already empty. He gagged all the same. Lying upon the table was a man of two halves, split from left shoulder to right hip. Half his insides were gone, and the rest of him was a torn-up mess. Sand and bits of iron filled his wounds. His tongue was missing, of course, along with the rest of his face. Merion couldn’t take his eyes off the gaping hole in the man’s head.
    ‘You, erm. You said you had a lot to tell me?’
    Lilain laughed, and Merion watched as she deftly used her scalpel to remove a scrap of lung. She dropped it into a porcelain bowl. ‘Well, I don’t just have stories of railwraiths, that’s for sure. I could tell you so many stories, Merion, but not all of them can be told in one night.’ She glanced at him as she hacked at something similar to bone. ‘I was hoping you might stay, so I could tell you all of them.’
    Merion watched the dark blood leaking from the areas her scalpel had kissed. His stomach gurgled again. ‘Only my friends call me Merion,’ he said.
    Lilain huffed. ‘And what about family?’
    Merion pulled a face. ‘My dad always