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

called me Tonmerion. Or sometimes Harlequin.’
    ‘Yeah, but I’m your aunt, and aunts always have nicknames for their nephews, or so I’m told. Merion it is. Could you pass me that saw, please? The longer one?’ she asked. Merion followed the direction of her pointing finger and found the saw sitting on a wooden tray at the end of the bench. It shone dully in the bright lantern light. Merion handed his aunt the saw, and took the opportunity to look around the room as she began to remove the man’s head from his shoulders.
    The room was sparse, and smelled of death. And sick too, but Merion suspected that was his own. Here and there, intricate instruments sat on trays and bathed in bowls. A pile of towels and bloodied blankets sat next to a sink, ready to be washed. A mop leant on a bookcase in the corner, a bookcase filled with jars and vials of all different sizes and colours. Some of the larger jars held little pieces of human paraphernalia: an ear; a heart; an eyeball in some cases, floating in a greenish soup. The colours of the assorted vials offered the rainbow. Merion was starting to give some serious credence to the idea that his aunt might not be sane. The odds, at the moment, were stacked high against her.
    Lilain was pointing again, waving her finger about. ‘Now the syringe, Merion. No, the little one. That’s it. And the vial too.’
    Merion watched her as she worked. She had found what was left of the heart, or so she told him, and wanted to take a sample of blood. Once again his stomach gurgled at him, urging him to go back to his room, but Merion was a stubborn fellow, and he forced himself to watch. Lilain lifted the vial up to the light and swirled the thick, dark blood around. She was muttering something, something that sounded distinctly foreign to his ears. Whatever it was, he couldn’t make it out. She put the vial on a nearby table and went back to work with her scalpel. Even though Merion detested her profession, he had to admit she was good at her job. She worked quickly and deftly, slicing little pieces from the heart and placing them in little wooden dishes that were laid out in a row on the side of the table.
    ‘What are you doing?’ Merion asked.
    Lilain smiled. ‘Glad you asked! Samples. See if we can find out more about the railwraith.’
    Merion spied a chance to resume his interrogation. ‘Do railwraiths bleed?’
    Lilain’s smile grew very wide indeed. She gave him that stare again. ‘Everything bleeds, Merion.’
    It took no less, but no more, than an hour to finish with the body. In the end, Merion had to hold one half of the corpse as Lilain sewed the man back together, ready for burial. Merion mentally vowed to burn his clothes. He couldn’t even bring himself to look down at the crimson stains he knew for sure were now decorating the front of his white shirt.
    Merion caught his aunt winking at him. ‘You’d make a great apprentice. I do have an opening, if you’re interested?’
    ‘No, I am not,’ Merion tersely replied. He found himself instantly regretting the sharpness of his tone.
    Lilain laughed his guilt away. ‘Position’s always open,’ she said, and then swiftly changed the subject. ‘So Tonmerion Harlequin Hark? What’s that short for?’ There was a hint of a smile on her face.
    Tonmerion furrowed his brows quizzically. ‘I don’t believe I follow,’ he replied.
    ‘Oh never mind,’ Lilain tittered. She brushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, daubing herself with blood. Merion blanched, but his aunt didn’t seem to notice, never mind care. She just hummed to herself and carried right on. Merion thought about mentioning it, but decided to press on with questions instead. It was time to get some real answers.
    ‘So,’ he said nonchalantly, ‘why here?’
    Lilain looked up and sighed. ‘Well ain’t that a question of many halves. Do you mean to ask me why I live here, and not in the Empire? Or are you asking why I live on this side of