Excerpt: The Sorrows of Lady Death

Allyn moaned and moved her head a fraction of an inch, wincing as pain sliced through her entire body, intensifying along her back and the base of her skull. It felt as though her entire body had been set on fire, then left to rot along the side of the highway where rogue hobos had seen fit to dance upon it all night. She was bruised, mottled and was sure that several of her bones were broken. Simply opening her eyes required more energy than she had, and to make noise wasn’t really a possibility when her throat felt like she’d just swallowed a cheese grater.

“She’s conscious.” The voice was sharp and brisk, somehow managing to sound breezy and feminine at the same time. “It’s still too early in phase three for her to be able to function; open her eyes and speak and such, but as of about three seconds ago, her brain was able to register her surroundings and recognize the pain of Transformation.”

“Perfect. Was it a success? Have I chosen correctly?” Allyn internally winced at the sound of this voice. It wasn’t that the man had a bad voice, per se, it was just… odd. It washed over her body and tingled, like spearmint gum tingles your mouth. His voice electrified her senses, though it only made her feel even more aware of the pain coursing through her body.

The female voice paused for a few seconds before answering, “Speak little, Sir Death. Your power affects hers, and it pains her.” There was another pause and this time, Allyn felt cool hands flit across her forehead and cheeks, fingers trailing down to her heart. If she hadn’t been in so much pain, Allyn would have reached up and slapped her hands away. Chuckles resounded through the room; the female’s were like windchimes on the wind, the male’s, deep and amused, only increased her agitation and – somehow – her pain. A flash of irritation sparked through her; didn’t the nurse say stop laughing, you annoying man? It hurts. “I would say that she’s fine as of yet, Sir, and it seems that she’ll be fine too. You’ve chosen well… she’ll live, but it seems that she’ll be troublesome. You’ll have your hands full, Sir.”

And what kind of name was ‘Sir Death’, anyway? Did his own mother really hate him enough to name him that? Or was he some sort of British knight? Now that she thought of it, Allyn did recall that he had some kind of accent, and it definitely wasn’t American. Cool breath fanned over cheek, and it felt as though the temperature in the room had dropped a few degrees. “Peace, Lady. Everything will be explained in due time. Just focus on feeling better.” Her spine flamed over, the pain hurting so much that it felt as though some evil hit man were stabbing her repeatedly. Must he be so infuriating? Shut up man! Of course I’m going to focus on feeling better, dolt. Would you want to feel like this for eternity?

The two people in the room exchanged another chuckle, probably at her expense. The sense that he was standing near her left, and she felt the temperature heat up a bit, just enough so that she was comfortable again. Weird, a voice in her head sang out, get out before they break out the surgical gloves and disembowel you!