"Does the mortal human have a name?"

"Katie."

"Katie," it repeated pensively. "Kaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatie."

Her feet were swollen and shredded, as she expected. The creature repeated her name several more times while she examined her body. She was bruised all over and wondered if her ribs were broken as well. She'd be lucky to walk again soon, and without medical supplies…with her luck lately, she wouldn't die from infection, just suffer for the rest of her life.

"Kaaaaaaaaaaaatie."

"Would you stop that?"

"Katie."

"Do you have a name?"

"Lankha."

"Where are we, Lankha?"

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"In Hell. Heeeeeeeeeeell."

She looked out of the front of the cell into a small corridor with equally harsh lighting. Across from them was another cell, this one darkened. Its occupant stared back at her with glowing silver eyes.

"He drinks blood. He smells yours," Lankha volunteered.

"What is he?"

"Don't know. From the mortal human realm like you."

"What…realm is this?"

"Heeeeeeeeeell. It's in the underworld, the only place where immortals can't come."

If no immortals could save her, she wondered who could. Who'd have ever thought she'd want to be found by the jackass, Kris?

"I need whiskey," she said, and rubbed her head.

"Whiiiiiiiiskeeeeeeey."

Lankha's voice was almost sing-song. It stood and retrieved small blue pellets from its bed, offering them to her.

"What is it?" she asked, accepting them.

"Water for mortal human. Warden says one every moon cycle."

She eyed them doubtfully but popped one into her mouth. It tasted like a plain jelly bean, until she swallowed, when it felt like a stream of water spilled from the back of her mouth to her gullet. Within seconds, she felt refreshed.

Lankha retrieved a small satchel from its bed and sat cross-legged on the floor beside her feet, withdrawing small vials and balled gauze.

"What're you doing?" she asked, watching.

"I'm a healer. Heeeeeeeeeeeeeealer. Warden put you here so I could help you. I cleaned your blood. I started but grew tired. Now, I finish."

Lankha licked its lips in satisfaction. She feared asking more and braced herself when it took one foot in its hand. Lankha's hands were covered in what felt like soft, feathery, cool micro-suede. Its touched eased the heat and pain. She watched, astonished, as it carefully cleaned her feet without hurting them and then slathered on oil from one vial and wrapped them in gauze.




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