Chapter 16:

Mending Pieces Back Together

Otherworldly Acumen: The System's Rigged Against Me!

Martha’s brows knit together in confusion. Then, slowly, her head tilted, and her frown returned.

“What do you mean, ‘not Cotter’?”

“I think…” I swallowed. “I think the real Cotter died in the Spirit Room. And I—I was a soul that took his place.”

The good nun's lips mashed together and trembled.

“You… had seemed remarkably different, but…”

Her eyes flared gold.

A second later, my throat was seized by an invisible force. My back slammed against the wall which shook the dust out of the ceiling!

“Not only did Cotter die,” she spat, “but to think a demon would take his place so brazenly—in Posteria’s presence, no less… boasting of its crimes before my face like I was its toy…”

“Wait, Martha—GRRK!” She was being so tight couldn’t breathe!

“Either my god is truly dead, or you’re a coward who preys on dying children. Either way... you will be rooted out.”

Suddenly, the door leading into the Spirit Room rattled.

It was enough of a distraction. Martha’s grip loosened just long enough for me to drop to the floor, coughing and clawing for air.

When the door nearly broke off its hinges, I saw the offender.

A girl streaked with crimson red across her face and arms stood in the doorway. Dark veins crawled up her skin like vines like writhing maggots.

And she was wearing my damn hoodie.

Daisy!

No—Malmitres.

“LET COTTER GO!”

Martha balked. “DAISY?!”

Too late.

Martha was yanked from the ground and slammed against the ceiling herself by an invisible force, her back dragging along the beams as she groaned in pain.

“IT BEGGARS BELIEF,” Malmitres mused, half-laughing, “HOW WEAK POSTERIA’S FAITHFUL HAVE BECOME…”

This was bad. Really bad! More of Malmitres was leaking into Daisy by the second. If I didn’t step in now, this whole orphanage, and by extension this town, will suffer Malmitres' wrath!

I just had to remember the last time; how I got her to calm down. I had to try that again.

I had to verbalize my thoughts in my head!

“TO HARM WHO IS RIGHTFULLY MINE IS TO COURT DEATH!”

Malmitres, stop! Don’t!

Malmitres’ head twitched as her neck bones snapped 180 degrees to face me.

“DO I HAVE TO…?” she whined.

“Yes!” I shouted. “You do!”

I could feel the power of the contract starting to work its effects on the demon nearly immediately.

“FINE THEN.”

She let Martha go. The priestess hit the floor hard.

At least the contract still works.

Daisy dropped to her knees as color drained from her eyes. Her demonic form faded as quickly as it came.

And then, as if waking from a bad dream, she looked over and groaned. “Gods, not again…”

She rushed to Martha’s side.

“Daisy, wait; don’t touch her—”

“I can fix her, Cotter. I feel in control. You can trust me.”

I hesitated but strongly considered that option.

Martha’s back looked seriously wrecked, and all I could do was yell at a demigod. Which, while technically powerful, wasn’t exactly practical right now.

So I did the only thing I could. “Okay.”

A soft glow spread from Daisy’s hands. Martha’s body arched slightly, then relaxed as her wounds knit themselves shut. Her breathing steadied.

Martha cringed, then slowly sat up, staring at us like she didn’t recognize either of us.

“Daisy... Cotter… how…?”

Daisy and I locked eyes.

This was going to take some explaining.

Martha frowned. “To think Malmagos’ grubby hands have more influence in this world than Posteria’s…”

We told Martha everything. What happened in the barn. The deal, the contract... Malmitres. No sugarcoating.

“This doesn’t leave this room,” I said. “Seriously.”

“No kidding,” Martha muttered.

A heavy silence followed.

“Are you okay, Martha?” I asked.

“What do you think?” Her expression softened as she winced at her tone. “I’m housing the Devil’s child under my roof.”

Martha then looked at Daisy; really looked. Her eyes didn’t glow this time.

“But… I also know how hard it is to resist Malmagos’ influence. They are among the trickiest gods to pin down. You could’ve destroyed this place already. You didn’t.”

She reached out and rested a hand gently on Daisy’s shoulder.

“I’m trusting you to keep control. Can you do that for me?”

Daisy didn’t answer. Then, slowly, she nodded.

“You’re free to leave the Spirit Room,” Martha said. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Daisy lingered by the doorway, her mouth opening like she wanted to speak… but no words came. She shut it again and left.

Once the coast was clear, I stood up.

My hands started shaking now.

This next part… it could make or break everything.

“There’s more to the story, Mother Martha.”

“What is it… Co—, sorry… Endo. Doesn’t roll off the tongue, does it?”

“It doesn’t. But there is a reason for that.”

She raised an eyebrow.

Martha raised some important questions regarding the nature of disease and sickness.

“We don’t even know whether sicknesses in your world work the same way in mine.”

“I don’t think you have a choice in this matter,” I pointed out.

“Mm… indeed, we don’t.”

After bombshell after bombshell, I think she became numb to the reveal I was from another world.

After a whole lot of persuading, we stood before the Spirit Room. We were going to take the necessary precautions needed to improve the conditions of the sick kids; effective immediately.

Mother Martha adjusted the final linen knot at her neck, exhaling.

“Putting people’s lives in danger or taking instructions from a fourteen-year-old…” she muttered. “I’m still deciding which is worse.”

She gave me a sideways glance.

“Are you sure putting on more clothes is enough to stave off disease?”

“Yes,” I replied, tying off a sash around my collar. “And I also think giving the kids more water is key. Hydration helps the body fight off illness.”

“Tsk.”

That was all she said before we headed into the Spirit Room.

The moment we stepped into the room, heads turned.

“C-Cotter?” one of the kids murmured.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, smiling faintly. “And Mother Martha’s here too. Don’t worry; we’re here to make sure everyone’s okay.”

“Then don’t check on me,” the girl said quickly, pointing. “Check on Christie. She’s coughing real bad and she’s—”

“I-It’s so cold,” Christie choked out.

“See?”

“Alright, alright, we’ll see to her,” Martha said gently.

Martha and I rushed to Christie’s side.

It wasn’t pretty.

Her skin was pale and clammy. Her breathing was shallow and every wheeze sounded like it scraped her lungs from the inside out.