Amanda reached again for the vial. George could see genuine terror in her eyes. “I… I’ve always been faithful…. I’ve done everything you asked….”
But Vale withdrew the vial once more and stood.
George stepped forward. “Stop it! Just give it to her!”
Vale wagged his head. “Here’s the thing, George. I have to make room for Miriam, and if I were to keep Amanda on, I wouldn’t have enough perilium left for your wife. I’m afraid there’s just not enough for both of them.”
George blinked. “Not enough? But you said—”
“What I said is that we must maintain a delicate balance. So if Miriam is to join us here, then unfortunately there will be no room left for dear Amanda.”
George cursed at him. “You’re a monster.”
“Monster? Me?” A cold smile spread on Vale’s face. “But this is your choice, George.” He held up the vial. “Amanda or Miriam—which one will it be?”
Amanda writhed on the floor, gasping for breath. “George… p-please… help me.”
George could feel his rage growing, but his old body would be no match for Vale in a physical altercation. He just shook his head in frustration and swore.
“Her life is in your hands, George,” Vale said again. “Just say the word.”
Seconds ticked by. George couldn’t bring himself to speak. Part of him didn’t believe Vale would help Amanda regardless of his choice. But it was a moot point. He couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t let Miriam die.
“Or…” Vale narrowed his yellow eyes. “Have you already made your choice?”
Amanda’s tremors quickly became more violent. Her spine arched with a sharp spasm and her eyes rolled back in their sockets. Her quivering body bumped and jittered on the floor as the rest of them looked on. George watched, horrified but unable to turn away.
The seizure lasted for more than a minute before it finally ended in a long, painful groan. Amanda’s body lay in a contorted, twisted mass on the floor.
Vale sighed and clucked his tongue as though he’d just lost a pet fish. Nothing more. “Now we’re both monsters, George. But more to the point, I think you needed to see precisely what awaits your beloved wife if you cross me again. Or in case you were thinking about leaving our community.”
George growled, “I’ll kill you.”
Vale laughed, replacing the vial inside his jacket. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. But you may want to reconsider your refusal of my offer. I’ll give you another twelve hours to think it over.”
Chapter 33
Henderson opened a small refrigerator and produced a glass vial. He held it up for Jack. It was sealed with a black cap and inside Jack could see a yellow viscous substance.
He wrinkled his forehead. “Okay… what is it?”
Henderson gazed at it and shook his head. “It’s called perilium. And it’s probably the most valuable substance on the planet. And the most dangerous.”
“Why?”
“It’s an organic compound that the N’watu have been producing for centuries now. They ingest it for medicinal purposes.”
“Medicinal?” Jack didn’t know if he was joking or what. “What do you mean?”
“Perilium appears to hyperstimulate the body’s immune system, making it far more aggressive at repairing damaged cells or destroying diseased ones.”
“So basically it helps the body heal itself faster?”
“Exactly.”
Jack folded his arms. “How fast?”
Henderson just stared at him a moment and then rummaged through one of the drawers until he found a box cutter. He rolled up his sleeve and held his arm out for Jack to see.
Jack frowned. “What are you doing?”
Henderson winced as he ran the razor down the length of his forearm, slicing open his skin along an eight- or nine-inch track. A dark trail of blood rolled off his arm onto the cement floor.
Jack backed away. “Are you crazy?”
“Just watch.” Henderson held his arm still under the lights.
Jack watched as the wound stopped bleeding all on its own. The skin seemed to close up right before his eyes, as if someone were zipping it shut from the ends toward the middle. In seconds, a bright-red scar formed and faded back to the color of the original flesh.
Within two minutes’ time the scar completely disappeared and Jack could see no trace of the wound whatsoever. He blinked and shook his head. Was his extreme fatigue playing tricks with his mind? Had Henderson performed some kind of sleight of hand?
“I don’t believe it,” he said. “How does it work?”
“I told you. It enhances and accelerates the body’s natural ability to heal itself.”
Jack’s hands were still cuffed behind his back, but he leaned forward to examine the vial. “So… what? You just drink this when you’re sick or injured?”
Henderson rolled his sleeve back down. “Something like that.”
“And… a person who drinks this… can’t be killed?”
“Not exactly. If the physical trauma is too severe, the body may not have time to heal itself before succumbing to death.”
Jack nodded at the terraria. “And you think the spiders—the kiracs—are the key to how they make the perilium?”
“That’s our theory,” Henderson said. “They exhibit an uncanny resistance to disease and extremely fast recuperative abilities when injured.”
Jack recalled the spider Ben had tried to kill. It wasn’t until he had caused enough physical tissue damage with his knife that the animal finally died.
“But you don’t know how it’s made.”
Henderson shook his head. “The N’watu guard this secret closely.”
“No doubt.” Jack sat on the stool. For now all of his weariness had left him. His mind was active with the possibilities this substance presented. It needed to be shared with the world. So why was it being kept a secret?
“There’s some catch to it, isn’t there?”
Henderson sat down at the table across from Jack. His expression turned grim. “The impact on the body is enormous… but only temporary. Once perilium enters the system, the body requires regular doses to survive. Otherwise, it goes into shock. Convulsions, seizures… and death.”
Jack’s mind was racing. It was making sense now. These people needed a constant supply of this perilium, and the N’watu were the only ones who knew how to make it. So they had some kind of contract. He recalled Running Bear saying the N’watu had made a similar bargain with the Soul Eater. To offer it human souls in exchange for their own lives.
“So this is where the legend of the Soul Eater comes from?” Jack said. “The N’watu worship these kiracs. They offer up human sacrifices and get this perilium in return.”
“We figured you knew about the legend.” Henderson drew a long breath. “The N’watu will only accept a human soul. The legend goes that the Soul Eater consumes the life force of the soul, and by drinking her nectar, a person can gain the power of the other’s life force. One life for another.”
“One life…” Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He could still see the tribe inside the cave, gathering round to eat the baby kiracs right out of the egg sac. And how the others were thrown into a bowl to be mashed up. This must have been the way they produced the perilium. He looked again at the vial on the table. It was something inside the spiders’ physiology that the N’watu—and the people here—were ingesting. He shook his head. “Is that where you all come in? You supply them with fresh souls to be offered?”
Henderson’s jaw clenched. “We do what we have to do to survive.”