Chương 120: Foras

There was a buzz in the air. One of excitement and trepidation and many others. Today was the day Agent Lafeuillade was prepared to begin the ritual that would bring back May's foot. Christian ended up suggesting we set up a "party" for it where we had some sort of appetizer before the ritual and a big meal afterwards, including cake. Even I could see it as a generally sweet, if a little morbid, gesture. That wasn't my issue.

My overall concern was-"How did you manage to get all the decorations and stuff for a party themed around feet?" I had asked, knowing there was never going to be another sentence like that I could ask in my entire life. The lounge area had been repurposed as best it could. From wall to wall were buntings of little flags with shoes on them. There were balloons in the shape of cowboy boots and high heels and cleats. Large stickers in the shape of letters were lined up on one wall saying IT'S FOOT TO BE BACK.

On the kitchen island was a plastic container for a tall cake, shaped like a boot.

"Some of this was custom, but a lot of it was just repurposed sports-themed things. And letter stickers are everywhere," Chris explained.

"And we make more than enough to afford things like that." I rubbed the back of my head, still fixed on the cake as Sam's kids were running around and tugging at the strings on the balloons with excitement and curiosity. Jairo and Sam were enabling them to do this as they would occasionally pull some balloons down to show them more closely. Shivvy was sitting on a balloon, somehow not weighing it down. Fascinating thing. But none of those things really caught my curiosity as much as the boot cake.

"And the boot cake?" The redhead shrugged.

"It was supposed to be a retirement cake for a construction worker but he ended up eloping with some waitress and leaving the city. So they returned it to the bakery. And it's red velvet, which is May's favorite flavor, so I had to go with it."

"What were you going to do if it wasn't red velvet?"

"Probably the cleat cake made with crushed up Oreos." I just squinted at him for a few seconds, trying to figure out if that was a joke or not. He was unfortunately far too lax-sounding for me to be able to parse any of his humor. Before I could actually ask for the proper answer, the door leading to our rooms opened and May trudged in, stopping in her tracks as she saw all the decor.

"…I- What exactly compelled this?" Chris shrugged.

"Well, you're getting your foot back, so we thought we'd celebrate! I was waiting for you to show up before we could really get it started though. I made something for us to eat, too! Been letting it stay warm in the oven, let me-" He started, rushing over to the kitchen area and opening the front door to the oven. Wasn't even aware he could cook or bake. Then again I never asked, and we were usually eating on our own or in the cafeteria. He brought out a tray from the oven of what looked almost like… crowns.

That sort of rounded form with the raised points. In the middle were chunks of these sweet-smelling fruit covered in a glistening liquid. And on top of that, a white cream coated in a brown dust. They genuinely looked almost like crowns. The smell was intoxicating, even for me. I normally didn't care much about food. Food could taste good, but it wasn't life-changing for me, normally. I remember being disappointed at how unimpressed I was by eating real, good food for the first time after starving for half a year.

This felt different, though. I actually had to tense up to avoid reaching out.

"Apple butter wonton cups! You mix up some butter and some apple pie filling on a hot pan, put it in a pre-baked wonton cup, then you put some cream cheese and cinnamon on top. Just some sweet treats to have before Agent Lafeuillade shows up." The sharp cinnamon aroma climbed through my sinuses, embedding itself in my nose, and even my ears and throat. I could practically taste it through the air.

"Oh, wow!" May called out, her eyes brightening at the sight of them.

"They look so good, where'd you learn to make this?" My mouth felt cold and slick with an overproduction of saliva. My lips had to stay clamped shut to avoid me visibly drooling.

"My mom used to make them, so I just called her and asked if there was any trick to it. She used canned filling because it keeps the apples soft and you don't have to cook them for as long, but that's it." The smell was so strong to me that I was struggling to see in color. I hadn't strained this much since I threw the fucking crab.

"They look really goo-" I couldn't control myself. I had one of those whatever-they-are cups in my hand and between my teeth in the same moment it took me to blink. May and Chris just stared at me like I grew a second head. Didn't matter. They could all be washed away anyway. It was so damn sweet. Several kinds of sweet, in thick bands and layers that hugged my tongue and my cheeks and my teeth.

The candy-sweetness of the apple, the pleasant alertness the cinnamon put on my tongue, the rich savoriness of the cream cheese. All carried by an addictive crunch of the shell or cup or whatever it was. Didn't matter. I wanted it injected into my veins. My other senses didn't return to me until the last bite. I could see and hear May and Chris chuckling and seeming more surprised than anything.

"Glad my baking's that good, Leo," the redhead stated.

"How about we all dig in, then?" The others arrived, and each of them took their own cup. Due to the limited number, I feared I would end up devouring the rest, but convenience arrived as Samara and Samuel asked if I could do the lifting thing with them while they ate so they could sit "high up." It kept my hands busy to just hold the two of them up, one hand each, while they cheered and ate away. After a little while, the door to the spiral staircase opened, with Tancred and Lafeuillade both arriving.

They were missing someone.

"Where's Agent Richmond?" Jairo asked.

"Meeting. Patriot Project agents have to do check-ins pretty routinely. So she will not be here for the treatment. Morgan?" He asked, glancing towards Agent Lafeuillade. The magical agent held up a pair of suitcases, before putting one aside.

"That one is for if this ritual doesn't work. May, if you would take a seat so we can get started." We all moved about so May could take her seat on one of the beanbag chairs. Tancred ended up stealing one of the wonton cups, muttering out a few surprised curse words as we all observed the agent preparing. She had gathered some odd items, mostly unmarked small burlap pouches, but the main one that stood out was a jar that I was surprised to see fit in the case at all.

The jar was full of liquid, and the liquid itself was full of… The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. It looked like a pig. Smaller. Lighter. Just floating in the fluid limply.

"…What is that?" May asked.

"Stillborn pig fetus. Pigs bear the closest raw material to human flesh. This is to supplement what will be coming from my own liver."

"You're gonna grow my foot back with a dead baby pig!?"

"Would you have preferred a live one?"

"No, but, like, why is it just a whole fetus!?"

"A whole adult one is much more expensive." She groaned.

"Do I have to touch it?"

"Not at all. It will not leave the jar," she explained as she yanked May's prosthetic off and set it to the side.

"These are not normal healing magicks I'm engaging in, so direct material transfer is not necessary. I just need access to a consenting raw supply."

"Consenting?"

"Most dead things wish to be alive. By making the dead flesh become part of a living person, it will achieve that desire. So it consents to being used this way."

"I… I see." Christian spoke up.

"I don't think the kids should be here for this."

"It is fine. There will be no vulgar displays," Lafeuillade explained.

"The pig will simply vanish when it is converted into particulates." Tancred spoke between bites of his treat.

"Awfully convenient."

"I would not engage in rituals unpleasant to the eye unless they were direly necessary. Aesthetics are a key tool in magic." With everything prepared, she did what I presumed to be the beginning of the ritual. Nothing Agent Lafeuillade did ever had any sort of clear mark of function. You couldn't infer the steps in her actions. You could in theory process the steps of someone procuring a wrench, pressing it to a bolt, and turning the wrench. Every function had something to distinguish.

With her, it was gestures, strange grips on May's stump, and caressing the jar holding a dead baby pig. And with each one, nothing happened. This went on for fifteen minutes until Lafeuillade exhaled in what I would then learn was defeat.

"It's no use. Your body has grown too accustomed to its lost foot." May sat up, eyes widening.

"No, no what!? I've been feeling phantom pain constantly, I don't stop thinking about getting it back, how could I be too used to-""Your body. Not you. There were no steps you could take to completely prevent this. I expected it to take longer, however. Usually it's years before it is too late for these kinds of rituals to not work."

"…So what do I do?" May asked, her eyes turning glossy.

"No tears. Remember, I said this was possible. That is why I had a second ritual ready. But for this one, the children need to leave the room. It will not be safe for young minds." Tancred spoke up.

"Should we get Jairo out as well? He's under eighteen."

"He will be fine. He's experienced more of the world. But the boy and girl should return to their rooms." Sam nodded, and I placed Samuel and Samara down. They trotted after their mother back to their quarters. As they did so, Lafeuillade retrieved the other briefcase, opening it and revealing just one item. A piece of chalk. Three inches long. Thicker than my thumb. Just looking at it made me uneasy.

"You packed a whole suitcase with just some chalk?" Jairo asked. Lafeuillade glanced at him as she walked, heading over to the TV. Reaching behind it, she unplugged it.

"This chalk is made from the crushed bones of seventy-two sinners. It is used in place of blood for the purpose of summoning so as to avoid risk of permanent bonding." She then began writing around the frame of the TV, the same text over and over. NONCI TRIAN IP ZACAM IAD BRANSG COMO NONCI CASARMAN ADOHI DARBS She wrote it vertically for the sides of the screen.

"What does that all mean?" Chris asked, his face scrunching up in concern.

"Words for your protection. You don't need to know them.""'Your?'" He echoed.

"I do not summon anything that would even consider threatening me." She finished marking the perimeter of the screen before drawing a large circle in the center. At the edge of the circle, she wrote five letters F O R A S before forming a second circle. In that circle, crosses and curves and circles and lines adorned it in asymmetrical shape. She then blew on the screen, and suddenly the symbol faded. The TV flickered to life. My eyes flicked towards the pulled plug hanging down from the screen.

It was a news report. No news channel I'd ever seen before. The anchor was a large, muscular man. Dark in complexion. Bald head. Smiling like he just sold you garbage for gold.

"Welcome back to FRS-72 News. We have a collection of reports from Charlottesville, Virginia to go over. The first is government agent Abichail Tancred has been noticing a loss of peripheral vision, but is hesitant to discuss this with his doctor due to a fear of a glaucoma diagnosis." I glanced towards Tancred, who said nothing. He had put the food aside, his arms crossed.

"Additionally, convicted murderer Christian Lofield is under scrutiny for dismembering multiple ADU terrorists just the other month, and is worried God won't accept him for being so wrathful and violent again after he had already killed a man in cold blood." All of us looked towards Christian, who began to step away. Lafeuillade pointed at him.

"Do not show him your back. Stand still." Chris complied.

"In other news, college dropout May Hart was disappointed to learn that the location of her brother had been withheld from her for years, and is still failing to forgive those who knew." May and I exchanged glances. She seemed more hurt by that than I was.

"Alongside that, Jairo Carter reportedly has been experiencing signs of an exacerbating monster complex due to a far more aggressive transformation a few weeks ago, which has been showing up in his nightmares." A picture showed up alongside the news anchor, showing that insectoid form I fought alongside. I could almost hear Jairo's fists clenching.

"And unconvicted murderer and vigilante, Leo Holt, will be surprised to learn that his foster father was recently diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. He's already forgotten Leo's name." Grief normally wasn't so instant in people. But in me it cloaked me like scalding water and took all the concern and fear from me. And things like grief aren't persistent with me either. It wasn't long before it boiled into rage. I could feel a thundering in my chest.

Shivvy climbed up beside me, either to console me, or maybe to aid me in an attack I knew I couldn't make. The impotence of my position made it all the worse.

"And last but not least, I should cover the star of this report. Terrorist, child murderer, serial arsonist, and former cult leader Morgan Lafeuillade has reportedly still not received a call back from her half-sister. She has not heard the why, but our insiders have noted her half-sister described Morgan as'A truly disgusting woman I want nothing to do with.'" Those last words came out in a woman's voice instead of the bassy man's tone he'd been using prior.

Lafeuillade didn't seem even an ounce as shaken as any of us were. Instead, she spoke with a flat tone.

"Are you finished with your introductions, Foras?" The man laughed, raucously. Loud. Enough to shake the walls. Finally, he took a deep breath, before passing his gaze to her.

"Apologies, I always just try to make an impression with the new faces. How may I help you, daughter of man?"