"Fuck this," Sam said to herself. "I'm leaving."

  The

  bites on her leg from the zombie dogs caused her to limp. The remaining fingers of her left hand wouldn't move.

  No

  reason remained to pursue the cultists. The original contract

  only consisted of finding the dog for a little girl. Missy never asked

  for the dog to be returned alive. Rex would still wag, pant, and follow the girl around if Sam ordered her to do so. She might be a bit ugly, but everyone loves an ugly dog.

  Sam

  couldn't give less of a shit about what the cultists were doing in the

  piss-filled sewers if you paid her twice the silver. And no one offered

  more silver. Once she got out, as a responsible citizen, she would

  inform the local soldier garrison about what the cult did and where to

  find them. There

  would be a pile of animal corpses waiting for the soldiers as proof of

  her claims and reason for them to investigate further. She didn't need to keep traipsing about in the stinking

  filth.

  "Rex, follow me," she ordered the dog as she began to make her way back through the tunnels towards the sewer entrance

  She

  used the waning light of the electric torch to guide her back, taking

  careful steps so as not to slip in a puddle of slick shit.

  A

  low, rumbling growl echoed through the tunnel ahead. The thin electric light

  revealed a rotted lion, its mane matted, its gigantic paws covered in

  muck from the tunnel, its eyes white with death.

  For a shocked moment, Sam wondered where they'd found a lion.

  She

  cursed her luck. The diviner cultist Mira must have sent the lion to

  circle around behind and cut off her escape. She turned and ran as fast

  as she could back into the cage room. The lion gave immediate chase. Its roar shook the walls of the sewer and shook Sam's nerves.

  She remembered the robe. She didn't need to run from the lion. She turned, shined her electric torch on it and said, "Stop."

  The lion ignored her command. Sam suspected Guillaume managed to leave out some important details before she sacrificed him.

  She

  turned tail and ran again. The lion moved too slowly to catch her. Instead, it herded her back the way she came. She

  suspected the lion pushed her toward the ritual room, either for

  eventual sacrifice, or villainous gloating, or both.

  As she re-entered the room with the animal cages, Sam realized the cult leader hadn't considered one weapon left to her.

  She

  started throwing open cages. She ordered each undead occupant to kill

  the lion. Each animal took off as fast as it did in life and streaked

  at the gigantic, filth-covered beast. The lion padded toward her, fangs

  bared, and ignored the other animals.

  She

  found a cage with a great mastiff, almost as big as the lion, and freed

  it, ordering it to attack. She opened cages of rats, cats, and more

  dogs.

  The

  great beast roared as the first animal reached it. A swipe of the lion's huge paw disconnected most of the dog's head. Another animal, a

  friendly-looking little dog, latched onto a back leg before the

  lion shook it off and threw it against a nearby cage. The little dog,

  undeterred, hopped back up and charged the lion again, far braver than it would

  have been in life. The flood of animals she released started to make a

  difference. The lion couldn't ignore or swipe at all of them, couldn't

  bite at all of them, and started losing chunks of its own undead flesh.

  The

  giant mastiff joined the fight, growling and barking as it leapt

  up and grabbed a mouthful of mane near the lion's throat. Shaking its

  great head, the dog tore out a heavy mass of flesh.

  The

  lion turned its full attention to the giant dog, but this forced it to

  ignore all the smaller beasts with their smaller teeth. Each one bit and

  tore off a piece of the lion's decrepit flesh. The lion, with little

  muscle tissue left, couldn't defend itself and succumbed to the gang of

  beasts. The animals continued biting, chewing, and gnawing until she heard bones snap.

  The lion struggled no more.

  Sam didn't wait to see

  the results of the battle. She turned towards the central tunnel

  Guillaume told her led to the cult leaders. After a few steps, her weary

  body gave out. She put her good hand against the sewer wall and lowered

  herself to the ground. Her leg couldn't hold her. Her hand couldn't move.

  The day started so innocently.

  A

  spark of anger ignited in her gut. She'd lived through rougher scrapes

  against more fearsome enemies. She wouldn't be beaten by

  second-rate cultists wearing black bathrobes. She pushed herself to her

  feet, unsteady, but determined. She decided it was time to end this

  stupid problem.

  Sam

  trudged along the sewers until the intonation echoed down the dark

  tunnel. It was the unmistakable sound of sorcery.

  Magic

  was straightforward at its most basic level. Sorcerers would, in some

  way, invoke a demonic power, make their offering, and ask for the effect

  they wanted. They would scrawl magic circles on the ground or draw seals

  on parchment, then intone words passed down from generation to

  generation.

  Invocations

  and simple incantations were easy enough. Most sorcerers worked this

  way. It only became more complicated if they tried to reach for too much power or cut the price. In those cases,

  hopeful magicians needed to take care. The wording mattered most. They needed complex contracts that would be followed to the letter.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  The

  real art of sorcery came in the careful construction of the spells. The spells were called

  contracts for a reason. The language used would result in disaster

  unless it was specific and intentional. A competent sorcerer could find a flaw in the logic of even the most powerful spells.

  From

  the tunnel came the sound of intricate contracts being read aloud. Sam suspected whoever set the lion after her

  knew she would either send

  the law or come herself seeking retribution. They must have accelerated

  their timetable to begin resurrecting the dead.

  Raising

  the dead cost a heavy price. At least two lives needed to be

  sacrificed: one to restore the soul, another to restore the body. If you

  asked for anything else or attempted to appeal to an unsympathetic

  demon, the price rose.

  Sam

  stopped to consider her plan. At least eight people occupied the room, and in her state she couldn't match any of them in a fight. She needed

  help. She couldn't rely on the animals again. If even one of the

  members of the cult wore their stupid robe they could order the animals

  to stop attacking. She had no offering with which to break the contract on more animals.

  She didn't know what to do.

  Stubborn

  anger and thirst for revenge still burned in her chest. The indignation rankled. She'd been chased by undead creatures, lied to, and tricked by foolish cultists when she should have known better. She needed to uphold her reputation. She

  didn't want anyone to think of her as an easy mark in the future. She

  wouldn't let these cultists walk out of here and tell how they got one

  up on Sam Fontaine.

  The contract invocation stopped. From the glowing room below, she heard:

  "Samantha! Come down here and bear witness, lest we come up there to you!"

  Sam's own foolishness struck her again. The one who sent the lion would know where she was. Mira was a diviner, a sorcerer who knew secrets and could see what was hidden. Her only hope remained the diviner didn't know what she didn't know.

  Maybe she hadn't seen Rex. She ordered the dog to stay hidden.

  She

  limped along the tunnel into the open room ahead. The narrow corridor

  opened up into another cistern, this one larger, well-lit, and with more

  tunnels leading further into the bowels of the city. At the center of

  the room was a complicated binding of at least Prince-level.

  Not being a sorcerer herself, she wasn't sure who the binding was for or

  what level. The complexity and nature of the work these cultists

  engaged in suggested Prince-level was a safe assumption.

  The

  binding circle drawn on the floor encircled a seven-pointed star made with lines of edritch script. From Guillaume's report, she knew they offered life essence, souls, and parts of animals so they could

  create their Elixir of Life. She reasoned from the name that the effect

  would be pretty straightforward: to grant life. Given the tremendous

  price they paid and the risk they took in hollowing out a section of the

  sewer and claiming it as their own, the elixir should be powerful.

  At

  the center of the circle lay a body covered in white linen fabric. She

  assumed this to be Gul Zerah's body. An empty chalice sat above

  the head of the corpse. Around the points of the star stood seven cult

  members, each gripping a dagger in both hands, raised high above their

  heads. Outside the circle, glaring at her, stood the one she assumed to

  be Mira.

  "Samantha, welcome," Mira said as she kept her gaze steady on Sam. "You are in time to witness the glorious resurrection of our Master!"

  With

  those words, each cult member standing at the corner of the star plunged their hands down and sank the

  daggers into their hearts. Their knees gave out, but nothing fell to the floor. Their bodies, their robes, and the blood

  gushing from their hearts - it all

  transformed into thick black smoke, swirled above the chalice in a dark whirlpool, and sank into the waiting container.

  "The Elixir of Life!" Mira shouted as she strode forth into the circle, her hand outstretched, ready to grab it.

  "Rex, kill!" said Samantha as the dog bolted from its hiding place in the sewer tunnel she had come from.

  The wild look of triumph on Mira's face transformed into smug amusement.

  "Dog! Stop," she said.

  Rex shot fast as lightning before Mira could reach the chalice, and before Sam could limp halfway to the circle.

  Mira's smug smile twisted to a mixture of rage and fear. "No! The contract! How-"

  Rex

  leapt at the cult leader, snarling. She held her arm up, and Rex latched on to it, shaking back

  and forth. The woman's black robe offered little

  protection. Mira let out a frustrated cry, struggling shake her arm free as she strained for the precious elixir.

  "No! I'll kill you!" Mira shouted.

  Samantha had paid close attention to the chant the cultists intoned.

  She spotted a flaw in the contract's wording. The Elixir of Life would bind "he who drank of it" to the cult leader. The wording was specific. It would

  bind he who drank it. Not she. Either Mira planned to use the elixir

  for herself after resurrecting Gul Zerah, or she had only ever considered binding a man.

  It was a perfect mistake.

  Sam

  limped to the center of the circle. She grabbed the chalice,

  now full ofswirling black and red liquid, unnatural

  and iridescent.

  Sam

  once again trusted her hunch. She took a sip from the elixir. Burning

  ichor slid down her throat. Pure fire landed in her stomach and spread

  through her veins. Her heart pumped, wild. The finger she sacrificed to

  stop the demons in the Devil's Eyes. The broken hand she got fighting

  against the first cultist she encountered. The chunks taken out

  of her leg. They all burned with white-hot liquid. Her insides filled with

  lava.

  Her hand

  started to knit itself together. The stump of her finger pushed against

  its bandage. Strength returned to her leg as the wounds closed.

  Not

  so much as a stray tingle reached her missing eye's socket. Not even

  the Elixir of Life was powerful enough to counter the contract that

  stole her eye.

  She dumped the rest of the chalice on the ground, outside the circle.

  "No!"

  Mira shouted. The distraction proved too much. Rex leapt at Mira's

  throat and sank her teeth deep. Mira fell to her hands and

  knees, her blood gushing out onto the ground. She collapsed, dead.

  Sam knelt. The molten liquid extinguished itself in her guts.

  Sam's

  mood improved. All the cultists lay dead or had dissolved into smoke. The

  corpse of their master still lay in the center of the circle, unmoving.

  She found Missy's dog. And she looked forward to taking her silver coin

  as payment from the little girl when she brought the dog home.

  Sam

  flexed her hand, once again full of fingers. A deeper

  refreshment filled her body, more than the simple relief of healing the

  surface wounds she recently suffered. She was rejuvenated, as if the

  many long years of stress, smoking, and drinking had sloughed off.

  "Come on, Rex," she said. She took a moment to relish victory. "Let's get you home so I can get paid."

  She paused before leaving the room.

  "Rex, drink,"

  she told the dog, and pointed at the spilled Elixir. The dog trotted

  over to the red and black shimmering puddle on the ground and began

  lapping it up.