During that time, he continued to toss and turn, thrashing around and mumbling incoherently. But the more time that elapsed, the less frequent were his bouts of unease. By the second day, I figured out Tallis’s disquiet was an indication that Donnchadh’s pollutants were building up inside his body and needed to be purged. That meant I had to release the impurities from Tallis’s body, yep, by flogging him with the cat o’ nine tails. Once the lashing was over, he would sleep like a baby. Tallis’s peaceful sleep wasn’t the only sign that the floggings were helping him. His blood was no longer coagulated and dark brown like it was the first time I took the cat o’ nine tails to his back. Now, it was a bright crimson that flowed freely as soon as the blades of the leather braids tore his skin. It is Monday morning, Bill’s phone announced via a buzzing text message. I was lying on Tallis’s bed, the gigantic Scotsman beside me on the floor, snoring peacefully.
