Rime felt the air grow colder. Had he been looking at it from the wrong angle? Maybe instead of strengthening the Might around the stones, he’d have to strengthen himself.
He looked at the stone whisperer. “You’re wrong about one thing, Hlosnian.”
“Oh, most things, I would hope. But what are you referring to?”
“If there is such a thing as traveler’s blood, she’s not the only one with it. The blind also had it.”
“You think too much, boy. Can we go now, before my tail freezes off?”
Hlosnian turned and walked away. His robe brushed across the snow, ice crystals glittering along its frayed edge.
Rime looked down into the birdbath. At his own face, frozen in the ice. He was pale as a blindling.
THE OPEN CHURCH
Hirka gave a start. She’d almost fallen asleep.
She blamed the fan over the greenhouse door. Its constant humming had a lulling effect.
She looked over at the blindling, who was resting on a pallet of soil. She’d laid her spare jumper over him. Not because she was worried he’d get cold, but had it been her lying there, she’d have appreciated being covered up.
He was no longer twitching, and his breathing had evened out, thankfully.
Thankfully? He’s nábyrn!
She drew her knees up and leaned her head against the wall. She was surrounded by plants with names she didn’t know. Green seedlings were stacked on workbenches. Flowers hung from the roof in ceramic pots. It was like being in a forest in the middle of summer. But outside, the world was white. Wet snow lashed at the glass before sliding down into heaps on the ground. She was in two worlds at once. One where things were being born, and one where things were dying. She just wasn’t entirely sure which was which.
It was dark, and that was a good thing. That gave her the upper hand, because she could see everything outside but no one could see her well enough to sneak up on her. She swallowed, remembering the man’s hands around her neck, the despair she’d felt at not being able to understand him. But he’d gotten what he wanted. He was probably far away by now. So who was after her now? Seer knows.
The Seer …
Hirka sat up and gazed at the blindling. Everything she’d ever heard about the Seer whirled through her mind. A maelstrom of words and images. He was the blindling who’d turned his back on his own people to save Ym. Who’d taken the form of a raven and become the Seer they’d worshipped for a thousand years. The Seer who didn’t exist. Had she just witnessed the exact same thing? Kuro changing form, but from raven to blindling?
Don’t be stupid, girl! Does he look like a god?
Hirka crawled over to him. She lifted a finger to poke him, but then decided against it. That would be trying her luck. He wasn’t as weak as he had been. She picked up a garden trowel just in case. She could smell the tang of the raven blood in his hair. Several blood vessels had burst along his collarbone, the blood spreading like tendrils of ink under his skin. The imperfection seemed out of place on his muscular body. He had high cheekbones that reminded her of Rime. His mouth was half-open, revealing the only unsettling feature of his otherwise beautiful face: his canines.
He wasn’t moving. She reached out to him, resting her thumb on his upper lip before carefully pulling it back. They weren’t that long. Not like wolves’ teeth. He turned his head, and she tore her arm back.
What was she doing? Hadn’t she seen more than enough of the blind? Few knew better than her and Rime what they were capable of. Urd had promised her to these creatures. As a sacrifice. But in exchange for what? Knowledge of blindcraft?
But how could this be one of the blind? This was Kuro. Her raven.
No. Not anymore. She’d gathered the remains of what had been Kuro. A gory soup she’d thrown in a bin outside. Kuro was dead. She’d lost him. All that remained was this creature. Hideously beautiful, more powerfully built than any ymling she’d ever seen. Godlike? Perhaps. But he was young, dead to the world, and smelled of blood and decay. That wasn’t very godlike. She also doubted the Seer would smack his lips in his sleep.
Rime would know what to do.
Rime would have woken him up, demanded answers. At the very least he’d have been able to protect them both if the blindling had come to. What could she do? Poke him with the trowel? She tossed it aside, shaking her head at herself. This was surreal. She had to get out of there. No matter who was waiting for her outside, they couldn’t be any worse than the creature before her. And it was only a matter of time before someone came. It was Sunday, which meant few humans would be working, but that didn’t mean no one would come to the greenhouse.
But where could she go? She didn’t have much in the way of money or food, and now she had one of the deadborn to contend with. She closed her eyes in resignation. She would leave soon, but it wouldn’t be to run. It would be to help him.
She knew what this world was like, and he wouldn’t understand. No one deserved to face it alone. Like she’d done. He needed clothes. And food. And a bath wouldn’t hurt, but she had no idea how she’d manage that. The only real option was the church …
Could she risk it? Father Brody didn’t even know she’d run away yet. Wouldn’t know until daybreak. But it wasn’t safe to go now. Someone had been following her. She didn’t know who, or why. She needed to wait until morning, so she wouldn’t be alone in the streets. No one could get to her if she was surrounded by people.
It was a strange thought considering how she usually felt about crowds. It had been bad at home. Here it was even worse. Even though she was supposedly one of them. A human. Here they were all children of Odin. Emblings. The rot. So why did she feel so out of place?
Hirka got up, picked up a tall plant from the table, and carried it over to the blindling. He was still out for the count. She carried over another plant. And another. Until he was hidden behind a wall of green. She knew it was pointless, really. If anyone came in, they’d still find him. But she had to do something.
She could hear cars going past outside. People were starting to go about their day. She shouldered her bag and slipped out of the greenhouse.
The sky was gray, the cold not so biting anymore. She followed the fence to the river. Holes had started to appear in the ice. She rounded the fence and found the road, all the while pushing down the feeling she was doing something stupid. She had to force her feet to keep moving. There were very few people around, but still she glanced down every alley she passed. She wasn’t sure how long she had before Father Brody opened the church doors, so she started to run.
What would she say? Would she tell him she’d intended to run away? Or just say she’d been out all night? And what would she say about the blindling?
He would have to be kept secret. Father Brody would call him a demon, and he was scared of demons. Hirka had never met one, but she had a feeling they looked like the deadborn. She could say she’d come across a man. An ordinary man, someone in need of help. Father Brody would give her some of the clothes he’d collected for the poor. She was sure of it.
Hirka stopped outside the church. Gray depressions in the snow told her that Father Brody was already there. Jay and her mum, too. The smaller tracks had to belong to Jay’s little sister. But there were others as well. More than there ought to have been. Unease erupted in her chest. Something was wrong. She went up the steps and tried the door. It was open. She slipped into the vestibule. She could hear noises from the main hall. A child crying. Two men arguing.
“Don’t you know nothing about kids?”
“Enough to know they talk. That’s what kids do. They talk!”
“Christ, she’s barely out of nappies! What do you think a kid’s gonna say? And just think of the fucking hassle!”
“It’s already a fucking hassle, Isac!”
Hirka pressed herself up against the wall. She heard a door open. The voice of a third man rose above the others. “She’s not up there, either. But she’s definitely been living there.”
“Been living?! You said she hadn’t been out in days! Would you make that kid shut up?!”
“If the girl’s not here, you might as well fucking shoot yourself now. That’d save him the bother of killing you. Because he will, when he finds out you weren’t giving her your full attention.”
Hirka tried her best to understand what they were saying, but there were too many words she didn’t know. The way their voices echoed in the hall didn’t make it any easier. But she caught enough to know it was her they were looking for. She kept her ear pressed against the wall. She could hear her blood pumping. Her heart beating. She had to get out of there.
The child …
The girl was still crying. Sobbing for her mother. The sound was heart-wrenching. Hirka couldn’t just abandon her. She had to get her out of there. Her and the others. But where were they? She had to find out. Just a quick peek.
She peered around the wall and into the hall. She stiffened. Knew she should run, but couldn’t. Her feet started to move of their own accord. Down the aisle. Toward Jay, who was lying face-down on the floor. Motionless. Her earbuds had fallen out. They were lying in a pool of blood.
Dilipa was lying next to her, head between the pews. Staring up at Hirka with dead eyes. Hirka felt her face go numb. Was this real? Was she in Slokna, having a bad dream? She looked up.
Three men were standing in front of the altar, staring at her like she was a ghost. One of them had Jay’s little sister by the scruff of the neck. The girl sobbed. She was practically hanging from the man’s hand, her feet having failed her.
Hirka was lost for words. Fury and grief threatened to choke her. She stopped a short distance away from them. Stared at them. They stared back. Time stood still.
Then the tallest of them started to laugh. He had blond hair and was wearing a garish shirt with a zigzag pattern. He gestured around the church. “Maybe there is a God after all!” he said and started toward her. Hirka spotted a figure in black slumped over the altar. Father Brody.
Dogs. Mad dogs. Wild animals. That’s what they were. Hirka looked at Jay’s little sister. There was only one thing to do. Only one thing would distract them from the girl.
Hirka whirled around and bolted for the door. The men all shouted in unison. Someone grabbed her raincoat, pulling her back. The tall man put his hand over her mouth. There was a bang. Jay’s little sister stopped crying. The two men started shouting at each other. The one holding Hirka told them to shut up. He smelled of rotten food.
Then there were two of them holding her. The third stuck his head out the door. Nodded. They pulled her outside. She kicked. Punched. Bit. Tears overwhelmed her. She was dragged through the snow, between the headstones. Into the dark alleyway behind the almshouse.
BLOOD SPILLED
Hirka sat in the back seat, struggling with the car door. It was locked, but she had to get out. Now. Before they drove off. While she could still see the church tower. She knew it didn’t make much sense, but it gave her something to focus on. If they took her away from here, it would be over. She’d be completely lost.
Two of the men sat in the front screaming at each other. The car started and lurched forward in the alleyway. The bigger man hit the one who was driving, and the car stopped suddenly. Hirka’s head thumped into the back of the seat. She was thrown backward again, but her bag absorbed most of the impact. The door swung open on the other side. Hirka launched herself across the seat to escape but was pushed back by the third man. The man who had grabbed her in the church. The one named Isac.
He sat down on the back seat, feet still outside. “Shut it!” he screamed, holding a hand up to silence the others. It went quiet. Hirka was so scared that her feet were shaking. Then she felt something press against her ankle.
My knife.
She looked down at her yellow boots. Wiggled her foot and felt the sheath slide around in her woolly sock. It was still there. There was still hope. She just had to keep her cool. Wait for the right moment.
The driver was a skittish little man. His mousy face shone with sweat, and he kept muttering the same thing over and over. “Not good, not good.” The other man was stocky and kept elbowing him in the ribs, but he seemed equally jumpy. That was a good sign. Nervous men made mistakes. Sooner or later.
Isac pressed a finger to his forehead and sighed. He was calmer than the others. Fearless, almost. Clearly he was the one to worry about.
“Mickey, do us a favor, would you?” he said to the little man, who immediately looked even more petrified. “If I get it into my head to invite you along again, shoot me, would you? Eh? Take pity on me, so I don’t have to witness you causing such …” He pounded his fist into the back of the seat to emphasize each word. “Total. Fucking. Chaos.”
“He said my name,” Mickey muttered. “Now she knows my name! You don’t use someone’s name in the middle of a job!”
“Lord, give me strength …” Isac turned his eyes heavenward. “This was supposed to be clean, Mickey. No blood. This ain’t no film! We ain’t going nowhere until you’ve cleaned up after yourself! You hear me?”
“Cleaned up? What the … we’ve got her! We’re in the clear. I’m not going back in there! Never go back, Isac! First rule in the field. In and out, quick-like, yeah?”
“I’m going to smash his TV,” Isac whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose. It went quiet again. The two men stared at the man behind the wheel.
“What? WHAT?! We’ve got what we came for!”
“The girl, yes, but not the raven. Do you want to be the one to tell him that?” Isac asked.
Mickey swallowed.
“No, I thought not. Then we’d best find us a raven.”
“Can’t we just grab one of those? Surely it can’t—”
“Those are crows, you idiot.” Isac looked at Hirka. “It’s a wonder his knuckles don’t drag along the ground, isn’t it?”
Hirka didn’t respond. She wanted no part in his attempts at humor. Both men in the front were clearly nervous now. The bigger man cursed, then got out of the car. He lit a cigarette.
“Where’s the bird, young miss?” Isac leaned toward her. She didn’t understand how someone whose clothes were so clean could smell so rotten. The others didn’t seem to notice. Was it just her? It reminded her of Urd. Of the smell that had come from his throat at the stone circle near Ravnhov. His men hadn’t seemed disgusted either.
Still, Mickey was the killer among them. And remorseless at that. As though he had the right to just end people’s lives. Father Brody. Jay. Dilipa. And a child. A five-year-old … it was monstrous. Hirka had to press her lips together to stop them from quivering.
Isac dragged her out of the car and pinned her against the side. “The raven?”
Hirka shrugged. “He’s a bird. They fly where they like,” she replied.
Isac leaned in close. She twisted away from his breath, but he followed her movements. His eyes looked almost colorless. Was he sick? If the smell was anything to go by, he was already knocking on death’s door. There was something horribly wrong with him, but she refused to let him see how much it scared her.
“So what’s the deal with you?” he said. “What’s so incredibly special about you that I’ve had to come all this way? What do you have that we don’t, eh?”
He didn’t seem to be looking for a reply, but she gave him one anyway. “A soul.”
She hadn’t expected a reaction, but he gaped at her for a moment. Then he regained his composure. Tossed his blond fringe back. The movement was far too youthful for a man who had to be in his fifties.
“Keeping a raven as a pet, that’s most peculiar,” he said, tugging on his lapels as though his jacket were ill-fitting. “I’m thinking that means you like him? Shame we have to burn down the church. I wonder …” He gripped her chin and tilted her head back. “Singed feathers, what do you think that smells like?”
The big man chuckled, dropped his cigarette, and stomped it out. He opened the car door and grab
bed a container of what she guessed was oil. He started to search for something in his pockets as he walked past them. Toward the church.
Her anger won out over her fear. Had they planned to kill her, they’d have done it by now. But she was alive, and that emboldened her. She glared at Isac.
“One day,” she said, “one day you’re going to beg me to spare your life.”
“Not today,” Isac replied and shoved her back into the car.
Mickey rubbed his face in his hands. “Isac, we have to get out of here! We’re wasting time!”
“We’re not wasting time, we’re making time, you ninny! If we run, it’ll be all over the news within the hour, thanks to you. So instead of mass murder, we’re giving them a fire. If we’re lucky, it’ll buy us a couple of hours. And if you don’t shut your trap, I’m going to use you as kindling.”
Hirka reached down toward her boot. Slowly, so nobody would notice. She fumbled under her trouser leg and grabbed the knife.
“He’s coming back now,” Mickey said, looking out the rear window.
Two bangs came from out of nowhere. Mickey ducked down behind the wheel. Hirka pulled her knife from its sheath and leaped out of the car. The door hit Isac as he keeled over onto the road. He grabbed his chest. Blood oozed from between his fingers, following the pattern of his shirt. He stared up at her in confusion.
Another bang seemed to come from the walls themselves. Impossible to pinpoint. Someone grabbed her and spun her around. It was Mickey. He pulled her close and stared up at the sky. “Who are you? Who the fuck are you?” She spotted a figure coming down a nearby fire escape. He took the last few steps in a single bound. Mickey grabbed something from his inside pocket and pressed it against her head. It was a weapon. She knew that now. And she knew what he’d done in the church. He was going to do it again. She tightened her grip on the knife.
“I’ll save you,” she said.
Mickey’s gaze wavered. Uncomprehending. He lowered the weapon to her jaw, his breath coming in short gasps. It was him or her. Hirka jammed the knife into his chest, right under his ribs, then forced it upward. His eyes grew wide as she leaned close and whispered into his ear. “You don’t have to be scared anymore, Mickey.” His weapon fell to the ground. Hirka pulled the knife out. The sound made her feel nauseous. He slumped back against the car tire.
The Rot Page 7