Two days after the wake, the trembling, weeping remorse hidden in my bones rears its ugly head once more. I do not know how long I sleep, my mind trapping me in a web of memories I’d sooner wish to forget. How long? Must I forever dream of Warbler’s agonizing screams? Will I never stop analyzing Creeper’s torturous death? How do I get the blood off my hands?
When I am finally lucid from my guilt sickness, I see Panther sitting calmly at the end of my bed. My bloody clothes are missing from my body. I am dressed in my loose-fitting jeans and a stiff green work shirt that could really use a good scrubbing. “Did you change my clothes for me?” I inquire, a little surprised that the innocent seeming Panther would dare to strip a woman naked in her own bedroom.
“I burned them,” he mutters, a tiny blush rising to his cheeks.
“Not very priestly of you.” I giggle softly before a groan rumbles in my throat. I sounded like Creeper. I used the same half-crazed laughter he did when he heard something amusing. Will I ever laugh and not think of him now? I still imagine Creeper’s eyes leering at me through the peepholes in my room. My hand trembles as I flash back to the moment when I pushed my knife through his heart, listening to the sick, sucking thumps as his lifeblood spilled over me. I still see his tongue almost bitten clean through from the pain. Taking a human life carries its own baggage. I’ll never be able to forget that monster. His death will forever poison my thoughts.
“Mynah, you’ve gone pale! The skin around your mouth is as white as a sheet. What’s wrong?” Panther’s worried voice breaks through the darkness inside me.
“I’m just lamenting the loss of another good shirt,” I whisper, my eyes focusing on the imagined blood still staining my hands. When I blink, the vision is gone. “I’m going to have to do some laundry soon, or I’ll be running around here wearing this ratty bed sheet.”
“You can’t seriously have still wanted those clothes! They were stiff with blood,” Panther exclaims in outrage. “No amount of washing could remove those stains.”
“It would be considered a badge of honor in this House to wear that vile creature’s blood on my sleeves,” I answer, my head spinning as I imagine that I see Creeper’s eye peeping through the hole under my shelf. An irrational fear threatens to overpower me. He can’t be there! He’s dead, I remind myself. “Thought you could not touch blood, priest,” I accuse to displace my frustration, regretting the sharpness of my tone the minute the words are spoken.
A look of extreme sorrow crosses Panther’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter now. After all that has been done, there’s no way I’d be able to go back to a normal life anyway.”
“I am truly sorry, Panther.” My heart is sore for him. This land is its own curse; all who live here are tainted by its misery. It is one of my deepest regrets for this boy that he must deny himself his dreams in order to survive.
“When it is you and me, just use my real name,” Panther pleads as he picks at tiny specks of lint that have attached themselves to his clothes.
“I can’t,” I whisper quietly. “You’ve seen what the rest of the House is like. Do you really want any of them to be controlling you? If I say your real name aloud, I’ll only be putting you in more danger.” Panther shuts his mouth as the thought sinks into his mind.
Faintly I hear a whispered scuttling near my door, as if someone is moving away from the peephole. I sit up in bed, suddenly wary of whose eyes might be watching us. Throwing a hand over my mouth to silence Panther, I tiptoe over to my door. Peeking through the peephole, I see no one on the other side. Paranoia, I almost laugh at myself. He’s gone, you fool. Don’t give Creeper’s memory the satisfaction of driving you mad.
Once I am convinced that I am safe, I begin testing the strength of my limbs. After everything I have endured, I am surprised that my hands still obey my wishes. My shoulders are sore, and my ankles crack when I twist them. The skin on my back itches abominably as it heals, but the soreness has receded considerably. There is enough power left in these tired bones to continue my plans. After I had watched the life seep out of Creeper’s eyes, after I’d exposed his pitifully broken face, I decided to leave the House of Vultures. I will desert this place. I will become the nameless unchosen before I stay in this hole any longer. I cannot live in a House that will forever remind me of Warbler’s demise.
Panther raises his voice as I begin packing a small knapsack. “What do you think you are doing? You need to rest—”
“You said that your people believe there is a weapon in the Pith,” I cut him off, searching for my good boots as I tie my jacket around my waist. “Something that could change our fates forever.”
Panther sits frozen in place as he ponders my words. “So?”
“So, tomorrow you and I are going to take a little detour out to the edge of Omphalos. I have some money hidden away near the city walls, and I want to take it with us just in case. I’m done with this House, Panther. I think I’d only been staying to protect Warbler, and I did a fantastic job there.” My eyes scan the room once more, doing a final check to ascertain whether or not I have left anything important. “I will not sleep another night under this roof.”
“What about Wolf? Does he know of your plan?”
“We’ll join him when it’s done. Once we know what is in the Pith, we will find him. Maybe he’ll be able to use it to rid this land of all the evil it holds.”
“What about the rest of the people in this House?” Panther asks me stoically.
“What about them, Panther? The only one that I truly cared about is the one I buried in a shallow grave. The rest of these people do not need me, and I certainly can do better on my own,” I snap, pulling my pack onto my shoulders. “Will you come with me?”
My door slides open slowly, Condor looming into my room. His mouth is set in a grim line as he speaks. “Good job, Wren. You said she’d open up if she was speaking to the boy.”
It takes a minute for Condor’s insinuation to sink into my thoughts. Carefully I examine the mask of the person sitting beside my bed. It has been expertly painted to resemble the one I created, but I see a few inconsistencies now. Flecks of brown and green are hidden in the cracks of the bark, a rougher type than I had used for Panther. “You were listening at the peephole too, weren’t you?” I mumble, more to myself than to Condor. Swearing at myself for not considering such a trick, I cannot help but wonder, “What did you do to the boy?”
“He’s safe, right here with me,” Condor explains, his arm around a wide-eyed boy still wearing his mask like he should. I can feel his fear through our bond; I’d been mistaking it for my own scattered emotions all along. I let my own worries cloud my judgement, and in doing so, I handed my plans over to my enemies.
“Just let me go, Condor. Please—”
“I warned you the night of the wake that I would do whatever was necessary to find out what you were thinking, Mynah,” Condor reprimands as he pushes Panther into my room. “So, you are planning to leave the House of Vultures? Too good for us now? Not only that, but you know this one’s real name. I’m guessing he was unmasked when you found him, right?”
“Caught him in one of the traps,” I confess, lowering myself to the edge of the bed.
“Mynah? What are you thinking?” Panther shouts, cowering in the corner farthest from Condor.
“What? There’s no point in keeping secrets now,” I grumble, my head falling into my hands.
“Instead of killing the boy like you should have, you decided to control him. So, he’s someone important to you?” Condor pauses, looming over me in an effort to threaten a confession out of me.
“I did not know him at all when I found him,” I supply, not even feeling pain when Panther tosses a tattered book at me in warning.
“He knows of the Pith but believes there’s something important there.” Watching Condor make deductions about my actions leaves me feeling vulnerable.
“And something about the priesthood,” Wren adds as he removes the fake mask from his
true one. He tosses the fake mask onto my lap, winking mischievously. “Here’s a memento for you, little Mynah. Not that you’ll be allowed to enjoy it for long.”
“So, he must be from Déchets! That has to be right since there’s no priests in this god forsaken land anymore.” Condor paces between me and Panther, recognizing the truth of his accusations when I do not refute them. Suddenly he wheels on Panther, cruel laughter emanating from his lips. “My, my, she has been naughty! The only thing left is why? Why did you keep a child of Déchets alive, Mynah?”
I shrug in response, too overwhelmed to care about Condor’s questions.
“What will you do with us?” Panther inquires, hands raised to show peace.
“Mynah taught you about our ways, didn’t she? That’s how you have fooled us for as long as you have,” Condor continues, staring at me with amazement growing in his eyes. “So, you let Wolf go to war based on a lie? Does he know? He does! I can see it in the way you cringe! I was wrong about you, Mynah, entirely wrong about you. You are truly diabolical! You must not love him as much as he thinks, or you would never have put him in such danger.” Condor paces the room, turning thoughtful. “On the other hand, Wolf must really love you dearly if he is willing to fight a frivolous war just to protect your interests.”
I spit at Condor’s shoes, unwilling to say a word. He moves with lightning accuracy, wrenching me upright by my hair. Pulling my face uncomfortably close to his, I am forced to stare into his dark, furious eyes. “What will you do with us?” My voice breaks as I beg.
“I’ll make an example of you both and hopefully draw out my cunning enemy at the same time.” Condor catches my wrists in his grasp, dragging my body down the stairs. Every step jars my wounds, pulling skin and stitches alike. We stop at the front gate, the boots of the rest of the elite members of the House of Vultures crunching on the gravel. Panther lands in a heap beside me.
“Falcon, set up the traitor bonds,” Condor commands as he shoves me hard against the fence. His mouth turns in a grim line as he pins me against the metal links.
No. I feel the blood drain from my face as my heart sinks to my toes. “Please, Condor, not that.” Hating myself for my own weakness, I bargain, “I’ll do anything, and I mean anything, if you will spare us both. Have mercy, Condor?”
“You know, if you would have given me a chance, we could have gotten along so much better than we did,” Condor murmurs to me as Falcon hurries to obey her master’s wishes. “We could have run this House together. I could have cared for you.” Leaning closer to my ear, he whispers, “If you would have chosen me, I would have forced Falcon out of the House. I would have named you my second in command. If you would have just remembered….” Condor’s words fade as he brushes a hand across my hair. “You and I could have been happy—”
“I will always hate you, Condor,” I spit back, defiance in the face of death loosening my tongue. “Who has really been in charge here? You? Or Falcon? It seems to me she is always the one whose hands are dirty with blood. You are weak! You do not lead this House at all. I have seen Wolf’s pack. They have happy, productive lives. And what do we have, Condor? Nothing! We are sniveling rats in your iron cage.”
Falcon runs a solid wooden board along the top and bottom of the fence. Condor’s hold on my arms goes slack. “Despite what you might think of me, I have done my best for this House. Did you ever stop to ask what price Wolf’s pack pays for their contentment? If you knew, you’d hate him even more than you loathe me.”
“How could I ever hate anyone more than I do you? You’re the man who let Creeper kill Warbler! How could you let such a monster live in our House?” I try to wiggle away from him, preparing to fight rather than be strung up in the traitor bonds.
“I swear, I did not know he was dangerous,” Condor answers, his skin turning clammy with the sincerity of his emotion. “If I had known what he was going to do, I would have stopped it myself. I am glad he is dead, Mynah…I’m just sorry it was at your hand.”
“I do not believe you. I do not trust a single word that comes from your lying mouth,” I snarl, cursing as Goldeneye steps forward, wrenching me out of Condor’s hold.
Antero, I whisper through our bond. Do not react, do not even look at Falcon. If she thinks she has gained power over your fears, she’ll make this a hundred times worse.
Goldeneye positions me in front of the traitor binds. My hands are bound on either side of my head, my feet pressed a little wider than shoulder width. Panther is quickly bound in a similar fashion beside me. “What are they doing, Mynah?”
“Naming us as traitors and leaving us to die as a warning to the others in the House. Loyalty is essential for survival.” My mind races as I wonder how long it will take before I am mindless with thirst, desperate from hunger, burned beyond recognition by the unrelenting sun, and too weak from exhaustion to stand. How long before my knees cannot support me? How long before my wrists strain with my weight? When will the bones snap under the pressure? How long before the wild creatures of the forest come smelling fresh meat? How much of their attacks will I endure before death finally claims me?
Even worse, what if Wolf comes to rescue us and has to fight? How will I endure watching him and his people fight and die over my lies? A crack of the whip tears through my shoulder blades, ripping through stitches, the release of taut skin unraveling Fox’s handiwork in a bloody mess.
Falcon sneers as she brandishes her weapon once more. “It is a blessing really, making you bleed. It will bring the beasts to claim you before the madness starts. You should thank Condor for being so gracious. Personally, I would rather watch you starve.” When I don’t answer, the sharp end of the whip slices the skin on my left side from shoulder to neck. Then I feel grubby fingers on the strings of my mask. “Tell Condor that he is benevolent, Mynah.”
The crazy part of my mind takes over my mouth before I have the chance to really think over my words. “You take that mask off me, and Wolf will never appear. The only reason you’re doing any of this is to draw him out quickly. Trying to get him to make a mistake? You’re the one who’s screwing up! Wolf will easily kill you from the shadows.”
Something sharp and hard as a rock cracks into my head. “Little Mynah, you are so foolish! If I take this mask off you, Wolf won’t stop to think about his actions. It will probably speed up his demise. So, do you have something to say? Or shall I just snip these strings and get it over with?”
My jaw works with my hatred of these two, Falcon for her viciousness and Condor for his pseudo leadership. “You can do what you wish. But I will never show either of your gratitude. Not even if the price is my life.”
I hear a soft chuckle as a hand shoves my head into the fence, straining my neck as stars dance across my eyes. “What about the boy? Will you be thankful for his sake?”
I shrug my shoulders as best I can, wrenching my wrists in their binds. “You know he’s from Déchets. His family is important in that land. Kill him, and you’ll be risking a war. I doubt even you are that stupid, Falcon.”
Grouse laughs as she saunters up to me, a cup of water in her hands. “Boy, she’s got you by the seat of your pants, doesn’t she?” Grouse puts the cup to my lips, a haughty defiance in her eyes when Goldeneye steps in and demands that she move aside. “Mynah deserves this mercy. For Warbler.” Grouse even winks at me as he tugs her away. I wonder what punishment her actions will merit.
“Leave them for now. See if a few hours will soften her tongue,” Condor snarls, ushering everyone back inside.
Panther is quiet beside me throughout everything. Only when the door shuts and the last of the House mates have gone to hunt does he dare to speak. “I am sorry, Mynah. I tried to alert you to the situation, but I guess you could not hear me.”
“It’s not your fault,” I wince as my back catches on the fence, biting my lip until it bleeds to keep from crying out. “How badly are you hurt?” I manage through panting breaths.
“Falcon did not atta
ck me like that. Why does she hate you so?”
“It’s not personal with Falcon. She abuses everyone equally just because she enjoys it.” I strain against the traitor binds, cursing when the leather cuffs chafe my wrists. “Can you get your hands free?” I ask, silently praying that in the chaos, Falcon had neglected to tie him up tightly.
Staring ahead into the gravel road before the House of Vultures, I listen to Panther struggling fruitlessly against the cuffs. Minutes pass with no answer from the boy. I should tell him to save his strength. Yet I cannot bring myself to stifle his actions. The passing hours will kill the fighting instinct inside him anyway.
As the sun rises to its seat in the middle of the sky, the metal fence behind my back begins to burn. At first it is just a warmth that almost soothes my aching muscles, but all too quickly the links grow unbearably hot. I press my wrists into the leather cuffs, attempting to arch my back away from the scalding chain metal. However, I quickly grow too tired to maintain this position. I swear I hear my skin sizzle when it connects with the fence once more. This is how it feels to be cooking on the fire pit’s grill, I muse, laughing hysterically as my back blisters.
The heat dehydrates my body within a few hours. I dream of cool glasses of water and bathing in the River Sangre. My tongue feels like I’ve swallowed a mouthful of sand. My head pulses and throbs with my heartbeat. “Mynah?” Panther calls out beside me, neither of us able to even turn our heads to look at the other. “How are we going to get out of this?”
“Keep fighting against the binds—maybe one of them will come loose,” I mumble, not even sure if I believe such good fortune can happen to us.
By sunset, my ragged clothes are soaked with sweat. It is precious fluid that my body cannot afford to lose. My throat burns with desire for a thirst-quenching drink. Neither Panther nor I have the energy to speak anymore. Even my eyes feel raw, as if my tears have been redirected to combat dehydration. When I blink, it feels like sandpaper rubs my eyeballs.
The sound of the House door creaking open pulls my dwindling attention as the stars blink awake. Footsteps crunch on the gravel as someone approaches us. Please, not Falcon, my mind weeps. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of hearing me beg for death. The image of my fallen friend Hawk appears to me, a haunting smile on his face. His voice is just as clear and deep as I remember when he speaks to me, “Ironic, isn’t it, little Mynah? You’re prepared to seek a mercy killing for yourself when you’ve lived with the guilt of my death all this time.”
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