by Frost Kay
“Some tea.”
“I know Abuela has a draught for coughing. I’ll drop by in the morning and bring it with me.”
Cody cocked her head and brushed her feathery hair from her face. “Thank you.” She glanced toward the door. “You better get home. It’s dark.”
Hazel glanced at the lone window and cursed. She hadn’t even noticed the time passing. The old bat was going to kill her. “Abuela is going to murder me,” she huffed.
“I doubt it,” Cody said dryly. “Good night, Hazel. And thank you.”
She opened the door and smiled. “You’re welcome. See you in the morning. I hope you feel better.”
“You and me both,” Cody grumbled.
Hazel slipped from the house and closed the door softly, the inky night curling around her. Shoot, shoot, shoot. The old woman was really going to kill her. She tipped her head back and tried to remember the path back to the house. If worse came to worse, all she needed to do was get to the farm and follow it north.
She slowly wound through quiet streets dotted with small lanterns here and there. Her skin prickled, and she darted a look over her shoulder. It felt like someone was watching her, but there wasn’t anyone out. Hazel flicked a glance above her head to the sky. One could never be too careful when consorting with flying monsters.
Her hand inched toward the hidden sheath Abuela had given her, and Hazel picked up her pace. The homes faded, and the outbuildings appeared like giant sentinels. Her shoulders sagged in relief. She was almost home. Her overactive imagination was going to get the best of her.
Speeding past an outbuilding, she almost missed the whisper of sound.
A footstep.
Her hand went to her blade, and she screamed once before a hand slapped over her mouth, cutting off all sound. The scent of tobacco invaded her nose as someone dragged her backward. Hazel fought with all her strength and jabbed her elbow into the gut of the person behind her.
“Bitch,” a man growled.
If there was one thing she hated, it was that word.
Her fingers curled around the bone handle and pulled, the steel blade sliding free without a sound. Hazel angled her hand and stabbed. The man behind her screamed, and his hands loosened. Her stomach rolled when she tumbled forward onto her knees and the blade slid from flesh with a sickening squelch.
Hazel scrambled forward and sprinted for the farm, arms pumping, a bloody knife in her right hand. A shape materialized just ahead, and her shoes slipped on the loose gravel beneath her feet. She screamed as loud as she could before the shadow blurred and something heavy slammed into the side of her face. Stars burst across her vision, and the world tilted. Hazel blinked, trying to get her bearings, but she couldn’t see.
A meaty hand fisted in her hair and yanked brutally. Hazel swung wildly, hoping to catch her assailant by surprise. She may not be able to see him, but he needed to get close enough to hold her.
“Damn it,” another male voice hissed. “Get that blade from her, you idiot.”
She screamed again just before another blow landed, catching the left side of her face. A ringing started in her ear, and she dry-heaved. Someone pried the blade from her bloody fingers, and a piece of material was forced against her lips. Even disoriented, she knew not to open her mouth. Silence meant death.
Someone pinned her to the ground and then pinched her nostrils closed. Hazel bucked and fought for all she was worth. She dislodged the man and clawed at the ground, tearing her fingernails. One foot. One bloody foot was all she moved before they were on her.
A finger dug into the pressure point along her shoulder and she sucked in a sharp, pained breath. That was all the opening her assailants needed. A foul, soiled cloth was forced between her teeth and tied tightly behind her head, ripping out some of her hair.
Tears and snot smeared across her face as she screamed and clawed at the arm that dragged her from the ground.
“You never said she was a hellcat,” a whiny voice complained. “You sure we got the right one?”
“There’s only one Untouched,” a deeper voice responded. “Get her inside. He’s waiting.”
Hazel continued to struggle, her jagged nails raking along the forearm of the Tainted. He hauled her, kicking and screaming, into a building that smelled of dirt and mold. The arms holding her tossed her to the ground, and she slammed onto her left side, her hip screaming at the abuse.
Dazedly, she searched the darkness for the men responsible for the attack as she clambered to her feet, wavering. Hazel blinked three times as more dots flashed across her vision. That wasn’t a good sign. Had they given her a concussion? She didn’t remember hitting her head.
“Did you really think you could besmirch my good name and there’d be no consequences?”
Marco.
Hazel held her hands loosely at her side and tried to listen past the ringing in her ears. She wouldn’t win in an outright brawl with the man, but she needed to be prepared. Be smart.
A light flickered to her right, highlighting the colorless eyes of the man she’d condemned yesterday. His pitch-black eyes tilted upward in humor as he smirked at her. “You managed to cut two of my men. Very naughty of you.”
He blew out the match, and Hazel planted her feet and strained to see anything in the complete darkness. Goosebumps erupted down her arms. She hadn’t seen his eyes since the first morning at the farm. In her whole life, she’d never seen someone with solid-colored eyes. It was as if he had been pulled from hell as one of the devil’s own minions.
“You know what I like about the darkness, Hazel?”
She scowled. “It hides creeps.” Her words were garbled behind the linen tied around her head.
Eerie laughs echoed around her. Hazel focused on the different tones. At least four predators. Maybe five.
“It reveals our innermost selves. You can’t lie to yourself anymore when everything is stripped away. We have to face our demons.”
Now that wasn’t fair. He hadn’t had everything stripped from him. It was a wild guess, but bats were the only animals she’d ever seen with eyes like Marco’s. They had night vision, so it was reasonable to guess that he did, too—which meant he was watching her right now.
Hazel bared her teeth and growled.
“So feisty,” Marco whispered in her right ear, his breath heating the skin of her neck.
She swung her right arm and twisted toward the sound of his voice, following through with a cross jab. But her hand hit nothing but air. The quick movement caused her to waver, but she caught her balance and held up her fists.
Another match struck, illuminating the creep’s face to her left. He wiggled his eyebrows. “You wanna fight, kitty cat? Come and get me.”
With his cute little peekaboo trick, she’d spotted the metal wall behind him. The rusted metal wasn’t in very good condition near the base of the building. Even if it didn’t bend or break when her weight crashed into it, the metal would make some noise. A smirk hovered at the corner of her mouth as she charged him. The match flickered out, but she didn’t stop sprinting. Marco probably had moved already, but she wasn’t aiming for him.
They might have gagged her, but Hazel could still cause some racket.
Her senses screamed at her to stop—that danger lay ahead—but she powered through and twisted at the waist, so her shoulder would be the first to hit.
“Can’t get out that way,” a whiny voice taunted.
She wasn’t trying to get out. Idiot.
Her shoulder crashed into something solid, and the hit reverberated down to her bones. The metal wall screeched something horrible before she crashed to her back. Hazel tried to suck in air, but it wouldn’t come. The fall knocked the wind from her lungs, but she couldn’t care less. She was soaking in the sweet twang of the sheet metal rippling. Someone had to have heard that.
A hand grabbed her by the braid and began to drag her away from the wall. “Got her, Boss,” a deep voice called.
Hazel cried out, w
rapped both her hands around the meaty wrist, and dug her nails into the flesh. The man cursed and shook her so hard, it felt like he’d rattled some of her teeth loose.
“Knock it off, or I’ll introduce you to my friend’s claws. I promise you’ve got nothing on him.”
She released him and scrambled to her feet, the man’s hand still tearing hair out of her scalp, but at least she wasn’t being dragged. Hazel managed a few steps before he tossed her to the ground. She threw her hands up and caught herself before she crashed face-first into the floor. A groan slipped from behind her gag at the impact.
Don’t let them keep you on the floor. Get up.
Her arms quivered as she pushed herself up, back onto her knees.
“We gotta get outta here,” the whiny-voiced man urged. “Someone will be coming.”
“Turn on the damn light,” Marco snarled. “I want her to see this.”
Hazel blinked as a lantern was lit. She held up an abused palm and quickly observed her predicament. There were indeed five Tainted. Three were the minions from the farm, and the last one was a scarecrow of a man with shifty eyes so light that they looked clear. He sported a bow and quiver. Huge stacks of potatoes surrounded them in the outbuilding. So that was the earthy smell.
She stood on wavering legs only to have the hulking man kick the back of one knee out. Hazel shouted at the pain, her whole body feeling like one huge bruise. She lifted her head as Marco sauntered closer. It was a feat to keep her expression blank when he jerked her chin up, craning her neck, and then brushed a pale finger along her throbbing cheek. Now was not the time to do something stupid. Someone had to have heard all the racket she’d made. The time for fighting was over. Now, she just needed to survive.
“There was a time when our people used to eat your kind.”
Disturbing.
Her nostrils flared, but she didn’t give him any other reaction. He was only trying to scare her. Marco seemed like the kind of monster who had refined tastes. There wasn’t a speck of dirt underneath his nails; he’d hardly soil himself by eating someone he considered inferior.
She hoped.
“Now we’ve extended our palates into the much more savory bits of life.” His gaze dropped to Hazel’s heaving chest, leaving no doubt as to his meaning. “But make no mistake, it’s just as brutal and savage.”
Her pulse picked up as Aaron’s face imposed over Marco’s. Monsters like them—Tainted or no—didn’t rape for sexual gratification. It was all about power. They loved the thrill of taking and conquering. He liked that she was fighting him. If she took the thrill away… maybe it would buy her some time.
Hazel swallowed down her revulsion and pressed her swollen cheek into his palm like a cat seeking affection. He froze and tipped his chin up, his fathomless gaze locking on her face. Closing her eyes, she nuzzled his wrist as her belly threatened to expel the tamales she’d eaten earlier.
“As much as I enjoy you on your knees where you belong, I do believe I hate the silence.”
She held her breath as the maniac produced a blade from beneath his shirt and ran the tip down her opposite jawline. Her throat bobbed as the knife slipped beneath her gag and hovered there, flush against the skin of her cheek.
“So much smooth skin, unblemished,” Marco murmured.
A hiss burst from between her lips when he jerked the blade, cutting the gag and her cheek. Using her tongue, Hazel spit the damp linen from her mouth and wiggled her jaw, conscious of the blood dripping down her cheek.
Marco cleaned his knife and shoved it into the waistband of his pants. It was so close. If she could get her hands on the blade… She forced her attention away from the weapon and peered up placidly at her captor.
“No screaming?” he crooned.
“No point.” Help was coming.
He smiled, the expression especially disturbing. The arrogant monster probably thought she was surrendering. Boy, was he wrong. She’d grown up with three brothers. The helpless, docile female persona worked every time.
“We need to move,” the burly man said.
“A moment more,” Marco said. “Trent. Stand by the entrance and keep look out.”
He bent at the waist as he dipped his finger into the blood on her cheek before inspecting the pad of his thumb as the burly man opened the door to the building, a small sliver of moonlight streaming in.
“You bleed crimson just like us.”
“I am nothing like you.”
The words left her tongue, and Hazel immediately snapped her mouth shut. Antagonizing the Tainted on the edge was not the best idea.
“Oh, kitty cat, when will you learn that you’re not better than us? You’re just as much an animal as I am. I just look the part.”
Marco leaned a little closer and moved his hand from her cheek to brush a sweaty strand of hair from her face. Only a few more inches closer and she’d be able to reach his knife. Hazel stretched her neck and pressed closer to him, the heat from his body touching hers. Hazel smiled and bumped her nose against his pointed one, drawing his attention to her face, not her hand.
“You’re right,” she whispered. “You bleed the same as I do.”
Then, Hazel lunged.
Fifteen
Hazel
It all happened so quickly.
One moment, she was attacking Marco, and the next, she soared through the air, blade in hand. Hazel had one clear second to recognize that she was in real danger of stabbing herself. She threw her right arm out to avoid landing on the dagger and painfully crashed to the floor, her body skidding across the dirt and into the tower of nightshades, potatoes raining down around her.
Dazedly, she blinked as Marco stomped toward her, his movements jerky. “You thought you could fool me? Me?” he shrieked.
She rolled onto her knees, her bones aching from all the abuse. Damn Tainted scum. Hazel held the knife out and glared at the creep. Did he have to be so dramatic? “What was that, drama queen?” she wheezed. “I couldn’t understand you past the screeching.”
He let out an inhuman scream and lunged for her. She braced herself and clung to the knife, her eyes closing at the last minute, but the blow didn’t come. Metal squealed and a roar echoed around the space. Her eyes snapped open at the terrifying sound.
Marco lay pinned beneath the metal door to her left, and his men had fanned out to face the doorway. A sob caught in her throat as she spotted the newcomer.
Noah. Never had she been so thankful to see another person in her entire life. His wings snapped open, making him look four times bigger. His whole form trembled.
He scanned the room, and his pitch-black gaze locked on her quivering figure. Emotions rippled across his face until they settled into one: rage.
“Death,” he whispered, all humanity bleeding from his gaze. “Death to all.”
The icy finger of fear ran down her spine, and the hair along her arms rose. The air charged with tension, violence, and anticipation—like right before lightning struck.
Noah bellowed and attacked.
Marco’s men converged on him, and she couldn’t take her gaze away. He ebbed and flowed like water, smooth and predatory. Her hands shook as she clambered to her feet, her legs quivering beneath her. She lurched away from the pile of potatoes, her eyes set on the doorway. In her condition, she wouldn’t be much help to fight at all. They needed help. It was one against five.
“The girl!” Marco yowled, trying to wiggle out from under the door.
Hazel froze, and her gaze clashed with the scarecrow-looking man as he disengaged from the fight.
Shoot.
She limped faster. He came at her, pale face contorted in hate. Hazel swiped her blade at him and backed up, her foot slipping on a blasted potato. A squeak escaped her as she landed on her ass and scooted back, her spine hitting the metal wall.
“Come here, kitty cat,” he crooned, his crooked teeth on display as he smiled nastily. “I just want to pet you.”
Her stomach rolled,
and she narrowed her eyes. There would be no petting.
Hazel lunged at him and gagged when her blow struck true. Her eyes widened in disgust when she pulled her blade from his leg, the sound wet and sticky. He howled and grabbed her by the back of her hair. Tears sprung to her eyes as he kicked her in the stomach. She doubled over, hardly noticing her stinging scalp while she tried to catch her breath.
“You like that?”
She saw stars as another kick landed on her left side. An unwilling scream burst from her mouth, and she blindly slashed at him when he began to drag her away from the door by her hair.
Glass crashed and heat rolled over her. The scarecrow man released her braid with a cry, covering his face. She scrambled away from the fire that appeared out of nowhere, her eyes watering from the smoke.
Where was Noah? They needed to get out of there.
“Get back here!” a voice snarled.
She twisted around to face the angular man, clutching her bloody knife with sweat-slickened fingers. He pulled his bow from his shoulder and lifted it above his head like he was going to club her, pale eyes filled with glee.
“Should have done this in the beginning.”
Death on wings appeared from the smoke above and yanked the man into the air. A horrible screech pierced the air, followed by shouts and a crack.
Her pulse roared in her ears as a body crashed to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. She placed a filthy hand over her mouth at the frozen expression of horror on the scarecrow man’s face, and she dry—heaved when she got a good look at the wound on his chest. It wasn’t a wound. It was a hole.
Noah had ripped his heart from his chest.
She gagged again and glanced away from the corpse to the crumpled door.
Marco was gone.
Hazel shivered and stiffened, her eyes desperately searching for her enemy. The fire and smoke wavered, giving her a brief glimpse to the other side of the room. Marco appeared on the hill of potatoes and attacked Noah from above, his blade slicing through part of Noah’s right wing. He roared and crashed to the ground.