The Hollow Gods

by A. J. Vrana

  The laughter came closer, rumbling from outside. When Kai looked up, he was no longer in the cabin. He was in a dark, white-walled hallway that framed a single door. Standing on four paws with his centre of gravity low to the ground, he could smell what was on the other side of that door, and he had little time to act.

  “You’ll never make it in time,” rumbled the voice of Abaddon. “You’re always too late.”

  From the corner of his eye, Kai saw Elle standing next to him, her face blank as she wrapped a hand around her own neck, fingers grazing the bruises left by her necklace. He’d failed her, but he wouldn’t fail Miya.

  Kai bolted down the hall and slammed his body against the door until the knob shook loose and he pawed his way inside. He saw Miya’s toes on the bed, curling into the mattress as she shrunk away from flaming, thorny vines that coiled around her body like snakes.

  Kai didn’t need to look for the attacker; he knew Abaddon was right next to him. With a feral snarl, he lunged at his doppelganger, knocking him to the ground and ripping into his throat. Even as blood spewed from the phantom’s neck and flooded from his mouth, he laughed maniacally, gurgling when he could no longer manage. Immune to being ripped to shreds by a wild predator, Abaddon spread his arms and stared at the ceiling as his ghostly form melted into the vinyl—a stain on what was once a pristine floor.

  Kai leapt onto the bed and wasted no time gnawing at the thorns until they snapped. When Miya’s bonds loosened, she looked up from her huddled form, her eyes widening and her face breaking into a bright smile.

  “You made it.”

  Of course, Kai thought. He’d heard her calling.

  Abaddon was wrong. This time, Kai made it in time.

  His curse was finally broken.

  Miya threw her arms around him, and he leaned into her embrace, willing his paws to be hands so he could hold her back.

  He knew it worked when he felt her skin against his—now warm to the touch as she emerged from the haunting. They were back in the cabin.

  Miya heaved for air as she pulled back, her face bewildered and glistening with sweat. “I’m back,” she wheezed, eyes darting around the cabin before settling on Kai.

  “You’re welcome.” He smirked—albeit weakly—and leaned over to kiss her on the forehead.

  She sucked in a sharp breath and twisted her wounded arm around to find the source of her pain. “What the hell happened to me?” she gaped at the splatters of red everywhere.

  Kai wanted to curl up with his shame. “I...didn’t know how to wake you,” he confessed.

  “So you bit me?” Miya inspected the lacerations, a cocktail of fascination, disbelief, and ire pouring over her face. “What if it gets infected?”

  Kai sheepishly passed her his whisky. “This’ll kill just about anything.”

  “If I’m lucky,” she groaned and pulled out the cork, then poured the liquor over the wound. She sucked on her teeth as it burned.

  “Cat bites are worse,” he mumbled and took back the bottle. “You’ll probably be fine.”

  She cast him a dangerous look, everything from anger to mistrust working through her face until she slumped her shoulders and sighed. “I know you were just trying to help. You did save my life.”

  Kai chuckled and wiped a speck of blood from her neck with his thumb. “Could have done it without the horror aesthetic.”

  Miya tugged on her shirt and stared down the bloody tie-dye. “Well, this is ruined.” Shuffling to a clean spot on the bed, she began to strip down, all sense of propriety abandoned with Abaddon’s phantom corpse.

  Not that Kai minded. He had no qualms enjoying the show, even if every inch of her was sticky with blood and sweat. His eyes trailed over her modest breasts, down the length of her torso, and over the curve of her hips as she wiggled out of her jeans. A playing card fell from the back pocket—a momentary distraction from the appealing view.

  Miya picked up the bloodied card and turned it over. “King of spades,” she murmured, then showed Kai. “It’s not just Abaddon. I think it also represents you.”

  He smiled wryly. “Maybe that’s how I got to the other side. Blood. And your card sorcery.”

  Miya fixated on the card. “You might be right.”

  Kai wasn’t in the mood for sobering discussions about blood magic. He crawled onto the bed, plucked the card from her fingers, and tossed it to the nightstand. The fear had drained from his body, but the adrenaline hadn’t—at least not yet—and his patience was worn to the bone. Placing his hands on either side of her, Kai pushed Miya to the wall, desire overpowering restraint as he caught her lips in a hungry kiss. He was done being playful and tired of acting aloof. The moment he smelled her arousal, felt her reciprocity, he pushed away the sullied sheets and dragged her under him. Miya slinked her arms around his neck, wrapped her legs around his thighs, and pushed her hips into his, her breath hot against his ear.

  They were both exhausted and bloodied, their inhibitions stripped away by the raw emotion pulsing between them.

  Words were not needed, but they both knew the test run was over.

  38

  Mason

  Mason slipped in and out of consciousness. A woman’s voice echoed through his mind, incomprehensible but comforting. He knew this woman; he knew they’d met before. It wasn’t Annabelle or any of the villagers he’d come across. No, this voice belonged to an outsider. At one point, he heard her arguing with someone—a man.

  She leaned close and whispered something in Mason’s ear. He didn’t understand what she was saying; he only understood that it was soothing.

  Mason heard the man storm out, followed by another presence.

  The woman’s voice grew murky. It was like sinking underwater. Everything from the surface grew dimmer until finally, it all went black.

  When Mason awoke, his eyesight was blurry. He could tell from the size and shape of the room and the grimy wooden paneling that he was neither at Annabelle’s farm nor at the church. A pillow was tucked behind his head, and a scratchy wool blanket covered his legs and stomach. Taking a deep breath, the smell of wet lumber, dust, and wildlife filled his nostrils. Mason surmised he was in the woods, and this cabin must’ve been used by the villagers while they were on their search. He remembered blacking out—the reasons for which were unclear to him—but he figured someone found him and brought him here.

  Mason rubbed his eyes, his surroundings coming into focus when he opened them again. The cabin was barren, save for the futon under him, a small nightstand, and a wooden table accompanied by two chairs. There was a small kitchenette with no appliances—just a few cupboards and a countertop with a portable element.

  Sitting up slowly, Mason took his time adjusting. His legs were wobbly, but after giving them a good shake, he was able to stand and move around. The sun was setting. How long had he been out?

  His memories of the previous night were like a dream—a vague, evanescent memory—but they’d felt far too real. There was the willow, the image of a girl, and then Gavran.

  He’d also dropped the dream stone during the ordeal. After frantically patting down his pockets—all of which were now empty—Mason spun around to find the purple labradorite resting on the nightstand.

  He didn’t remember it being there when he first woke up.

  Scooting over, he picked up the rock and held it up to the light as if to authenticate it. All the patterns were there, and he could feel the faint but familiar scratch marks with his thumb. Sighing heavily, Mason slipped the stone back into his pocket, wondering why he’d grown so attached to it. Perhaps it did help anchor him.

  He could hear murmurs outside—voices speaking to each other around the periphery of the cabin. They sounded completely human, and in that moment, nothing could have made Mason happier. He figured they were volunteers who’d stayed behind to care for him. It was embarrassing, and he would likely have to explain himself—who he was and what he was doing there—but he was too grateful to feel bashful about it
now.

  There was still a shred of humanity left in this forsaken labyrinth, and it was waiting for him outside.

  39

  Kai

  Kai tugged on the knot to make sure it was secure. A slow grin spread over his face; he’d been rewarded with a new toy after his little adventure, and he was eager to test it out.

  “Seriously, where did you get that?” Miya eyed the hammock suspiciously. She’d conked out pretty hard after their fun the previous night, though Kai reckoned her exhaustion also had something to do with the otherworldly shenanigans. Now well into the following day, she seemed intent to stick around even as the sky darkened. Time flew by when they were together, and he had to admit...it was nice.

  “Stole it from some campers while you drooled on my pillow.” He flashed her a devilish grin, tying another knot. He’d gone to scavenge for food and came upon a campsite complete with stale burgers, beer, and the hammock.

  Kai leapt into the canvas net, tensing up just in case it collapsed. “Safe.”

  “I’m not sleeping in that,” she told him, taking a step back as he pouted.

  “Why not?” He snatched her wrist and tugged her towards him. “It’s not like we’re going to have sex in it.”

  “Oh, you’ve considered it.”

  “Crossed my mind.” He smirked. “But then I realized you’d bitch about the rope burn.”

  “Wow, I’m such a buzzkill,” she laughed, then crawled onto the hammock next to him.

  “So,” Kai prodded her with his elbow, “how was it?”

  “How was what?” She batted her eyelashes, feigning innocence.

  Kai arched a brow, scantly amused by the fib. “Has the lady already forgotten her deflowering?”

  “Oh, that!” She squirmed and smiled sheepishly. “It was fine.”

  His mouth dropped open, every muscle taut as her words sunk in. “Fine?”

  Miya shrugged. “Can’t say I feel any different. The world is still the world, and the earth hasn’t shattered beneath my feet or anything.”

  Kai eased back and chuckled. “I did say it wasn’t a big deal.” His eyes narrowed at a passing cloud. “Really, though, just fine?”

  He could hear her pulse thundering under her skin like a war drum. She was grinning when he glanced over, her cheeks ablaze as she reached over and patted him on the crotch. “You were magnificent,” she patronized.

  Kai hacked on a snort and burst into maniacal laughter. “Say whatever you want, Lambchop. That tomato you call a face doesn’t lie.”

  “Well, I guess you don’t need my validation, then,” she shot back, her eyes sparkling with glee.

  “Touché,” he grumbled his resignation.

  She shuddered against his arm, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth. “I’m going to freeze out here.”

  Kai reached under the hammock and grabbed the wool blanket Ama left them. She’d flown in like a homing missile after sensing Miya’s distress—though she arrived pretty late to the party and well after the fireworks. Of course, that didn’t stop her from casting judgemental glares after seeing the literal bloody mess Kai made. Fearing his incompetence, she supplied them with blankets and an ointment for Miya’s wound.

  Kai spread the quilt. “If you want someone to blame, blame that shit-nugget inside.”

  “The unconscious guy you found while you were robbing that campsite? I’ve seen him before at the market.” Pulling the quilt up to her chin, she curled up against his side like a cat. “He’s a tourist.”

  “I remember his scent from the hospital.” Kai lifted his arm so she could get comfortable. “Would have left him to the coyotes, but I want to know why he’s following me. Ama thinks he’ll wake up soon, so she fucked off and left him with us.”

  “Wait—you were in the hospital?”

  “Long story,” he said. “Got hit by a bus.”

  “What! How are you—” She gestured over his body.

  “I heal freakishly fast. Consider it one of my perks.” He winked.

  “And you never thought to tell me!” She threw an arm up and let it fall limply at her side. “Fine then. Can I just stab you when you’re evasive and insufferable?”

  Kai leaned close and scrutinized her. “Between the two of us, I thought you would have healthier conflict resolution skills.”

  “Not under your influence,” she puffed.

  Kai opened his mouth to respond when the cabin door swung open, and out came the shit-nugget. He looked hungover, squinting at the sky like he’d just seen Jesus. Kafka circled overhead, squawking like a personal alarm system. Kai was aware this fool had been in his hospital room, rummaging through his things while he pretended to be unconscious. Survival instincts told him this man was dangerous; not because he meant to be, but because he was a moron. He considered snapping his neck at the first opportunity, but something told him his teething baby lioness wouldn’t be pleased. Kai begrudgingly accepted that he wanted to see more of her, and murder wouldn’t help his chances. He watched as their intruder stumbled out in search of salvation.

  “Should we get his attention?” Miya whispered.

  “Naw,” Kai grinned. “Let him find his own way.” He dropped his head back against the hammock, closing his eyes and enjoying the cool breeze while his ears remained attuned to the nearby irritant.

  The stranger wandered up to them and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, could you tell me where—” he stopped mid-sentence, his heart pounding like a greyhound’s feet on tarmac.

  When Kai opened his eyes, the man’s mouth was agape, his bloodshot eyes like saucers as he gawked at the pair in the hammock. The colour was fast draining from his face, his expression stupefied.

  “It’s you!” He pointed an accusatory finger at Kai. “The man with wolf’s blood.”

  Miya pushed herself up on her elbows and peered at him. Feeling protective, Kai too sat up, his nonchalance falling away.

  “Are you Kai Donovan?” the intruder asked pointedly, his shock morphing into something sharper. Something aggressive.

  “Who’s asking?” Kai regarded him through slit eyes.

  A relieved smile spread over the man’s face, and he extended a hand. “Mason Evans.”

  Kai ignored the gesture. Handshakes always came from people who wanted something. He fixed a cold stare on Evans’s face. “Your name doesn’t mean anything to me.”

  “Of course,” the man withdrew his hand with a tepid smile. “I’ve been looking for you. Your blood has to be the stuff of miracles.”

  “Did you stalk me into the woods?” Kai pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “You’re worse than that fucking tree.”

  Evans shook his head. “I’m not a stalker. I just didn’t expect to run into you here.” He paused when he noticed Miya shackling Kai to the hammock, his face exploding into a mural of squirrelly emotions.

  “I remember you from the market.” He sounded sure of himself, turning his finger at her like a laser-pointer. “You’re the girl they’re looking for. The girl from the village.”

  She loosened her grip on Kai’s arm. “They?”

  “The villagers,” he began, “They’ve been looking for you. You’ve been gone for almost five days.”

  Kai heard her heart pattering against her ribs. She was gripping hard again, squeezing the blood right out of his wrist.

  “F-five days? That’s not possible—it’s only been a day and a half! Two at most!” She threw the blankets off her legs. “There’s no way—”

  “Time works differently here,” Kai broke in, placing a hand on her knee. “It’s happened to me, too.”

  “Listen,” Evans raised both hands as if he were calming a child. “The villagers are looking for you. They’re on some witch hunt. They think you’ve been kidnapped and they’re ready to burn down the whole forest to find you. You know what happened to Elle Robinson, right?”

  “Why would you go with them?” Miya asked. “You’re not from here, so why would you go along with it? Co
uldn’t you stop them?”

  “No way!” he exclaimed. “They would have lynched me. I came here to warn you!”

  Kai felt his blood boil. He knew they were referring to the legend. Every time one of the girls went missing, the villagers blamed their bedtime stories. Now they were trampling through his home, hunting their boogeyman.

  Evans sighed. “It sounded insane—everything people here believe. But I had to know if it was true,” he admitted. “There must be a reason for this.”

  He spoke like a man with blinders on. Whatever his goal, Kai could smell he was trouble.

  “That’s cute, but what exactly do you want from me?” He grunted.

  “Your blood.” Mason Evans didn’t hesitate as he looked Kai straight in the eye. “I want to study it.”

  “Why?” Kai growled.

  “You survived what should have been a fatal accident—without any treatment. If there’s something in your DNA that helps you heal, you could save countless lives.”

  “What are you? Some kind of mad scientist?”

  “I’m an oncologist,” he replied. “I know you probably don’t care, but I’ve been through too much to mince words.”

  Miya frowned, eyeing him suspiciously. “If you’re a doctor, why are you here? Shouldn’t you be in some big research hospital at a university or something?”

  He turned to her, the lines in his smile bleeding a sickening nostalgia. Kai hated sentimentality, and this guy was constipated with it. “I came here to get away from something. A patient of mine. She died before her time, and it was my fault. I came here to forget about it. But then I heard about the Dreamwalker, the willow,” he returned to Kai, “and then you.”

  “Wait, back up,” the little lioness interjected. “You’ve been running around with these lunatics to stalk Kai because you want his blood?”

  Evans’s mouth popped open, his face scrunching in displeasure. “As I said, I came here to save you.”

  Kai snorted. Was he expecting thanks?