by J. Z. Foster
“No.” Richard shook his head and wiped away more blood. He grunted from the pain now as he was coming down from the adrenaline. “This friggin’ asshole was clawing me up!” Richard bit his lip and did his best to resist kicking dirt into the crow’s eyes.
Beth pulled a napkin out of her bag and started to wipe Richard’s bloody forehead. He grunted from the pain as she touched the injured spots on his head.
Why the hell do I keep doing this? I don’t know what I’m doing.
“You’re coming out a little worse for wear, Richard. Thank God you know what you’re doing.” Beth said, patting away the grime. “Not sure what we’d do if we lost you.” Beth gave him another smile that warmed his soul, cooling the fire in his blood.
Richard’s shoulders slumped and he smiled back, letting her wipe the rest of the blood away.
Because I’m the only one that can.
The wight cleared its throat. “Previously, we mentioned a feast?”
Richard sat, silently considering for a moment. Thoughts of the bird ripped into pieces definitely seemed satisfying, but they needed answers. They still needed to find the witch.
I’d love to see that thing get ripped up right now.
“Well?” The wight prompted again.
“I’m thinking!” Richard shouted back.
Chapter 16
“You’re kidding me, boy,” Minges snorted. “You just happened to figure out what it was to take that big fella outta a dream and into reality, eh? Must have a whole host of things in that purse of yours.”
Richard ignored his condescending tone. “I didn’t know for sure it’d work. I just had to guess. I didn’t even know how to get back into my body. It was the wight—he has a foot in our world and a foot in the other it seems.” Richard bobbed his head. “He did seem spooked the moment I began the ritual.”
Minges rubbed his fingers over his graying beard, coolly inspecting Richard. “Yeah, he just went on ahead and saved your ass, eh?”
“Yeah, he did. I don’t know what I could have done without him. Black leaf and salt will force you awake, throw the soul back into the body, but someone else had to do it. I didn’t even know I was going to be in a projection.” Richard’s eyes flicked away for a moment. “Hey, by the way, you can’t be a king if someone else is controlling you, right? Wouldn’t it be a duke or something? Pretty sure he should be The Crooked Duke.”
“And you just knew that this would pull the crow out too?”
“Well, I don’t really know anything. I have suspicions and I can guess. If he would have stayed in there and not followed me out, that’d have been just as fine.” Richard sighed. “I suspect the crow is made of the same stuff the wight is, half here and half not. I think, when he had hold of me, I pulled him partly into this world. I don’t really know though, it’s only a theory. I think that whole place was a visual representation of what is happening here. It was snowing there, and it’s getting bitterly cold here. And the trees just looked wrong. It’s the corruption—it’s more obvious there than it is here.”
“Yeah, I bet.” Minges looked askance at Richard. “Or maybe you were still coming down from that tar.”
Richard sighed. “Well, I had to tell Beth and Ted what happened. That I wasn’t able to see the witch, but, instead, got chased by that damn thing. Beth said she thought she remembered seeing a crow following us back at the house, in the woods. I don’t know if that was him or not. Would he even need to follow us physically like that?”
“What’d you do with this ol’ ‘king’ that you had wrapped up and bleeding? You beat his brains in too?”
“No!” Richard shot back. “I mean, sure, we didn’t just let him go. How could we? But we didn’t beat him to death or anything.”
“Why am I thinking you are avoiding telling me you did something else just as bad? Is it because you did do something else just as bad?”
“Well, I mean, I had used up a lot of my components at that point. And you know what’s something else I noticed? Those feathers weren’t burning up here in our world like they were in his. I think there’s something there, so I asked Ted to pick them all up. I got dozens of them, seriously. And we weren’t really worried about the guy bleeding out. I mean, those kinds of things?” Richard snorted a laugh. “We’re not so lucky. You need some weirdo magic to mess around with those kinds of things; they don’t die as easily as just bleeding out.” Richard plastered a smile on his face.
Minges just gave him a dull stare. “Yeah? And?”
“Well.” Richard folded his hands in front of him, lacing his fingers together to appear as diplomatic as possible. “I might have let the wight eat his arm.”
The lawyer’s eyes went wide. “You people were eating pieces off of something?” He scooted his chair a foot back. “You were eating people?”
“No, no! I wasn’t eating anyone! The wight was!” Richard nodded as if that made it better. “Besides, the arm was already torn off anyway. But seriously, though? He was a total dick!”
“By God, son! What’d you do with the rest of him?”
“Well, we still needed to find the witch, and we wanted to milk what we could from the crow.”
“Now see, I’m not sure when I should be taking you figuratively or literally with the way you’re spouting shit. So when you say milk him…” Minges trailed off and tipped his chin down.
“What? No! You can’t milk a crow! Wait, you can’t milk a crow, right?”
“Wouldn’t have put it past you to try.” Minges let out a breath. “Glad we got that behind us, though. So we got us a one-armed, one-winged, six-foot crow-man writhing on a dirt road right now as your monster buddy has ’em gagged, that right?”
Richard considered and nodded his head. “Yeah, pretty much, I guess.”
“Okay, so here’s my next question: What the hell do you ask a one-armed, one-winged, six-foot crow-man that’s gagged by a monster? What use could something like that have to you?”
“The witch, of course! He’s his damn herald, right? He should know more than a bit about him. And Beth got him ready to pour it all out.”
Ted mouthed some curse words as he picked up feathers from the ground. A trail of them led toward the front of the van, while several of them laid around the torn arm-wing that sat a few feet away.
“Hmmm.” Ted picked up a stick he found in the ditch at the side of the road. He prodded the torn limb. “Is that thing going to bleed out with only one arm?”
Beth had wiped away nearly all the blood from Richard’s head. The wound wasn’t as bad as he thought. He might need stitches later, but the bleeding in his scalp had stopped after several minutes of Beth’s attention.
“I don’t think so, right, Richard?” Beth said with a half-glance to the wing and then to the bird. “These things don’t seem to bleed out ever. It looks like it’s already stopping.”
True enough, the bird seemed to be relatively fine under the wight’s grasp; its stump had even stopped bleeding.
“Yeah. I guess so,” said Richard.
“These things are total shits,” Ted said with a shake of his head. “Won’t even die like normal people.”
The crow fought weakly against the hold, but the wight’s powerful form had little trouble keeping it pinned. “Do we have need of this prisoner or should the feast begin?” The wight was growing impatient.
“Hold on, I’m still thinking.” Richard bit his lip. “This guy was going to rip my tongue out and enslave me or something!” Richard shuddered. “Man, I freaking knew guys like him back in high school.”
“You knew guys that were trying to enslave you back in high school?” Ted snorted before he turned his attention back to the wing. “This damn thing is nasty. Look at that.” Ted pushed the feathers away from its arm and revealed a clawed hand. “Looks almost human, except for that demon-skin and those claws. Hey, thanks for taking this one alone, buddy. This thing looks... shit!” The dismembered arm’s hand began to open and close into a fist.
Ted instinctively hit it with the stick until it stopped moving. “What are we going to do with this nasty thing?”
The wight’s eyes perked wide again in anticipation.
“Ow!” Richard grunted as Beth wiped some dried blood away. “Well, if he can stop being such a dick, we can try talking to him.” He scowled at the crow, who motioned for the wight to let him speak.
The monster groaned but eased his grip around the crow’s beak. The moment he did, it began to squawk curses at the wight. “Unhand me! You are beneath me, apostate! You—”
“Gag him,” Richard said. The wight closed its hands around the beak again, clenching it tight enough that the crow couldn’t move. “Eat his arm too, but save me the feathers.”
A sickening smile ripped across the wight’s face. It pinned the crow’s face to the ground with its knee and stretched its long arm out to grab the meat.
The crow tried to hiss and fight back, but it didn’t have the strength to put up any resistance. The wight snatched the limb and shoveled the meat into its mouth. This close, and in the headlights of the van, it was clear how cruel and hideous a thing the wight’s mouth was. Each tooth seemed to move on its own, each sawing away pieces of meat as it came in. The wight ate loudly, sucking away the flesh with selfish desire. Richard had to look away before it turned his stomach.
“For fuck’s sake!” Ted turned around and looked like he might gag.
“Could you at least keep your mouth closed while you chew?” Beth shot at the wight. “What was the point of that, Richard?”
Richard swallowed what might have been a bit of vomit. “Well, I think it could have reattached the arm, but I wanted it to know I was serious. I didn’t think he’d eat the whole thing in a few seconds!”
“For shit’s sake, Richard, he ate dozens of those pig monsters even when he thought they tasted terrible!” Ted spat. “He’d probably eat that entire crow too and then want to find out if it had a brother.”
Beth stepped closer to look at the crow. “You hear what they’re saying? He’ll eat you as sickeningly as he ate that arm. Did you see the way his teeth cut through it? Looked pretty painful, though it’d be over quick. So I think you need to be a bit more easygoing with our friend here, especially after what you tried to do to him.”
Richard snorted a laugh. “Yeah, you’ll be King of the Lower Intestine!”
“You already made that joke.” Ted said as he rubbed his nose.
The lids on the crow’s eyes had stretched wide enough that it looked like the black pearls might fall out. With the crow’s beak pinched shut, it couldn’t say anything, but it didn’t have to—its eyes said the world.
Ted was focused on the bird-man, visibly on edge. His hands were curled into fists, and his jaw was tightly shut. Likewise, Beth seemed to have a cooler head, but it seemed like there was something beneath it. Richard could tell by the way one foot was pulled back and her body angled just slightly, as if she was ready to draw back if she had to. She was scared, but she was there to face it and talk with it, this thing from the abyss, that for all she knew could eat her very essence.
Richard was scared too, but it wasn’t the same. He knew that, somehow. It wasn’t that this spirit-walking, man-sized crow frightened him, it was just that it had claws and things that cut. This new world, new realm of existence, didn’t frighten him. Richard was scared of a lot of things, but not this. Bugs made his skin crawl and if a woman gave him a second glance, he’d go mute. But he felt oddly at peace with where he was now.
“Now listen, crow.” Beth planted her foot forward and leaned down to look it in the eyes. “We’ve been cut, chased, bludgeoned, and nearly eaten enough times today. You can keep quiet and fill the wight’s belly, or you can answer our questions and go back into your world to leave us alone. You get me?”
Richard limped to stand next to Beth, the ache in his leg growing. He motioned for the wight to ease its grip. “Let’s hear what he has to say.”
The wight’s long fingers curled away and the crow’s beak stretched for a moment—the wight had probably been holding it too tight. Its black, scaly tongue whipped about its mouth as it spoke. “How can I know you won’t eat me anyway? I can’t get back into my world without magic, and it’ll take a long time for my arm to grow back.”
“The fucking arm can grow back?” Ted scoffed behind them. “Of course the damn thing grows back. Obviously.”
“We’ve got the wight with us.” Beth said, taking the initiative again. “Did you know that we traded with a daeva for information? Why would we bother with you? If you really have been watching us, you’d know we’d just leave you alone. You can be off to do whatever it is a crow would do.”
The black pearls shifted in the crow’s sockets, its gaze tracing a line between each of them, weighing them. “I was not a slave like the wight or the daeva. I served one more powerful than I because it was my pleasure to be in his servitude and I received ample rewards and freedoms for my service.” The black orbs came to a rest on Richard, and pierced him with its gaze. “I would sooner fill this one than betray my lord. I would cast down my life to inflict upon you what harm I would. But I won’t.” It gasped as the wight tightened its grip.
“No wait, let’s hear what he has to say,” said Richard.
It groaned weakly as the wight’s grip eased. “I’ll tell you how to find him. I’ll tell you where to look because my master would want it.” A caw scratched from its throat as it shifted its head to the side to stare at Richard with one eye. “He knows your blood. He knows your name and he knows you have struck him. You will not rejoice for this wound, but cry because of it. For, with it, you roused his anger. He is an ageless thing! His power is dark and strong!”
Another caw ripped from its throat and echoed through the trees. It reminded Richard that there were things in the woods, things in the dark that he should fear.
Is it doing something?
“Just tell us how to find him then!” Richard yelled.
“My wings were true in my world; my feathers gave me flight there and guided me. There are not many places in that world, but one. You ran there as if you could go from here to there, but there is nothing in between this and that—there is only the between. A shade of my blood and a feather to finish will guide you to him. Wait for him if you would. Seek refuge in your shelters, arm yourselves for war. It means nothing! He hunts you now, little witch. He beckons you!”
“Cries of the defeated!” the wight said though a pointed grin.
Richard wished that the wight were correct, but something told him otherwise. A creep in his bones that spoke, instincts from the lizard brain, or a sixth sense he never knew he had before this night. There was something in the air, eyes that were watching him, even as the herald was imprisoned in front of him, like invisible fingers that ran up his back and down his arm to pull at his fingertips, welcoming him in.
“Your irritations have lasted long enough. But seek him if you would, for my master has no fear of you! Be quick, so that this night may finish. Be quick, so that—”
The feeling had pulled Richard too close to his captive. The crow whipped its hand free and slashed a claw at him, catching him across the cheek. The tip of it was enough to cut his flesh and draw blood, but not enough to end him. The wight shoved down with its arms, pushing the bird and its frail body against the ground. Richard heard its hollow bones crack and break nearly all at once. Like a starved wolf, the wight lurched upon the broken mess and ripped bloody chunks to gorge upon.
The crow tried to caw again—perhaps one fleeting defiant laugh in the face of death—but whatever it had intended, it turned quickly into a horrible, suffering cry. Richard froze in place, and it wasn’t until Beth pulled at him that he could look away. Another memory from the night, more fuel for the nightmares that were sure to come.
The screams didn’t last long after that.
Chapter 17
“The hell you say?” Minges spat. “You said you didn’t eat h
im!”
“No, no, no.” Richard rubbed a sore spot on his head. “I said, I didn’t eat him!”
Rising to his feet, Minges scoffed. His thick fingers snatched up his paper cup as he paced back and forth, turning on his heels. “No, this won’t do. There’s someone out there that your people ate. Who the hell do you think that actually was? My God, did you people snatch someone out of their truck?” He ran a hand over his bald scalp and shook his head. “You got us right up a shitter, son.”
Richard gulped down the lump in his throat just as the doubt crept in. He had been fighting the idea the whole time, but then where was that witch? It should have come for him by now, but it’d been several hours and there was still no sign of it. Hadn’t he been attacked at every turn? Hadn’t he been assailed with each step by the wicked things that had a taste for men? What if Minges was right and it was all a figment of his imagination? What if there is real blood on his hands…
No. He’s wrong. God, I can’t crack. I can’t break. I can’t let it win. God, oh please God, let it all not have been fake.
Something flicked within his mind’s eye and horror crept in. Beth’s face, broken and bleeding, a child dead at the library, the shriek of a dying cat as he clubbed it with hands that could be no one’s but his own. Suddenly, his own thoughts were suspect, and only one thing was certain:
Beth is dead.
His lungs labored for breath. He didn’t know what was true; there had been too many lies, too many illusions. He couldn’t be sure. But, just as the ghost had taken Ted, the witch might have taken him. Might have made him kill.
If Beth is dead, then it’s still out there. Even if I’m sitting here, I need to do what I can. I need to clear my head and get my story out there. Beth wouldn’t want this to be in vain.
“God, I’m feeling so damn foggy right now.” Richard clenched his eyelids shut hard enough that it hurt. “I just need you to listen to me. I need you to listen and stop telling me it was my fault. I need this all to have been for something.”