Beneath Blood and Bone

by Madeline Sheehan

  Stopping, I turned and folded my arms across my chest.

  “Jesus, Squirrel.” I sighed heavily. “You hungry or what?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Autumn

  Was I hungry?

  Was he insane? I was starving.

  I had barely eaten a thing since I’d been behind these gates. Eagle always forgot to feed me, and himself too, I suspected. Then there were the occasions when he would throw me his scraps as if I were a stray cat, but other than that one time where he had shared a full animal with me, I only fed on his leftovers.

  And now here he was, staring at me with those fathomless black eyes of his, glaring at me as if he were angry. But his arms were folded across his chest as if . . . as if he were threatened by me? By me, who’d proven time and time again I was no match for him. And now he was asking if I was hungry?

  “I’m starving,” I mumbled. “You don’t feed me enough.”

  Shaking his head, he muttered something I couldn’t quite make out. I stepped closer to him, straining to hear, when his head snapped up. “Get moving,” he ground out, then turned and stormed off.

  I lurched forward, stumbling quickly after him. Eventually I caught up to him and fell in step beside him. He cut his eyes in my direction, but didn’t slow his pace.

  As difficult as it was, his legs being much longer than mine, I managed to keep up, while trying to stop my gaze from flitting to the looming buildings. But I couldn’t seem to help myself; my eyes were drawn to check out each dark window. Eagle had said it was safe for me now, and I desperately wanted to believe him, but I knew firsthand that not everyone here deserved my trust. Slowing my breathing, trying to calm myself, I stayed by Eagle’s side, sticking close to him like a shadow.

  As the grass came to an end and the first pathway between two large buildings beckoned us into the shade, the calm I was trying to feign quickly unraveled.

  The buildings were tall and imposing, towering on either side of us. Or maybe, like a high school student paying a visit to their elementary school and feeling suddenly too large, I was experiencing the same sort of disorientation. I just hadn’t been around real structures in far too long, and they felt too foreign.

  Furthermore, some of them didn’t look safe, as if they would blow over if there was a bad enough storm. Others, seeming more stable, were covered in graffiti, pink and blue scribbles scrawled across the lower half of the concrete walls. It was startling to see that much vivid color, so unexpected amongst the dull browns and grays, but it was kind of pretty. Normally that would scare me, the color, but this time it didn’t.

  My eyes traced over the drawings, following the patterns as I recited the names of the colors in my head. Red, blue, pink, purple, green, and yellow. Suddenly I found the smallest of smiles lifting the corners of my lips. I’d loved colors. Autumn had loved color; her room had been filled with many of them, so vibrant and bright.

  A particularly intriguing mess of colors snagged my gaze, and as I turned to look closer at it, I found Eagle glancing down at me. My smile instantly fell in the face of his scowl.

  Turning forward, I dropped my gaze to my feet and to Eagle’s feet beside me. Our steps were in perfect sync with each other, yet his feet were huge and mine were small. His boots were big and black and strong, but my sneakers were thin, ratty, and uncomfortable. His were sturdy while mine were weak. I wanted sturdy boots—no, I wanted to be sturdy again, I realized as the full force of the revelation hit me.

  I wanted to be sturdy again. I was sturdy outside these gates; I should be sturdy within them.

  With each step we took, the distant noises grew. The faint sounds of people talking, walking, and laughing increased to a noisy clatter inside my head, a low buzzing at the base of my skull. My heart, already beating erratically, began thumping wildly inside my chest. Worse, I could now feel Eagle’s stare boring down on me. It was a recipe for a disaster, for me to lose it entirely, to scream and run, and to lash out at anyone who tried to stop me.

  But I had nowhere to go and no one else to trust. Only him.

  So I stayed the path, attempting to breathe through my panic, keeping in pace with Eagle, listening only to the sound of our footsteps. Because I could do this. I could do this.

  And then it was there. The awareness hit me with such brutality, it made my eyes water and my body convulse.

  People. So many people, and all the smells that came with them.

  Food, both raw and cooked. Sweat and filth. So many smells, so many people, too many . . . too many . . .

  I slammed to a stop as I crashed into Eagle. Startled, I jumped back a step, trembling so hard I nearly stumbled.

  Frowning down at me, he grunted something incomprehensible. Then, much to my horror, he began walking again.

  “W-wait.” The words left me in a terrified whisper. “Eagle.”

  His name fell from my lips almost silently, but somehow he heard me. Stopping dead in his tracks, he waited a moment before turning around, as if he needed time to collect the anger that brewed inside him. Releasing a heavy breath, he turned to face me.

  “What?” He frowned as he spoke, the heavy lines in his face accentuating his too-fierce features, causing him to appear even more frightening than usual. But his tone wasn’t harsh; at least, not as harsh as I knew it could be.

  Realizing he wasn’t going to lash out at me, I forced myself to take a cautious step forward and reach for his hand. I needed his strength, I needed him to help me become sturdy again.

  His gaze flicked down to my hand reaching for his, and I watched as his fingers twitched with irritation. Slowly, cautiously, I slid my hand into his and entwined our fingers.

  He didn’t readily take hold of my hand. Instead he continued staring at me, his nostrils flaring. A muscle in his jaw began to twitch as he clenched his teeth. It was if I’d burned him or stabbed him, the way he was reacting to my hand in his. It wasn’t just discomfort I could see flitting rapidly across his strained features, it was pain.

  But I wasn’t going to let go. I couldn’t let go. If he meant to lead me toward those smells and those sounds, I needed something to ground me, to keep me from losing this tenuous grasp I had on my new reality.

  We were at an impasse, him and me. I couldn’t take another step without his hand in mine, and he hated my hand in his. Yet he also hated having to constantly care for me, not that he was any good at it to begin with.

  He glared at me, and then flicked his gaze to our joined hands. “This isn’t gonna become a habit, is it?”

  I could only stare up at him, too wound up and too anxious to respond. Shaking his head, he let out an angry breath and then clamped his hand around mine. Tightly. A little too tightly.

  The bones in my fingers strained against his crushing grip, yet I wasn’t complaining. His large hand, his warmth, even the ache he was causing in my hand, it was all a welcome distraction from the noise all around us, and the smells that were threatening to send me over the edge of sanity.

  Grunting again, he started walking, this time dragging me along beside him, and leaving me no choice but to work twice as hard to keep up with him. As the narrow path we were on began to end, opening up into a small square, a wave of dizziness accompanied by nausea barreled through me, leaving me both breathless and spinning. Every sound, every sight, every smell unfolded before me, causing me to try to dig my heels into the concrete and squeeze my eyes shut.

  I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t.

  But I was hungry. I wanted to eat. I needed food.

  I opened my eyes and looked up at Eagle. Strong and sturdy, he was staring down at me, waiting.

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Then let’s go.”

  Tugging me forward, he pulled me through a crowd of people, and I hated it. I hated that they were so close to me, their hands grazing over me discreetly, their curious stares moving from Eagle to me and back again. He pulled me through the tightest pathways, t
hrough the most crowded areas, passing food stall after food stall and yet not stopping, until I was whimpering and wanting to cry from hunger and from the many emotions swarming through me.

  But I refused to cry. Instead, I lifted my chin and clung to his hand as we forged ahead.

  When we finally came to a stop at a quiet corner, I took a shaky breath, allowing the mounting tremor to work its way through my body. Glancing up, I found Eagle watching me.

  “Why didn’t you stop for the food?” I mumbled, needing to say something, anything at all. Because right now, I was feeling as if my mind was on the brink of fracturing into a thousand pieces.

  He ran his free hand over his beard as he stared at me. “They only sell rat and other shit there,” he eventually said with a strange look on his face.

  I looked at him curiously. I had eaten rat before and it tasted fine, good even if it was cooked, maybe even delicious compared to some of the things I’d been forced to eat at times.

  “No rat,” he said as he dragged me around a corner and into the wide opening of a cement structure.

  It was dark inside, and my eyes hadn’t had enough time to adjust before Eagle was tugging me up a set of stairs. I stumbled on the first step, and my face smacked into his back. He cursed angrily but slowed his steps, walking more carefully now.

  At the top of the stairs, small fires lit inside metal drums lined the corridor, making it easier for me to see where I was going. Thick concrete pillars held up the ceiling throughout the open space, making me wonder if this place might have once been used as a small parking garage. Several cars were set up on the perimeter of the open area, fires burning in the empty cavities where their engines used to be. Over the fires were grill-like grates with food cooking on top.

  Eagle headed toward the nearest grill, looked over the offerings, and then pulled me away. I looked over my shoulder longingly at the slow-cooking rats, my mouth watering at the sight of their plump bodies.

  “Keep moving,” he growled, tugging on my arm.

  At the next car, he skimmed over the cooking food before bothering to greet the man tending the grill. He was tall and thin, his skin shiny and pockmarked.

  “What can I get you today, E?” the man said, rubbing his hands together, a greedy smile on his face.

  “I placed my order with you a fucking week ago, Denny.” Eagle looked down at the grill again, his eyes traveling over the roasting bodies of lizards and snakes. “And this ain’t it.”

  Denny held up his grease-stained hands in innocent surrender. “Don’t go crazy on me, man. I got exactly what you wanted. Took a while for my guys to find everything you asked for.” Turning, he pulled open the driver’s side door and disappeared inside.

  “Take whatever you want,” Eagle said as he continued to stare after Denny. “And don’t ever fucking say I don’t feed you enough again.”

  I looked over the food once more, deciding on a small snake, already partially skinned, the meat inside a glistening white. Releasing Eagle’s hand, I pointed to it.

  “Here we go,” Denny said, emerging from inside the car. Holding up a large and torn paper bag, he grinned at Eagle.

  “That too.” Eagle pointed to the snake I’d chosen.

  “That’ll cost you,” Denny said. “I was—”

  “Free,” Eagle growled. “Call it interest for keeping me waiting. And if you got a problem with that—”

  “No, no!” Denny exclaimed. Pulling one of many whittled sticks poking out from inside his jeans pocket, he speared the snake and offered it to Eagle.

  Releasing my hand, Eagle took both the bag and the snake from him, and handed the snake to me. I mumbled my thanks but couldn’t manage more than that. I was staring at the meat, entranced by how good it smelled. I bit into it, grateful for it, even more excited that it was fully cooked.

  As I chewed, Eagle grabbed my arm and started walking again, headed toward a different door on the opposite side of the structure. Turning down another fire-lit hallway, we descended a flight of stairs and reemerged into the daylight. I squinted against the brightness, but didn’t pause in eating, even as he pulled me to another stop.

  A beautiful dark-skinned woman with a heavy Afro of tight curls stood in a doorway, smiling lazily at Eagle. “Joe,” she called out over her shoulder, a soft lilt to her voice. “E’s here.”

  Moments passed while the woman continued to smile at Eagle, the look on her face growing more mischievous by the second. Why was she looking at him like that?

  “So you brought me a gift, eh?”

  A large man appeared behind the woman, shoving her out of his way and stepping forward. He was big, but not as big as Eagle, and less scruffy looking. His beard was shorter, trimmed, and well maintained, and his hair—long on top—was swept back in an interesting style. Wearing jeans and a white T-shirt coupled with a pair of thick black suspenders, he reminded me of the old movies my father used to watch.

  “Not her, this. Shit you’ve been waiting for.” Eagle handed over the bag.

  Without checking it, Joe handed it to the black woman. Looking down at me, he ran his tongue slowly over his top teeth. “Not her, huh? Fucking shame. Aside from that hair, she’s a pretty one.” The woman started to giggle.

  Frowning, I looked down at the tangled ends of my hair.

  “Joe,” Eagle growled.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Grinning, Joe shook his head and turned away, and the woman trailed after him.

  I looked up at Eagle, wondering what was going on, who these people were, and what was in that bag. But instead of asking, I took another large bite of my snake.

  Moments ticked by, and then another woman appeared, an Asian woman with long glossy black hair hanging to her waist. In her hand was a large dead bird, possibly a vulture. She gave me a quick glance, her features twisted in disgust.

  Ignoring her, I widened my eyes. A vulture! I swallowed quickly, finishing off the last of the snake, the meat now tasting bland as I imagined what the bird would taste like.

  “Is that—?”

  “Yeah.” Gripping the dead bird by its neck, Eagle pulled me away from the door.

  We took a different route this time, passing through what looked like the center of this place. Stalls lined the walkways between buildings, all selling something different—food, clothing, soap, or jewelry, and even alcohol. It reminded me of the flea markets my mother would go to every weekend morning. We’d browse for hours, but rarely would she buy anything. She used to say she loved the smell of long-lived and well-loved items.

  “You need a haircut, honey?”

  I glanced up at an older woman with wrinkles and long gray hair. Smiling, she waved a pair of rusty scissors in my direction. Thinking of Joe and his comment about my appearance, of those women and their beautiful hair, I dug my heels in and forced Eagle to stop.

  He frowned down at me, and I flicked my gaze toward the woman. Glancing from me to her, he blew out a heavy breath.

  “How much?” he asked her.

  The woman grinned, revealing a set of either missing or broken teeth. “I’ll take that bird off your hands.”

  “Not a chance in hell,” he shot back.

  The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she tapped her scissors against her hip. “A favor then?”

  Eagle snorted. “A favor within fucking reason.”

  The woman grinned again. “Come ’ere, honey,” she called, and patted a small brown stool beside her.

  Letting go of my hand, Eagle shoved me in her direction, and as I stumbled forward, I balled my empty hand into a fist. Just keep walking, I told myself. You don’t need him, or his hand. You were strong before; you can be strong again.

  I made it to her without incident, swallowing hard as I climbed up on the stool and gave her my back. I felt vulnerable like this, sitting here without a weapon, and her looming over me with a pair of scissors. My mind raced, frantically trying to figure out how I would escape if she attacked me. I could quickly slip off my stool and fall to th
e ground, grabbing her ankles and knocking her down. Then I would steal her scissors and run as fast as I could.

  “I’ll make her look real pretty for you, E. Don’t you worry ’bout that,” the woman said as she ran her hands through my hair, snapping me out of my thoughts. Her fingertips caught in the snarls and knots, making me flinch and hiss in pain. A shiver trailed up and down my spine and I gritted my teeth, fighting to remain still in my seat. I didn’t understand why it was suddenly so important to me what people thought about me, but it was.

  Anxious, I looked up to Eagle and shifted in my seat again.

  Eagle shook his head. “I don’t give a fuck,” he muttered. “She’ll be covered in shit again as soon as she gets the chance.”

  Something painful flared to life in my chest. He thought I was disgusting. I knew I shouldn’t care what he thought, because what did it matter? But for some reason, I did care. I couldn’t help it. And that scared me more than the scissors at my back.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Eagle

  “There ain’t really a whole lot I can do here, honey,” the older woman whispered in Autumn’s ear while she looked nervously over at me.

  I rolled my eyes. My hearing was impeccable. At this very moment I could hear a couple arguing behind a building, the hushed yet shrill voices carrying over the crowd. I could hear the music playing from a nearby bar, some god-awful country-and-western song, and just down an adjacent path, I could hear someone taking a piss.

  “We’re gonna have to cut all this mess off.” The woman tugged on Autumn’s long hair, on the bits that were matted and dreading. “After that’s gone, I’ll whip up something wonderful for ya.”

  “It’s okay,” Autumn answered, her voice strained. “Just cut it.”

  Clasping her palms together, Autumn pressed both her hands between her knees and squeezed her eyes shut. The woman glanced up at me worriedly, and I nodded and gestured for her to continue. How fucking hard was it to get a damn haircut?