I try to imagine Strickland and Judge up against each other, mad as hell.
Jeremiah nods in agreement. “Judge is always so calm. Restrained.”
“He’s feeling it. He wants Decker’s death to mean something. You saved me from a death sentence, and I think Judge will always wonder ‘what if’ even though there was no chance for Decks.” Rocks’ face has lost its earlier joy. “Can you find out?”
I nod and start another search.
“Strickland is in a tricky position,” Jeremiah adds, grabbing the bag of pretzels back. “He’s got the safety of the whole colony to consider. If a Camazotz flipped from pain in front of one of your doctors … Geez. Risk all of us to save one, but if I was injured …”
“Would you want help?” I ask. “Modern medicine?”
Jeremiah looks at Rocks, his eyes travel down his healed arm. “Yeah, I would.”
It’s painfully clear that the colony needs their own vet—and one that’s in on their mind-bending secret.
18. Rainbow
Bat POV
Rockland is standing before the archaic anvil on his workbench. The weight of the steel tongs in his hands is familiar. Lifting the hammer, he positions the sheet of hot metal and strikes once, twice, three times before inspecting his aim. The gentle movement of air at his shop entrance causes him to glance up as the small bat swoops down low to enter.
Sire needs you.
“Everything okay, Graceland?” he asks, frowning. He misses her soft voice inside his head. They haven’t spoken in weeks—or much at all—since his connection with Connie was exposed.
The bat does a circle in the lofty space above him. She doesn’t land on the thin, wooden roosting beams positioned between the two sides of the slanting roof, but continues to circle. Her need to keep airborne is the cause for his question. Graceland has never enjoyed being in her human form. She prefers the agility and freedom of her animal side. She always feels cumbersome and clumsy in such an oversized body. But the reason she doesn’t land might also be that she still doesn’t approve of his relationship with Connie. With the loss of Decker so fresh, the distance between them feels like a gaping chasm that will only widen.
Sapphire died.
“Shit.” Rockland rests the tongs and hammer on the bench, closing his eyes, and lowering his head. “When?” he whispers. Looking up, he tracks her movements in the small space, sadness filling his eyes.
Come. Now.
Without waiting for him to flip, she drops low and disappears under the doorway and out of sight.
Even though she didn’t say, Rockland figures the Sire will be at their roost. Apart from him, when a Camazotz is injured, they head for the seclusion and safety of their secret cave to recover. Instead, Rocks retreats to his little wagon, but he’s the only Shadows’ member to ever risk sleeping as a human—injured or healthy. The others view him as reckless and insane, but he’s given up trying to convince them that in human form, he’s a lot safer when he sleeps. No owl or falcon would dare come near him, not to mention hungry coyotes or other scavengers. And, even if they were brave enough to enter his wagon, it’s them that would get the scare.
Rocks scans the pink and orange skies through the back window of his shop. It’s part of the Sire’s duties to give comfort to a wing in mourning. With the recent attacks, it’s been a ritual that’s been repeated far too often. Untying his leather apron, he heads outside, the cool evening air calming him.
His mind turns to Judge, and how he’s probably reacting to the death of the last pup Decker gave his life to save. If only Rocks could’ve convinced the Sire to let him take her to the vet. Deep in his heart, he knows the vet would have stopped the bleeding.
Connie had told him about the surgery her pet chinchilla Feathers had after she rescued her. The vet had amputated her leg and saved her life. The Camazotz need for blood every day or so means they’re vulnerable to bleeding out. Without feeding when they’re injured, death often claims them. It’s another reason feeding each other is so vital to their survival. It’s never about lazy bats that don’t feel like going out to feed; it’s about having the ability to save a precious life.
Habit causes the tall male to tilt his head listening for danger. He squints as he looks into the setting sun scanning for predators. His human brain knows that at this time of day at the market, he’s perfectly safe, but the instinct to be aware of his surroundings surges up from the same dark place inside of him that houses the creature he battles.
Since being a Camazotz for two grueling months, the bat is restless. His long flights to visit Connie were perfect for keeping it at bay, but he doesn’t fly down to the city now that she wants some space. He visited to tell her about Decker, but now he’s keeping his distance as requested.
Connie.
What’s she doing? Is she all right? Has she moved on with that rude boy from behind the gymnasium? His heart is sad enough without thinking of the girl he lost. His heart also senses there’s something not right with her from his visit, but she said she was fine. Filling his lungs, his last sense does the final check, combing the air for scents that signal danger. All clear, as he predicted.
Flip.
Flap hard. Strong wings. Need height. Sniff.
Eeekkk!
Wait, son.
Turn hard. Beating wings below. Bat approaching.
Friend—not enemy. Together. Circle. Wait.
Zada, roost?
Yes. Sapphire.
I heard.
The small, slender bat joins him high above the little row of shops on the western side of the market. The shoppers have long gone, and only those preparing goods for sale tomorrow are present. His nose twitches with the scent of sandalwood and lavender as the little bat takes the wing position. The Z wing are candle makers. For many years, Zada had been too busy rearing pups to be able to contribute much attention to her craft, but since Bailey has been spending so much time in human form, it’s allowed her to return to her trade. Losing herself surrounded by essential oils and colored liquid wax distracts her from the gaping wound in her heart caused by the loss of a second child.
The day the colony realized Celand was gone for good, something deep inside Zada broke. Her firstborn, sweet child—and the first offspring of their great and powerful Sire—was dead at 23 years of age, leaving no pups behind for her legacy. If only Celand could’ve mated younger. At least Zada would have the dear, little one to care for to keep her daughter in her memory.
And now, her first-born son to Judge has been lost as well. Always such a caring mate, Zada wishes she could offer comfort to the gracious Fold member, but she’s barely coping with the absence of another of her brood.
The gods blessing her seven times with six bat pups and one boy child should mean she doesn’t need to worry about the Camazotz legacy she will leave behind, but losing one of those precious pups—let alone two—is a devastation she’s not sure she will ever recover from. She should be grateful she hasn’t lost her only heir like Judge’s brother, Shepard, did when little Harper passed.
We rest?
The voice of her boy brings her out of the misery that has swallowed her heart whole since learning the innocent, little pup, Sapphire, has departed this world to join her brave son. She needs to fly hard to get back to the roost to support another grieving family broken from loss, but her energy has left her along with her happiness.
No time. Fly.
The two bats flap hard to pick up speed. The larger male takes the airspace slightly above. He’s protecting her blind spot, making sure no aerial attack will come from above. Yet, her need to protect the Sire’s heir has her beating her small wings faster, harder. She slows to fall in behind him to take his vulnerable place above.
No, mother. Stay below.
Protect you, precious heir.
No. Stay below.
Without even appearing to exert himself, the great bat—with the largest wingspan in the colony—maintains the distance between them. E
ven though Zada wants to change places with her son, it’s impossible without his co-operation. She knows he’s flying slower for her. He could travel to Blood Mountain in half the time it takes her to fly the same distance. His younger, more agile body is able to duck and weave around the treetops faster than hers, but he stays to guard her—her gorgeous, human boy.
He’s the colony misfit and a source of constant irritation to the love-her-of-life, Strickland. One day, her Sire will see the value of his revolutionist heir. Her blood and heart tell her all will be well whenever she begins to worry about Rockland’s future, despite with his aeronaught fascination.
Eeekk. Eeekk.
Attention. Deep breath. New mammal scent.
Strange call. Scanning conscious thoughts.
Reach out. Communicate. Nothing. Little bat.
Not Camazotz. Not one of us. Ordinary bat.
Higher. Up. Cold air. Distance. Better protection.
Fly higher. Local bats.
Yes. They’re sweet.
No. Bring owls.
The larger bat barely angles his wings, but in an instant, swoops down and takes a new position below his mother. The presence of garden-variety bats is a risk they don’t need. These bats could lead the owls straight to them, too innocent and void of conscious thought to know any better. They don’t know there are more deadly hunters in the area than usual thanks to a cunning plot to destroy the Camazotz slowly—one bat at a time. These creatures are just out in search of food, answering the call of twilight, as day becomes night. Their instincts should protect them, but every evening as the local bats take flight to become the hunter, they also become the hunted. It’s nature; the way of the food chain.
The larger bat scans the highest branches of the trees below him. He searches for glowing, yellow eyes that can see just as far as he can. He sniffs the air. He can smell the familiar scents of the forest around his roost in the distance. The guard should be present to bring them in safely. With the recent deaths, the Sire has commanded a squadron of strong males to escort any small groups home.
Northwest. In oak tree.
Area clear.
The new voice gives the two flying bats the guards’ location.
Coming, he answers.
With protective eyes below him, Rockland waits for his mother to take the lead. He will return to flying above and slightly behind her to keep her safe. The Camazotz guards have told him the area is clear, but he won’t risk her life to anyone else’s care but his own. Until she’s human, he will have her wing.
As they descend toward the treetops, the patrol of bats rises up from the trees and surrounds them. The one-eared bat automatically falls in on Rockland’s left wing—his usual position. The moment his friend joins his side, Rockland relaxes ever so slightly. Jeremiah would give his life for Zada in a heartbeat. He’s a male of honor and is brave beyond his years. Rockland trusts his friend’s sharp senses like his own.
The patrol, led by Harland, confirms in brief messages that Rockland and Zada have heard the terrible news. They reply that’s why they are returning to the roost.
Graceland safe?
Yes.
Relief washes through him. Rockland pushes aside the thought that his sister would risk flying back alone rather than letting him accompany her. He’s let her down, but how can being in the form that makes him the most comfortable be a disappointment? Why would she risk herself? Almost as though his friend can read his private thoughts, Jeremiah eases his internal battle.
Malachite and Jet escort.
Rockland doesn’t answer. Knowing his sister didn’t fly alone allows him to focus back on the task of getting Zada back in one piece. The group, slowly one by one, peel off and spiral down at a dizzying rate toward a gap in the foliage that wouldn’t be noticeable to the untrained eye. To avoid their location being detected, the patrol split off—half taking the two bats deeper into the forest, the other circling back, staying hidden below the tree line to check for threats that might have tailed them—feathered or otherwise.
Rockland resists the urge to dart in and out of the gnarled tree branches. Only two things can distract him from the sadness of little Sapphire’s passing. One is flying, and the other is most likely trying to ignore her baby sister while she attempts to finish her homework. The thought of Connie’s outrage at another preventable death eases his anguish. She’s the only one that truly understands because she knows about modern medicine. It’s not evil; it’s a miracle.
The large bat follows closely as his mother moves around tree trunks and under or over branches toward the entrance. It’s a path all the Shadows’ Camazotz could fly blindfolded. With the trees starting to show signs of new life after the long hard winter, Rocks keeps his senses on high alert. Flying is always safer during the summer months when the leaves offer protection from predators waiting to attack.
One lone, sentinel bat hangs in the great behemoth tree that stands guard over their secret underground cave. Two short mental messages later, confirming friend not foe, and Zada tucks her wings in close and disappears into the dark, gaping chasm. Jeremiah and Rockland circle around once before diving into the darkness one behind the other in tight formation.
* * * * *
His boots crunch on the sparse covering of gravel on the roost floor. Two braziers have been lit in the middle of the cavern space since so many Camazotz will flip to pay their respects. Next to the nearest fire, Sapphire’s body lays at peace. Her eyes are closed and her hands are folded over her middle. The glow from the coals gives warmth to her face even as the color of life slowly drains away.
“Oh,” Zada gasps, when she flips so close to Rockland he feels the swoosh of her long cheesecloth skirts against his leg. “She’s—”
“Human. Yes,” Strickland finishes in his rough, hard tone.
Zada’s hands cover her mouth as she tries to hide her shock from Snowflake. Sapphire’s mother is kneeling by her daughter’s side. Her sobs are the only sound other than the gentle trickle of water from the underground spring at the far end of the cave. She rocks back and forth covering her face with her hands.
Zada’s eyes dart from Snowflake to the Sire and finally back to little Sapphire. Her dress is wet with blood in several large patches from her wounds, but the dark grey fabric lessens the macabre sight.
“She flipped from some kind of muscle spasm and died a moment later,” he explains softly.
Camazotz prefer to die in bat form so they can fly up into the next world to find peace. But sometimes the pain of death takes the choice from them. When they die in human form, there’s a much larger body to take care of and hide from the aeronaught community. It’s another danger that threatens their exposure, particularly when they die away from their hidden sanctuary.
Rockland walks over and kneels beside the grieving widow. Last year, Snowflake lost her mate Kyanite in the first wave of owl attacks, before the Shadows realized the deadly owls were released on purpose. He whispers words of condolence to her, his larger shadow thrown higher on the cavern wall than the small delicate shadow of the woman he comforts.
Carnelian emerges from the darkness and stands behind Snowflake. At thirty-three years of age, he’s the youngest Fold member, but the recent losses have aged him past his years. His bare arms have only one tattoo high on his right shoulder—the Gemstone wing’s crest. Inside a black pentagon are several geometric patterns that symbolize the faceted stones for which they are named.
Standing up, Rockland extends his arm to the Fold member. Carnelian grips his offered forearm, and the males shake once.
“I’ll dig her grave,” Rockland offers. Carnelian’s features falter for a second before he frowns and nods once in confirmation.
“Your wing honors my niece. I thank you.”
Without glancing at his father, Rockland leaves the group and heads into the darkness. He doesn’t flip, but walks the winding, desolate path that leads deeper under the mountain following the underground stream. For occasi
ons when a Camazotz dies as a human, the task of digging a human sized grave is arduous, and some of the more superstitious members believe it’s a dark omen. As the misfit already, his position can’t get any worse by adding gravedigger to his list of sins.
As a child, Rockland spent his winters mostly in human form, exploring the depths of their cave roost. Some of his favorite underground chambers he can no longer access because of his adult height, but he can always flip and fly into the narrow passages if he’s feeling nostalgic.
The cool air moves his hair as he walks past an open fissure on his left. If not for his Camazotz eyesight, he could easily misstep and vanish into the bottomless abyss. From this location, their burial chamber is the second cave on the right.
As he enters the burial cave, a bat flies over his head. In the pitch darkness of this rarely visited chamber, he loses sight of his companion quickly. Although it’s been years since he entered this area, he remembers where the tools he’ll need are kept. Before he makes it to the alcove in the limestone, the glow and hiss of a match being struck stop him in his tracks.
Jeremiah’s face appears as he touches the tiny flame to the oil lamp. It takes a second for the unused wick to catch, but soon the lower section of the chamber is bathed in a golden glow.
“What are you doing?” Rocks asks, as his eyes adjust to the light and land on the long-handled shovel.
Sanguine Moon Page 26