The girl finally turned to look at me. I froze in place.
Until now, I couldn’t describe exactly what unnerved me about the girl outside of her strange hobby of hitting metal helmets with steel rods. But as soon as she met my eyes, I could put words to my caution. Her eyes were not the eyes of a child. They were calm, unblinking, and completely inhuman.
They were like the eyes of a corpse.
As soon our eyes met, I knew this child wasn’t scared. Or in shock. I didn’t know what she was, but her mere gaze made me take a step back.
“Play.” The girl repeated, standing slowly to her feet. She swayed on her thin, little legs as if she’d only just started walking a few days ago, but she did not fall to the ground. She turned to face me, neck bent at an odd angle, her stringy hair dipping in front of her face. “I want to play now.”
“Actually, I’m kind of busy.” I took another step back. “Maybe another time.”
The girls eyes flashed, “No, we play now!”
Then she lunged for me, and I got the feeling her favorite kind of play had nothing to do with dolls or dented vigilant helmets.
I leaped out of the way just in time to avoid the child as she moved through the air with the speed of a bullet. My body smacked the cobblestone; I rolled and skidded to a stop in a crouch a few feet away, slicing my knees on bits of broken glass in the process. The girl tumbled head over the heels through the air, careening face first toward the ground. But before she could complete her fall, a sudden gust of wind whipped past us, tossing my hair every which way. I watched in amazement as the girl used the gust to right herself in midair. She flailed like a broken doll before she steadied herself and landed softly on her two feet. She turned to face me again. Oh gods. Oh gods, this was bad.
“I want to play now.” She demanded, a feral grin creeping over face. Pointed teeth gleamed from beneath her curled lips, so similar to that of a certain shape shifter assassin.
This time when the girl lunged for my throat, I was prepared. I slammed my hand against the button on my wrist and my new blade shot out just in time to skewer the girl through the chest. She jerked, but she did not scream or cry out. For a beat, she just hung there, limp on my blade, arms swaying back in forth like bony pendulums. I almost breathed a sigh of relief.
Until the girl reared back her head, jerked forward and sank her teeth into my flesh shoulder. I cried out in pain and threw my arm out to the side. The strength of my steel arm tore the girl free of my shoulder, though she took bits of my flesh and blood with her. She went flying across the street.
But the girl just wouldn’t fall. The gust of wind returned and balanced her in midair, as if she were a mere puppet. I was getting really tired of facing enemies who had the uncanny ability to avoid pain.
The girl’s head lolled to the side as she studied me. Her tongue darted out to lick the blood–my blood–from her jaw. The bloody hole in her chest remained, but she didn’t seem too bothered.
“Humans,” the girl sighed. “Taste so good. I want more souls to eat. May I have yours?”
“Not in a million years,” I muttered, raising my blade arm and trying to ignore the burning pain in my shoulder.
“I want it.” The girl’s eyes flashed again and she shot through the air. This time she rammed straight into my stomach sending my flying backwards. I slid several feet over the ground, over broken glass and scattered objects until I came to a stop. The girl crouched over me, eyes wide and gleaming with bloody glee. Her sharp-toothed smile spread so wide it nearly split her face in two.
“I want to eat.” She hissed, grabbing my steel wrist and pinning it against the ground when I tried to move it.
“Damn it!” I screamed, half in terror and half in complete frustration. “Get off me!”
Then, something quite amazing happened. At the moment I screamed, another gust of wind swept down the street in a curtain of cool air. It coasted over me like a trickle of water. The sound filled my ears along with whispers. Whispers in some foreign language. I couldn’t identify the source but the girl cocked her head to the side, as if listening.
Then, slowly, she rose to her feet, her bony fingers leaving my wrists. Her image seemed to shimmer as she did, as if she wasn’t as solid as I thought. Almost . . . transparent. She stared at me, her gaze dead calm once again. Then she turned and staggered off down the street, swaying unsteadily with every step she took.
I exhaled and let my head drop back against the pavement. With the adrenaline fading, I became more aware of the pain. My backside burned with multiple cuts and bruises and bits glass had embedded themselves in my flesh. My shoulder burned from the bite and my entire body ached, particularly my head, which had been slammed into too many hard surfaces lately, and my mid-section. Each breath, even the shallowest inhale, tore through me like a knife’s blade. I definitely had a broken rib. Maybe two or three. Damn it all, why hadn’t I remembered Laetatia’s gear? Then I could have gotten back to the tavern. As it was, moving sounded like a terrible idea so I just stared up at the sky, watching grey clouds drift lazily across my vision.
If I died here, I was going to be so pissed with myself.
“There’s another one!” Laetatia called from somewhere far away. I could have laughed. Thank the gods, the gods were here. “A wendigo going down the street. You see her?”
“I’ve got this one.” Kova rasped back. I heard the rapid clap of leather soles on cobblestone and the clink of armor as the war goddess ran by me, so quickly a breeze rustled my hair. If she had stepped on me with one of her steel clad boots, she would have crushed me like an ant.
“That has to be the last of them,” Itazura said. “Damn, these abominations are annoying.”
“Itazura,” I tried to call out to him but my voice barely moved above a whisper. It hurt too much to add volume to my voice and the less I tried to breathe, the better.
“I agree,” Laetatia said. Their voices drew nearer. “Luckily, Kova is taking care of most of them. We’re just back up.”
“I don’t like being her back up,” Itazura said. “I don’t like her.”
“Well, she doesn’t like you either, so I guess you’re even,” Laetatia said. Something snapped under her foot and she sighed. “What a mess. Everyone just abandoned the streets.”
“Humans have good survival instincts,” Itazura replied.
I resist the urge to groan in frustration—since I didn’t want to inflict pain on myself—at their obliviousness to my presence, and I raised my steel arm, the only part of my body that didn’t hurt right now.
The flash of movement must have caught Laetatia’s eye because she gasped. “Oh, great Abyss.”
Their footsteps quickened and a second later, Itazura knelt over me, his face as panicked as I’d ever seen it, “Janet, can you hear me?”
“No worries, I’m alive,” I muttered.
“Barely,” Itazura’s gaze drifted down my cut up, bruised body. “What are you doing here, little human? Didn’t I say to stay where you were?”
“You just told me to stay in the cabinets until Kova left,” I said childishly. “She did, so I came after you.”
“What possessed you to do that?” Laetatia asked.
“Because, I–Ah!” I winced as pain shot through my torso and shut my eyes as they watered with pain. “Sh-shit.”
“Easy, little human. Don’t move,” Itazura said, placing a hand over my shoulder to hold me steady. “Where’s the pain?”
“Everywhere.” I mumbled.
“I mean, where is it the most intense?” Itazura asked.
“Rib cage,” I said. “B-broken ribs I think. Not to mention the bite she took out of my shoulder–Ah!” I jerked as Itazura’s fingers brushed against my rib cage.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, not removing his hand. “Just stay still.”
“Not a good idea, Itazura.” Laetatia warned.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“He can’t afford to heal you right no
w. That only adds fuel to the fire,” Laetatia said.
“It’ll be fine, Laetatia,” Itazura said.
“Given how many near death experiences she’s had in the past twenty-four hours?” Laetatia said. “I’d say it’s a risk you can’t take.”
“Why is it a risk?” I asked. “He did it before.”
“You did what?” Laetatia glared at Itazura.
“He’d almost cut her fingers clean off. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Well, you do have a choice now. It’s broken ribs. She’ll live.”
“And what if she gets into another near death experience? How is she going to fight if that happens?” Itazura snapped.
“Will someone tell me why he’s taking such a risk?” I demanded, but I immediately regretted raising my voice. Another bolt of pain shot through my middle with the force of a bullet and I cringed. “Ow! D-damn it.”
“Easy,” Itazura said, squeezing my shoulder gently. “I know you like to shout, little thief, but that’s not such a good idea at the moment.”
“Then answer my damn questions.” I hissed, taking shorter shallow breaths.
“Gods aren’t meant to heal humans.” Laetatia told me. “Our power is for ourselves. When we heal a human, we transfer a section of our power into that human. Just a little bit usually, but when a pact is made between a god and a human, the transfer of power amplifies.” She looked back at Itazura. “He’s just risking his power even more than before.”
“You seem to be making all sorts of stupid decisions lately.” My eyes narrowed but I had little energy behind my glare.
Itazura’s mouth twitched. “This coming from the girl who decided to fight a wendigo? You’re lucky to be alive, you know.”
Lucky wasn’t even the right word for it. I shouldn’t be alive. The girl, or wendigo, had me. She could have easily killed me. But the gust of wind . . . the whispers. . . .
“Hey! Laetatia! Itazura!” Kova’s raspy voice echoed from down the street. “Where in the Abyss have you two gone off to?”
“Shit.” Itazura muttered. He waved his hand at Laetatia. “You distract Kova. I’ll get Janet back to the tavern. Think you can handle our favorite hellion?”
“I’m the goddess of wild parties and their drunken attendees,” Laetatia said. “I can handle just about anything.” With that, she rose to her feet and hurried off to meet Kova.
“I want to sleep,” I murmured as my head lolled to the side. My cheek rested against the rough stone, as soft as any pillow to me in that moment.
“You’ll be able to in a minute,” Itazura said. “I’m going to have to pick you up Janet.”
“Hmm,” I replied eloquently, focusing on an open pocket watch a few feet away. It still ticked faintly, undamaged by the chaos. Lucky bastard.
“It’s going to hurt. Just try not to scream.” Slowly, Itazura slipped one arm under my legs and another under my shoulders. Then he lifted me. I gritted my teeth and threw my head against his shoulder. I wanted so badly to let out a cry but I managed to lower the sound to a soft whimper of pain.
“You all right?” Itazura asked.
“Not the first word I’d use,” I muttered.
“Still making snide comments.” Itazura shook his head as he started walking. His footsteps were light but every time he took a step forward, my body jostled enough to cause extreme pain.
I grunted.
“What’s wrong?” Itazura asked.
“Besides the obvious?” I asked. “Your footsteps are slowly killing me.”
“I can remedy that,” Itazura said and suddenly I could no longer feel his footsteps, even though we were still moving. I twisted my head to the side to look down. He had levitated a few inches off the ground.
“Much better,” I murmured, letting my head rest back against his shoulder.
Itazura laughed. That was the last sound I registered before I drifted off into a restless sleep.
dreamed I was back in the underground prison, locked in the cell with my friends. The details of the horrid place came back to me with unnatural clarity. The light of the torches dancing on the wall. The cool, damp air. Even the stench. My friends were scattered about the cell. Sid sat slumped against the wall, Parker lay flat on his back and Sylvia huddled in a corner, shivering, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to keep warm.
They didn’t look like themselves. Their eyes were sunken in and their cheeks sallow. Sylvia’s once silvery blonde hair had a dull, grey hue. And Parker’s lifeless eyes could have belonged to a completely different person. Even Sid, who never showed emotion in the first place, seemed worn out and miserable.
It was as if they had been in their cell for years, even though it had only been a few days. Already they were wasting away like the other, older prisoners. It was all my fault. I landed them there and I had left them.
“Janet,” Sylvia muttered. She pushed herself, with shaking arms, onto her hands and knees. Her dull hair fell in a curtain in front of her face. “Where are you?”
“I’m coming,” I croaked. “For all of you. I promise I didn’t abandon you. I would never do that.”
“Why not? You always act annoyed with me.” Parker said, raising his head to look at me. “Do you wish you hadn’t saved me? If you had never gone into that building you wouldn’t feel so guilty.”
“N-no. I don’t regret it! Of course not.”
“You would still have your arm.” Parker murmured. The monotone in his voice was frighteningly foreign to me. “You wouldn’t have to worry about us. You could just worry about yourself.”
“That’s not true.” I shook my head. “I don’t want that.”
“Then why did you leave?” Sid asked.
My eyes widened. Sid never spoke much, and when he did, he was usually calm and collected. Now his tone was hard and cold as ice. “To avoid your guilt, right? You want to erase your mistakes like they never happened.”
“No, that’s not it,” I said hoarsely.
“Of course it is.” Sylvia’s head flopped to the side as she stared at me. The grey of her irises seemed to roll like storm clouds. “But it’s too late. You already failed. Janet. You failed us. If you really cared, you wouldn’t have run from Meroquio. You would have done anything.” She crawled forward. “You promised, Janet. You promised me.” A noose of guilt tightened around my throat, almost choking off my breath. She looked up at me through her bangs, her smile bitter and so unlike Sylvia. “You didn’t keep your promise,” she hissed.
“I-I know. I know,” I whispered.
Down the hall, a door slammed open and a sudden rush of wind filled the caverns of the prison, whipping my hair about my face. I heard screams from the other prisoners a few cells away. When the wind died down, a fifth person stood in the center of our cell. The girl. The wendigo from earlier. Her sharp teeth flashed as she grinned, her eyes gleaming blood red.
“Play!” she cried, throwing herself at Sylvia.
I wanted to move. I wanted to stand in the wendigo’s way and run her through with the blade on my arm. But all too often, you can’t do what you wish you could in dreams. I could only stare. Frozen. Silent.
Useless.
I watched them all fall. Every one of my friends fell beneath the sharp teeth and strong grip of the girl. They weren’t in the position to fight back in their sickly state. I wanted to scream for someone. Anyone. But the noise was trapped in my throat. At last, the wendigo rose from Sid’s body and turned to look at me.
“Too late.” She sang in that childlike voice. Then she lunged at me.
My body unfroze and I unleashed the blade in my arm, just in time to run the girl through as she soared through the air. As soon as the blade point sank into her stomach, her image shimmered.
Suddenly, the wendigo girl no longer hung on my blade. The girl from the fire . . . The girl I had abandoned to die in the flames. She stared at me with terrified eyes as blood trickled down the corner of her mouth.
“Why didn’t you help
me?” she whimpered. “Janet. Why did you push me away?”
“I didn’t mean to.” I tried to shake the body off of my blade but she stayed lodged on, staring me in the face. I couldn’t drop the blade either. It was fused my arm. Fused to me.
“Too late,” the girl said. “Always too late. You’re always too late.”
“I’m sorry!” I screeched, squeezing my eyes shut.
A high-pitched giggle reached my ears and I opened my eyes to see the girl from the fire had once again morphed into the wendigo. She seized me by the throat, squeezing her bony fingers around my neck and choking off my air.
“Too late.” She cackled.
“Janet!” another voice called out to me. It seemed much further away and it didn’t quite register. I was trapped in the burning of my lungs. The pressure around my throat. The leaden guilt in my heart.
Always too late.
“Wake up, Janet!”
The scene faded to blackness and I became aware of a stabbing pain in my midsection. I woke up abruptly on the couch in Laetatia’s back room, hacking so violently it felt like my abdomen might explode. My back arched as the coughs racked my body and something, maybe saliva, flew from my mouth.
“Janet.” Itazura knelt over me, his face even more panicked than it had been when he found me sprawled across the road a few hours ago. Or was it days ago? I had no idea. “Great Abyss.”
“It’s f-fine.” I hissed between coughs.
“Fine? This is fine?” Itazura held up the thin sheet he must have covered me with. Something stained the white surface. Something red.
Blood.
“Is that . . . from me?” I gasped out.
“Yeah.” Itazura muttered. “Damn it.” He placed a hand against my heaving torso.
“W-wait! Don’t,” I said. “I’ll be all right. You can’t risk your power anymore. L-leave it.”
“If you’re bleeding from the inside, it’s only a matter of time before it kills you. Then I’ll lose half of my power anyway,” Itazura said.
I tried to get up but he gripped my shoulder and pushed me back against the sofa.
“For the love of all the gods, Janet, stay still. You’re only hurting yourself more.” He squeezed my shoulder, hard enough to make the wendigo’s bite burn. “Don’t. Move.”
Hour of Mischief Page 14