But none of it’s true, what she’s saying. She was a lie, she is a lie. I’m seeing things. The evil spirits, messing with my dreams.
“Don’t come here! He’ll try and make you, and he’ll—”
Darkness. Everywhere. It’s a blanket, huge, vast. It presses down. Fabric over my mouth, my nose. I breathe in, suck it in, and then I can’t—
“S’ven!”
I jolt awake, breathing hard; every breath makes a raspy noise.
Jed. Standing over my bed. He looks strange, like he’s asleep but awake at the same time.
I can still see Five every time I blink. It’s… That was different. That nightmare was different. That felt like before, when she said she contacted me through Two….
No, that’s stupid. It didn’t feel like that. My head pounds. It was just a dream. The first one was a hallucination. And the other times I thought I saw her can’t have been real either.
Jed steps nearer, makes a clicking sound in the back of his throat.
“Kiss me,” he says.
I stare at him, feel my chest tighten.
My eyes widen as he advances.
“Kiss me now.”
No. No. No.
I shake my head.
“S’ven!” And then he’s nearer, grabbing my wrist. “We have to kiss—we have to keep up this appearance that we are husband and wife.”
He leans into me, and I try to twist around, but can’t. There’s nowhere to go, the wall’s too close; there’s only the bed and him.
Oh Gods.
I’m awake, I’m awake, I’m awake. The words run through my mind, the only thing I can truly comprehend.
Jed makes another noise in his throat. My eyes snap back toward him.
He pulls me to him, fiercely. His mouth goes for mine, and I push him away. A second later, his hands are under my nightdress, on my spine. I freeze. His hands move around to my front, over my hips.
Over the fading insects bites.
I tense up. His eyes are on me; he’s stopped trying to kiss me. Because he’s felt them, the marks… He must have, they’re raised—less than they were, but still raised. I stare at him, swallow, wait for him to react.
His eyes don’t change, but the corners of his lips pull up a little; a sly smile. For a second, I think he’s going to try and kiss me again, but he doesn’t.
“You are strong, S’ven.” He pulls back, takes several steps, a strange look on his face—one I can’t quite fathom. “It is hard to control you. But I like a challenge.”
I’m shaking, still shaking, when I see Soraya a couple of hours later—and shaking like this is ridiculous. I need to be strong.
I swallow hard, my eyes on the lantern behind Soraya’s head; the flickering light makes me feel sick.
“It’s not your fault,” she says. “Nyesha didn’t mean it, she’s just upset. Come on. It’s best that no one’s on their own when the men are on a disposal, else the evil spirits get tempted.”
“Disposal?” I gulp, blink quickly.
“Yes,” Soraya says, dropping her voice a few tones. “For Kyla’s body… It has to be done quickly.” She pauses, then puts my arm in hers. “The men are going to the nearest drop-off point, so they could be back today though, if the spirits are nice to them. It’s all right, Seven. Jed’s gone with them, you know, to contain her devious soul within her body, stop it possessing anyone—we’re lucky that he’s got his powers back. A powerful Seer like him. Before, Iro was the Seer who did the containing on disposals, but he was killed when you were rescuing them.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t realized the dead man was a Seer. None of the Zharat had said. And I don’t think I saw a bison tattoo on him…though I never really saw him. Still, the tattoo doesn’t seem to be a reliable way to identify Zharat Seers anyway. “So has another Seer gone with Jed?”
“No. You only need one.”
I frown, and I don’t really know why I’m asking. “But Jed was on that first one too…for Clare’s sister.” I wince as I say the words. “So, there were two Seers?”
“Oh, Jed wasn’t active then.” Soraya shakes her head. “His powers were blocked. No, he was just there because he likes the kill—well, the dissecting. She was already dead. But he’s a proper hunter.”
He likes the kill… He’s a proper hunter.
I shudder, try to remain calm, but I can’t help thinking of earlier. It could’ve been worse. I know that. It could’ve been a lot worse. It was just a kiss.
Just a kiss.
And his hands on my body, feeling the fading insect bites.
I swallow hard and try to keep my breathing even. But it’s near impossible. Because the more I think about those marks on my body, the more I feel them. It’s like they’re burning, tearing holes through my clothing. I swallow hard again, check my garments. The material’s fine. I’ve just got to remain calm.
And then I feel selfish thinking of myself when Kyla was murdered earlier. Only hours ago. How can only hours have passed since then? Time doesn’t seem to be working properly.
Soraya thinks it will do me good to see others, so she takes me to a large room. We sit down on the far side, with some other women, and start repairing several patches on a huge blanket—or, at least, I try. I just keep thinking of Kyla—and my burning insect bites. And then I think of the coming night—and I’m sure I’ll have more bad dreams. I don’t want to go to sleep.
The rest of the room’s mainly empty, apart from a few women sitting by a cold hearth. Among them is Esther. She’s wearing an ornate, green Zharat scarf, wrapped around her neck and shoulders, draping over her brighter green strappy top. She looks tired and worn out, her posture is stooped. Every time I see her, she seems shorter.
Corin’s request comes back to me, seems like weeks ago… But it can’t have been… Only days, back when Kyla was alive.
I gulp, look across at Esther again. She’s now sewing something onto what looks like a deer hide.
Follow her.
That was what Corin said. But she’s not going anywhere. I’m doing what Corin said, I’m keeping an eye on her. Esther’s frowning, concentrating hard on her work. That frown, it’s just like Corin’s. A slight pain jabs my chest.
“Do you think that too?” A large woman jabs her finger in my direction. Her needle sticks out of her mouth, and several pieces of sinew hang from her dry hair.
“I, uh—” I look around at Soraya, for help. She nods, looking amused, and I tell the woman that I do think that too, whatever that is.
The woman looks satisfied.
And then Esther’s getting up. Her movement catches my attention. I tune out Soraya’s fast chatter, and I watch Esther. Her scarf starts to slip off one shoulder, and she pulls it back up quickly. She’s approaching the nearest door, fast.
I need to follow her.
I stand up slowly.
“Seven?” Soraya looks up at me.
“I… I just need to get some more fabric from the store.”
I walk quickly to the other side of the room, to the door, after Esther. I swallow hard, really hope that I’m not following her to some secret place where she’ll meet up with Manning for the night. Just the thought makes me shudder.
It’s colder out here, and I’m not dressed warmly. The tube gets narrower, and the ceiling swoops down until I’m having to be careful of my head. Strange. Not a lot of people must need to go down here, not when it’s so low. Whatever this leads to—wherever Esther’s going—it can’t be that important.
A smaller passageway branches off down the left, and I pause at its entrance. It’s even narrower down there. I listen carefully, trying to detect Esther’s footsteps. But I can’t hear anything. Only my heart pounding with adrenaline and my own anxious breathing.
I make my decision quickly, and I keep going, stick to the main pathway. I run faster, faster. The slapping of my feet gets louder and louder, but now I don’t care. Something is wrong. I can feel it. Under my yellow shirt, my Seer pendant flash
es hot, then cold. I clutch at my side, feel the tiny raised marks on my skin. But I keep going.
After what seems like hours, when I’m just about certain that Esther must’ve gone down the narrow side-tube, I see her. She’s right at the end of the tube, pushing back a drape. She turns back, and I step up against the wall, breathing hard.
Slowly, I turn my head, craning my neck, trying not to breathe. I look back down the tube. The torches flicker; if she saw my movement, maybe she’ll think it was the shadows?
Esther turns her back on me. I watch her push through the fabric. The drape falls back down behind her, a shield.
I approach the doorway. I try to think hard, remember whose room it is, but I can’t remember. I’m not certain. Remembering how to get to the different rooms I need to go to, and where they are, is hard enough for me.
I creep forward, until I’m by the drape. Until my fingers are only inches away from the soft, velvety textile. I examine it carefully. It looks well made, valuable. Nothing like the tartan curtain in mine and Jed’s room.
I listen carefully. So carefully, I feel like my head will explode. I can hear movement. Someone walking around. And whispers—Esther’s? But the sounds are too quiet, and the drape’s obscuring the sounds; I can’t make out individual words. And I need to. It seems important.
I touch my mother’s pendant through my shirt, then lift the weight of it by the sinew cord, until I can see it, test it. The crystal shakes, reflects some of the yellow I’m wearing onto the shiny floor. Then I make sure it’s hidden safely under my clothes, and I—
“How dare you! I’m Chief. You can’t just say you don’t want me no more—not after all I’ve done for you, woman—how much I’ve cared for you, looked after you when you was on your own—when your own brother didn’t want you no more. It was me, woman. Me.”
“Manning, please—”
“Listen, woman. You be alive because of me, no one else. I gave you extra food when you wanted it, allowed you to ask me questions when it’s against our rules. And this is what you do? You just ain’t thinking straight, woman.”
I inhale sharply, feel pressure in my ears, as if all my blood’s rushed there.
“But, I—” Esther’s voice trails off, and I hear her crying.
“You do want me. I know you do. Otherwise bad stuff happens, don’t it? But I can keep the bad stuff away, ain’t I been doing that for you? I kept your nightmares away. Didn’t I?”
I freeze, strain my ears, eyes widening.
Then I hear the unmistakable sound of someone being slapped.
Esther shrieks.
And I don’t stop to think. I don’t make a plan.
I just charge in there.
“Get away from her!” My voice is uncharacteristically low.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve put my own body between the two of them, my back to Esther, and I’m facing Manning. Staring him down. I’m taller, a lot taller, and that fills me with a little confidence.
Manning swears at me, his face red and burning. “Get out my way.”
“No.” I clench my fist, remembering Corin’s instructions for how to get a punch in. With my other hand I try to reach out behind me, for Esther—but my hand bats at thin air. I turn my head, see her on the floor. “Esther, get out of here. Go and get Corin.”
“Seven, no—” Her voice is quiet, but jolty. She’s crying.
Manning steps closer to me. “How dare you, woman.” He points at me with one short finger, and I smell the alcohol on his breath. “How dare you come in between me and my woman.”
Your woman? My eyes widen, but I don’t move. Because that’s what he wants, for me to move. The moment I do, he’s going to go for her, I know that. At the moment, I’m what’s separating her from him.
I shift my weight a little from foot to foot, tread on Esther’s scarf which is now on the ground. I try to keep eye contact with Manning, show that I’m not scared, but my heart’s pounding.
“Esther, go.” I try again, but my voice is higher this time, shaky. I try to move a little, so that I can see the exit, but it’s behind me, and I can’t move too far without giving him access to Esther.
Manning growls at me. “This don’t concern you, woman. Leave, now.”
I swallow hard, my skin prickling. “No.”
“I ain’t gonna ask again.”
“Seven, just go,” Esther says, her voice is a whine. Doesn’t sound like her at all. “I don’t need your help—Manning’s the only one who helps me, the only one who cares about me.”
“What?” My eyes widen. “No, he’s—we care about you. Me and Corin, Esther.”
I risk a glance behind me; she’s crouched on the floor, one hand pressed against the side of her face. The skin there’s reddening, almost the same color as—
My mouth dries.
Her neck.
I gasp, stare at the marks. Fingermarks, red, around the base of her neck. They’re turning bluish at the edges, bruises.
And I see him. I see Manning with his hands around her throat, squeezing, shaking her. I hear him shouting, his mouth inches from her face, see his braids smacking across her skin as he turns.
I turn on him, feel sweat forming in a line down my spine. Don’t know what I’m going to say, what I’m going to do, I just—
“Get out, woman.” He punctuates each word by slamming his fist into his hand. “Get out now, and don’t speak a word of this, else you’ll pay.”
I turn, so the door’s in my peripheral vision. My eyes tighten, I feel sick, my stomach twists and turns.
“Come on, Esther.” I reach out a hand to her, but she doesn’t take it. “You’re coming with me.”
I swallow hard, wait for her to take my hand. But she doesn’t. She’s hurt. That’s got to be it, why she’s not taking my hand. But I can’t leave her here. Not with Manning. Not alone.
Manning slams a hand onto my shoulder. He wears several rings, and they dig in. “I told you to get out, woman. This ain’t concerning you. You think you’re so special, because you rescued me and my men, but you ain’t Chief here. And you’re fast losing status, woman, with what you’re doing now, let me tell you that. Here, you obey me. So, do as I say, and get out.”
I twist my shoulders around, feel pain in them, then—then I punch him. Get the soft fleshy bit under his chin with my fist, feel my knuckles burn.
Esther screams, and then suddenly I’m on the floor, so quickly—on my back, and Manning’s on top of me.
His fist, my face.
Pain.
Something cracks.
I feel something move in my face, my jaw. More pain, white dots in my vision. I try to move, try to twist around, try to throw his weight off me, but he’s strong, holds me down.
Esther’s screaming, still screaming. Too high-pitched, and Manning’s snarling something at me, but I can’t make his words out because of her screams.
Movement. To my right. I turn my head, see a block of wood as it falls down—no as it’s thrown—toward me. I twist around and—
It hits Manning’s back. I see his eyes widen, feel his body jolt on top of mine. But he doesn’t fall. He gets up, turns, and—
Esther flies across the room. Something rips across my skin, and I’m free. I scramble to the side, my shins scrape along something sharp—I wince, grit my teeth. But the doorway’s there, need to get to the doorway. Have to get to the doorway. Need help.
“Oh, I don’t think so, woman.” Manning’s voice is slow, deliberate. “You ain’t going nowhere now. Not after you tried to turn my woman against me.”
Cold fingers close around my ankle, yank hard. I scream as he drags me back across the floor. My hands fly out, looking for handholds, or anything. Weapons, I need weapons. Need to defend myself.
I kick out, screaming, screaming at the top of my voice, so loud my lungs hurt. Something sharp digs into my ribs as he spins me around, onto my back. For a second, I see Esther to my right, but then she’s falling. Som
ething’s hit her, he’s hit her? I don’t know.
“Seven, go! Just leave!” Esther’s voice is strange, off—doesn’t sound like her. “You’re upsetting him!”
And then—
Then he hits me. Hard, across the face. Something’s in his hand, because it hurts, snags my skin. I feel it tearing, ripping. Pain. My eyes go blurry, and I feel his hands on me. I try to fight him off, but suddenly he’s everywhere.
Manning’s face is everywhere. Laughing. I hear him laughing.
Adrenaline floods through me. Need to get away.
I try to get one knee up, try to push him away.
“Oh no, woman.” Manning punches my shoulder. “You ain’t going nowhere.”
“How dare you punish my wife,” Jed growls.
Wife-to-be. My lips burn.
I’m in our room. Jed’s shouting at a third figure.
I try to sit up, try to see him, but there’s too much pain. The insects have been biting again, they’re back… I need to change the bedclothes, find some new ones, but I can’t move.
“She is my property. Not yours,” Jed carries on shouting, then switches to the Zharat language, but I catch a name in the yells the other man sends back.
Esther.
Dread fills my body until there’s nowhere else for it to go, and I feel like I am going to be sick. But I can’t be sick. Because then the nausea would be gone, and I would be more comfortable. And I can’t be comfortable in a place like this. It’s when you’re comfortable, when you’re at ease, that you make mistakes.
I try to remember… Try to remember last seeing Esther… Images come back to me: Manning striking her… Esther screaming, saying she’s sorry.
And I hope the next bit is my dark imagination. I really do.
“So, it’s true? Not only has that bastard got my sister believing she’s in love with him, and hurt her, but he’s attacked Sev too?”
A man, shouting.
I open my eyes. Shapes blur around me.
“Sev, is it true?” Corin’s in front of me. His figure. Strong. Broad. Corin. He’s looking toward me, hovering despite Jed’s shouts, waiting for confirmation. “They won’t let me see her—Manning’s got her away somewhere, and I don’t know what the hell he’s doing to her… Is it true?”
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