A pair of arms wrapped around Samuel’s torso before he could try to see. He felt the arms lift his legs from the ground. He fell hard. His head recoiled as it hit the dried earth, and his glasses fell from his nose. The patrolmen forced Samuel’s arms around his back, bending his wrists in a way that immobilized his hands.
Samuel coughed. He still had breath in his lungs, and he wouldn’t stop screaming until they gagged him.
“I’m your patrolman! I guard your jailhouse! I work for you, sheriff!”
Samuel felt a knee crash into his skull, pushing his face down, further constricting the movements of his head. His cheeks burned. He heard what sounded like slamming doors and thunderous steps.
“What is this?”
The sheriff shoved the patrolman off Samuel.
“You want the whole town to hear this?” he asked, charging forward. “Don’t beat him. Just shut him up. He’s only a stupid kid.”
Samuel could make out what appeared to be Jax’s boots.
“He is a stupid kid,” Jax agreed. “A stupid kid who took down a three hundred pound logger like that.” Jax snapped his fingers. “Are we supposed to go easy on him because he’s scrawny?”
“Pick him up.”
Samuel was lifted to his feet, each of his arms held by a patrolman. His blurry sight was eventually made clear when one of the patrolmen clumsily put his glasses back on his face. The first thing Samuel saw was Jax tightening his grip on the strap of his rifle and the sheriff gnawing on his own lip in annoyance.
“I know he’s in there,” Samuel said. “I know—”
“Enough.” The sheriff shoved his thumbs inside his belt loops. “Shut up and listen. We’re still trying to sort everything out. Ain’t gonna do no good to have you out here squealing like a mad dog. Making a scene—”
“It’s my fault. I told my father—”
The sheriff’s hand struck Samuel’s cheek so hard he nearly fell back into the patrolmen holding his arms. His face burned with pain, the blood rushing. Samuel reached for his cheek. His eyes watered.
“Shut your mouth!” The sheriff grabbed Samuel by the hair and pulled his face close, mushing their noses. “You’re out here calling yourself a patrolman, but you’re acting like a little whiney bitch. My patrolmen know how to act. My patrolmen know how to follow orders. My patrolmen know to shut their mouths when told to do so!”
Samuel’s lips quivered. He couldn’t find words.
“Leave. That’s an order. My patrolmen follow orders. You hear me? One more word and I will personally bash your pretty little face in. Go.”
The sheriff shoved Samuel to the ground, storming past him. “Get him out of here. Now!”
Samuel’s feet dragged as the patrolmen picked him up once more. They carried him off to the edge of the square and then threw him forward.
Samuel wiped his face, trying to move away the spit and the tears.
“I don’t care if you think you are the sheriff’s pet,” Jax said. He smirked. “I’m a man really good at following orders.”
Samuel’s jaw clenched as he stared back at the patrolmen.
“Go on,” Jax commanded. “Move.”
Samuel forced his eyelids closed. He turned away, his breathing rushed and his heart pounding. He was weak and pathetic. He couldn’t do anything here. But he couldn’t do nothing. He had to do something.
The mayor’s estate was a mile’s walk from the square. Samuel trudged forward, his cheek still tingling from the sheriff’s slap. Arguing with the sheriff was a pointless endeavor. He needed to plead his case to the mayor. He’d done so much for the man. Maybe he could somehow dissuade the mayor’s anger, convince him to show mercy. Samuel had no more pride. He would beg like a child if he had to, swear to do whatever the mayor wanted him to do with Zei. He would be better, work harder. He only wanted his father alive.
Samuel walked past the militia training grounds but stayed two hundred yards back from their combat drills. “You must put your dominant foot forward,” the foreigner’s voice called out to the crew of loggers. The redlands native marched through the rows of men, directing them how to plant themselves when facing an unruly mob. “Like this. Ankle to ankle. You have to stay together. As close as you can. A man alone is one soldier. But together, you can become a force to be reckoned with.”
The loggers mimicked the foreigner’s motions, their bodies attempting to unify. The foreigner nodded in approval before gazing past his recruits and glaring at Samuel. He did so for a moment before directing his attention back to the loggers. “Always hold your ground together,” he yelled out. “Side to side. Never leave your brothers. Separation is annihilation.”
When Samuel finally reached the estate, he jogged up the stone steps and rapped on the door. Thelma answered the door, bowing as she greeted him.
“I’m looking for the mayor.”
Thelma shook her head. “He’s away. But Charles is here.”
“Can I see him, then?”
“Wait here,” she said before closing the door.
Samuel did as Thelma instructed. The clouds above were dark and moving in a way that predicted rain or snow. He wasn’t sure which it would be. He drummed his fingers against his legs.
A minute later, Charles opened the door. He smiled wide, his teeth showing.
“Look who finally ditched work! Come in! It’s cold out there.”
Samuel walked inside, holding his arms by his side as they moved into the living room. The radio was blaring loudly, and the announcer discussed the finer details of reestablishing trade over the Great Sea.
“The trouble,” the announcer drawled, “is making sure we have enough ships that are large enough to cart back and forth our goods. It’s been so long since we’ve needed to haul supplies over open water. It’ll be a gradual process, the governor assures us, but that doesn’t make it a cheap one.”
Charles turned the knob on the radio, silencing it.
“It’s all so crazy.” Charles plopped into one of the cushioned chairs. “I’m so lucky I finished school before this whole thing started.”
Samuel’s toes scrunched. “I need your help.”
Charles waved a hand before digging inside his pocket. He pulled out a smoking pipe. “Sure. Sit down. What’s up?”
“My father. They’ve got him locked up.”
“The cleric?”
Samuel bit into his lip. There was no one else for him to confide in.
“It’s my fault. I told him to come to the jailhouse. I told him to come, to try and do the exorcism. He must’ve gotten caught.”
“Why did you do that?”
“I don’t know. I’m stupid. It took a while, but I saw what you and everyone else did. She … I guess I still wanted to help her. I didn’t think it’d work, but I wanted to try. It was dumb.”
“Yeah,” Charles said with a snort. “I thought you said all that faith stuff was deershit?”
Samuel shook his head, as if to empty the noise inside.
“I don’t know. I’m telling you this because your father is the only one who can protect mine. I want you to tell him that it was my fault my dad was there. It was me who wanted the exorcism. Okay?”
Charles shifted his legs, tucking his feet underneath the chair. “Look, Sam. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t care. I’ve done everything the mayor has asked me to. If I’ve got to be punished, I understand. My dad too. Just don’t let him die. Mercy. That’s all I want. I’m asking for mercy.”
Charles ran his fingers through his oily blond hair. “I don’t know. My dad’s not one to forget stuff like that. I think you should wait it out. Sit back. See what happens.”
Samuel clenched his teeth, the agitation inside him festering.
“He’s your father. If you talk with him, maybe he’ll listen.”
“That’s not how it works, Sam. Try to calm down. I’ll get Thelma to make us something
to eat. Maybe we can figure something else out.”
“What do you mean?”
Charles rubbed his hair. “Look. Maybe you’re making a big fuss about this over nothing. Maybe they’re just going to rough him up a bit. He does deserve punishment. He broke the law.”
“I helped you,” Samuel said, his frustration spewing out in his tone. “When Zei … when the monster was hurt and dying, I helped you. It was your fault her leg was bleeding again. I’m supposed to believe you were trying to help her? It makes no sense. Why does she hate you so much? What did you do, Charles?”
“Come on.” Charles sighed, dusting his pants. “I already thanked you for that. And that demon? It’s just a crazy, mindless animal—”
“What did you do to her?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar,” Samuel said, his fury surprising even him. “You’re lying.”
Charles squirmed as he rolled up his sleeves. He stood up, his eyes at his feet.
“My dad,” he said dryly. “He’s always on my case about girls. About … not being into them like he was at my age. And then, when they caught that monster … ” Charles looked up, as if trying to choose his words carefully. “My dad said it was a demon. I was like you, at first. I called deershit on the whole thing. It made no sense, right? I thought the guy had lost his mind. Like he was suddenly going to flip open the scriptures and sign up for the clergy.”
“What did you do?”
“Let me finish,” Charles said sternly, looking down at Samuel. He turned to the side, shoving his hands in his pockets. “The day before that patrolman’s funeral, my dad put me in charge of watching the demon, or whatever the hell that thing is. But, at the time, it looked just like a normal girl. The demon chained up. Quiet. Didn’t seem to be bothered by me. I talked to it a lot, but it doesn’t speak, so that was a waste of time. But it stayed docile. Relaxed. Calm. I thought it was just a girl who wasn’t right in the head, you know? Maybe it wasn’t all there. So, I went in. I sat next to it. Just like you. It was just sitting there. Staring at nothing. I touched it, and—”
Samuel’s belly churned. “You tried to—”
“No!” Charles yelled. He looked around as if he was paranoid someone else was listening. “I didn’t! I guess … I just thought I should try.” He held up his hands. “He hates me, Sam. And I hate him. But, I thought, if I could try … ” He swallowed. “But I didn’t do anything. I wouldn’t have. Couldn’t have. That thing went crazy, and I barely made it out alive. I know better now.”
Samuel’s teeth chattered, the muscles in his neck tight and hard.
“What?”
Charles groaned. He looked away.
“Forget it. I thought you’d understand. Don’t you understand? You’re like me, Sam. Aren’t you … different?”
Samuel’s breaths were quick and hard.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s not a real girl,” Charles snapped back, his tone sharpening. “Doesn’t even have lady bits, remember? That thing is a monster. You said it yourself, didn’t you? You’re not thinking, Sam. About the cleric. You told me you didn’t want to be a cleric, that all of that roots stuff was nonsense. You told me your father was a little crazy with this faith. Why do you care what happens to him?”
The words struck Samuel hard, and for a moment he couldn’t think of anything to say. He’d harbored so much resentment toward his father and his passion for Azhuel and the holy roots. He longed for his father to be warm and kind, and not a cold man who showed more love to a god he couldn’t see than his own son. He hated that he was a bastard and that his mother was dead. But that didn’t mean he hated him.
In spite of himself, and his father’s faults, he loved him. He couldn’t let another person die. Not because of him. He couldn’t bear the weight of his father’s death. And now, the people he thought cared about him were turning their backs on him. He was alone. He knew that now.
“You’re not going to help me,” Samuel said. “Are you?”
“Don’t put it like that.” Charles put a nervous hand on Samuel’s shoulder. “Come on. I mean, haven’t I done enough for you?”
Samuel shrugged away Charles’s hand. “I thought you were different. But you’re like the mayor. You only care about yourself.”
Charles stood there dumbfounded, his lips slightly agape.
Samuel turned away, shoving his fingernails deep inside his palm. He pushed his fingers harder, nearly breaking into the skin. Without looking back, he stormed out of the estate, unsure of where to go next.
Two hours after sunset, the sheriff returned home. Samuel sat on the kitchen counter, his back reclined against the cabinets. A fresh bottle of liquor was right beside him. He stared at the sheriff as he entered the room.
The sheriff gazed at Samuel briefly before turning back to close the door.
“What have they done to him, sheriff?”
The sheriff unfastened his belt, grunting as he lowered his gun onto the table. He made his way to the bottle and scooped it up, careful not to get too close to Samuel. His steps were unsteady, and his breath already reeked of booze.
“What are they going to do to my father?”
The sheriff grabbed an empty glass by the sink and filled it with liquor. He downed the entire glass and refilled it.
“Answer me!”
“Can you stop with the yelling?” The sheriff’s words were slurred. He licked his mustache. “You sound like a spoiled brat.”
Samuel said nothing but held his ground, eyeing the sheriff.
The sheriff labored a long breath. He took another sip of liquor. “Got a call in the middle of the night. Surprised you didn’t hear it, but you were out cold. The mayor. He’d stationed some of my men at the jailhouse. Prick told me he did it to keep you safe, but you and I know that’s deershit. I think he was feeling the need to protect that monster. What from? Hell if I know. Whatever. Looks like the mayor was right.”
Samuel’s muscles tingled, like his nerves were on fire. He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. Why were they shaking so much?
The sheriff sucked his teeth before continuing. “One of my men ran all the way here, in the dead of night, to tell me they caught the cleric sneaking around the jailhouse. They’d beat him senseless before recognizing him. That idiot patrolman was standing right there, right outside my door, in the middle of the damn night, telling me he’d touched a cleric and he didn’t want to be punished for it. It’s like half of these idiots have no clue how the world works.”
Samuel understood what the sheriff was hinting at. If a cleric broke the law, he was no longer a cleric, but a traitor of the state. “Is he alive? Tell me.”
The sheriff nodded, taking another swig before he continued.
“I went over there. I cuffed him, put him in the back of my jeep, and brought him over to the blacksmith’s shop. I didn’t want to bring him in the jailhouse.” He paused. “Didn’t want to give the mayor any more ideas. You’re welcome for that.”
“What’s going to happen to him?” Samuel asked, his voice rising. He hopped off the counter, his feet slamming onto the floor.
“You need to calm down.”
The sheriff plopped himself into a chair, wiping his damp mustache. “He’s bloodied up, but alive. The mayor hasn’t made a decision yet, says he wants to know more information first.”
Samuel swiped the bottle of liquor away from the sheriff. “How bad? How bad is he hurt?”
The sheriff took the liquor bottle back, jerking it to his chest. “Give him more credit than that. Your old man is hard as stone. Won’t say anything, no matter how many times they hit him. He’s a self-righteous moron. But damn. The man can take a licking.”
“It’s my fault,” Samuel said instinctively. “I told him to go the jailhouse. I wanted him to try the exorcism.”
The sheriff groaned.
“My mistake for thinking you’d turned rationa
l.” He took a swig from the bottle, then slammed it onto the table. “Exorcism? An exorcism? Are you actually buying into that? What? You thought some prayer was gonna do what? That useless god your father prays to isn’t going to turn that thing into some sweet child. And that god isn’t going to save your father.”
“What are you—”
“No,” the sheriff slurred. He jammed a finger into Samuel’s forehead. “You need to listen up. There is no god. There’s no roots or demons or anyone out there watching over us. There’s just us. Just this!” He lifted his arms, flailing them wildly. “No one is there watching out for your dad. Nobody cares. Why can’t you see you that?”
Samuel swallowed. He tried to calm his nerves. “You are right. It’s just me. And I’m the only one who cares.” He looked away. “No. I think you do care. That’s why you’re drunk and alone.”
The sheriff shoved his knee into the table, forcing a loud thud. “Damn it, kid. Now you’re just pissing me off. Let me tell you what happens next. I’m going to finish my drink, sleep, and then wake up and do my job. If you’d done yours, none of this would have happened. This is on you, you little shit. Man up and accept the truth. You messed this up real bad. And there’s no fixing it!”
“You’re the monster,” Samuel said. “You’re worse than she is.”
The sheriff rose in a fit of blind rage. He tried to grab Samuel but couldn’t keep his own footing. He fell to the ground, moaning as he staggered back up to his knees.
Samuel walked past the sheriff, glaring at him defiantly. “You’re right. This is my fault. And I’ll fix it. Do nothing. Like you always do.”
Samuel slipped on his black coat, pulling the fur hood over his head.
The sheriff used the table for leverage. He took his seat, and grabbed the bottle of liquor, cradling it near his collarbone. “I’m your boss. Don’t forget that.”
Samuel turned the doorknob.
“Hey!”
The sheriff’s scream made Samuel’s skin rise. He turned.
Demon in the Whitelands Page 20