Zei gritted her teeth.
“I knew it!” the foreigner said in excitement. “And those eyes! So this is what that silly mayor has been up to. Quite interesting. It’s a shame you will not leave this place alive. No one will believe me when I tell this tale.”
“Don’t,” Samuel said. “Please. Don’t fight.”
“What was the name?” the foreigner asked Zei. “Of your kind. I can’t recall. Many souls. One host. The forbidden ones.” The foreigner’s smile widened. “Halyre.”
Zei remained motionless, saying nothing.
Samuel winced in pain. He forced himself to watch. He couldn’t comprehend the set of events that had led up to Zei’s arrival. How had she gotten out of the prison cell? Was she killing patrolmen and loggers, and if so, why? He nearly pinched his own leg, wanting to be sure this wasn’t a hallucination or nightmare. He looked down, seeing his father’s body on the floor. He wanted this to be a dream, but the throbbing pain in his arm reminded him it wasn’t.
“You are missing an arm,” the foreigner noted. “Without that prosthetic, you’re much more vulnerable. While I am not one to take handicaps, I will make an exception for you. I am not like the men you’ve cut down. I am a warrior. Many enemies have died by my hands. I will not die today.”
Samuel tried to stand but couldn’t secure his footing. “Please. Leave her alone. She’ll kill you.”
“She?” The foreigner laughed. “This is neither male nor female. Only an abomination.” The foreigner crouched lower, his body positioned to attack. “Hungry, are you not? Then please. Let me whet your appetite.”
Zei flicked the hatchet slightly, the blade nearly touching her toes. Her expression was mostly unreadable, but Samuel could sense Zei’s annoyance with the foreigner. She raised her stub to him, almost as if it were a loaded weapon.
“Don’t,” Samuel pleaded, although he wasn’t sure whom he was talking to. Perhaps both of them. He opened his hands, holding them out in surrender. He hated seeing her like this, because this was how the mayor wanted her. “Zei. You’re not a demon. I know you’re not.”
“Demon?” the foreigner forced out. He glanced at Samuel’s father. “What nonsense has that holy man—”
Zei rushed to the foreigner and made the first swing. The foreigner jumped back, knocking the blade away with one of the knives. He spun around and took a swipe at her legs, but she was well out of the blade’s reach. Zei hopped on top of the blacksmith’s table. She hurled the hatchet at the foreigner’s chest, but he knocked it away.
“Stop!” Samuel yelled. “Don’t do this!”
The foreigner lunged at his attacker with both blades. Zei leaped off the table. She swiped a pick from underneath the table and slammed it through the foreigner’s boot. He yelled as he rolled away, into Samuel’s father.
“You are fast,” the foreigner labored to say. He pulled the pick out from his foot, wincing and grunting. “How many human lives have you taken, Halyre?”
“Stop it!” Samuel managed to get to his feet. He took two quick steps, then tripped, falling back to the ground. “Zei. He’s going to help me. You don’t have to kill him.”
Zei darted out from under the table as the foreigner got to his feet. When she came up, she took one of Samuel’s throwing knives and held it. The foreigner lunged toward her, swinging both knives in a way that would cut anything to shreds. She was too fast, hopping backward and to the side after every swipe. She darted behind the foreigner, dropped down, and swiped the blade across the back of his ankles. The foreigner yelped as he fell to the ground. He dropped one blade and swung the other madly, warding her off as long as he could.
Zei stayed back, spinning the knife around, then tossing it into the foreigner’s belly. The foreigner grunted as he halted his defense, dropping his weapon as he struggled to remove the one inside him. Zei casually scooped the hatchet back up. The foreigner plucked the knife from his gut and threw it at her. The blade sank deep into her right shoulder near the collarbone.
Zei twisted her neck, her eyes examining the new injury. She reached up with her good arm but couldn’t secure her grasp of the knife’s handle. Blood spilled down her shoulder onto her black dress.
“Stop.” Samuel got to his knees. Using the wall behind him for support, he rose to his feet. “You don’t have to fight!”
The foreigner grabbed one of the blacksmith’s spare knives next to him, and he rolled himself up to his feet. He cocked his legs back as his knees bent, preparing himself for a vicious launch at Zei. Before he could leap toward her, Samuel grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back. Together, Samuel and the foreigner crashed to the floor.
Zei came forward. Without time to prepare for the next attack, the foreigner made a desperate swing to his right, but Zei brushed it aside. He made another swipe left, but he was too slow. Samuel scurried to the wall as Zei jumped on top of the foreigner. Without hesitation, she pulled back and smashed the hatchet into his neck. His body went limp as the blood splashed out.
Zei sat still over the foreigner’s body, the blood touching her knees. She looked to Samuel, her eyes hungry.
Samuel pressed himself against the wall. Zei was no longer a captive prisoner limited by shackles. Some way or another, she’d gained her freedom, and she’d shown no restraint. He hoped she wouldn’t harm him, but a part of him felt he deserved it. He was pathetic, weak, and unable to protect those he cared for. He was the reason his father was dead. She’d proven herself much stronger than he could ever hope to be. He wasn’t fit for this world.
Zei stood up. She turned her bloodstained face to Samuel. He tremored, his lips searching for words. He pressed himself closer to his father’s body. He was going mad. He knew he was. The foreigner called her something. Halyre. Forbidden ones. A legion. A “they,” as if she were more than one entity.
Zei came closer, her hand fumbling to get the small knife out of her shoulder. Samuel’s breath halted, his lungs unwilling to give him air. Perhaps it’d be best for him to die here. He could close his eyes, and Zei could take his life. Make the pain stop.
“In the bag,” he said. “Near the corner by the pail. It’s your machine arm. I found it in the sheriff’s house.”
Zei stopped before making her way to the bag. She got on her knees as she unzipped it. Her head tilted with amusement as she pulled out the mechanical arm. She lifted it and grimaced. She went back to Samuel and extended the claw portion of the arm forward.
Samuel’s body shook as he took hold of the prosthetic. Zei slid her stub inside. A humming noise rose from the metal arm, and its visible gears began to rotate. Zei strapped the first buckle around the base of the holster, then draped the larger strap over her left shoulder. She leaned down and lowered her body.
Samuel’s hands quivered as he tightened the strap over her shoulder and buckled it. The two hooks that formed the claw moved in and out, the motion causing a light squeak. Samuel moved his hands to her right collarbone, his fingers touching the knife’s handle. As gently as he could, he pulled his throwing knife from her flesh. More blood gushed from the open wound, black liquid bubbling down her flat chest.
Zei loomed over Samuel. He put the knife in her hand.
“Do it.”
He really did want to die. He knew that now. He didn’t want to live in a world where he was the reason his father was dead. He didn’t want to have a burned mark on his arm. He didn’t want to face the mayor or the sheriff ever again. He wanted to be nothing. Like her.
“I know that you want to. Maybe you can’t even control it. So it’s okay. I want you to do it. Just do it, Zei.”
Zei squeezed the knife’s handle, pulling it up to Samuel’s neck. He swallowed, waiting for the press of the blade.
“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing left to say. He closed his eyes.
He waited in darkness, but nothing happened. He heard what sounded like the soft shifting of dirt next to him. When he opened his eye
s, he saw Zei turn to the open door. More people were yelling outside the shed, the volume of their voices growing. She looked back at Samuel, her green eyes studying him. He couldn’t make out what they were trying to tell him, but he knew it wasn’t the answer he wanted. And then, as if nothing had happened, Zei dropped the knife into Samuel’s lap and ran out of the shop.
Samuel remained motionless for a long while, passively observing the chaos from outside the shop’s open door. Men were screaming, beckoning their friends and comrades to follow them to safety. The bodies Zei had left behind were enough to break apart Haid’s newly founded militia. No one was fighting or giving orders to advance. They were terrified, even the patrolmen. “They’re here!” one voice cackled. “I don’t see anyone!” another yelled back. “Stay inside. Everyone stay inside!”
Samuel lowered his head and gawked at the floor by his feet.
F R I E N D
Zei had scribbled the letters into the dirt before leaving him the knife and running outside. He didn’t understand. She was wild and violent. She was savage in her killings, and her slit pupils seemed to widen with joy every time she drew blood. He told her they weren’t friends. They couldn’t be. Not after what she’d done to Claudette’s father. He told her to kill him. Isn’t that what she wanted? Wasn’t that her nature?
Samuel glanced at the foreigner’s body. The side of his neck was torn open as if it had been nothing more than paper. He repeated the word demon as if it were the most absurd idea, but he spoke to Zei in full confidence. He called them they. Legion. Halyre. What did the redlands soldier know? If Zei wasn’t a demon, wasn’t possessed by a demon, wasn’t a boy or a girl or human, then what were they? Were there others out there? Others like Zei?
It was pointless to wonder now. Samuel couldn’t get answers from a corpse.
The patrolmen and loggers outside were confused, running for cover and screaming at others to do the same. Most were heading for the neighborhoods, and a few panicked patrolmen followed them. No one was able to understand who or what had caused the carnage. There was no leadership or direction. The once-disciplined gathering of loggers had turned into a panicky mob, and the patrolmen ordered to keep the peace were of no help. The only true soldier in Haid was dead now. So were Jax and the other patrolmen guarding the shed. So was his father.
A small crew of patrolmen dashed past the blacksmith’s shop. Samuel heard someone screaming at the patrolmen, ordering them to come back immediately. He recognized the mayor’s voice. “That demon is my property! Stop running like cowards and get it back! It went into the woods! Go! You fucking useless patrolmen! Fucking mindless loggers!”
Hearing the mayor’s voice made his stomach churn. He clutched his father’s lifeless arm, his blood boiling. For a long while, it was easy to put most of the blame on Zei. Then he blamed himself for the horrors: the execution of Claudette’s father, his burned mark, his father’s death.
But Zei and death and everything else revolved around the mayor. He was the one who’d forced Zei to be a prisoner instead of killing her. He was the one who wanted her as some sort of savage pet. He was the one who forced the loggers to work in unsafe conditions, jeopardizing their lives with his greed. He had arranged the test with Claudette’s father. He was the one who had stationed the patrolmen outside of the jailhouse. He was the one who made them all do whatever he commanded. He was the one who made the blacksmith carve the roots into his arm. He was the one who refused to let the patrolmen help his dying father. He was the reason his father was dead.
His teeth chattered. He wanted Zei to find the mayor and kill him. He wanted her to take a blade and plunge it into his belly, gutting him like some fat pig for slaughter. A darkness he could not explain clouded over him. He didn’t know if he craved revenge or justice, or if he’d become drunk on bloodlust himself. But he wanted to watch the mayor die.
He couldn’t stand back and do nothing. He couldn’t leave it to chance. Not anymore. This was bigger than him. It was for Claudette’s father, for the dead loggers and patrolmen, for his father, for Charles, and for every citizen of Haid.
The door creaked as a gust of wind tried to shove it closed, but Jax’s body prevented it from moving any farther. Samuel wiped his forehead with his arm. He huffed as he bent down and reached for the throwing knife Zei had left him, straining to hold it with his bound hands. Once he had it, he edged the handle into his mouth and bit down hard. He drew his wrists over the blade and sawed into the rope. The strands were thick and knotted well, refusing to break easily. He had to pause several times for fear of rupturing his teeth. His jaw ached. He ignored the pain, chomping onto the handle harder and rubbing the cords across the little blade. His wrists grew raw with each up-and-down motion. He felt the surface layer of flesh underneath the rope wearing away, and with it came fresh blood. The strands were cutting into his skin, the burn nearly identical to the throbbing of his arm.
But he wouldn’t stop. One of the cords had snapped, but there were several more remaining. Either he was going to break free or the ropes were going to sever off his hands. His eyes were wet and red, but he continued. He was going to be strong for once in his pathetic life. He sawed faster, harder, faster until a few of the cords eventually snapped and his bondage slackened.
He opened his mouth, allowing the knife to fall. His jaw throbbed, his teeth aching as though he’d been chewing on stone. The slack was all he needed. He wriggled his hands and mashed his fingers underneath the ropes. With a few more tugs, he was free. He could see the raw markings the cords had made, patches of his skin cracked and bleeding. He stretched out his fingers, giving them time to regain their dexterity. He grabbed the knife, the handle damp with saliva. After rubbing away the spit, he aligned the blade over the ropes binding his ankles and cut himself free.
He stood too quickly. His legs shook, his muscles needing time to adjust. His arm burned with fresh pain. He reclined into the wall, pressing his palms into the wood. The bunched-up sleeves of his jacket fell, the woolly cloth scraping across his burns. He scowled as he stood without the wall’s assistance.
“Come back here!” the mayor’s voice bellowed, the volume increasing. The sound of a gunshot cracked through the air. “We need that demon! It belongs to me!”
Samuel stretched his calves for a moment, trying to regain his mobility. As he pulled his heels forward, he looked back on his father’s body. His jaw trembled as he forced himself to turn away. He wanted to cry, but he wouldn’t. His father shouldn’t have died. He staggered to the blacksmith’s table and retrieved his other throwing knife, dropping both inside his pocket. He rummaged through the shop slowly, trying to locate the hunting knife. He remembered the foreigner taking it, but he wasn’t sure where he’d put it. He scanned around the furnace, unable to find it.
He surveyed the wall of mounted knives. In the bottom portion of the arranged display was a pair of twin knives, both comparable to his hunting knife in blade length and handle design. Both blades were double-edged and smoothly finished, but one was silver in color and the other black as obsidian. He took both knives, allowing his weary fingers to curl around the wooden handles. The weight of the blades felt good, nearly identical to that of his hunting knife. He turned, forcing himself not to look back at the foreigner or his father. He went to the open door, stepped over Jax’s body, and walked out into the square.
The daylight was blinding, the gray clouds from the night before having all but left the sky. The streets were vacant of nearly everyone, but a few men were still in sight as they ran down into the neighborhoods. There were several more bodies outside of the blacksmith’s shop and one in front of the post office. Samuel’s broken lens skewed his sight, but he was able to recognize the dead logger as Josiah.
Samuel adjusted his frames, scanning the square. No one seemed to be inside the front portion of the butcher’s shop. The lights were off. Nothing seemed out of place. It was as if the shop had never opened. It was a relief. Hopefully
Claudette and Laura had never left the confines of their home. They were safe. They had to be.
He glanced at the other shops in a bit of disbelief. Every shop seemed undisturbed, as if no one had come to open any of them. As he came farther up, he noticed the mayor’s jeep parked near the edge of the square. He went to the vehicle, peering inside. It was empty. He took a few steps back. He was too late. Everyone had run off, and Zei was nowhere to be seen. She must have run away into the woods.
He loosened his hold on the knives slightly. His mind pestered him with doubts and fears. His renewed strength was leaving him. He needed to find shelter as well. He could go and check on Claudette and her mother. He could make sure they were safe. He took a breath before squinting his eyes tightly, scanning over toward the logging sites one last time. When he did, he noticed a faint figure drudging through the small layer of snow and heading toward the pines. Samuel’s heart raced, and the rage inside of him returned. The figure was round and wearing a suit.
The burns on his marked arm twinged. He ignored the aching, tightened his grip on the handles once more, and sprinted after the mayor.
Samuel trudged through the snow, heading to the western woods. He’d heard the bustle of swaying branches and the chirping of a lone bird, but nothing else. He breathed through his nostrils, and the hairs on his neck rose. The trees above blocked most of the sunlight, and his eyes had to readjust. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he found the mayor. Did he have the guts to kill him?
He went deeper inside, careful not to brush his arms against any trunks. A gust of cold wind shook the branches, causing bits of snow to fall. He almost called out for Zei. He didn’t. He wanted her to be far away from this place. The mayor’s secret possession had escaped. She came to Samuel and spared his life. She left him a knife. Their time together had meant something to her.
Demon in the Whitelands Page 24