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50: American Girl

50: American Girl

50

(Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers- American Girl)

Vetia

Burning chest, stomach, beneath my rib cage, heart. Seventeen birds, eight kets, two weasel things, and a baby pig-cow-thing that wandered beneath a fence. Those were just the ones I remembered. The morning sun was glistening off the dew coating the trees and fields around me. I was filthy and as put together as a cavewoman.

“It’s not enough!” He growled. “You need more. You can feel the burning in you, the tearing of sinews that have yet to mend.”

“The pain is gone! I don’t need to kill anything else. I don’t need to kill anything else.”

“It’s not gone. I can feel it. I know you can too. Don’t deny what makes you alive.”

“I don’t give a shit about my hunger! Why can’t you just shut the fuck up already?!”

“We’ll be gone once we kill her, we promise.” The smile trickled in through her words. “But for now, listen to us, like you did when you cut our heart out. Don’t mind the others.”

“Bitch, without me, you wouldn’t exist.”

She chuckled.

“God dammit!” My eyes darted around, searching like a predator, resisting the temptation to lunge at the lurking animals I was luring in with my scent. “I’ve just gotta find somewhere to stay, somewhere that I can rest, and figure out a plan.”

“That won’t do!” He screamed out, sending shocks through my skull. “You must eat!”

“I don’t have to do shit!”

Her calming voice trickled over me. “Wavering means death, Vetia. We will tell you what to do. You do it. We survive.”

“You’re just some piece of my fucked up head aren’t you? You’re not even real. You’re just brain damage from that sigil, aren’t you?!”

“We’ve gotten us this far. We’d still be stuck rotting away in that godforsaken stone box without us. Shall we return? Explain everything to Simira and beg for her forgiveness? Lie down and let her kick us? Steal your voice away again? If that happens, you’ll have to invite more of us in, no?”

“You know I’m not stopping until I wring that bitch’s neck out. I’m just-”

“Then eat. Remain hidden. Do not waver from what I tell you, because-”

“Wavering means death.”

Without even paying attention, I sat still, waiting for anything to approach me. I didn’t even need to see them. Beads of flowing jzanmah silently illuminated the surrounding area, unobscured by plants, but hidden by stone and soil. Eighteen birds, eight kets, three weasel things, and a baby pig-cow-thing that wandered beneath a fence. The forest floor was freezing, but the field would reveal me. I didn’t know whose land I was on. I had hopped a wooden fence in the woods and wandered toward a field where wilting green stalks were neatly organized into dense rows.

“It’s calling me.”

“So dismissive…” He grumbled.

“Us.”

She pleasantly fluttered. “There’s a sensation, something protective, but awfully desperate.”

“Hello?!” A man’s voice called through the stalks. “Was somebody talkin’ back there?!” The stalks shifted and scratched against each other, throwing me into a panic. I hunched behind a thick white-barked tree with my teeth and nails at the ready.

"Simira’s men must be hunting us. Adam was always shit at keeping secrets. Maybe he even ratted you out for a promotion. Or they saw us on the hill."

“You don’t know shit about him. No way he woke up already after how much poison I gave him.” And yet, the words from them were infecting my mind. There was always the possibility that Adam would rat, then I would be hunted. They would kill me if I was caught. Or have me heal to death as punishment.

“Look at you, scared I would try to mislead you. You dumb bitch, if you die, I die. But also, look at you. You’re pathetic, weak, and still hurt. Play the role of a sick and wounded animal. If this man is a man at all, we may be able to use him.

“I’m not using anybody.”

“Do not waver. Else you will never get what you want. Wait until we can see him. And we must stop speaking aloud to us.”

From between the stalks emerged a man in a short brown cloak and rough, patched pants. A mess of stringy blond hair was tangled from the stalks and he lit a fire in his pale, worn hand that illuminated the dark treeline of early dawn. His brown eyes flickered up toward me, lurking behind the tree.

“Ma’am? Are you okay back there? I heard you talkin’ while I was out rippin’ the ments. They ain’t good no more, if you’re lookin’ for food. I do got some back at my house, if you need somethin’.”

He jumped at the opportunity. “Go to his home. Find a way to stay. Kill him and steal it if you have to.”

“God dammit you-” I was still whispering back to the voice, but it was right. “Um, sir, I’d be in your debt if you would be so kind.”

I limped out from behind the tree, still unable to feel anything in my left leg. The bones in my hand rigid and struggling to close into a fist, and he saw that immediately. He rushed over to my side, propping me up under his arm before walking me around the field.

“You got a name, miss?”

“I’m Ro-”

“Don’t tell him our real names.”

I stumbled and winced, pretending to be in pain. “Erg, sorry. I’m Rowena.”

“Dogshit name.”

“We’ll think of some preemptive aliases, they’ll be better.”

The man chuckled, trying to raise the mood. “Well, Rowena, my name is Montak. You look like you’ve got a gnarly injury there, mind tellin’ what happened?”

“I was with a group, traveling, when we got attacked by an animal. It targeted me, really, and I ran off. It was the middle of the night, and I don’t know where they went.”

“I got lost in the woods after an attack.”

“We were out, alone, searching for help.”

Tears blurred my vision, but I wasn’t sure if they were really mine or just a facade.

“What do you say we get you back, getch’ arrested, and then I can putt outward that you’re lookin’ furlough friends? That sound good?”

“NO! Nobody can know we’re alive! Don’t let them take us! Change his mind! Lie!”

Did he say arrest? To wrest me? Rest? Get me rest? There’s no golf… out word. Shit, I gotta stop jittering, it’s too obvious!

“Shhh…” Something from the forest shushed. I heard it behind me!

“Whoa, Rowena,” Montak pulled me around to look into my eyes, “you alright?”

I stared at him, fear and anxiety pouring out of me. Who the fuck is this guy? Is he real?

“Montak is real.”

“Sorry, still jumpy. Yeah, um, they weren’t my friends. I just paid for a wagon into the city. I was gonna look for work and find a place to stay, but I lost everything I had back there.”

Montak was silent for a moment as we approached the wood and brick farmhouse that was barely big enough for two. In the back stood a rickety wooden barn and a fenced in pasture littered with hay bales.

“Come on ‘n sit. I can help ya clean up and fuck you out house til get your stuff back.”

What? Horror and disgusted chills shot through my stomach, my vulnerable parts, like I was recoiling in on myself. Just the thought of somebody doing that to me, it… I wanted to vomit or kill something.

“Calm down! I don’t think that’s what he said.”

“Listen, we need to pay better attention or this will all be for naught. We can hide us better.”

Stuff back… figure out how to get your stuff back… yeah.

I caught my breath and the uncomfortable sensations dissipated.

He opened the drafty wooden door to a house lit only by the pale sunlight and a fire in the hearth. The house was one room. There was a pot over the hearth, a table with three chairs, a workbench that doubled as a counter, and a corner by the hearth where two cots were laid out. One’s sheets were neatly laid over it, while the other had a small figure beneath the covers, closest to the hearth. A variety of tools, herbs, barrels of food, empty buckets, and dried laundry lined the shelves and walls.

Stress, help, desperate. What’s going on?!

Montak helped me into a chair, then quietly walked to the cot and pulled the blankets back. He whispered something before tucking the blankets around the little figure and poking at the fire, dampening its vibrant flames.

He grabbed two cups, a pot, a loaf of blue bread wrapped in a cloth, and set them on the table. Then he brought over several cloths and a jar of brown paste. He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down with a gruff sigh before scooting the chair to me. He had a kind voice, but it sounded so weary. I felt it since I encountered him. His heart was rife with hopeful desperation, like he was trying fruitlessly for something he knew would fail, but didn’t know what else to do.

“Eat what you need, and clean that wound up. I can help if you need, but I’d rather not be touchin’ a woman unless she needs it. It’d make my kjzae mad at me.” He chuckled to himself and turned his head to the ground.

“See, he’s not gonna try anything on you. He’s far too tired to even question our lies, nevertheless our intentions. Maybe he’s just dull.”

“We’re okay, and he seems awfully kind. Let’s get as much from him as we can.”

I peeled back my shirt, which was caked with both fresh and dried blood. My blood. The wound on me was only about an inch long, having recovered a little from everything I’d killed, but it wasn’t enough. My body was still broken and slowly healing. It took half a village just to fix my arms, it was gonna take a lot to restore such a deep wound. I could heal it to speed up the-

“You must not heal yourself in front of him. The more he knows, the more of a target you become.”

Or maybe I wouldn’t. I wiped as much blood off as I could and tied the rag around me.

“You must really hate us.”

“I don’t but I do. Fuck you. Kill yourself.” I was getting really sick of him.

“Suicide us yourself, bitch.”

“Stop arguing, all of us. Are we all feeling that… around us… it’s speeding up our healing, giving us a little boost from itself, though there’s not much left for it to give. Healing could be the play. The head isn’t hot just yet.”

Montak poured some water into my cup and rekindled the real conversation. “How long are you planning to stay ‘round here?”

“I… I don’t know. I’ve got a visit to make, but that’s a ways out.”

“What can you do?”

“What do you need?”

“Well, if you’ve the time, you’re welcome to stay here. Wrappin’ up the farm is busy this time of the year, gettin’ ready for winter ‘n such. I haven’t been makin’ as much money as I need ‘cause I’m lookin’ after Lotti so offen. I could let ya stay here if you’d watch her ‘n help me take care o’ the house. I’d be able to git out ta the market more ‘n sell more. But I couldn’t buy much more food, so ya might have ta work. I’m already spent savin’ for Lotti’s treatment.”

“Lotti?”

He pointed his hand toward the cot. “My daughter. Been sick the same way my kjzae was. I done everything I can, but she ain’t gettin’ better ‘n I need more money to take her to Lord Hallax’s doctor. Miriel’s so damn expensive, though, and I gotta pay for all the visits beforehand. Then I gotta take her there. Even Lord Amien’s old doctor could come here, back when he was treatin’ my wife.”

“Aren’t there any local doctors, apothecaries, or healers?”

“The lords scoop ‘em up and use ‘em to death. All the teas and herbs don’t do nothin’ anymore, like the sickness got too strong for ‘em.”

“I think I might be-”

“Fix the girl. His debt will be immense.”

I cleared my throat, ashamed that I thought that, if it even was me. I tried telling myself that I wanted to help her because it was right, but they kept creeping forward.

“Montak, I can cure her.”

Montak’s eyes widened. His heart filled with hope and confusion.

“But can you promise to me that you’ll keep it a secret?”

“Are you… whatever you need, if you’re saying the truth, I can do it.” He leaned forward with his hands clasped on the table, his jaw trembling like he just witnessed a miracle. “You can stay here, long as you need, long as it takes.”

“It’ll only be a few minutes, actually.” Fear welled up inside me. The pain in my head, the coldness of dying while I’m idly in my own body. “And I might be a little… skittish… for a while afterward.”

“He’s practically on his knees. Take what you want. Eat his livestock. His livestock. Take them once this is complete. They will restore you.”

“We should be more tactful. Leave some for good favor, and in case we need some later.”

I tried ignoring them again, but I needed to barter more to preserve myself. “How many of those livestock animals do you have out there?”

“Four adult farns and two babies. Do you want them? If you can save her, I’ll give you as many as you want, I just want my baby to live!”

“Take them. Ravage two now and the rest after.”

“One! One. I only need one. I’m, um, not what you probably think I am, but I still-”

“We’ll need more. You’re being too kind, too humble. We’ll die if we can’t restore our jzanmah in time! We must not waver.”

Montak’s hope started sinking. “You are a doctor, a jzanmah healer, right?”

“Yes!” I snapped a little and traced the three small circles in the air, ripping off the bandage and sealing what was left of my wound. Montak recoiled, frightened and on guard. “Yes. I am. But I’m also- I have- I need living things to fix the damage from using jzanmah. To fix my own body. I’m not like other humans, Montak, and I promise I will help, but first, please just hear me out withou- withou- withou- without getting scared.”

“What is it? This your thing you needed to keep secret?” Montak leaned further back in his chair, and only then did I realize I was aggressively gripping the table, eyes wide, short of breath like a lunatic.

I straightened my face and my posture, but I couldn’t help stuttering over everything and racing to speak before he did anything. “I’m a, uh, I’m a fireblood. But I don’t want to kill people. I just need animal blood to get jzanmah and fix my body.” I felt the fear well up in him, and his entire body went stark white.

“You- you’re a-” Montak fell out of his chair and stumbled backward toward the hearth, wrapping his hand around a fire poker.

“This is pointless now! You’ve ruined it! The only thing he’s good for now is food!”

I sat still, fighting off the ones creeping forward, yelling at me to become the monster I feared most.

“Montak, do you want your daughter healed or not?! I’mnotbadI’mnotbadI’mnotbad!” My voice came out louder and frantic and wilder than I was expecting, and Montak went cold, frightened and defensive between me and his daughter. “Montak, I’m a fireblood, but I’m not gonna hurt any of you!”

“Why would I let a fireblood touch her?! You gonna kill her?! This one of your schemes?!”

“He’s gonna tell! He’s yelling! Silence him!”

“We don’t know who’s outside listening. We’re getting this under control, but the scent must permeate more!”

I tensed my face and flexed my neck, trying to shut them up. “I’m not gonna kill you, and there are no schemes! I just need a place to stay. I just need a chance.”

My mind was tired, my eyes were exhausted, and I finally broke. It was like every emotion I had bottled up since waking up in this godforsaken body finally burst out. Even through insanity and abuse, I had managed to keep myself strong, but this simple moment broke me. I broke down into a begging, desperate mess.

“Please, let me help you! Give me a chance! I… I don’t want to hurt anyone! All I want is to live, but I can’t because anyone I meet is gonna try to kill me! I didn’t ask for this, Montak! I’ll heal your daughter and show you that I’m trustworthy! I’ll sleep out in the barn if you’re still scared! I’ll do everything you asked, just let me show you that I can still be human!”

I was a sobbing mess, wiping at my eyes, retching for every breath in a horrid show of pent up suffering.

“Oh, that’s a good look. Tugging at his heart strings all by yourself. You’re learning so well.”

“We’re getting better. And we’ve really mastered forcing that scent. What a help it’s been.”

I clutched the sides of my head, sobbing, curling down into myself to hide my face. I whispered to myself, seething in wrath and anguish, “Shut up shut up shut up shut up and get out of my head, please!”

“I know all your true intentions. This show is just a step to killing that bitch.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Montak said shakily, pointing the fire poker in my face, “but I can’t-”

“What have you got to lose, Montak?!” In a maddened state of desperation, I pulled the fire poker into my chest, holding back my reaction. I whispered, seething, “If I wanted to kill you, I’d have done it already. I’ve taken down animals four times your size and had my fuckin’ heart cut out and I still lived. What would you do that could keep me down before I could kill you? Just let me save her, and I’ll sleep in a barn stall. Or I’ll just go, live in the woods. I- I j- I want a roof over my head.”

I’d pulled the fire poker deeper into my chest, leaning harder into the iron grip he had on the thing. Suddenly, a tiny girl’s voice broke through to me.

“Duddy, can she really help me?” Lotti squeaked from beneath her blankets.

I let go of the poker and pulled off of it, shuddering violently and falling back into the chair. “I- I didn’t mean to- to- to do that.”

Montak glanced frantically between me and her, fear and hope writhing within him like a furious tornado.

My voice cracked and croaked trying to speak, “I’ll leave, just don’t tell anyone I exist, please.” I rose from the seat and turned away.

“Don’t-” Montak rushed forward and grabbed my arm tightly with the poker pointed at my chest. “Wait! Just wait!” He let go and stepped back, falling into his chair fearful and alert. “Can you really, truly make my daughter better?”

I wiped at the tears running down my face and locked eyes with him. “Without a doubt.”

His heart fluttered with resolve for a moment and he lowered the poker. “I ain’t ever seen a fireblood that talks. Or cries. I thought they just killed people.”

“I ain’t ever met one period. Everyone just tells me to leave when I tell ‘em.” We both took a few moments to breathe. “I’m- I’m gonna heal her now.”

I cautiously stood and approached Lotti. Shaking, I traced the x-ray sigil into the air. Inside Lotti’s lungs and throat were millions of tiny dots glowing, but they felt different from the ones that Lord Amien had, like they were more alive, if that even made any sense to me. Like maybe Lord Amien had a virus, but this was a bacteria of some sort, or it was weaker with him.

Montak watched me like a hawk, white-knuckling the poker and twitching every time I moved.

I took a deep breath. “I can help her, but afterwards I’m gonna be really out of my mind. I may not seem like I’m fully myself, but I won’t hurt you. However, I may need you to help me get out to the barn so I can eat one of your farns.”

“You gonna eat a whole farn?”

I dropped my head. “I just… drain the life out of them. Through the blood. Most of the meat should be fine to butcher. I’ll try to avoid rupturing the organs.”

“Two! Take two! One won’t be enough!”

I quickly followed up on myself. “Actually, if I’m not doing well after one, would I be able to have another?”

“We’ll never get anywhere acting meekly. Take what we deserve with some pride.”

Montak stared at me with pursed lips and determination. “If my daughter is cured, and you weren’t lyin’, then as I said before you can take as many as you need. I can always buy or breed more farns, but I can’t get another Lotti.”

“Okay, um…” I looked around awkwardly. “Can I sit on your cot for this. Last time I fell over and hit my head really hard. This sigil… it takes a lot out of me.”

Montak carefully walked over and pushed his cot closer to Lotti’s, then gestured at it with the poker. I kneeled on the bed, over Lotti. She was a thin little girl, maybe seven at most. Her strawberry blond pigtails fell loosely on the pillow and her flushed pale skin was horribly gray around her exhausted, but still shining hazel eyes. Even for being so sick and thin, she had a cute little round face that was smiling gleefully up at me. Her hoarse voice groaned with every deep cough.

“Are you… gonna make me feel better?” She broke out into a coughing fit.

As I turned around to ask Montak for some water, he was already filling the cup. I waited and gave him a nod, then tipped the water slowly into her mouth.

“Don’t worry, Lotti, I’ll make sure you’re feeling better. Lie still for me, okay? I stroked her hair and fixed the pillow under her head. I’d healed the kids at the manor a few times, but they usually just treated me like the rest of the manor did, the bandaid machine.

“No need to be sentimental. She’s a stupid little kid. She doesn’t care, just heal the little shit already.”

“Fuck off.”

I cursed those thoughts, those voices. I fumed down at the dried blood caking my shirt and clenched my barely functional left hand.

“You can’t even be sure you’ll survive this, so why are you doing it at all? There has to be some easier way-”

“Do the fucking sigil already!”

I took a deep breath in, feeling the air the entire way through my nose, down my throat, and into my lungs, then breathed it out slowly. The twinges of pain in my lungs weren’t promising, but I was alive enough to coalesce jzanmah in my right index finger. If there was one thing I had learned from these sigils, it was that focus was the only way to keep myself from losing everything I had.

Seven shapes that I had memorized just two days ago. A four leaf clover that was brimming with green jzanmah. One. An A with a leg and a cross. Two. It was like I had awakened a sense for the way the shapes were pulling jzanmah from me, so I focused on keeping it centralized in my finger, closing any other leaks out of my body. This calmed the spikes and jitters of the shapes in the air before me and released a great deal of pressure in my head that I hadn’t even realized was building up. The half pine tree with an arrowhead. Three.

“Um,” Montak started. “That sigil isn’t going to-”

“Shut.”

“Focus. We’ll lose the sigil if we prattle.”

“Ya don’t say?” I whispered to myself, losing some focus as the voice interrupted my thought process.

The wavy spiral with an x in it became the next ordeal. In trying to focus on getting the shape correct, the pressure returned to my head and jzanmah violently seeped out of me into the sigil. Four. I drew in a hoarse breath. Reverse P. Five. Four of a symbol in each section, but one that was easy to fuck up. I finished each character, and the pull of the sigil on my jzanmah grew stronger. Six. I popped my ears and controlled my breathing as much as I could. As I did that, the chaotic sigil began to calm and lay more still in the air over Lotti. Last was the circle with five points that were dictated by the patient. I traced the sigil around and let myself be guided by the jzanmah of the sigil pulling my hand to each of the five points. Seven.

The sigil was complete. My entire body sweated and ached from the physical exertion of managing my jzanmah flow. On the contrary, I was feeling much stronger than before, ready to manifest into the activation of the sigil. I leaned over Lotti and slowly pressed the sigil downward, then spun it with a flick of my finger.

A shock cascaded like a lightning bolt through the back of my head. My muscles spasmed and ripped as I fought to limit the flow and control this ravenous beast of a sigil. Its claws ripped at my cranium, grasping at every bit of jzanmah it could snatch from the cracks in my focus. Immense pressure grew in my head, scraping at every orifice in my face. My eyes, ears, nose and mouth raged like they were full of burning magma, searing me alive as the jzanmah broke me, crashing out. Everything turned red again, hot blood pouring out of my nose and mouth.

Suddenly, the pain let up. My eyes rolled backward and vertigo shot through me, the lightness of my consciousness prevented me from halting the weight of my head. My temple slammed into a post at the foot of the bed and I lost all feeling in my body, wherever I ended up tumbling to.

“It hurts, but you did it. I’ll get us back on our feet.”

* * * * *

For the second time since coming to this world, I woke up.

Or, rather, I returned to my senses. It was like I had been dreaming, seeing glimpses of what I did after the sigil, only for them to quickly slip away. I clutched my head and sat up with the worst hangover of my life. Immediately, my entire brain burned with a thrumming migraine that spun the barn in circles above me.

“Two wasn’t enough.”

“Fuck. That why I feel like this?”

“Four also wasn’t enough, apparently.”

I was incredibly warm, like being in a relaxing bath, until I felt the poke of something sharp under my leg.

Before my freshly opened eyes was a mess of blood and viscera, like a bomb went off in the barn. I sat up from the eviscerated carcass of a farn, its body still warm as its blood slowly seeped into me. It wasn’t helping at all now that it was dead, though. I could have been Carrie with how drenched in blood I was. Even as I tried to move my face, crusty bits of dried blood flaked off and tugged at my skin with every wince I made.

“Jesus, can I keep a set of clothes clean for fuckin’ once?”

I clutched the side of the stall and slowly pulled myself up. My eyes immediately locked onto Montak, who stood at the entrance to the stall with a flame in one hand and a pitchfork in the other. Boy was he scared shitless. I slowly stumbled over to him as he backed away with the pitchfork out toward me. Walking and talking were not happening at the same time for me, so I halted and leaned on a post a few feet from him then slowly tried to focus my eyes. Part of me really wanted to scare him because it would be funny, but other parts of me wanted to not play with my life.

My lips could barely open, but I forced a sentence out. “You got hot water, or a bath, or something?”

Montak lowered the pitchfork and stammered. “Um, y-y-yeah. I can d-do that.”

“‘ow’s Lotti?”

“She’s doing a lot better now.”

“Thas gooood…” I felt myself going over, and clutched the post in a hug.

“Shit, c’mere.” Montak ran over and caught me under his arm, putting the pitchfork in my hand like a walking stick. “Let’s getcha a bath and some new clothes, alright? Then we’ll talk about the next step.”

“What? Nadda fan uh mah new look?”

Montak awkwardly chuckled.

“We really put the blood in fireblood, eh?”

“I don’t want to be in her head with the rest of you anymore.”

I shut my eyes and let him walk me around the side of the house. He set me on a bench and rolled a wooden tub in. Two by two, he carried in buckets of hot water to fill the tub, gave me some soap, and placed a fresh set of clothes on the bench for me. The whole time I was in a daze, undressing and washing myself on autopilot. Apparently I couldn’t take my own blood back into my body, so I was sore and red from all the scrubbing I had to do. Nevertheless, being properly clean for the first time since arriving in this world was an incredible feeling. The clumps of my hair that I had ripped out were already fully grown back, and the scar on my stomach disappeared. It was like my body had healed completely, but my brain was still a disaster, though the pain had gone down significantly.

The first time I felt that much pain in my head, they started talking. It had been relatively harmless, pretty much a person to help me process what was going on, disconnected from my own thoughts. I hadn’t noticed it until I came back to normal this time around, but it felt like something was watching me from behind, like the voice was there. From leaving the stall to getting in the bath, part of my focus was stolen by an illusive set of eyes, ones that might not have been real.

“Do you know what’s watching me? Is it one of you?”

“We heard it in the woods, perhaps it’s still following us. Perhaps a guard tracked us, or one of Simira’s lackeys was sent to follow Adam, or Adam ratted on us.”

“No, no, no. I don’t feel anyone’s jzanmah.”

“You’ve met one like that. What if there are more?”

“They’re out there. The rest of us hear them.”

I lowered myself in the water as the presence of eyes lingered at my back, ready to pounce. From all around me, voices and conversations were rising up in the silence. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, and yet I jumped at the sound of my name being spoken, the door opening, plans to come in and kill me, torture me, rape me, every vile thing I could think of.

They’re talking about me. Hunting me. Wherever they are, they know where I am and I know nothing about them. Eyes peering at me from the cracks in the walls of the bathshed. Cackling at me. The guards are back. They’re here to drown me, of course I should have known. I’m too subhuman to even be used.

I pulled myself out of the tub and fell backward, crawling into the corner of the room as they loomed in and snuffed out the light around me, grinning like devils. I couldn’t stop my breath as a deafening heartbeat filled my ears. My chest heaved and whined while I curled up in the corner.

They’re gonna kill me. They’re gonna drown me and I’ll die again, but will I die? There’s nothing I can do about it. They’re gonna hold my head under water and do horrible things to me. I’m too weak to do anything except shield my eyes and cower.

Fuck this body! I don’t want it anymore! I wanna be able to fight back!

Shaking, falling further away. Why can’t I do anything? Why can’t I even beg for my life? Tears rushing down my face as I unintelligibly beg them for mercy. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take any more pain.

I screamed and thrashed at the winding thing on top of me, then it blasted me in the eyes with firelight.

“Rowena, Rowena!” Montak burst through the door and recoiled backward as the towel in my hands fell limply over my torso.

The worry and fear was building in him again.

I sat up and clutched the towel around the front of me, barely catching my breath. I cowered from him. Quick and shallow breaths shot in and out of my mouth, not even making it to my lungs. I was just trying my best to ignore the people staring at me.

Montak turned away modestly, deep concern about him. “What’s goin’ on with you? You ain’t actin’ normal.”

I caught my breath and my eyes quickly and idly flooded with tears. My voice was tiny, and terrified… of myself.

“I-I-I-I won’t hurt anyone. I don’t do that. I can’t. It hurts me. I’m scared. I-I just need time to get better. I got- I- I was- uh-” I swallowed, my breath slowing enough to speak. “I’m trying to get better. I don’t know how, though.”

His eyes grew stern, empathetic. “There’s a hot pot of stew for you in there. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“No, um, it’s fine. Sigils can make my head a little messed up.”

“Are you sure you’re alright, though? Can you walk?”

“Yeah, I-” I swallowed and breathed. “I should be okay now, thanks.”

He opened the door and lingered there for a moment. “Take as much time as you need, the stew ain’t goin’ cold.”

Montak closed the door and the people that had been darting through the darkness behind him made their way forward and into the space around me, cackling and whispering from every direction.

I listened closely, focusing on the sounds, the whispers, the doors.

“It’s not real. That whisper was just a tree branch, leaves swishing against each other. The bath shack is creaky, the door isn’t opening. I don’t feel anyone around. My head is taking the sounds and misinterpreting them… that’s it. I just have to ignore them. Real people can ask again if I ignore them. I’d rather be hated than insane. I’m alone and that’s okay. I’m okay… I’m okay… I’m-” I broke down, closing my eyes, covering my ears, and wailing into my elbows. Happy that I was sane enough to realize what was going on, but beyond terrified of how far gone I was. I lost track of time again, but it may have been about ten minutes of that. Maybe thirty. Long enough to calm down.

I quickly dried and dressed, then dashed out into the darkness. The barn door was still open, and four more farns were sleeping in stalls. I didn’t know where it was coming from, but I had an instinct that taking jzanmah would make the voices and people go away. I climbed into each stall, pricked the farns with my tail, and then drank the blood from their necks. I felt their jzanmah, like how I felt emotions from everything else. I drained just enough to leave them alive but still replenish me. After the shadows and voices dwindled, I slipped out of the barn. They weren’t gone, but they were far less frequent, and any improvement was good for me.

I opened the front door of the house and stood on the threshold, unsure of how to greet the two at the table. My feet were again covered in mud and dung, but the long jade colored dress with short, flowy sleeves and a floral pattern was comfortable. It was really tight in the stomach and chest, so I had barely tied it in the back just to have some breathing room. Regardless, it was clothes. Nicer than what I'd been wearing. And fresh underwear was a blessing. I used the bath towel to wipe my feet clean, trying not to look as mentally lost as I was.

Montak casually stood up and pulled out the third chair before walking over to the pot on the fire. “Come on in. Set down. There’s plenty to eat.”

I sat down and the eager eyes of a little girl were locked on me, staring at me in awe and shyness. The best I could do was offer a tired smile until she finally talked. “Are you my new mummy?”

I broke out into a weak chuckle and Montak stopped scooping to correct her. “Lotti! I already told you, she needed a place to stay, so duddy is letting her stay here. Don’t embarrass her like that.” Montak passed my meal to me and sat down. “And eat your food, both of you. You need the strength.”

“But duddy, you don’t let other girls wear mummy’s old dress!”

I sat uncomfortably while Montak ruffled Lotti’s hair and pointed in her face. “Your mummy was the only other woman who lived here, Lotti. And Ms Rowena made you feel better, and in return, we’re lettin’ her stay here a while. Her clothes got real messy when she was fixin’ you, so we’re letting her borrow one of mummy’s old dresses.”

Pungent silence overtook the table as he sat back and ate his meal.

“Sorry about the farns,” I meekly blurted out. “I didn’t realize I would need so many.”

“Don’t you apologize for nothin’. I’m just glad to have Lotti up again. Besides, there’s more left still.”

I poked at chunks of meat and vegetables in the rich broth. “And I have to ask one more thing. People can’t know that I’m here, or what I am.”

“Yeah, that’s okay. I’ve got a few cousins down south, so if anyone asks, you’re one of them. Ain’t nobody here know ‘em. Um, but weren’t you sayin’ you were gettin’ a job?”

“Yeah, I have an arrangement.”

“I don’t know why you don’t just start fixin’ people for cheap. That sigil was amazin’. And you could probably do what that one guy did for my wife much easier.”

“What sigil was that?”

“I dunno. It wasn’t as fancy as yours, and it didn’t hurt the doctor. He came by for visits daily to do treating sessions with her. Helped her a lot until the Viscount got sick and used the doctor to death. Then when he couldn’t keep coming, she got worse and… uh… well, it’s been four winters since she had to go.”

“Mummy had to go to the big islands!” Lotti angrily dropped her spoon in her stew. “Good mummies don’t go!”

“Lotti!” Montak raised his voice, closing his eyes wrapped in dark circles for a moment, then softened his tone. “I don’t have to tell you this again. You know your mummy loves you.”

Lotti shot up. “I don’t wanna eat, I wanna go outside!”

“Then go out in the dark, see how fast the firebloods gobble you up.”

Her eyes opened wide and her mouth fell flat.

I shrugged. “I was outside a couple nights, Lotti. Those firebloods are quick. Big sharp teeth and ugly as can be. They eat kets whole for snacks, but I bet they could eat little kids in one big gulp.”

Lotti looked at me then her dad, who nodded, a little twinge of fear in himself. Her little hands slid the bowl back in front of her and picked her spoon back up. “Have you seen a fireblood?!”

“Oh, yes. I met the worst fireblood of all. And she looked just like a regular person.”

“Will you fix me if the fireblood comes to get me?”

Montak pointed his spoon at Lotti. “Don’t be looney, Lotti, ain’t no firebloods gonna getcha in here.”

I couldn’t help the growing smirk on my face.

“Duddy! But what if it opens the door?!”

I raise a finger. “Lotti, don’t you know the rules of firebloods?”

Soup spilled out of her mouth as her shock grew. “Fireblood rules?!”

“Mhm! They can’t come into your house unless you invite them in. And they can’t eat in front of people or people will know, so they’ll try to tell you to go off alone with them. And finally, they don’t like spicy smells. So be really safe around strangers and you’ll be okay.”

Lotti nodded along as Montak wiped soup from her chin. “But- but- but what if I’m with my friends?”

I wagged my finger matter-of-factly. “Anyone can become a fireblood if another fireblood gets to them, so make sure your friends are safe too. And if anybody ever starts doing anything that makes you uncomfortable, yell fireblood and run to get help.”

“Can you fix me if a fireblood eats me?!”

“Don’t worry, your dad won’t let any firebloods get close to you. And if they try, let him know.”

Montak smirked at the two of us, relief overflowing throughout him as Lotti nodded, stabbing her spoon into her “fireblood” stew. Montak raised his eyebrows at me, and I shrugged and smiled back, reveling in the little bit of normalcy I’d had since arriving.

“You know,” Montak pointed, “you could help a lot of people around here like Lotti. I’m sure they wouldn’t care what y’are if you were helpin’ em.”

“Earlier, you were saying there’s another sigil that cures sickness? But over time?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t that one that you used there neither.”

He grumbled. “And guess who kept it from you? Guess who decided to use up your life instead of doing things the right way?”

My head fell.

“Thank you for the meal,” I said, “I just remembered I need to inquire about that job now.” I quickly got up and made my way over to the door.

“Wait, Rowena, what do you mean? It’s night time. The only places open are the parlors and pubs. And ya haven’t slept yet. Ya ain’t even got boots on.”

“I know. And I don’t sleep.”

“Rowena there’s better places to work. Look at ya. No shoes, no gild, no money. Yer outta jzanmah. You’ll freeze out there. They won’t like ya cause yer pale. Ain’t tryna be mean, but they’ll just use ya. They won’t tell ya this-”

I furrowed my brows and couldn’t help staring at the floor. “I know what it is, Montak.”

“It makes money, but it kills ya while yer still alive.”

I glanced down at my muddy feet and exposed arms. The freezing wind outside was battering the door, and for the first time in a long time, I stopped to think about what I was doing.

Why am I-

“Wavering means death. And we must free our friends! She’s given us the perfect opportunity!”

“Montak, I’m not gonna be doing anything bad. It’s plank work that pays well.”

“You know you can’t trust em, no matter what. Those sigils you got there are too useful. They’ll just use ya to make money offa ya.”

“Like I said, I have my reasons.” I opened the door and stepped out into the cold air.

He stared a stern, fatherly stare. “You ain’t gonna bring nothin’ back here, right?”

I turned and kept my voice low. “Nobody even knows I’m alive. Either I go out and never come back, or it works and I’m outta here in a few weeks.”

Montak stared, blankly thinking for a few moments, so I turned to leave. “Wait, Rowena.” He reached into a few shelves, pulling out a pair of boots, a heavy cloak, and a fairly nice bronze over-cloak. “I’m choosin’ to trust you right now, cause you helped Lotti. Don’t let me down.”

I nodded. “Thanks, Montak.”

Up the dirt road I went to the city of Vehfirn.

What a good honest white knight he is. We can use him.

I bit the biting air back with the curses to my own mind. “Would you shut the fuck up for once?”

The wind concealed the whispers, hiding them in the crevices of the pitch black night where the shapes laid in wait. They wouldn’t go away, even after I had consumed so much jzanmah from those farns. After a long time thumping around in boots a few sizes too many, I passed through the outskirts of the Hallax Quarter in all its austerity. Nobody was out, but people were watching from windows and alleys around lit fires. The city was growing colder, but its people were already frozen to the core. There were hardly any light crystals in the streets until I reached the point where bronze became gold.

“And where the fuck do you think you’re going?” The guard oh so warmly greeted me.

I pulled the bronze cloak tighter and pulled off my hood. “I’ve got to meet with somebody in there.”

Hallax guards shouldn’t have a damn clue who I am. I made a point to go around the entire Amien quarter, too, so I should be safe.

The guard stepped forward. “Say, where does a dusty hag like you get a cloak like that?”

“It’s mine. I bought it so I could have this meeting.” I tried stepping forward, but the guard stepped in my way.

“Who’s this meeting with? Because I can’t imagine anyone in there wanting to look at you. And it sounds to me like you stole that cloak so you could get in there for your ‘meeting.” The guard stepped up to me, feeling the cloak and looking me up and down.

“I’m here to meet with Madam Diona. She offered me a job.”

He snickered. “What kind of perv would wanna use a dusty bin like you? You may not make it as a hooker, but you could sure make it as a comedian.” The guard grabbed my neck and tugged at the cloak around my shoulders. “I know this isn’t yours. Madam Diona doesn’t need shit like you in her parlors. So I’ll take it and arrest you for theft, how ‘bout that?”

“Wait! Can’t you send somebody to-” he slapped me and yanked at the cloak, trying to sweep at my legs to pin me on the ground. I danced and dodged over his legs, but he was about to have me knocked over when a voice interrupted us.

“Excuse me! Sir Guard!” A high-pitched voice broke into the mix. The guard held me still and glared up. “Sir Guard, I can vouch for her!” The short, petite figure with a soft, feminine face, oily copper hair, and a short gold dress caught up to us.

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“What do you want now, Minsa?”

“Sorry, Sir Guard. I told her to go on ahead while I did a quick job. I’m delivering her to the Madam myself.”

The guard sneered at me and held out a hand to Minsa. Minsa dropped three silver coins in his grasp. The guard tossed me toward her, and I stumbled to catch myself. Then, she led me into the upper Hallax Quarter.

“I’m Minsa! What’s your name?”

“I’m Cressida. Thanks for that. I was worried I might not even get the chance to get in here, nevertheless see Diona.”

“I’ll take you right to her! You’ll love Madam Diona!” Minsa coughed violently out of nowhere, halting to work through it.

“Nasty cold you got there.”

“That’s part of the job, heh.” We carried on towards a brightly lit brass building.

“Sounds like you’ve been working there a while.”

“I’ve been working a long time now!”

“How long have you been there?”

Minsa chuckled. “My whole life. Madam Diona’s like our mom. I was born there. My little sister too. She’s six. I do the work so she can live here.”

Within a few moments of walking, we were already in front of the building I was told to find. The jzanmah from inside, from Minsa, from the guards was starting to overwhelm me. There was a lot going on. Some really uncomfortable, downright disgusting things flowing through me, heavy arousal, constant numbing bursts of euphoria, and something unworldly, like a hopelessness masked in empty flight.

Minsa held out her arms to present the building I should have turned away from. “Good Moaning! You’re gonna love it! Just remind Madam Diona that I brought you! I’m Minsa, don’t forget it!”

I halted in place, trying to fully process what I just heard. Minsa opened the front door, finally illuminating the welcoming grin. The smile chipped at cracking layers of makeup, which concealed her gray, almost withering skin. That empty smile couldn’t hide the hollow misery emanating from her, the physical discomfort, illness, pain, stinging face. Every bone in my body was telling me to turn back, to go back to Montak’s house to rethink, to-

“Wavering means death. Go in. We have to. Unless we want back in that cell.”

I stepped through the door, into the crimson, black, and gold parlor. The entire place reeked of sweat and perfume. It was bustling with people, and the front was incredibly clean, surprisingly so. I was about to approach a portly man behind a desk, when I felt a tug at my arm.

“Cressida! This way,” Minsa pulled me through a door to our left, into a back hallway.

Rotting wood walls creaked, curling at the ends against the shell of brass and gold around the building. Clouds of smoke that stunk like cat piss plumed out of rooms into the hallway, suffocating anyone even slightly taller than me. The entire place was like emotional overload, so much that the lightheaded highs and ecstasies from numerous substances and people trickled into me. It made me feel sick. Nauseating and curdling stomach. A craving sensation that was familiar to me, but for substances and vices that made me want to burn this place to the ground with everyone inside. I’d never forget the misery that the pleasure stemmed from. The pain that had to be inflicted for these feelings to arise in the people around and then seep into me. Minsa guided me to the end of the hallway, up a set of stairs and through a brass door. We entered a new hallway, much cleaner and less run down. Minsa knocked on a door at the end of the hallway, guarded by two massive figures in gilded armor, even nicer than the Hallax guards.

I didn’t hear the voice from the other side, but Minsa opened the door and pulled me in. “Madam Diona! I brought this woman who wanted to meet you.”

“Minsa! What a pleasant surprise!” Minsa ran over to Madam Diona’s velvet red and gold chair, bouncing up and down with excitement. The room was stuffy, hot, and stunk like sulfur and old perfume. Diona turned to me as hauntingly as the first time I met her. “I’m pleased to see you made it this far. Quite the little feat you pulled off.”

She had no emotions, no aura, no anything. Every other living creature I had encountered in this world had an aura that I could sense and emotions that I could feel, but Diona had nothing. She was nothing. Like a blotch of cold in a sea of radiant heat. She was like talking to a wax figure, a mannequin, a cadaver that could flawlessly recreate everything about human emotion except the truth behind it. Everything in my body was telling me to run and never look back.

The woman returned to the back of my head. “Do we sense it? That chill from her? It’s not that we can’t sense her, there’s nothing there to sense… she lacks something.”

He pushed her back. “No… you see it. She’s rapidly absorbing jzanmah from all parts of herself. That’s why she’s emitting so much heat.”

Minsa itched at her arms furiously, bouncing to get Diona’s attention. “Madam Diona! I found her and stopped a guard from arresting her! And look at all this money I got today!” Minsa pulled a satchel from her dress and poured several dozen silver coins before Diona.

“Very good Minsa. You’ve had quite the exciting night of work.” Diona smiled at Minsa, patting her head like a dog.

Minsa looked up at her like he just won the powerball. “Can I have a free day then?! I wanna take my sister to the park!”

Diona’s smile faded and she glared. She reached out a finger and poked at the crack, clawing a small portion off with her long jagged nails. “Chipping makeup. Minsa, do you know how much more you could have made if you had fixed this?”

“But, Madam, that happened while I was-”

Diona’s face would have imitated anger almost perfectly had it not been for her ever so slightly curling lips, watching Minsa’s suffering. “It doesn’t matter when it happened. I expect perfection from my professionals. You will do better tomorrow, and then we will talk about a free day.”

Tears welled in Minsa’s eyes. “But Madam! It hurts so bad and I-”

Madam Diona clutched Minsa's jaw tightly. “You will do as I say. Those loyal customers want you and only you. Think about how little time you have left with them before you go on to different clientele. Have they not earned your respect? Have I raised you wrong?” Diona’s face shifted and tears dripped from her empty eyes. “Oh dear, it must be me! I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I?! Is it my fault that you cannot service those men?!”

Minsa’s eyes broke like a five year-old begging her mom’s forgiveness. “No! Madam Diona I’m sorry! It’s not your fault! I’ll stay young! Please don’t be mad at me!”

“But how will I ever make it up to you?! I’ve ruined you, haven’t I?! Oh and your little sister will have to work if I can’t even train you properly!”

“No, Madam Diona! I’m a good worker! I’m a good worker I promise!”

Diona’s crocodile tears cleared. “Oh, don’t cry, don’t cry. I know you’ll be better.” She hugged Minsa and wiped at her tears. “You know, Minsa, I just remembered.”

“What?” Minsa replied sheepishly.

“Your little sister got some more fluffies today! Why don’t you go try them with her.” She squeezed Minsa in a hug and nudged her away.

Minsa’s misery dampened for the briefest of moments when Diona mentioned her sister.

She opened the door and defeatedly walked out. On the way out the door, a woman with a disgusted expression hip-checked Minsa’s head into the wall.

“Ew.”

Madam Diona greeted her. “Fera, you’ve come at the perfect time.”

Fera looked me up and down and scoffed. “Madam, even you have stooped to new lows hiring a woman… like this.”

It took every bone in my body to stand still. My face looked serious, but had Fera not walked in, there wouldn’t have been anything stopping me from leaping over the table to rip Diona’s throat out. Everyone here. Everyone. What was Simira compared-

“Focus. We need her.”

“Now,” Diona continued, “nameless little healer, we have business to discuss. Our bargain was that you would fake death, and I would let you inside to exact your revenge, and pay you for the service.”

“You’re gonna let this little hussie in among us? The best of all your pleasure parlors?”

I dead eyed Fera. “Feel free to call me Cressida whenever.”

Fera just scoffed and sneered at me again. “She doesn’t have the spine for it.”

Diona silenced us both. “Fera, this is the one who ripped her heart out in front of your boyfriend. Have some respect, she’s done more damage than you ever have to that boy. I think that takes plenty of spine and ability, enough to turn vengeance on a woman as brutish as Simira.”

“You’re the one Tarynn messed around with?” Fera burst out in laughter. “Don’t worry. I was disappointed too, but that’s why working here is so nice.”

“And he knows you’re here?” I was having a hard time covering up my contempt for this bitch.

“Oh, I tell him all about the things I do here.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s so miserable to be around, so I’ve got to get some fun out of it. But I’ve got a new funny drunk idiot who empties his pockets for me. Tarynn hates when I tell him how much better drunkards are than him. His reactions are priceless.”

“You got a fucked up sense of humor.”

“Says the bitch who cut her heart out and cursed Lady Simira.”

“Touche.”

She raised her eyebrows at me. “Ooh, you could be some fun. I think I see what you see, Madam.”

Diona cleared her throat. “That is why I’m leaving this to you, Fera. You will be in charge of making Cressida presentable for tomorrow and heading this task. I will guide, but I need to see if you’re able to effectively delegate work for me to leave Vehfirn to you.” She turned to me. “We will test if you can disappear into the hall. Tarynn has yet to let Fera close enough to steal Simira’s study keys, but it will not be long now that she is formally committed.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. “Great, so am I done here? I have an errand I need to attend to.”

“I can’t have the guards denying you entry again, so carry this with you.” Madam Diona produced a small golden pin in the shape of an eye from her desk. “It’s almost unnoticeable, but put that on your collar and those in the know will know you’re mine. Others will think it a simple adornment.”

I begrudgingly pinned it to the shoulder cloak. “That it?”

Diona lowered her head, locked her eyes on mine, and smirked. “You’re afraid of something here, aren’t you?”

Fuck fuck fuck. No fucking way she’s reading my posture or face… I’ve been completely locked in, unreadable. Visibly angry, if anything. But she’s a fireblood… she must be able to sense my emotions the same way I sense other people’s. But then what is she missing?

I sighed like I was trying to calm myself and gestured lightly. “Can’t help being a little anxious in a place that could get me arrested.”

Diona giggled like I was a cute, stupid little thing. “Oh, don’t fret. I own these people, I have full legal jurisdiction to do whatever I want with them. Every one signed contracts. Funnily enough, you’re currently the only criminal here, plotting a conspiracy. But, I can protect you from Hallax’s laws if you sign yourself to me.”

“Just Hallax? I’ll take my chances. I don’t spend much time here.”

Diona curiously raised an eyebrow at me, as if I had challenged her, then waved me off without another word.

Just then, turning through the threshold, a wave of grief and emptiness panged through my chest like I died again. I opened the door and stumbled into the hall, where Minsa’s aura slowly rose from the ground, except it was calm and emotionless, completely unlike before. I raced downstairs to the source, coughing through the clouds of smoke billowing up the stairwell. It wasn’t a fire, it had to be drugs with the stench of sweetness and ammonia burning my nostrils. I emerged at the bottom and witnessed a light green swirl of jzanmah slowly stream out the door. Minsa’s essence, her spirit, her soul as a wispy orb of jzanmah.

The door stuttered like someone was struggling to open it and then a little girl, had to be about six, stumbled out with bloodshot eyes. Her skin was pale like a ghost, nose running and drool dripping from her slack jaw, unable to speak. She pointed into the room and gurgled, staring through me like she wasn’t even mentally present. Plumes of vile smoke wafted out the room, suffocating the rest of the hallway. Another hopelessly high older man sauntered out of the room, tightening his belt.

He slurred out a name. “Haveeeen! Haveeeeen!

“The fuck do you want, Joset?!” a lavishly dressed woman with a haggard, mean voice yelled.

The man pointed into the room before slumping over like a zombie. “The boy’s broken!”

“Oh, lovely,” she said, “What the fuck did you do to Minsa?!” She pushed past me into the room, a violent thumping, like a seizing corpse on the other side of the door. “Would you look at this,” she said curiously as she poked the body with a dagger and chuckled. “Is he going fireblood already?” The woman shoved a dagger in the zombie man’s limp hand. “Cut his head off and dump him in the sewer out back.”

I turned away, the realization that Minsa was a boy paling in light of the scene before me. The back door to the alley was open, my escape. The dwindling green orb lingered next to the little girl, Minsa’s sister. As I heard the man sawing away, the green orb suddenly shuddered, silently screaming out in fear before dispersing into cloudlike waves of jzanmah which drifted into nothingness, absorbed into the little girl. The pain that radiated from Minsa’s soul violently tore through me, permeating my mind and body with a lifetime of suffering. My body couldn’t even process what was going on, unsure whether to rage, cry, vomit, or keel over into a fit of spasms. Shaking. My entire body shook so horribly, like it was trying to cast out the pain of overdosing to death.

Breathing became strenuous and my eyes blurred, unable to process what was going on around me. I didn’t know if I was high, dying, overdosing, or all of the above. I ran out the back and around the building. People all around me in the pretty nighttime streets, but I kept running until I ended up in the park before a section of beautiful orange flowers, glimmering like embers beneath the glowing crystals along the path.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Tears poured down my face and vomit spewed from my mouth. It wasn’t even vomit, it was all blood. That stench of rotting eggs and ammonia was baked into my nose from Diona’s office. The one that Desmond and Geren talked about. My body retched at the odor, unable to wash it free even as blood and bile burned through my throat and nose. The stench of a fireblood.

“I can’t fucking do this. I can’t! I can’t do this! I can’t do this! I can’t fucking do this!”

He growled at me, vengeful, hating that bit of me that wanted to run. “Either we’re killing her or I am. Diona is our ticket to Simira.” He slapped me across the cheek. “Worthless coward. Simira was right about you.”

“Simira’s a fuckin’ saint compared to these people.”

“If you think she’s any different, you’re a fool. She is no different from Diona and Fera. And if she isn’t yet, she’ll be bought, sign herself away.”

“So I just kill them all?! Is that it?! That won’t stop anything!”

“It will stop them. This city, the world will be better without them.”

“A city that lets all that happen won’t be better til it’s wiped off the fuckin’ map!” I stared down at the blurry flowers drenched in spatters of blood.

“Vetia! Wavering means death. She cut your tongue out, she locked you in chains, she took your humanity, and she threw you out like garbage. She will keep doing it as long as she lives. When she is dead, Diona will try to steal you. You and your abilities are valuable, and she is deranged enough to do worse things than Simira could conceive of. If you don’t do this, Simira, maybe Diona or Fera, will have free reign over Tells and Adam.”

The thought of Simira, that cell, was like knives slowly digging into my back. I gritted my teeth, grabbed at my face and tensed, a bubbling hatred regrowing remembering the shocks, the gashes down my arms, my head burning up and her smiling at me on my knees in that court. Claws dug into my face and bubbling saliva dripped from my mouth, losing control of my emotions like a rabid animal out for blood. My heart felt like it was on fire, on the verge of lashing out. My thoughts flipped between gutting the person behind me to ripping my own throat out to walking back in the brothel and painting the walls with as many people as I could kill.

His screams pounded through my head. “I want blood! I wanna FUCKING KILL THAT BITCH!”

“Hehehe, we’re going to kill her, we’re going to kill her, and she’ll be looking at everyone but us because of our little curse!”

“Oooooh something broke in me!” Hysterical laughter and crying overtook me, blood and bile running down my chin, hunched over like I was back in the cell. “It doesn’t matter who from, I’m gonna bleed someone.”

He and she were drowned out by a cacophony of whispers and shapes around everywhere I could perceive. I didn’t know what was real or not, so I stopped responding to the dissonance around me.

“Ayo! They got crackheads here too?!” A familiar voice broke through the mountain of wailing and whispers. I turned around to see Desmond, carrying a half empty bottle of liquor at his side, pointing and staring at me wide-eyed. “Oh shit, that’s our crackhead!”

I didn’t have the mental presence to respond. I just kneeled by the flowers and gazed back at him. His demeanor changed, reading my expression through the tears and blood.

“It helps.” He stood over me, arm outstretched with the bottle in my face, swaying like a drunkard.

“I know.” I wiped my face and grabbed the bottle from him, drinking as much of the burning minty liquor as I could to rid my throat of the taste of death. I killed a quarter of the bottle and Desmond just stared at me cross eyed. A moment of clarity returned to me. “Great, more bloodstained clothes.”

“Wait a fuckin’ second!” He loudly whispered. “Vetia, aren’t you, like, supposed to be at the big house?”

“I kinda wish I still was.”

“What’s goin’ on wi’ ya?”

“I’m figuring things out.”

“Thas a lotta blood for just figurin things out.”

I stared down at the bleeding flowers, wondering when this would all end.

He chuckled. “Aiight, chill. You can have the rest of that, too. Brenden’s been getting bitchy about my drinkin n shiiiiiii.”

“Hold up, I got a hypothetical question for you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“If you knew there was somebody out there abusing kids, trafficking people and running hard drugs, and you had a chance to take them out, what would you do?”

“Oh, it's on the spot. Bang bang done. How easy is it to get away with it? Cause that’s the big thing. Back home it’d be really tough, but here, it’d be way easier without cameras and stuff.”

“Here.”

“Yeah, I’m locked in. Brrrrt!” He made a buzzer sound and then went silent for a moment. “Wait, whoa, dude, are you gonna, like, kill somebody?” He leaned in to whisper to me. “Are you talkin’ about Diona?”

“Yeah… I am.”

Desmond’s face fell, and he put a hand on my shoulder. “If you got a damn perfect plan, I’m here for it, but that bitch is a fireblood. Ain’t gonna be easy from what I’ve heard about ‘em.”

“Yeah… I know. Maybe I’m just jumping the gun.”

He crouched next to me. “Listen Vetia. Homie to homie. I went through the system, shorter than most others, but still, I’ve seen bad shit from bad people who were supposed to be good. Just how it is. You just gotta be strong enough to walk away from it with your life. Count your blessings and keep your distance.”

“I… I don’t know. I was hoping this world would be different.”

Desmond slapped my shoulder, drunkenly smirking. “The world’s only good til you meet the other half of it, and the ones makin’ it bad know how to hide, usually right at the top behind all their bullshit laws.”

“Jesus, Desmond. You tryna get arrested?”

“Fun fact: If they arrest you for talkin’ shit, that’s how you know you’re right.”

I stared blankly at him and sighed, tired of it all.

“Ay Viagra, you got a place to stay?”

“Yeah, shacked up with a farmer. Nice fella.”

He nodded his head, caught up in laughter. “Ahlraaaaht! Cheers to a good mornin’!”

“It’s night, jackass.” I sent a swig back before picking myself up and stumbling back to Montak’s farm. Desmond would find his way home, same as me. Seeing him was all I needed. To remember that I was doing everything for them, for my friends.

* * * * *

Montak greeted me when I returned, but I made sure to keep some distance so he wouldn’t smell the drugs and booze. Thankfully, the brass cloak was metallic, so no blood seeped into it. He went back to his long night of butchering all the farns I killed and gave me a blanket to lay on until he could make a new hay cot. I quickly washed myself in the old, chilled bath water and went inside, laying still in the dark, replaying the night in my mind over and over. Holding back a breakdown was difficult, especially in the pitch black.

If I had been there, could I have saved him? Could I have taken the toxins out of his system with a sigil? But then he would just be alive to be further abused by Diona...

Somewhere in the darkness and the insanity of trying to atone, to justify running, to justify keeping going, Minsa’s voice joined the choir, wailing and wondering why I didn’t save him.

I didn’t know, so I didn’t respond. At times, they would go quiet, and then I would have moments where I saw my friends and even myself, shifting in the dark, whispering to me, telling me how much I deserve to be gutted like every other fireblood.

“Is it because I’m a fireblood that I didn’t help?”

“You should have died when you ripped your heart out. You’re a fireblood, just like Madam Diona. You’re no different from her. Live long enough, and killing people will mean nothing to you. Hehe, you’re close already. But isn’t that what you want? To kill Simira? To kill Diona? Maybe even Fera?”

“She’ll be different, but she’ll kill them all. Isn’t that right, Vetia? Or shall I call you Rowena now? Cressida? Or do you think you’re still Rowan? No, no, you’re definitely not Rowan anymore. No, no, that would be foolish. He was a much better person. You’re just a bloodthirsty thing now. Simira was right about you. You have changed. You deceived your friends and-”

“Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up!” I covered my ears and mouthed to myself. My throat was tight, like the collar never left, stifling my voice from yelling over the torment that I couldn’t shut out.

I breathed, I focused on what I could feel. The auras around me. There were no voices from those auras, only peace and sleep. Montak had come in and flopped into bed, exhausted. Lotti was in the midst of a dream, a simple, innocent joy and curiosity pouring out from her tiny body, sweeping away the strife in my heart. Gentle, calming emotions slowly trickled into my heart, dispersing throughout the rest of me, easing the tension in my body, easing the passing of the night. It was like I was basking in her secondhand dreams, disappearing into my own imagination for a brief respite from the madness. She was so happy, so reinvigorated, and I didn’t want her to ever lose that, even if it was for selfish reasons.

By the time dawn broke, some horrible wailing shut up the quiet chorus of morning animals like an alarm clock. Montak was already up and dressed, having slept for only a few hours. I sat up on that blanket, taking in the dull light of the early morning and the living person in front of me.

“Morning, Montak. I’m… I’m sorry there was so much butchering to do last night. That you didn’t really sleep.”

Montak whispered back, “You were awake the whole time? So you really don’t sleep?”

I shook my head, a deluge of nausea greeting my morning.

“Well, I’ve got work to do outside, but I’ll be in for when Lotti wakes up to make breakfast and check on her.”

“I don’t mind doing that. I’ll yell out to you when it’s almost done so you can just come in and eat. You probably have a lot to do out there, winter coming and all.”

“You sure?”

“It’s no skin off my back. Does Lotti know where everything is?”

“Um, yeah. There’s a loaf of bread, some fat, farn cheese, and a basket of eggs. Lotti eats half an egg, I usually have one and a half. Everything there should be enough for the next four days of eatin’ if you have one.” He pointed at a cupboard over the counter space.

“I don’t need to eat regular food, so it’s all good.”

He eyebrows furrowed, almost like he pitied me. “You should. It’s the best part of being human.” Montak smiled and nodded to me before heading out to the fields.

After a little while, Lotti woke up with more energy than I had ever seen a kid have. Fitting, for a little girl who’d been bedridden for so long. She made for a bossy little helper. While I cracked the massive spotted brown and yellow eggs into the sizzling fat, she retrieved all the utensils her dad would use and told me how to use the knife to cut bread and how to use the wooden spatula to move the eggs around. The whole house filled with the rich aroma of salty animal fat as the dark orange bellies of the eggs slowly became sturdier. Lotti showed me how to properly toast slices of bread in the leftover grease, letting them get “good and crispy but not icky.”

It was a simple meal that didn’t take much, but when Montak came in covered in dirt and leaves, his reaction was all I needed. He wolfed down the eggs, the sharp crumbly cheese, and the toast like it was nothing before finally sitting back in his chair and watching Lotti work her way through the food on her plate. I only made myself some toast from the blue bread, which was surprisingly sweet.

Montak laxly ordered over to Lotti, rubbing at his tired, dark eyes. “Lotti, you’re making a mess, keep the food on your plate.”

Lotti’s head bobbled up in surprise, then she flickered her pupils between me and Montak, who were both watching her. “Duddy why aren’t you outside?”

“Because I’m sitting with you while you eat so you don’t make a mess.”

“But you always go out to to… to work after you eat.”

“We have a guest, and I wanna make sure your manners are good. Now don’t make a mess there, Lotti.”

“Duddy has dirt on him too!”

“That’s cause I've been workin’.”

“I was working too!”

“Yeah, workin’ on what?”

He glared at me skeptically, taking the money back, “Bitch.” And walked off to the next woman as a hand reached up my skirt and tugged on my tail. That same horrid feeling shot through my body, like I was recoiling inward and I instantly hopped away, batting at the hand of another servant who was licking his lips at me.

“Okay then, what’s this letter?”

Lotti thought for a second and then made a “th” sound. He pointed to the next one and she went “errrr.” They went through a few others before she didn’t know anymore.

“Lotti, you were supposed to know this whole board.”

“I do.”

“Then why dontcha?”

“Be-be-because-”

Montak sighed and wiped some egg off her cheek. “Lotti, Miss Jzekya ain’t gonna teach ya if ya keep forgettin’.”

“Her teacher?” I interjected.

“Miss Jzekya runs a schoolhouse for the farm kids, but she doesn’t like when kids like Lotti won’t pay attention. Says they’re made to work on farms, but I know Lotti is better’n workin’ on a farm. I wish I could help Lotti, but I never learned how to read and I ain’t had time to learn.”

“Mind if I have a look?”

He passed me the boards and sure enough, I could read them. The symbols they used in this world functioned like any other phonetic alphabet. Spelling was really easy because every letter had a distinct, specific sound. No digraphs or trigraphs either. There were individual characters for th, ch and sh. Every letter had one sound, “ih,” “eh,” and “uh” had their own characters, and there were no letters for c, q, or x. They also had three different characters for j sounds. A typical hard j, a softer and more prolonged jz that used the front of the throat, and a quicker, nasally sharp tonal kjz. Z was always pronounced very strongly to differentiate between the softer jz and z. It made sense after talking to the people here, because the whole language was spoken strongly, very passionately, and with more precise diction as emotional intensity rose.

The words themselves were often short, but they were extremely specific in meaning. Every word had a distinct meaning without much room for interpretation. For instance, I’d heard over ten words for different kinds of love depending on the relationship and even more for hate depending on the subject of hatred. However, there weren’t unique words for colors. Each main color had a common word associated with it, like blood for red, sky for blue, cheese for yellow, night for black, and sun for white, but no individual color words. People would call a blue house a sky house, using a flat tone on sky to indicate color. The verbs, measure words, and sentence structures weren't complex, but the vocabulary was beyond extensive due to high specificity. I’d noticed that irony and clever wordplay were surprisingly common because the short, specific words often sounded similar to others and because the loose rules around sentence structure could be used comedically. The same extended to insults, which were personal, specific, terribly mean, and often hilariously toxic.

It was only at this moment that I realized the language we were speaking wasn’t English, just another language that I understood like a first language. Trying to recall English, French, or even the few sentences of Urdu I knew left blank spaces in my mind. I could recall words that didn’t have Triali equivalents, but those were surprisingly rare aside from things on Earth that didn’t exist here.

After having a minor linguistic revelation, I passed the boards back to him. “I can help reteach her what she needs to know while I’m here.”

Montak’s expression became almost embarrassingly humble. “Ya sure? That’s more than I can ever repay you for.”

“Eh, I’m sure it’ll be fun. And I’m gonna have some time on my hands while I’m here.”

Still, there were doubts at the back of my mind, questions. Being in this moment was odd. Forgetting about everything else, offering to tutor a kid when I could be doing things that might help my friends and I moving forward.

Montak set the boards down and cleared their plates from the table. “Go out ‘n clean up now Lotti.”

Lotti skittered out with all the excitement of a freshly cured girl who could finally run again, leaving me and Montak alone in the house.

Montak quietly turned around. “I haven’t seen Lotti so happy in a long time, and I owe that to you, y’know.”

“Well, I healed her up, so it’s no doubt she’s better.”

“I think being around a grown up woman is good for her, though. She don’t know the difference between a mom and a random woman, but it might help her to have a role model. Now Rowena, I ain’t askin’ ya to be her mom, cause I know ya ain’t staying. I also know I said I wouldn’t ask nothin’ of ya, but while yer here, would you mind keepin’ her some company?”

“I’ll try to be like a big sister while I’m here. She’s a good kid.”

“I’m tryin’ my best.”

“So if I tutor her and she gets back into school, will she be able to go to a college or higher education one day?”

Montak’s sincere expression grew a crooked smile. “What kind of money do you think farming makes? I could afford a cheap tutor maybe, but anything beyond that… sheesh.”

“Oh,” I was once again reminded of how unworldly I was. “How much would something like that even cost?”

“A lot. Ten thousand sennos, probably more. I couldn’t save for it and pay for a tutor, and even if Whyka was around, we’d never be able to save that much.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“As long as Lotti can read words, she can do more than a lot of the other folks can. Means she won’t hafta be just some farmhand.” He glanced out the window and squinted at the shadow cast by a small stone pillar by the road. “I’ve gotta get back outside. Thanks for breakfast.” Montak approached the door and stopped, remembering something. “And, um, when you were like, firebloodin’, do ya know if ya did somethin’ to the other farns? They’ve been real tired today.”

“I… um, I partially drained them because my head wasn’t right. You know, in the bath, when I… uh… freaked out. And injected them with some poison- don’t worry, it’s not lethal, just tires ‘em out. I was better afterward, though.”

Montak looked a little perturbed. “Alright, okay. Thanks for keepin’ em alive, I suppose.”

“I’ll go easier if I need to do it again, if that’s alright.”

“Sure, yeah. Long as they can function, then drink all you need.”

Montak left and Lotti returned shortly after. She bossed me around while I cleaned the dishes and then I went through teaching her to pronounce letters. Lotti was quick to pick up on things, but it was a slow process because she couldn’t sit still and she would get distracted wanting to go outside. That was kinda expected, though, so she went outside to play with the baby farns and I stayed in, cleaning the place. I didn’t want to go out during the day because neighbors might talk if they saw me, so playing the role of house maid was good enough to kill time. And the house was a mess. Like a total disaster, not to mention the kets. I cleared up that problem quickly enough, though, and the voices in my head became quieter little by little. After spending the night laying with them rattling around my brain, I was finding ways to ignore them, although there were a few times I didn’t respond to Lotti and Montak because I thought I was hallucinating them. The good thing was, I could play off talking to the voices as just talking to myself while cleaning.

But eventually, the evening had to come, and I was already gone by then. The weekly fuckening at Amien Manor began before the sun went down, so I went to the shit hole called Good Moaning pretty early in the evening. Fera was nothing but questions while she prepared me for infiltration, but I matched her with vague one-word non-answers, which ticked her off. And I was lying about pretty much everything. I couldn’t lead them back to Montak and Lotti. While she did my makeup, she asked all about what my skills were. While she cut my hair, she inquired where I was staying. While she dressed me, she talked about how good in bed Desmond was, not knowing that I knew him. However, I now had all the kink blackmail I needed if he pulled some bullshit.

She groaned with relief when she was finally done with me. “No wonder Tarynn liked you so much, you’re just as miserable to be around as he is. Can’t even hold a conversation.”

“Get somebody else, then,” I retorted nonchalantly.

“It would be wonderful if you could do it yourself, but you’ve the fashion sense of a feral man. Madam Diona wants you to be a secret and I’m unlucky enough to be in charge of you.”

“Oh, by the way, Fera, my price is fifteen thousand sennos.”

“That’s a bold ask.”

“It’s a perfect situation for you and shitty for me. They think I’m dead, I’m doing it with what I can recover from the infirmary, and I’m gonna have to start a new life far away from here just to cover it up, cause, y’know, she’s a noble. There will be no evidence, no traces, and no killer to find. And you’re buying my silence.”

“So you can talk? All it took was money, too. I’m so conflicted about you. Like, I know you hate me, and I hate you too, but you’re fun about it. That must be what Simira hated. That mouth breather hasn’t ever breathed a fun breath.”

“Well, you want her dead too, right? Fifteen or I’m not doing it.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine. It’s Diona’s money.” She pulled me up and wiped off the chair. “So, if anyone asks, you’re a new girl from Denasul. You know, you would do spectacularly in this business. If this goes well, I can send word to whatever city you end up in. Diona has high paying business everywhere.”

I shook my head. “Nah, it’s a personal gig then I’m out.”

“Your loss, really.” Fera rolled her eyes and dropped the faux kindness.

I sat up, uncomfortably pulling the dress down. Golden horns, blonde hair, a bob cut and silver makeup covering every part of my skin. The thigh length golden dress was suffocating me and the autumn wind froze my whole lower half. On top of that, apparently flip flops were all the rage for fantasy hookers. It reminded me that my toes weren’t normal. I only had three toes and one further down the outside of my foot. They were long, sharper featured, and my toenails were more like claws. But at least I had a thin and skimpy shawl to keep me warm. Apparently half breeds like me were more appealing to perverted jorlad when we looked less jorlad. Thank God I looked like a completely different person, because if Adam or Tells saw me dressed like a hooker, I’d never live it down.

“Don’t fear being noticed. Tells is stupid and Adam is too autistic to willingly put himself in the midst of the fuckening. Your only job is to scout and let Fera do the heavy lifting.”

“He’s hardly on the spectrum, you dick.”

He snickered. “Don’t call me a dick, dick. You know he’ll find some way to be a shut-in.”

What a dick the voice was.

“You didn’t deny Tells being stupid.”

“He’s got a good brain, but we both know what it’s like to talk to him sometimes.”

“Whatever, all we need to do is get in there and find the bitch who ruined you.”

I scowled a bit. “Uh, ruined?”

I could feel his eyes scowling at me. “You look like a clown. You’d go straight into cringe compilations back home.”

I lightly tapped my head and stuck my tongue out. “We’re just so quirky, aren’t we, my neurodivergent and inclusive little alter?”

“Holy shit, how did I end up in this schizo bitch’s head.”

“You come into MY fucking head and call ME SCHIZO?!”

“It’s your head, retard, not mine! I didn’t come from anywhere but here!”

“Then can you get the fuck out?!”

He sat back. “Nah, it’s comfy in here.”

“Nah nah nah, that ain’t how this works.”

“Shut up, bitch, everyone’s staring at you.”

I looked up from the floor and sure enough, all of the hookers were staring at me like I was a lunatic. Rightfully so.

I didn’t even have to try giving them crazy eyes. “What?! My pussy’s leakin’ green and my head’s fucked! Don’t act like you ain’t ever seen it before.”

Most turned away and a couple nodded.

He gagged in my ear. “You’re fucking demented.”

“Eh, gets the job done, heh.”

She woke up. “Can we be through with arguing, now?”

We were loaded into wagons and driven to Amien Manor. They checked us for weapons and let us through easily. Apparently Fera still wasn’t allowed in because Lord Amien was scared of her leaking things to Lord Hallax, however that would work. Funnily enough, I sensed Brenden and Desmond a few wagons away, and they looked like even bigger clowns than I did. Hopefully Desmond wouldn’t think about trying to sniff me out. Then again, he had probably forgotten about the scent items he took from us.

I was finally back in the manor, even though it wasn’t even time to do what I wanted to do. I’d have to get her in her sleep, which meant picking the lock or getting her key, which was Fera’s job. Apparently she was too high profile to do the assassination, so they needed somebody who wouldn’t draw attention, who didn’t exist, AKA me.

Unfortunately, my knowledge of the layout of Amien Manor was incredibly limited, but I did have a hunch. The room Simira first brought us all into was like a mini throne room or a personal study, so one of the doors at the back was probably to her bedroom. I had to wait to go exploring, though, because it was usually a while before the drunk and high hookers would be seen walking around the manor aimlessly looking for things, sneaking into the kitchen when they had the munchies. It’s how they ended up in the clinic when I was trying to work.

The foyer was packed and everyone’s moods were high. The blue asshole was at the top of the stairs with Adam. Blue seemed cheerful until he saw Brenden and Desmond wheeling their instruments in. He quickly turned around and pushed Rezyn forward to greet everyone while Adam turned around to follow the disgruntled Mr. Meeseeks.

“Um, welcome everyone!” Rezyn uncomfortably greeted the crowd. “Our performers, Alex and Eddie Van Halen, can follow Rekwis down there. He’ll show you where you’re performing. As for the rest of us, mingle!”

While Desmond was walking by, I gave him a flat tire. He stumbled a few steps before glaring back at me. I stuck my tongue out at him. He was angry at first. He had a short fuse for flat tiring. However, it was one of the moments I wish I couldn’t feel emotions, because he got strangely aroused once he saw me. I couldn’t help grimacing a little. He saw that and turned back around, going back to normal. I felt a tap on my arm, and turned around to a dude who was ripped, one of Diona’s men. He was just as made up as everyone else, too. I hadn’t met one of the male hookers before. It seemed like there were less of them in general.

“Hey, new girl,” he pressed a finger against my sternum gayly. “You don’t get the star customers. He’s mine. Work your way up, bitch.”

I smirked a little and put my hands up between us. “You go, girl, get that dick.” I can’t believe I’m gonna miss seeing Desmond knock that guy out cold the second he makes a proposition.

The hooker shouldered past me and disappeared in the crowd. I hadn’t experienced this firsthand yet, being cooped up in the clinic and dungeon, so it was a bit shocking to see just how wild everything was. Manor people were grabbing hookers and throwing bags of money at them, then dragging them off.

Some guy walked up to me, a really tall, balding scrawny fellow with a real beak of a nose. He grabbed my arm and put a coin purse in my hands.

“How much to use the handlebars?”

I was shocked, not even sure how to respond. “Excuse me?”

He leaned down like he was lecturing a kid. “How much does it cost for me to grab your horns and face-”

I panicked and cut him off, realizing what he meant. “Somebody already paid and should be here soon to get me.”

He glared at me skeptically, “Bitch.” And walked off to the next woman as a hand reached up my skirt and tugged on my tail. That same horrid feeling shot through my body, like I was recoiling inward and I instantly hopped away, batting at the hand of another servant who was licking his lips at me.

“I’m already paid for.”

It was a lot more of that as I waited. People came up to me, asked how much it was for whatever act they wanted and then got mad when I told them no. They grabbed and pulled me, making propositions and then cursing at me when I rejected them. It was humiliating, being pushed and pulled around like I was just some cheap toy.

I paced the foyer floor, searching for a way out. I was going into a panic, just shaking my head at everyone. Orange banners, white walls, gold guy, gold girl, hand reaching for my butt, pull away, pressing his crotch onto me, pushed back, groping my breast, slapped away, sudden stinging pain across my cheek. Static and pressure around my neck. I gasped for air, running to grab the railing of the stairs. I couldn’t yell. The electricity was at my throat, stifling my voice, shocking tears to my eyes. I dragged myself up the stairs along the railing to get out of the crowd. The clinic was upstairs, and it was sure to be an empty place I could hide out. I reached the top of the stairs and my legs remembered the way. Down the halls to the clinic. The dark wooden door creaked at the end of its swing as it always did. Darkness inside, nothing but darkness and moonlight coming in the window.

Calmness.

And a person. The door creaked before lightly tapping the wall and the figure in my old chair turned to me. But I already knew exactly who it was, and I could feel nothing but grief in his heart.

Tarynn’s melancholy voice filled the chamber. “The regenerator is no longer at this manor. I fear you will need to visit Lord Hallax’s regenerator in the morning.” He was still proper as ever, but all life had left him.

I closed the door and sat on a cot in the darkness. I tried my best British accent and spoke a little higher. “I was just looking for a quiet place. I’m new to this and… I can’t handle it out there.”

Tarynn gazed at my dark silhouette for a moment, then turned back to looking out the window. “Stay as long as you need. Forget that I am here.”

I couldn’t help staring at him. The light of the moons shone in through the glass pane window, illuminating the front of his face. He looked nothing short of heavenly. Like an angel with half a halo of the moon’s light in the reflection of the window. His beautiful amber eyes were faintly glowing from the light coming in, but he just stared off into the darkness leaning on his hand, like I used to.

“What brings a nobleman like you into the clinic?” I leaned back on the bed, looking over my shoulder at him.

He didn’t turn to me, instead furrowing his brow and gazing at the floor. “The quiet. The darkness. The lonesomeness. And being here brings some comfort to me.” He lifted a bottle from the desk and took a heavy drink.

“A little liquor to ease the day’s troubles?”

“The same wine mother would drink. From daybreak until nightfall, she drank, and now I follow her.”

I couldn’t stand seeing him like this. “You know drinking the problems away will never fix them, if I may be so honest.”

“Nothing can bring back the dead, and nobody will let me see where her body was left to lay so that I may bid farewell. I suppose drinking is the only manner in which I can be free of thought. Free of regretting what I could have done to right things.”

“If you don’t mind me prying, why didn’t things work out?”

“Status. Simply status. T’were I born a commoner, my situation would not be so dismal. Alas, here I sit, a fool whose naivety cost a life.”

His grief poured over me like a bursting dam. I was fighting to keep myself from tears. “Can you not escape?”

“I am an Amien. My name is my contract which dictates that I am to commit to narcissism in the shape of a woman.”

“What’s in a name? That which we call a tyranewt by any other name would smell as sweet.”

He glanced over toward me, confused, setting the bottle down. “Aye, but a tyranewt is still bound to the soil it stems from.”

“If a tyranewt’s beauty rested in the soil, then why do we marvel at its petals? Can a wilting tyranewt not be lifted from that bind and brought into the sunlight, carried across the world on a ship, planted in a pot in the window of a loving home?”

“Wresting a tyranewt from beneath its tree only guarantees its untimely death to the winds and rain.”

“The tyranewt is safe from crushing wind and harsh sunlight beneath the tree, but smothering summer shade never allows it to truly blossom. A free tyranewt is not burdened by the whims of the tree, but it must learn which winds to drift on.”

Tarynn glanced out the window again, moonglow in his eyes and gossamer streaks of tears glittering on his cheeks. His eyes drifted over to meet mine. “Who are you? Why are you here? Why are you questioning me so?”

I rose and quietly walked across the room, the light clacks of my wooden sandals echoing with every step. I slinked around the desk and stopped in the darkness before him, just out of the moonlight. I wrapped my hands around his arm and pulled him forward barely a foot in front of me. I gazed up at his face, defined and handsome as it always was, but wrought with grief. I ran my hands down his shoulders and arms, his relaxed and firm muscles lightly tightening at my every touch until I reached his hands, which I laced into mine. I spoke in my normal voice, hushed, a breath away from his face.

“Why are you letting yourself die here? There’s so much for you out there.”

He squinted into the darkness, looking me up and down until his eyes met mine and a slight smile broke through his tears. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in.

“I found the autumn wind I wanted to drift with. I witnessed a freedom I longed for. I asked myself ‘why’ for the first time in my life as that breeze was forcefully stifled into stillness of my own making. Why must I accept this as my life? I pondered escape, but I know nothing of the world. I thought I was confined in my own fear, in my own peril at the thought of what lies beyond the walls of this manor. And yet the longer I stay, the greater that fear becomes.”

His lips quivered and tears broke free of his lower lids. I was mirroring him in that way, and I didn’t know what to say.

“I’ve grown resentful of everything I am. Of this tiny section of the world I lie above. Where does it end? Does it end?”

I rested my hands on the sides of his head. “It ends when you decide to hop into the wind blindly.”

He clutched my hand dearly. “Your eyes pierce my soul in a way nobody else can. I truly could never forget them, and I’m glad I could see them once more.”

“I think I might’ve fallen because you were so in love yourself.”

“I hadn’t felt anything like that in so long. Ever. I couldn’t keep it in.”

“I did love you, though. Even if it was short. Even though it realistically wouldn’t last.”

“And I, you.” He chuckled, wiping at his cheeks. “I think our temperaments conflict a little too much.”

I lowered my head, laughing. “Yeah, but once you get some life experience, you’ll get that stick outta your ass.”

He flexed his jaw. “That again? Apologies for being rigid and naive.”

“I never said they were bad things. That’s what I mean, though.” I sighed. “Everyone takes life at their own pace. But I’m still glad we collided when we did.” A smirk crept up on my face and he rolled his eyes at me.

That desire came back to me and I wanted to act on it. And with it the doubts in my mind, the criticisms saying it’s weird or strange, accusations that it’s just me being crazy, and the dissonance between myself and my body. I wanted to be free of that. I wanted the moment to be mine.

The moon had gradually shifted, illuminating the two of us alone in the dark room. I pulled his face in and kissed him. He leaned in, wrapping his arms around my waist, holding me firmly in his warm, tender arms. His lips tasted like wine as I drifted drunkenly into his hold, lacing my arms around his head and savoring the moment. The heat of his muscular body against mine, how his arms wrapped me tightly, comfortably, like I was the only thing he ever wanted to hold. I could have lost myself in that feeling forever. His lips pulled away from mine, our heads resting against each other.

His voice was more sure of itself and he smirked. “And to think, it’s now that I’ve learned to not be pricked by your teeth.”

“Then make this one good, cause it’s the last one from me.” I kissed him again, his body slowly losing its strength as I lowered him into the chair. I pulled my tail from his side and let him sink in his drunken stupor, his high between awake and dreaming. His heart was longing, but at peace as his eyes slowly closed and he drifted into sleep.

I watched him for a moment, capturing the scene in my mind. The first man I loved sleeping so peacefully in the dull light of the moons. Maybe the only love I’d ever have. He wouldn’t remember this in the morning, or if he did, it would feel like a fleeting dream.

I quietly closed the door behind me and stepped out into the hallway. Music was playing from somewhere in the manor, so I began my rounds of searching for Simira. I snuck through the halls to the room she first brought us to and there she was through the wall with Tells. That was all I had to do, so I joined everyone else in the theatre hall and listened to Brenden and Desmond play.

Leave it to those two to bring dad rock to a place that’s supposed to be fantasy. I enjoyed it, though. It reminded me of times that were honestly easier, and I daydreamt to myself while the muses sang.

Suddenly, there was a boy standing in front of me. The kid with the mental disability. It’s like he recognized who I was, shaking his hand and shouting “Red!” He walked away, calling me what he used to call me when I was here.

How, of all people, did the kid recognize me?

I disappeared to another spot in the room and watched closely, making sure he didn’t come in, or I would dart. But he never returned.

Near the end of the concert, Adam and Tells meandered into the room, eventually finding each other. I wanted to see them so badly, but I couldn’t yet, so I threw on my fake voice and did a little trolling. I had a plan that would make them uncomfortable in a funny way and it worked pretty well. Adam was too ruffled to notice it was me, and Tells was way more jealous than I ever expected. There was something strange about their auras that I couldn’t identify well, but it was good, like a perfect connection. Regardless, I left them with a little sexual tension and made my exit before I could get properly rickrolled by the clowns on stage.

I walked out alone into the night, not in the mood to ride the wagon back. It was cold, but freeing. Everyone was doing better, and I could rest easy knowing I would be back soon enough, ready to end this.

* * * * *

I spent the next few weeks with Lotti and Montak. Lotti learned her letters quickly and took to me well. I enjoyed the time I spent teaching her and just being there for her. As winter was closing in, I helped Montak winterize the farm, cut wood and keep things tidy so he could sell the rest of the profit crop at the market. He was bringing in a lot more money since he could focus on the farm. The money he saved when Lotti was sick went into paying for her tutor at the schoolhouse, which she was allowed back into after showing her expertise in letters.

I kept my hair in the shorter blonde style with eye-covering bangs so I could go out in the day without worrying about people recognizing me. The farmers didn’t seem to notice that I was a half-breed, I just did what regular people did and eventually they started waving at and greeting me. After feeding on the farns pretty regularly, the voices and hallucinations began subsiding, all except the one that was made of all, but even that one was only present when I showed any doubt of killing Simira. Farm life wasn’t easy, but it was simple. It was nice.

One day, Lotti went to a nomadic storyteller with the schoolhouse, so I tagged along to keep an eye and entertain myself. Set up on a stone bench before an audience of stone benches in a field by the forest, it was a pretty scene. He was a simple man with an almost perfectly plain face and an aura more prominent than any I’d ever seen, but he looked like any other old scraggly jorlad man. He told a story about somewhere far away called Tethin Marva. A land deep beneath a different continent, where the ground split and rivers poured in, creating a continent underground where beings closer to the jzanmah exist. It sounded a bit fantastical, but seeing where I was, I didn’t know if I should doubt it. However, after his story, he passed through the crowd, briefly stopping before me.

He whispered, so light that only I could hear. “Bimuarika.”

Chills shot down my spine, and then they dissipated because of the man’s pure calmness. This man wasn’t absent of emotions like Diona, he was in complete control, and it was like he knew I could feel his and forced me toward calmness. Or did he feel my fear and resist it?

I didn’t respond.

He nodded and whistled. In a few moments a small, furry batlike creature, like the fireblood my friends caught, landed on his shoulder and whispered to him. He whispered back, the creature resting still.

My voice shook. “Are… are you gonna kill me?”

His eyes playfully squinted and he turned to the creature on his shoulder, who took off eastward. Then he patted my shoulder, “Be well.” And he walked off, leaving me there, speechless.

It reminded me that no matter where I went, I would be a target, I would be found, and I would be hunted.

Her voice crept through my growing anxiety. “Let us relax. Once we are free of Simira, we will be free of this place.”

I wished I could stay there forever. But I stopped in at Good Moaning on the day of each weekly fuckening to see if it was time. It was on the day that there was a stir in the city. Unrest and a lot of outbound wagons from the whore house, loaded with everyone except the prostitutes. All of them wore veils to keep the ash away.

Something happened and she’s cleaning up. Today is the day, and a part deep within me grew excited. Naturally, I was nervous too, but the excitement… that scared me. I had been waiting so long to do this, to free my friends, to complete this very thing that I must have been born to do. Then, after Simira was dead, I could hit Diona and dip. I had a plan for each one that I had thought up in my spare time on the farm.

Good Moaning was quiet, almost dead that evening. No smoke, the hookers were all cleaned up and kept putting little tabs in their mouths to stave off withdrawals. I found Fera, who confirmed that she would leave the money in the park at a drop off point on a bench, just like a mafia movie. She gave me the key she lifted off Tarynn and told me to hide it where the guards wouldn’t find it, so I cut into the side of my breast with my nail, stuck the key in, and healed it. Tarynn had apparently left the manor for good, renouncing his name, so nobody would notice that this master key was missing.

Away the pathetic prince dashed and onward could my plot fly.

“Do you feel it? It’s everything we wanted it to be.”

I thought the day would pass slower, but it didn’t. Time went by so quickly. Like hours were minutes, my makeup and dressing was done, and I was in the wagon on the way to the manor. The guards checked everything, then I was in.

Twere I a devil, the porter should surely let me by.

“All of us, look, the Lady of the Manor in all her glory.”

Viscountess Simira welcomed all of us. “Thank you all for visiting one last time. As my father is no longer the lord of this manor, this weekly ritual will be ending. So, all of you, do what you do best one last time.” She glared down in disgust and confidently strutted off.

She didn’t even notice me. She’d done it. She had everything she wanted and my friends were nowhere to be seen. But that was perfect for me. I could get away with it flawlessly.

I snuck around the crowd, up the stairs and toward the clinic. It was perfectly empty, so I sat still in the darkness and removed the key from my breast. I waited for hours, until long after everyone was asleep. The silence, the darkness, reminded me of the dungeon, the misery. Being cooped up like an animal. Treated like I was less than human. Used for my jzanmah like an expendable resource. The doubts that had been creeping into my mind slowly melded into hatred for her. That ravenous hatred frenzied throughout my mind like I was a kid on Christmas morning and it was still too early to wake up and open presents. Simira was so close, but I couldn’t squeeze the life out of her til later. A little exercise of patience and discipline.

On a night most salacious, the shadow of death will loom.

“Nobody will be in here to find you, so all you need to do is wait.”

“I have to kill her to save them. I’ve waited this long. I’ll wait a little longer.”

“Yes, yes, we must listen to ourselves.”

“Wavering means death.”

It was late enough now. I stepped out the door of the clinic into the empty halls of Amien Manor. For how dead the halls were, there were so many guards posted around. It seemed there was turmoil somewhere. Sensing living things made navigating around the manor was easy. I didn’t even need to see them to avoid them. I came to the corner of the hallway Simira’s room was in, where two guards were posted in front of her study. I stuck the key between my tits and took a deep breath in.

I rounded the corner stumbling and burping like the addicts in the parlor. “You boys got any more booze?”

The guards were accustomed to prostitutes who picked their pockets like this. I’d seen it. They naturally came over to me, and I leaned on one. He grabbed my wrists, clever. But not clever enough.

“Course there’s a fuckin’ straggler.” He sighed like he wasn’t getting paid enough. “Get a move on, your people left.”

“Are they goooooooone?!” I slowly reached my tail around the guard, piercing his skin. “I wanted to go with theeeeemmmm!” He stumbled backward against the wall and I quickly pulled my tail back. I trust fell toward the other guard, who caught me.

“Itan, what happened? What’d…” The guard’s face fell slack and his eyes rolled as the intoxication set in. It didn’t kill, but it was like a drug that could knock somebody out cold, and it worked on both of them. Looking like this made it so easy to get in killing range.

Deep into the drunken night’s watch, she stumbles into the room.

“Shhhh, focus. Into the room.”

I sat them against the wall, sleeping on each other, then unlocked and slowly opened the door. Simira was further back, in another room, in such a tired, desperate sleep. Her office was lit by orange crystals and nothing else. My heart raced in anticipation. I was honed in and focused, being so close to getting back at her for everything she did to me.

Oh, the rush, the anticipation of watching her die. My mouth was already watering.

Her bedroom door was unlocked, and in the dark, I crept in. On the other side of curtains, on a massive bed, she breathed beneath the covers. So peaceful, so unassuming. Sleep had a way of making people seem so… real. She was still and snoring while I parted the curtains at the foot of her bed. I unfurled my wings and stuck the poisoned tips into her legs, letting the numbing sensation steep in her blood. I tiptoed around her bed, hitting each arm, before finally climbing over her. As I was poisoning her core from on top of her, she stirred.

No tail poison. I want her to watch me kill her.

“What kind of expression do you think she’ll make when she sees that it’s you?”

“A perfect one.” A smile crawled up my cheeks.

I released my wings. Simira would be completely immobile until the poison cleared her system. Her sleep grew lighter and lighter. I had to be quick, or the slumped guards would be noticed. I wrapped my hands around her neck and finally she awoke.

Those brilliant orange eyes quickly met mine with a ferocious glare, but her voice could not escape her throat. My hands clutched her windpipe. She twisted her body, trying to raise her arms and legs whose movements were limited to little flops and weak bumps. Helplessness crept over her confident visage and fear welled in her eyes with the tears I was squeezing out of her. In a last ditch effort, she gritted her teeth and raged with her eyes. Tears streamed down the side of her face and snot ran out of her nose as she silently challenged me to let go. The sides of her mouth frothed with saliva like the rabid and suffocating animal she was.

Her horrid, miserable emotions shot through me, all of it. My smile wouldn’t hold because all I felt was her fear. I tensed, clutching her throat harder.

Then her eyes focused and her expression fell to awe, regret, like she’d seen a ghost. Like she’d seen the woman she watched cut her own heart out. Like she was asking me for forgiveness.

“There it is.”

What right does she have to forgiveness? She isn’t the one who was collared and treated like less than a slave. She wasn’t abused by the guards. She didn’t lose her mind in a cell. She didn’t have to eat rodents just to keep herself alive. She didn’t experience her own brain turning to mush in her own head. She didn’t die. She didn’t know what it was like to feel her own brain hemorrhage and heart stop. To lay conscious in a corpse while her body rode the line between life and death.

And yet, her pain welled up in me. The waves of unimaginable regret and suffering from acting against her morals so she could be at peace. I clutched her throat harder, digging my nails into the sides of her neck. She still fought. Her core rose, but I pushed her neck down harder, her eyes glaring straight into mine, proving her will against me. She fought to turn her head, little gasps crying out for air. Her eyes flickered in and out, back and forth, from me to a book on her pillow. She wasn’t afraid of death anymore. That much was clear. Why did that piss me off so much?

Why does she get to die peacefully when I was never afforded such a luxury all those deaths?!

But she wasn’t done fighting. Her survival instinct raged through me and I squeezed harder and harder until her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped back silently. I didn’t let go. My hands wouldn’t. Not until I was sure. The horrible emptiness, frigid waves of death came back. But I didn’t let go. An electric rush shot through me like my mind finally caught up with what my body was doing. Rage, grief, despair. They all surged through me in an instant. I didn’t know what to feel. I was shaking. My hands were shaking.

I did it. It was over. Simira was dead and my friends would be free. I didn’t have to sleep at night worried that she would catch me and chain me up in the dungeon forever. I was free from the torment.

The vixen bled in the night over a devil’s foolish err.

Silence in my head.

“Where did you go?”

Simira’s body glowed light green like steam was rising from her, joining into one spot, one little ball of wispy light before me. Without thinking, I grabbed the leatherbound book just as crashing footsteps echoed down the hallway, so loud I could hear them through two closed doors.

“Red!” A monotone voice yelled out from the hallway. “Red! Red! Red!” He was coming this way, his loud footsteps crashing as he ran up to this door.

I looked back down, but the green aura, Simira’s aura, was gone. I glanced around the room, searching for an exit, and my eyes landed on the window. Sure, there was a storm outside, but it would conceal me flying away. It was my only shot at not being caught and I had to take it. I threw open the window and stepped onto the sill as the boy opened the door. I glanced over my shoulder at him, sorry that he had to be caught in something like this. They would never be able to decipher anything he could tell about me. They barely even thought of us as human.

He rushed in, his jaw and eyes agape in horror. He didn’t look at me, but to his sister, holding her head and wailing in pure misery. Then his eyes locked on me. I couldn’t bear the suffocating sensation of grief from him anymore, so I leapt into the falling ashen snow.

Then slip the assassin away, cloaked in dusk’s chilling air.

The emotions raged stronger. My adrenaline pumped madly and my heart raced violently. It was like I, myself, died next to her and my body couldn’t handle being alive. I landed on the roof of the manor and crawled as far as I could, but my head was going crazy. I couldn’t focus on a thing. It was all confusing, overstimulating. The feeling of dying, the hate, the want to survive, the unfinished business, the fear, the longing, the horror of not knowing, all of what Simira experienced at her last moments hit me like a tidal wave of agony. She was afraid, and yet the peace that came with it, after everything, befuddled my mind too much. My heart wouldn’t slow down and my limbs gave out.

I blacked out.