House of Vultures

by Maggie Claire

  Wolf pushes me out of the bushes, clearing his throat as if to urge me to attack. My mind is far away, remembering every death I have ever had to endure, every time I have witnessed this moment when a life hangs in the balance. “Mynah!” Wolf reprimands me gently. “Do not make him suffer any more than he already has.”

  Yet my blade stays dormant beside me. I have always hated traps, especially when their occupants are not quite dead. Every time I have come across this, I am sick after doing what had to be done. But surely in this instance, it is different. This is a human being, and by the looks of him, a child. “Wolf, I—”

  “He’d give you enough meat for the day,” Wolf interrupts me, unable to meet my eyes.

  “You cannot be serious!” The thought of gutting, skinning, and then eating a human boy is enough to turn my stomach. I’d gladly go without food before I’d be reduced to eating my own kind. Even Condor, as ruthless and horrible as he can be, would never condone cannibalism.

  “I don’t partake of such practices, and my pack doesn’t have to either. Others aren’t as scrupulous, and you need meat. The traps are there to give you supplies, and in this moment, they have served their purpose.” I hate the way Wolf detaches himself so easily from the situation. “Supplies” and “meat” make his suggestions seem less horrific, but in reality, the boy’s life is still the price. “The choice is yours ultimately.” He looks at me with a sad smile on his face. “Or, if you will come with me, Mynah, I will take care of this for you. If you will become my beta—”

  “Go,” I command to Wolf, unsheathing my knife, throwing it to the ground. “Get as far away from here as fast as you can.”

  “What are you going to do?” Wolf demands, unwilling to leave until he sees the boy’s blood spilled.

  “There’s a third option here, Wolf.” My eyes scan the edges of the trap, looking for the mechanism that springs its teeth open wide. “I’m going to do what is right. Not by the rules of Cassé, but by the laws of humanity.”

  “But he’s unmasked, Mynah! If you don’t kill him, someone else will. Unmasked people are to be killed on sight, you know this!” Wolf grips my shoulders tightly, shaking my body as his voice raises.

  “I don’t care if the laws require it, Wolf. Killing a child is evil, masked or unmasked!”

  “None of the houses are open to new members anymore. He’ll have no place to go. If the House of Vultures is seen taking in new members, you could start a war with the nameless unchosen. They would overrun you all. Do not be so foolish!”

  I can understand Wolf’s argument, but I cannot excuse it. “Is it stupidity to value a human life, Wolf? Have you so little regard for others?”

  “Mynah, do you understand how dangerous this is? There will be no going back if you let him live. You’ll always be watching over your shoulder, waiting to see if the boy sells you out to take your place. Stranger things have happened, you know.” Wolf tugs at my hand to stop me from opening the trap. “And what if he’s from Déchets? Our lands are constantly quarrelling. He could return to his home, claim he was kidnapped and tortured by a girl in Cassé, and start a war!”

  “If you don’t want to witness this, then leave now, Wolf. But I will not kill this boy.”

  “Then I will,” Wolf shouts, pushing me to the ground.

  I roll over to my blade, prepared to come up swinging. Sliding in between the boy and Wolf’s impending attack, I raise the blade high. “If you intend to murder this child, you had better be prepared to kill me too.”

  Wolf pauses, his eyes wild. “You would die for a nameless unchosen?”

  “I’d die protecting a child,” I counter, my blade shaking as I prepare to fight. “I’d die with a clean conscience.” Not true, not true, my inner voice mocks me. You’ve a lot of things, but a clean conscience is not among them. “Look, it’s just you and me out here. No one else will know what happens to the boy.”

  Wolf shakes his head, inching closer to me. “How do you know there’s no one else watching? You can’t be certain. If Condor finds out—”

  “Don’t tell him and he won’t,” I snarl.

  I expect Wolf to barter for his silence, to make me offer horrible things to keep him quiet. However, he just turns away, muttering under his breath, “On your own head may it be.” Then he takes off into the woods, his lightness of foot eerily similar to his namesake.

  The boy holds the club in his bloody hand. The tip of the wood sways with his exhausted heartbeat. Dropping my knife to the ground once more, I inspect his trapped leg. The jagged teeth sink so deeply into his skin that they must have only stopped moving when they struck bone. “I’m going to get you free,” I whisper, raising my hands in surrender as I reach for the club.

  The boy tightens his hold on his weapon, pulling away from me. The action causes him enough pain that he cries out. “Don’t touch me!” His breathing becomes panicked, his eyes searching the ground wildly for a means of escape.

  “Listen, boy. I am not going to harm you. I realize that it is difficult right now, but I need you to trust me. That club you’ve got will help me open this trap. If you will let me use it, I will pull your leg out of those teeth.” I lower myself to the ground beside the boy, waiting calmly for his response.

  Every painstaking breath that he does not answer makes me want to scream at him. You’re bleeding out! If you keep wasting my time, I’ll be removing your corpse from the trap! My fight with Wolf will have been for nothing! I nearly cry in relief when the bloody club finally lands at my feet.

  The boy watches my progress as I fit the club securely between the teeth of the trap. “Okay, I’m going to wrench the jaws of this thing open. I will try to move quickly, but it is going to hurt. Nod your head when you are prepared for me to start.”

  After a few deep breaths, the boy nods. At first, he claws at my ankles with his bloody fingers, desperately trying to stop the pain. However, the strain of the boy’s actions quickly causes him to faint. The snare’s jagged teeth chew their way out of his leg with sick sucking noises like the slurps of a glutton at a feast. One of the ends grinds against bone like I’d suspected. Bright red blood pools from the gouges, and I quickly set to work starting a smokeless fire. Despite knowing that I must move quickly, starting a fire that would alert our enemies to our location would be worse. At this moment, everyone is an enemy.

  When the fire is burning, I pull my blade out of its earthen sheath, my hands trembling as my nerves get the better of me. I hold the tip of the blade into the flames, waiting until I can see it blaze red like a crimson eye of the fire itself. I secure the boy’s good hand to a nearby buttonwood tree. I wrap his unharmed leg in a similar fashion to the closest oak tree; the injured limbs must stay loose for treatment. Having nothing like a gag, I take my holey jacket off my arms, immediately missing its warmth on my bare shoulders. Ripping the ragged sleeves off, I use them to catch his screams. Then I set to work cauterizing the gashes.

  “I have to stop the bleeding,” I remind myself even as I edge away from the fire. “It’s the only way to save him.” My mind revolts as I press the scalding hot metal into the cut on his finger. Tears well in my eyes as the skin sizzles around the first gaping hole in his leg. The air fills with the smell of cooking meat and hair. The boy wakes and jerks wildly, almost biting through the gag as I touch the second wound with the blade.

  “You must be quiet,” I hiss even as I feel a scream rising in my throat. “If we get caught, we will both be dead.”

  The worry in my voice seems to surprise the boy even as he writhes in pain. “You promised not to hurt me,” he whimpers through the gag, tears streaming down his face. His upper body quakes uncontrollably. Somehow he finds the strength not to scream, mercifully passing out once more as I finish burning his wounds, cauterizing the fourth hole. I dry heave in the bushes when I am done, thankful that I no longer eat breakfast. It is a luxury that the House of Vultures cannot afford for any of us, but today that is a blessing.

  While t
he boy sleeps, I carry him into the heart of the woods until I find a small cave near a stream. That will provide him with enough cover to survive the night, I hope. With the remaining pieces of my jacket, I wrap his wounds, and I find a small sharp twig that can be used as a spear. “This is the best I can do,” I tell the sleeping form. “I will return when I can.”

  Then I reenter the woods to find food and other treasures that I can give to Condor and the rest of my people. If I don’t get busy, I will end up with only the deer to offer. Yet I cannot get the smell of burnt skin out of my nose. The boy’s blood stains my fingers, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot completely wipe it away. I scour the forest floor for game, but honestly, my heart isn’t in the search. Deep down, I know that the only way to get out of the impending beating for my failure is to enter the city.

  Chapter 2

  My feet feel leaden with every step toward Omphalos. At one time, Omphalos was the shining capital of Cassé. It was a place where artists, musicians, and dreamers came to thrive. In my younger years, I had dreamed of finding a small corner in the heart of the Omphalos parkway to call my home. Such a long time ago, I sigh, shoving the shattered remnants of my childhood away from my consciousness. It does no good to dwell on romantic past ideals.

  After the windstorm, Omphalos became a breeding ground for robbery, assault, and all other forms of debauchery. Whatever you manage to hang onto while in the city is yours, and that includes your life. I’d been to Omphalos only twice since the changes had occurred, and both times I’d come out bloody.

  Even before I make it to the city gate, an arrow races by me, narrowly missing my cheek. It wasn’t aiming for me, I think as I hear fighting off to my left. I take cover in the shadows of the nearest building, cursing the fact that I have no hood to cover my gleaming shock of white hair. It has never been able to retain a pigment, even when I tried to dye it. Feeling exposed, I slink along the stone wall, praying that everyone will be too preoccupied to notice me. Maybe someone will be selling fabric. I can buy a cheap piece to cover my hair, then fade into the crowds easily.

  Edging my way into the gate, I keep my eyes open for any immediate attackers. Most, it seems, are too absorbed in their own squabbles to notice me. A heated argument breaks out on my left. No doubt the culprits are drunkards from opposing houses, alcohol giving them the courage to act on their hatred of each other. With tempers running as hot as the summer sun bearing down on my neck, traders will be ruthless and cunning. My stomach falls to my toes at the thought.

  The few people that do notice me turn away with derisive laughter. Masks from all of the houses except mine are present in Omphalos. It won’t be long before someone remembers that the House of Vultures is banned from market days. Silently I curse Condor and his precious second in command, Falcon. They had been caught red handed in a swindling scheme a few months ago. Falcon was using her feminine ways to snare their marks, and Condor had slyly relieved them of their valuables while they were otherwise occupied. As a result of their colossal failure, our House had been banned from bartering in Omphalos ever since.

  My eyes land on Wolf. He pretends not to recognize me as I skulk closer to the vending tables. I consider trading with his pack, but ultimately decide against it. If money or goods were swapped, I would do it without question. Unfortunately, Omphalos trades with other, more brutal currency.

  “You there,” a voice calls out behind me, making my blood freeze in my veins. “Your house isn’t welcome on Market Days anymore.”

  “I’m not like my leader,” I answer defiantly, my chin raising in an effort not to show the fear raging through my heart. “I will not cheat to win.”

  “And we’re supposed to take your word on that?” the voice retorts, laughter erupting from the circle of men surrounding me, bloodlust in their eyes.

  I hold up my hands to appear contrite. “I just came to make an honest trade. Please.” I hate myself for the wobble in my voice.

  “Let’s see what Mynah wants,” Wolf barks, and I feel marginally grateful to him for supporting me. “She is not like the rest of the House of Vultures.”

  Murmurs arise as the understanding that I am a woman circulates through the group. I take great pains not to let my gender show, to disguise my curves in flowing shirts and tight binds. Elbows jab one another, faces leering at me.

  “Well now, that’s a little different! If she’s here to trade, I’d be glad to do the deal,” someone shouts snidely. Judging by the looks in the eyes of the nearest men, I will be lucky to escape this place untouched now. “It is a girl, huh? Already checked the goods then, Wolf?” I feel hollow at the insinuation, hating my body for the danger it now poses.

  Wolf nods in assent, and I tense, preparing to argue the point. Why would he admit to something we’ve never done? Then I watch how the others cease their snide comments, backing out of the circle to let me pass. “She gets whatever she needs. I’ll barter for her.” Wolf marches up to stand beside me, eyeing the tables with a lazy interest.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I hiss, already feeling guilty for whatever poor soul has to trade with him. “I didn’t ask you to protect me.”

  “I’ve seen you here before. I know how it ends,” Wolf cracks as he places a hand on my waist possessively. “Besides, now that they know you are female, they will not settle for the regular means of trade from you, you know? If you want to leave here with anything, you will let me do the deal.” Wolf turns my body to face his, his free hand landing on the uncovered part of my neck. He leans closer, his breath whispering over my mask as he asks, “Now, what do you want, Mynah?”

  The way Wolf asks that question feels heavy, loaded with so many intricate meanings and answers that I struggle to answer. “Food,” I finally mumble with a quiver in my lip. “Enough for two days. A new jacket for myself, and a little money for my House.”

  A half-wild look flashes in Wolf’s eyes. “Anything else?”

  Well, since he asked…. “Bandages, ointment for burns, a small knife sharp enough to whittle, a—”

  Wolf holds up a hand to my lips to silence me. “Boy, you are greedy when someone else pays the price.” He grins as I start to apologize. “No, I like that. It’s slick. Cunning. Just what my beta should be.”

  “Is that the payment you require from me then?” I challenge, my teeth clenching as I speak. “Because if you are using this to try and buy me….” I trail off, realizing that I have no threat with which to finish my words. If I am forced to use my body as a commodity of trade, I’d rather give it to him than one of the unknown vendors in this stinking place. Wolf scares me sometimes, but he has never hurt me. The men in this place would not be so chivalrous, I am certain. Wolf’s got me trapped, and he knows it.

  “No, I would never blackmail you into becoming my beta. But you should know that your independent streak only makes me want you more.” A mischievous sparkle glints in Wolf’s eye as he speaks.

  “Well, what payment would you seek from me?” I ask, unwilling to let him trade until I know the price.

  Wolf jerks me close for a quick, possessive hug, his mask dangerously close to my ear. “We’ll talk after I have done your trade.” Before I can stop him, Wolf saunters up to the biggest, brawniest vendor on the street. The man’s mask appears to be of the House of Piranhas, aquatically inspired with row after row of teeth standing out from the jawline. My suspicions are confirmed when Wolf announces, “Get ready, Shark. The lady has a long list to fill.”

  “How many items do you seek, girl?” Shark bellows at me.

  “Six,” Wolf responds for me. Over his shoulder he commands. “Go stand with my pack. Fox! Keep Mynah by your side until this is done.” An elderly looking gentlemen in a burnished mask waves me to his side.

  Shark wastes no time, swinging his arm wildly at Wolf as soon as I am out of the way. “I am going to enjoy this deal, Wolf. I’ve been waiting for the chance to fight you like this for ages.” Shark overturns his own table just to get closer to hi
s assailant. Shells, driftwood, bits of woven netting, and all kinds of other items scatter the mud under their feet. In the melee, some of the bystanders gather fallen items, stowing them in their own pockets. I wish I was that brave.

  The fighting pair draws a crowd as one hour progresses into the next. Shark sways slightly, but he holds his ground. His shirt is ripped open across his chest, and I can see rivulets of blood pouring from deep gouges, no doubt from Wolf’s claw extensions. Shark’s mask is missing teeth along one edge, and I see the faint gleam of them embedded in Wolf’s right arm. Wolf’s jaw is black with swelling, and his left index and middle fingers bend at unnatural angles. I can tell Wolf is tiring, his easy grace becoming slower and clumsier with every passing minute.

  “What is their score?” I shout over the melee to the referee with a mask of a ferret.

  “Wolf has struck seven solid blows that have taken Shark to the ground, Shark has had only two.” I count off the checklist of wants in my head. Doing the math, seven strikes minus Shark’s two hits leaves me with five items from the House of Piranhas. “I need only one more, Wolf!”

  He turns his golden eyes on me as Shark bends at the waist, coughing blood. “Promise to use some of those bandages on me.” My head quakes an answering nod, my words falling flat. There’s no way I could have won this fight, I acknowledge to myself. He may scare me sometimes, and I may hate his carcass mask, but Wolf is truly a friend. I owe him major for this.

  From somewhere deep inside himself, Wolf rallies a last shred of strength. Shark seems to realize it too, his hands reaching up to block as Wolf’s fist connects with his jaw. It crunches through teeth, mask, and bone as blood sprays from Shark’s lips. He falls to the ground with an agonizing moan. No one of the House of Piranhas comes to assist Shark. No one ever helps the loser in a fight at Omphalos.

  “Get whatever six items you need, Mynah. Not one more.” Wolf slumps beside the table closest to him, head shifting from side to side as he waits for me. Another of his pack comes forward to treat his wounds, a tawny masked man with black coal shading lengthening the lines around his mouth into a curving smile. “No. Mynah will care for me.” In an unprecedented act of kindness, Wolf adds, “You go look after Shark’s jaw. I have a feeling I shattered it.” Wolf holds out his knuckles for examination, pulling out a human tooth from his skin. “Do whatever you can for him, and use some of our funds if need be.”