The Blood of Caged Birds (Mortalsong Book 1)

by J. M. Stredwick

  “Let her go!” Benjamin demands, head butting a man and resisting them for a moment before they group atop him again. “Damn you all to hell!”

  “Here she is! She is what you need to be free,” Alexandre reiterates the woman’s words passionately.

  “We will be together,” Sidra says.

  “Together.” Alexandre resonates, voice sonorous.

  “Stop!” Benjamin squalls.

  “Then take her! Now!”

  She stares at me, her eyes focusing on me and my mouth, and she steps forth, a ravenous hunger distorting her face. My breath is lost to me. It will not come. I am enraptured by her eyes, something about them, so alluring. The blue haze around her brightened, a beautiful glow of sapphires. I feel as if I’ve known her before.

  Alexandre lets out a roar in my ear, and I feel a sharp sticking pain pass through me, burrowing from my back up into my heart and I feel it: a flooding of warmth throughout. I balk then I cannot breathe. I feel hot and cold all at once, and I feel the warmth of my blood spilling out of my back, a precious liquid. My chest seizes as my heart pumps no more. I lose my will to stand.

  “No!” Sidra shrieks monstrously. “What have you done?”

  She screams hatefully and lunges forth, catching me around the middle as I gasp for breath. Everything seems to slow. Time slows. Life slows. Consciousness is blending into slits and dividing my mind into parcels. My thoughts are aerated and flowing like an aroma through the air. I suppose this is how it feels for your life force to flow from your body, no longer contained by the perfect balance of a pumping heart and viable body.

  Alexandre steps back, the knife that he’d used to gore me drips crimson. My blood.

  Benjamin’s roars of anguish and defeated horror and sorrow, a sorrow that you can hear spear deep to each end of his existence. I reach for him, a broken action. I want to kiss his lips, to burrow in his arms, to blush under his cunning gaze one last time, but Sidra’s arms are cold around my midsection, holding me upright.

  I am forced to watch and listen, pain shredding my chest, as the life pours out of me. We fall to the ground together, and she scoops low to lick at my blood, but the purpose I once might have held to her was lost, and she goes into a fit of spasms, her fingers and limbs twisting and gyrating. At least I will not give her what she needs. I can understand that much. Alexandre made a mistake.

  She speaks deafeningly in a foreign language, her curses raining down on us.

  My vision is fogging, my skin itching as I am sweltering under the command of suffocation. My nerves start to weaken, and the throbbing of my torn tendons and arteries lessens. I begin to relax.

  “Stupid! Stupid!” she cries in French now. “Stupid Alexandre!”

  “What?” he questions, voice stuttering anxiously. “What is wrong?”

  “Her soul is gone! It’s lost when the life goes!” She roils, spastic in her movements.

  She tosses me aside, a pointless carcass, and I hit the ground limply.

  “It must be I!” she screeches like a crow.

  “Giselle!” Benjamin rages, crestfallen tears staining his face. “This cannot be.”

  I fall in such a way that I am staring blank-faced up at him. I cannot speak, cannot breathe. I watch the last moments of my life, helpless to do anything. But, I can watch his face. I want him to smile. I want him to stop his cries and devastation and smile for me, so that it is the last thing I will see.

  Sidra garbles senselessly, running to the back of the cave and back hysterically.

  “Surely there is another way,” Alexandre fusses hotly, his face screwed by the stress of ruining the woman’s plan. “This cannot be it.”

  She stops beside Alexandre and slaps him sharply. “Silence! You know nothing of what I’ve endured. There is no other! It must be her. There is no other way. Where is Vauquelin?”

  Their voices become exaggerated and muddied by a comforting darkness. Elation comes to me, a blissful sugary happiness in my shapeless lack of body. The abject misery of the place I’ve left is like a muffled memory, like something thick has been poured over the scene and separates me where I am at in a place of nothingness. Only good shadows blanket me.

  Was this what we had run away for? For our short-lived trip and our entire life together to be ended bluntly by the errant fraudulence of his father and a creature of the damned? I am in shock, my thoughts bruised, and my brains overturned. Is this destiny?

  I do not believe in the word anymore. What are words, but soft elections of thought, pointless in their descriptions and never truly making complete sense to the listener? Try as we might, these consonants and vowels, syllables and sentences will never truly reveal the division of our minds. Alive, we will always be so constricted by our bodies, experiences, by our language, by our way of life. Even destiny. It means nothing when I think of it now.

  Alphonse

  I wait in the shadows. I witness it all. Everything that I know and read couldn’t prepare me for this. My mind whirrs as I see the truth before me. I crouch behind the rocks and watch as Benjamin’s eyes fill with tears of hatred. I watch as father rubs his face with a callused hand, anger spurting from his ears as he listens to the Bone Woman berate him for killing Giselle, the girl whose blood created her. The girl whose soul can mend the brokenness of the Bone Woman’s existence and fulfill the goal: immortality.

  My skin is flushed, and I don’t know what to do. I feel that this is wrong, but that feeling is brushed under by my loyalty to my father, and even that I must ignore because of…her. I look at her, so beautiful and strange. It doesn’t matter than she was all bones before, it matters who she is and what she can give.

  When she took the life force of the man she simultaneously gave life to my father. He looks younger now, some of the deep lines now smoothed around his eyes. Gray hairs feathering back to brown. I can hardly believe it but here I am, I have witnessed the truth. Everything I have questioned and wanted to know, it lies here, within her.

  I made Claire stay in the ship. I told her I would save Giselle. The only reason she agreed to stay was because I told her she would slow my progress in her dress and that she didn’t know how to fight. I told her that I did not want to have to save her as well.

  Now, there is nothing for me to bring back to her. I scramble to my feet as I see that father is becoming restless and I stumble back up the stone steps and throw myself back into the cover of the jungle.

  Sidra, that is what he called her. It is funny to me, the irony. Father is in love with her. But I can understand it because she is coy and seductive, the way she speaks it is as if you are eternally important. Are her words true? Does she really long to live her life with my father? I wonder if she lives in pain each day, weakening without a living being to eat until she is in the bony state she was in today. Why she has not left this place? Could she have come for him? My mind buckles beneath the pressures and my breathing comes strong and fast. Fuck. What have I done?

  Father comes rising from the depths and his men follow. I do not see Benjamin.

  “Allow yourself time. You will understand when she explains it,” father spits out. I am guessing he speaks to Benjamin.

  Then a boulder glows with blue light, and without even a man to lift it, it ascends and plants itself over the top of the entrance to the cave. My jaw drops, unhinging without thought. How can this be? It must have been her. I swear that I can hear an echo of laughter in the ground. I think of Benjamin alone and in blackness with only Giselle’s dead body to comfort him.

  This is madness. I follow father and his men back through the trees. There is a general cut path to this place. From certain spots you can see the green cliff-tops and the sudden drop off that leads to the aqua blue ocean below. I am silent as I follow, holding my breath even. I am so afraid. I think one would be mad not to feel intense fear in this moment, after seeing that encumbering, exhilarating creature.

  I cannot go back for Benjamin. There’s nothing I can do for him now. I c
an’t take that woman on as opposition. I don’t know if I want to. I feel a terrible desire to know what it is to be forever, to exist through centuries of time like she has. She must be so alone. I want to be able to find Giselle when she is born again and offer her to the Bone Woman. I should be the one. Not father or Vauquelin. I deserve it.

  I part from the path that they are on and use my compass to head towards the western edge of the island where there was a perfect little alcove for us to conceal our sloop. Listening to the calls of tropical birds and breathing in the scent of saltwater, I try to calm myself. I must think. Claire will drown in paroxysm if I return to her with nothing.

  It crosses my mind not to go back, to take Benjamin’s galleon, but aboard that little sloop is critical information. My head swims with toxic anxiety; I have to get the journals and notes to a safe place. Aboard a ship is the worst place to keep them. If we sink, we would lose it all and even Vauquelin would have to start at the beginning again.

  I stagger down the steep hillside, setting my feet in steady spots. I hold on to tree roots that jut out of the dirt. I slip a few times but correct myself easily. When I reach the bottom white sand crunches under my boots, and I lope towards our ship.

  Claire stands at the bow, watching me with a face of stone. Her gold hair flutters in the breeze, and she holds herself tightly. I dive into the water and plunge beneath, kicking hard. When I rise I take a pocket of breath and submerge myself again so that I am able to reach the ship quicker. It is not far, and I come to the side and grip the rope ladder, hoisting myself up the length of it.

  Claire comes to stand before me, but she does not speak. Her face is white.

  I breathe hard and shake my head, as if to give an answer. Her hand shakes over her mouth, and her other is holding her stomach.

  “Where is my sister?” the words are squeezed from her chest.

  I think about what I will say. I cannot heal her with the truth, I cannot be forgiven from the truth. If I speak it, I will be dead to her. That I cannot deal with in this moment. I want so many things, I want life and I want her. Sidra can give it to me. Claire will not have to know…

  “Benjamin,” I begin, feeling my throat tighten up. “He knew all along.”

  “What?” she whispers, fury building in heavy breaths.

  “Benjamin and my father were working together all along. Benjamin knew about everything, Giselle, who she really was…” I explain stiffly. “He sacrificed her.”

  Claire crumbles to the ground, a smashed creature of anguish. She beats her fist upon the ship wood and allows small slips of sobs to escape from her mouth. Her body is shaking with rage and misery.

  “Giselle…” she laments.

  I lower myself and wrap my arms around her. She weeps into my chest for a few moments. I glance up to see that our man is standing watching, and in his eyes, I see judgment. Claire then struggles to a stand and slaps my chest.

  “You said we would save her!” she screams at me. “You said we would be able to stop them in time!”

  “This is not my fault!” I bellow. “Benjamin is the one you want!”

  “Alphonse, tell me exactly what happened,” she seethes.

  Does she believe me? I cannot tell. I have to make her.

  “I followed them into the forest. There were so many men, I had no chance. I knew they’d take me hostage if they saw me. I wanted to try to grab Giselle if there was ever a moment, but they had her surrounded. They took her into a cave. Claire, the Bone Woman is real. Somehow, she took the life of a man and it restored her to youth, and my father, too. It is just as it was written. When she takes life, she gives it back to one she is connected to. Regardless, Benjamin offered Giselle to the woman and he made a mistake and stabbed her himself. I think that he was impatient to have it done. The Bone Woman could not take her soul…”

  Claire lets out a shallow breath.

  “So she will be reborn. I can find her,” she utters erratically. “I have to find her…”

  “We have to find her,” I remind her. “You are not in this alone. I am sorry…I wish I could have done more to save her…”

  She is silent and whips around to look at the island. I wonder if she is willing the Bone Woman to show herself or Benjamin. Her gaze is so fierce.

  “There is no time for idleness. We have to take Benjamin’s ship before he returns. We will be safer in a bigger ship. More able.”

  “There is much to be done…” she whispers, and it is almost archaic to my ears and tingles along my spine.

  “We will have to man it as best we can until we get to one of the nearby port towns. According to my charts, we are close to Nassau. We’ll find cheap help there.”

  Claire glares at me, and I feel the pressure of her skepticism. Does she see through the cracks in my lies? Does she trust me? My mind is frantic. If we are to succeed in this we need L’Estelle, Benjamin’s ship. I need to separate myself from my father and Vauquelin and build up my power and influence. I need gold and men. I am willing to bet that father set them up with a cushy pad of items to barter. Everything rests within that ship.

  “I will take care of you,” I promise her.

  _________________

  We lie in their bed. I can imagine them laying here together, my brother and his wife, calm and happy. I feel dazed and sick as I stare at the ceiling, shadows flickering, the world rocking from the waves that keep us afloat. Claire’s eyes are shut as if it is painful for her to sleep. She is nestled in the crook of my arm. Throughout the night, she groans and once she sits up and cries into the linen blanket. I jostle her to get her to lay down again.

  I cannot sleep. My mind races against what I did and what I am doing. Can I keep Claire under the gauze of my lies for years? When we do find Giselle again, in whatever body, in whatever place, how will I enter into alliance with Sidra with Claire at my side? The only thing that comforts me is knowing that I have years. Years before we are able to find her. Years before I am faced with that challenge.

  All I have to do now is build up a fleet of ships, amass wealth, and keep her well. I think of all my options. I may do well to kill Vauquelin before he finds and kills me. I am sure he is looking for me even now. Should I? I could pin everything on him, say he was the one who killed the creature and abandoned my father. Would my father believe me?

  Claire sits up beside me silently and places a hand to her head. She grabs blindly for her glass of ale and guzzles it down. Then she rolls to face me. I see her eyes shining with moistness in the candlelight.

  “Alphonse,” she calls to me, voice wet.

  “What?”

  “You told me once that Vauquelin said that he would always find her, that he was tied to her…” she says. “We have to be able to do the same. There must be a way.”

  “We will find a way,” I tell her.

  Perhaps she feels my insecurity because she shifts herself a bit so that she is on her shoulder looking square at my face.

  “You have to teach me how to fight. I cannot be in this kind of life if I am useless. I want to be able to kill Benjamin, your damned father, then slaughter the beast woman when I meet her.”

  Her tone is fire and passion. I can feel it resonating within her, the bloodlust.

  “We will do it but I have to build us a platform. We cannot be caught unaware. We both must grow and become strong before we can do as we want.”

  “I need vengeance,” Claire’s voice is tenuous.

  “You will have it,” I promise her. “Benjamin will not get away with his trespasses.”

  Benjamin

  Paris, France. Six Months Later.

  I walk with a low swing in my step, casual. As if this is a normal hour of night to be walking the streets in search of a man I am set out to kill. I issue a lone whistle as I prowl the damp, cobblestone streets of Paris’s finer avenue of houses. At the moment, all that I really want is a puff of opium, but that can wait until later. Perhaps I will visit the brothel as well. After all is sa
id and done.

  I swagger forth, fingering the loaded matchlock pistol, packed with gunpowder in the utmost precision, ready to decimate my enemy once the time comes. I will not fail to execute my plan. I ache for it. This purpose, this task, has eaten me from the inside out, the deed now squealing in my palms in the form of this loaded gun. It has been far too long. It is time for him to become acquainted with death.

  I am sure my face is dark, eyes black and ready in their preparation to undertake the task at hand. My hair I have pinned into a wealthy tress to seem proper like I once had. I want to look the part of a well-bred Frenchman so that he may realize that beneath my stately apparel I too can play the role of villain.

  I have seen death, smelled it and tasted it with every fiber of my being. I want him to taste it, too.

  Striding lightly across the cobbles of the street, my gruff pacing is illuminated by a lantern lit street. As I emerge from the shadows, I view my enemy’s home.

  My heart seems to jolt restlessly in irregular palpitations, a sheen of sweat chilling me to the bone. I just want this done with and forgotten. Then maybe I can lay her to rest in my mind.

  Up the steps I flash, taking two at a time until I am standing like a wraith before the front door, its glossy new wood shining in the streetlamp’s flickering light.

  I knock.

  Three times my knuckles rap upon the wood.

  I know he is awake, and I almost chuckle at the idea of him awaiting this very night, constantly disturbed by my face as I now appear on his doorstep with a bloodlust that shall be his end. I wonder if he thought that it would happen. I told him I would have my revenge.

  “God have mercy on me for what I am about to do,” I whisper to myself, my hands clenching tightly as there is a shuffling beyond the door, where a servant stands bleary eyed.

  “Master Chardones is taking no visitors, Monsieur. It is the middle of the night,” comes the servant’s cold, tired voice.