“Well…it’s bad news for the Josselins,” Johan said with relish. “Madame Josselin’s sister lived in Daubrec, right?”
That was another village roughly a day’s travel from Laforet. Evin nodded.
“Well, the Josselins haven’t heard from the sister for a while, and it turned out that no news was coming from Daubrec at all. Nobody lives there anymore!”
“Everyone left?”
“No. The queen sent Cydrich, the demon hunter, to find out why messengers sent to Daubrec never returned…and guess what he found!”
“Surely not a demon!” Evin imitated Johan’s breathlessness.
“Yes! It killed everyone in the town. And the messengers and animals too. Maybe fifty people before Cydrich destroyed it.”
A demon! Not even an ordinary creature from the underworld. This was sad news for the Josselins, of course, but no wonder Tyber and the men were excited. The men of Laforet liked blood-soaked tales as much as anyone. Demons featured in many ancient legends and superstitions, but it seemed they were visiting the world of men far too often these days. The sorceler, Cydrich, had become famous throughout the kingdom for his work eradicating them. Years ago, after Cydrich had discovered and slain a few, the queen honored him with the title of demon hunter and a reward. He worked directly for her now, researching, tracking down, and destroying demons. And he’d found one only a day’s ride away!
Oh yes, exciting news for the men of Laforet.
Evin had no doubt that Tyber’s excitement would express itself in more ways than one. Perhaps he could expect another of Tyber’s hunting trips soon. He just hoped it would be fun for him again like last time.
* * *
For a few days after the fight with the bear, Gareth moped through his chores. At times when he might have gone near the village to see if he could find Evin or one of the others doing something interesting, he went instead to a place high on the mountain where he could sit looking at the stars, pondering his fate and condition.
Many times he had heard the story of the disaster of his birth. Whenever she was angry, Mother reminded him of how his family fled into hiding to protect him—the boy who had grown to be such an ungrateful, disobedient, and troublesome son. Father had found this place where they could have peace for a time. A mountainous patch of land that didn’t interest the local people because the trees they used to build things didn’t grow well on it. Father won the right to trap here, and until the local lord or mayor took an interest in the mountain, they would be safe.
He knew the story by heart and never questioned it. Yet in the battle, he had seen impossible things. His hand, transformed into a monstrous claw. His arm, regrown just minutes after the bear tore it off. After seeing these terrible things, hope weakened and pulled further away from his grasp. What if he really was a monster and nothing more?
What if he wasn’t a person?
Days passed, but life never changed. Every night there were rounds to make and chores to do and his parents remained the same. Nobody talked about the bear or the impossible things Gareth had done.
After a while, he found he had brooded all he could. He had suffered every morose and lonely thought until they came no more and his mind turned back to…well, to Evin.
He imagined things that could never come true. Sitting with Evin to talk. In the daylight! Asking questions about the world outside. Laughing together.
Usually Gareth hated having good dreams because those were the kind that hurt so bad to wake up from. But these waking fantasies were different. They were things that could never happen, yet they comforted him.
He decided it was time to be a ghost again. Time to find Evin again to see that all was well.
* * *
At home the next morning, Gareth removed his clothing in preparation for his daily bath. Soon he stood naked in the tub, using the rag to clean himself and squeeze out rivulets of warm water to soothe his skin. He closed his eyes and scrubbed, letting tension ebb and allowing his mind to wander to good thoughts about Evin.
He tried to relive that moment when he had seen the predawn light touch Evin’s hair and heard Evin’s laughter. The sound was light and delicate, but somehow its vibrations went right through Gareth, making his nerves quiver like the string of a plucked bow. And as he thought of the sound, his body reacted to it again. Remembered laughter settled into his gut with a tight, tickling hum that was pleasant but strangely urgent.
Gareth’s awareness snapped back to the present, where he found that his cock had become straight and hard again. He had been idly tickling himself as he dreamed of Evin’s happiness, and he found himself enjoying the sensation of rubbing the hard stick. Oh no! Right in front of his parents. He stole a quick glance to be sure they weren’t watching—they were not—and while hiding the slowly wilting stiffness that was for some reason even more embarrassing than just being naked, he hastened to finish the bath and put on his nightshirt. Then he got down to the cellar as quickly as possible.
Once there, he wanted to recreate the new, pleasurable feelings. He pulled the nightshirt off and pretended to take his bath again.
Gareth brought the memory of Evin’s happiness back to mind as he stood beside the bed and began to rub his body with his hands. Some places were sensitive, especially between his legs. He concentrated on touching and stroking himself there.
He rubbed lightly up the length of his cock, tickling it again. It hardened and grew until the tip, shaped like a mushroom cap, emerged from within its fold of skin. He traced its shape with his fingers. He found that rubbing across the edge of the cap gave him a strong, pleasant feeling, as much like an itch as a tickle—only more. Better. It raced down his legs all the way to his toes. He tightened a little bit on the tip, grinding the skin between his thumb and forefinger. Ohhh, that’s good! Good enough to make his toes curl up so that he didn’t want to remain standing. He lay down on his back, sprawling on the scrap of burlap covering his bed of straw.
He bent his knees and spread his legs wide so he could touch himself with both hands. With his right, he reached down to grasp and finger his balls; with his left, he went back to stroking himself and kneading the tip of his cock. Ohhhhh. He used his thumb to file roughly along the edge of the cap again and gasped. As he raked his thumb across the flare, his legs twitched and wiggled. It was too much! So intense that he had to back off and touch himself more lightly.
He didn’t feel the usual disgust as he looked down at the thing that gave him such unexpected pleasure. He took his hand away to really look at it for the first time. It pointed up toward the outside world and bobbed lightly in time with the pounding of his heart. It was two fingers wide at the base and got a little thicker toward the tip. A vein traced most of its length. Its skin was as smooth as the backs of his hands and just as soft, despite the hardness inside. The tip had rougher-looking skin, and it was this place that had generated such incredible sensation as he played with it.
Gareth found it worked best to wrap his hand around it and stroke slowly up and down. His breath came in short gasps as he did this for a while and played with his balls and the skin containing them.
He tried using his hand to point his cock, to rub the tip first against one thigh, then the other. The muscles in his stomach twitched, and the urgent good-itch feeling grew until he couldn’t control it. Need possessed him and made him go back to gripping himself like a club. He stroked up and down with determination. The skin of his cock crackled with ticklish lightning that shot through him, pleasures he could feel sometimes in his toes, backside, chest, teeth.
He stroked the full length faster. It swelled thicker and harder, and his balls drew up.
“Oh, oh, aaaah.” He arched, lifting his backside off the bed, straining to push his cock up or out or into something as he stroked faster, harder. “Oh! Mmmmmh!” Everything in his belly got tighter until he wondered why he didn’t burst, but then something did burst and a white liquid spurted out. His entire body bucked, and he fell bac
k against the bed with gasping cries, “Hah! Hah! Hah!” as splash after splash of warm wetness landed on his face, chest, and belly.
Hardness went away as his breathing slowed. The warmth, tightness, and good feeling that had spread through him also receded, and his muscles stopped twitching. The liquid remained, cooling on his skin, as evidence that he had done something wrong.
The thick goo splattered on his skin was the same stuff he found sometimes after waking, in a wet stain on his nightshirt. A stain that disgusted his parents, like he’d pissed himself in his sleep. It wasn’t piss, but it was shameful—and now it wasn’t just one little spot. It was all over him. He could imagine the revolted looks on their faces. Is that snot or just you?
Gareth lay still for a moment, consumed by guilt. Then he knew he needed to get rid of the weird, white snot so his parents could never see. He thought about wiping it off, but what if it started to stink? He couldn't go up to where they were in order to wash it off. But there was one way to hide it forever. He began scooping it into his mouth, trying to eat it all as fast as possible—without tasting it in case it was awful.
When he was again as clean as he could make himself, he put the nightshirt on and curled up for sleep. Now that the stuff was gone forever, he felt better. He concentrated on the sensations of his body and found that although some muscles were a little sore between his legs, mostly his insides were warm and relaxed.
He rolled onto his back again and looked up at the dirt of the ceiling. He was safe here. Nobody could know about what he had just done. He wouldn’t get into trouble. Probably not.
He swabbed the back of his teeth with his tongue, tasting now the sweet and saltiness of the stuff he had just eaten and feeling its slight burn on his gums. The stuff actually tasted good. Maybe he’d touch himself that way again soon in order to get more.
Chapter Four
Gareth reached the top of the rope and stretched out a hand to grip the wooden floorboards at the mouth of his trapdoor. He was not enthusiastic about leaving the cellar tonight.
Mother and Father had different eyes than his. Different noses. They couldn’t see or smell or hear as well as he could, but that wasn’t the problem. They were different. What if that white stuff left tracks that they could see but he couldn’t? What if they could see it on his mouth no matter how much he wiped it, or smell it on him as soon as he came into the room?
What if they just knew he had done something wrong?
After closing the trapdoor and putting the armoire back into place, Gareth tried to stay as far from his parents as possible without giving himself away. He made it to the table and sat, relieved when he could pull the chair in to shelter his lower body beneath the table.
Now if he could just resist the urge to wipe at his mouth every few seconds.
Mother slid a platter in front of him. Lumps of unidentifiable bits of meat and a boiled turnip sat there, steaming. Keeping his hand turned down, in case there were tracks to hide, Gareth reached for a bit of the meat and tasted it. Ooh, squirrel!
He barely registered how quiet his parents were until he finished the platter of food, and then—strangest thing—Mother took it, dished out another serving, and laid it before him again.
Before touching the food, he peered up at Mother. Saw her looking at him. Really looking, and he thought about tracks again and tried to shrink in his seat. But Father harrumphed, and Gareth sat a little straighter, steeling himself for a punishment. But why would they give him more food?
Father said, “Gareth, we got something to talk about, son.”
The expression on Mother’s face was…soft. Almost a smile. Was something good about to happen?
“Yes, sir,” he said. Risking a glance, he saw that Father’s face was weird and soft too. “Did I mess up? What did I do?”
“Oh no no.” Mother shook her head slowly and waved away his words. “This is good news, very good. You will be very pleased!”
He looked at them, from one to the other.
Mother said, “There’s something we don’t think we mentioned before, but…we have a relative. A very important man, who knows all about you—”
“Stop shaking your head!” Father said. “Listen!”
Mother glared briefly at Father, then continued. “He couldn’t come to see us before because he is so very important and we didn’t want to risk anyone noticing. But you’re all grown up now, and he wants to meet you.”
“Why—Why for?”
“Because you’re special! You saw for yourself when you killed the bear.”
His gaze fell. Was it so special to be a monster?
“He will come to visit soon, and when he does, we want you to do your best to show him the things your father taught you. Can you do that?”
“You mean during the daytime?”
“It won’t matter. You’ll show him how you can use your weapons and how strong you are. If he thinks you are capable, he may have a new job for you. Wouldn’t you like that?”
This was all wrong. Why were they so strange? And what job could the important visitor have for him? But no, that’s not what mattered, not to them. Not the job.
“Yes,” he said, knowing the answer was expected. But the truth hung in his mind like the afterimage of a lightning bolt. They’re getting rid of me.
“Good!” She reached out, and Gareth suppressed the urge to flinch. She patted his hand. “Now finish your supper and get to your chores.”
Gareth was always hungry, but he found that today he had no more appetite.
* * *
Gareth was too close to the village. He knew well that he should not be there, but after brooding alone for so many nights, his desire to see Evin had become irresistible. He would have to be alert and ready to flee at any moment, but he could no longer stay away.
He knew of a good place to look for Evin and his friends.
From afar he had sometimes seen them go into one of the work buildings at the outer edge of the village, near the low stone wall. Gareth stayed down, crouching behind the moss-covered wall, and circled outside it to approach the buildings.
He had first come here two nights ago, the night his parents had been weird. Each time, he waited until it was late to see if Evin appeared. Gareth couldn’t remain until morning—he needed to leave early enough to get his work done in a rush—but stayed as long as he dared. He would be here every night if necessary.
Tonight his patience was rewarded.
Evin and Tyber whispered to one another as they walked around the yard behind the building where logs were cut up during the day. They arrived and greeted their friend who watched over the work buildings at night. The three of them went inside.
With no one else to watch outside, it was safe for Gareth to slip over the wall and creep closer. The side of the building that faced away from the village was also hidden in shadow from the moonlight. He went to a window there. If he kept low and still and remembered to squint, maybe he would remain unnoticed as he watched the three.
Gareth had heard the things Evin and the others did together in the places they gathered at night, but caution always prevented him from sneaking up to peer in at them. What he saw through the window tonight was stranger than anything he could have imagined.
The three of them were pressed together. Evin stood against Tyber. They were touching mouths, the way village girls and boys sometimes did at festivals, like they did when they liked each other. But this seemed angrier, like they were both trying to eat the same bite of food. Or like they were hurting each other. The third man, the watchman, stood behind, rubbing his hips against Evin’s backside, pushing Evin into Tyber. Evin didn’t cry out but continued to struggle with Tyber.
Tyber pulled away, stepped back, and put his hands beneath Evin’s chemise. Evin raised his arms and allowed Tyber to pull off the clothing and throw it aside. Tyber seized Evin’s shoulders and turned him around, then pressed down until Evin was on his knees. The watchman wore a tunic, which he lifte
d, and Tyber pushed Evin forward, putting his face between the other man’s legs.
What was this? Why didn’t Evin fight back?
Then they turned so that Gareth could see the stiff tube of the watchman’s cock sink into Evin’s mouth. All saints, Evin was using his mouth to make the man feel good. Tyber had a hand in Evin’s hair, pushing and pulling on his head, guiding him to please the grunting man.
“Mmmm, yeah, take it all down, dog! Swallow it deep,” Tyber said.
Evin developed a rhythm bobbing up and down on the watchman’s cock. Tyber sank to his knees, letting his hands slip down Evin’s neck and back. The watchman moaned, and Tyber yanked Evin’s breeches down to expose Evin’s backside.
Gareth had become stiff enough to make his breeches suddenly tight and uncomfortable.
Tyber put his hands around Evin’s hips, pulled him back, and then shoved him forward again. He was using Evin’s whole body to stroke his mouth on the watchman’s cock, and Evin helped by holding his neck rigid.
After a few strokes, Tyber let go and reached around to stick his fingers into Evin’s mouth alongside the watchman’s cock. Evin continued to work his mouth for a bit; then Tyber pulled wet fingers back out and reached down to press them into Evin’s rear end. Evin threw back his head, closed his eyes tight, and said, “Oh!” in a voice that made Gareth’s insides tremble.
He likes it.
They were across the workshop from his window, but Gareth could smell the overpowering musk of their spit-slicked skin. The scent made Gareth’s cock so hard it ached.
Tyber worked his fingers into Evin as if he were angry, saying, “Yeah, take it, take it.” And Evin just groaned and continued to lick and swallow the watchman.
Gareth looked around to make sure nobody else was wandering around to catch him. He loosened his breeches and shifted his cock up to poke him in the stomach. He began to caress it, wanting to make himself feel the good feelings Evin gave so eagerly to the watchman. Now that he had seen this, he longed for Evin to touch him in just that way. But because it could never be, Gareth took what he could from seeing Evin do nice things for the other man.
In the Darkness Page 3
