by M. Walsh
“Blackthorn,” she squeaked, low and unclear.
“Beg pardon..?”
Straining for volume, she said, “Lily Blackthorn.”
“Blackthorn,” he repeated. “Interesting name.”
He took another sip, not taking his eyes off her. Before he could ask any more questions, she said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve been traveling all day, and I’m not feeling well.”
The bartender and other patrons offered nods and wishes of a good night. She forced a pleasant smile and thanked them—all the while, feeling Vogel’s eyes on her. She felt him watching her even as she went up the stairs to the second floor.
* * *
Lily wouldn’t leave her room, pacing around restlessly and full of anxiety. Her arms were crossed in front of her, and her heart pounded in her chest. Her stomach turned and bubbled with worry and stress.
Stupid, she thought. So stupid! What the hell was I thinking? Should’ve never opened my mouth. Should’ve come back to the room the moment he said he was a hunter.
She paced around, rubbing her mouth and biting on her knuckle. Cold sweat formed on her brow, and—combined with the lingering essence of Maddox—she felt nauseated. In an effort to keep herself from throwing up, she dunked her face into the bowl of water. Soaking her hands and dragging them through her hair, she sank to the floor and tried to calm down.
Maybe it’s not as bad as I think. All he knows is my name. He’s tracking a demon, but there’s nothing to tell him it’s me.
She paused, remembering he did ask for her name. That would mean he didn’t recognize her. Therefore, doesn’t know her and, furthermore, doesn’t suspect her. If he didn’t know her name, then he doesn’t know he was following her, and therefore won’t make the connection.
She breathed a sigh of relief. All she had to do was throw him off her trail somehow, and everything would be okay. Then she could move on and chalk this up as a close call. Not even that—more of a warning. This incident only meant she needed to be more careful.
As Lily relaxed, Vogel’s words repeated and sank in. An anomaly, he called her. A fancy word for freak, she thought. Something that would be deemed an aberration that must be destroyed—while people outside the Dark Lands would kill her simply for being a demon.
She sat there for some time, feeling the weight of loneliness on her heart. She was unlike her own kind. She took no pleasure in death and bloodshed. She held no desire for chaos and destruction, and her heart wasn’t filled with hate and anger. All Lily wanted out of life was to live in peace. If not for the fact she could only survive by feeding on the essence of others, she would do no harm to anyone.
She didn’t know why she was this way—whether it was something done to her or mere chance. Her memories of her time in the Dark Lands—the Bad Times, she called them—were a dim, vague haze. Looking back, all she could remember was fear, anger, and pain. Her earliest, clear memory was waking up on the borders of the Dark Lands and wanting nothing more than to be as far away from that forsaken place as possible.
Trying to adjust to life outside the Dark Lands was arduous at first. In many ways, she was only a child then. She couldn’t speak any common languages. She didn’t understand other customs. She learned the hard way many would kill her on sight if they knew what she truly was. Survival was hiding her true nature and feeding only in secret.
If not for the Hammonds, Lily probably would have been killed or forced back into the Dark Lands early on. They took her in, taught her, and cared for her. She never did find out what inspired their generosity, but she would always be grateful to them. She often thought of them and their stained-glass window that looked like flowers—with its rainbow-colored beams of light shining down on her.
Unfortunately, it was also her time with the Hammonds—and the way things ended with them—that taught her once and for all she would never have a place among good people because of what she was.
Demons don’t belong among the good, she thought. Even the freak ones, like me.
She sighed, shaking her head, and tried to put it out of her mind. She was thinking of calling it a night, when there was gentle knocking at her door. “Yes..?” she called out. “Who is it?”
“Benedict Vogel, Ms. Blackthorn,” he replied through the door. “We spoke downstairs. I would like to ask you a few questions.”
A jolt of terror shot through her as her heart jumped into her throat. She managed to pull herself to her feet and drifted toward the door. “I ... I’m sorry..?”
“I’d just like to ask a few simple questions, Ms. Blackthorn. It won’t take long.”
“What sort of questions..?”
“May I please come in, Ms. Blackthorn?”
She stood in front of the door, feeling panicked and sick. How should she play this? Should she just answer his questions and act like nothing was wrong? After all, it’s not like he had anything on her—as far as she knew. She couldn’t just refuse—that was even more suspicious. Should she just jump out the window and make a run for it?
For a moment, the idea of letting him in seemed reasonable. To call his bluff, answer whatever questions he might throw at her as innocently as possible, and hope for the best. She hadn’t survived this long without knowing how to cover her ass and talk her way out of awkward situations.
Her hand was about to unlock the door, when a thought suddenly shot through her mind in bright, glaring color: What if he has something blessed?
As a demon, a creature of the Black, Lily was vulnerable to the blessed and divine. Holy trinkets, sacred talismans, and sanctified symbols were all harmful to her kind. If she opened the door, and he flashed a Shining Shield of the Silver in her face or sprayed her with blessed water, she would recoil in pain. The game would be up, and he’d know what she was.
Her hand stopped inches from the lock. He shouldn’t have anything on her, but who was to say he didn’t have suspicions? As far as he was concerned, if she wasn’t a demon, waving a Shining Shield at her wouldn’t mean a thing—no harm, no foul.
“N-no,” she stammered. “I ... I’m not feeling well. I need to get some rest.”
“Please, Ms. Blackthorn,” he said, tonelessly. “This will only take a few moments of your time.”
“Tomorrow,” she blurted out. She paused, trying to keep her voice under control. “Come by tomorrow. Please, I ... I need some rest.”
There was a long pause, and Lily braced herself—expecting him to kick down the door, blessed water spraying and sword drawn. She didn’t know how good a hunter Vogel might be, but she didn’t care. She was ready to make a run for it.
Finally, she heard him respond, “Very well, Ms. Blackthorn. It can wait until tomorrow. Have a restful evening.”
She waited and listened at the door. After a few moments, she heard his footsteps walk away, and she sank to the floor—trying not to cry. This was much more than a warning. Regardless of what Vogel knew or didn’t know, she needed to get out of there.
* * *
She was sitting in the dark with her travel-bag packed for some time. She thought it best to slip out in the middle of night and make her way to the Canton ferry that headed east. Part of her considered it a shame she wasn’t able to enjoy a night’s sleep in a real bed, but sometimes luck simply didn’t favor her.
Sometime after midnight, she listened close and the bar had fallen quiet. The last of the regulars adjourned to their homes or rented rooms, and the bartender closed up shop. She listened at her door and waited for the last of footsteps, creaking, slamming, and murmuring to die down. She poked her head out, and the hall was quiet and dark.
It seemed like the ideal time to move, but she couldn’t shake a nagging dread she couldn’t place. She looked out her door again, and everything seemed fine. The hall was narrow and bare—unless Vogel could see through his door, it seemed unlikely he was spying on her.
She slipped out of her room and crept to the stairs, listening for sound of any kind—but the bar was perfec
tly silent. Descending a few steps, she saw the tavern was indeed empty. Chairs were stacked on their tables, all the lights out, and all that remained was the smell of beer and liquor.
She returned to her room and grabbed her bag. The coast was clear, but for some reason it didn’t seem right. She went to the lone window and looked outside, staying to the corner in case anyone was watching. The streets were deserted, and the night was clear. A small, but bright moon lit the empty streets below, and she saw no sign of anything out of place.
So why does it feel so wrong?
It was on this thought she caught a glimpse of something flicker around the side of a nearby closed market down the road. She narrowed her eyes, and sure enough, she saw a thin puff of smoke emerge from around the corner. Hidden in the shadows, she could make out the vague outline of a tall, cloaked figure with a smoking pipe.
Vogel was watching the inn.
Lily darted away from the window, pressing her back against the wall. Her dread amplified into outright fear, as her worries were confirmed. He suspected something. He might not know she’s a demon—if he did, he wouldn’t bother asking questions or spying—but she was on his watch, and he was making sure she didn’t give him the slip.
“Think,” she whispered, sinking to a crouch. “There has to be another way out of here ...”
She left her room and returned downstairs, hoping to find a back exit. Unfortunately, aside from the front, the only other way out was a side door in the back of the bar. From where Vogel was sitting, he’d be able to see her if she used either exit.
Not knowing what else to do, she returned to her room and paced around, trying to stay calm. She glanced out the window again and saw Vogel still watching the inn. He was hidden, but she was able to find him. Did he underestimate her eyesight—being a demon, she was able to see in the dark better than normal humans. Did he think he didn’t need to try hard at hiding because she was supposed to be asleep? Or did he want her to know he was watching?
Doesn’t really matter, she thought, rubbing her mouth and clenching her hand. I have to find some way out of here without him seeing me.
An idea came to mind, and she glanced down the hall outside her room. At the far end was a window facing a part of the inn Vogel couldn’t see from where he was. She crept to it and looked outside. The window overlooked a small alley. There was no ledge, but as a demon, it was within her ability to climb along the side of the inn.
She cracked the window open and slipped outside. She hung from it, suspended at least fifteen feet from the ground, and propped her feet against the wall. The alley was bare, filled only with trash, and the neighboring building stood taller than the inn—too high to reach. She looked down the alley and found it cross through to the street around the corner. From there, she could make her way into Canton and lose Vogel.
She called upon her demonic side, allowing her nails to grow into claws. She dug into the side of the inn and clung to the wall, propped up like a spider. She paused to make sure no one was watching and, using all her strength, leapt as far down the alley as she could reach. Her landing was not as graceful as she would’ve liked, but she landed on her feet and rolled forward to soften her momentum.
In the silence of the night, everything sounded far too loud. Her hanging from the window, claws digging into the wall, leaping from the building, feet hitting the ground—all of it sounded loud and clear in the still night. Worse, she accidently knocked some garbage aside in her landing.
She rushed down the alley around the corner and pressed her back against the wall—feeling her heart pounding in her chest. She waited there, trying to control her breathing—deliriously expecting some alarm to suddenly go off or bright light to zero-in on her.
Against her better judgment, she sneaked a look around the corner into the alley. Everything seemed as calm and still as it should be—until she saw Vogel emerge from around the corner of the inn. He moved slowly, looking up and down the alley, and Lily’s stomach dropped.
Without bothering to see if he found the open window or if he was following, she took off as fast as she could. Running at top speed, she cut through alleys and streets, making her way to the center of Canton—ignoring the growing cramps in her sides, burning in her veins, and aches in her feet.
* * *
“You didn’t think you got away did you?”
Reaching the river that crossed the center of Canton and divided the town from the northern section and the southern, Lily took refuge beneath the Canton Bridge. The ferry was closed, so she hid under the bridge for the night. It was cold and dank, but seemed fitting—after all, don’t monsters typically lurk under bridges?
She was dozing into an uneasy sleep until she heard the sound of footsteps above her, followed by Vogel’s voice. She looked up and saw him standing over her, eyes grim, and a sword in his hand. Its metal blade seemed to glow in the moonlight. He’d followed her every move and had her right where he wanted her.
She was about to speak and try explaining herself, but he cut her off. “Your evil ends today, monster.” He raised the sword over his head, and Lily screamed.
She was still screaming when she opened her eyes and saw it was daylight. She frantically looked around and saw all as it should be—the flowing river, the cold and musty bridge, and the sound of people walking about overhead.
Shaking off the nightmare, she poked her head up and saw a mass of people. The ferry was docked, and people were lining up for the ride east. She waited for an opportunity to climb back onto the street without anyone noticing and made her way to the nearest empty alleyway. The plan was to take the ferry, but her instinct told her to move carefully.
It was morning, and the sky was overcast and white, though thin enough to allow a hint of the sun to shine through. Despite how early it was, she suspected Vogel would’ve figured out she snuck out of her room if he didn’t already. He might guess she would make a move for the ferry and be watching the pier. She saw the boat wasn’t due to leave for another forty minutes, so she decided to wait as late as possible.
While waiting, she tried to anticipate how he might interpret her sneaking away in the middle of the night. Would he take that as confirmation she was the demon he was looking for? Although her avoiding him was suspicious, she didn’t think that was enough to give her away. His knowing her name could be problematic, though. Depending on what kind of hunter he was—sanctioned or mercenary—he could spread word that Lily Blackthorn was, in some way, connected to a roaming demon.
Even that seemed an outside possibility. It’d be better if he didn’t know her name—it’d be better if he wasn’t aware of her at all—but she allowed herself to feel confident this incident wouldn’t haunt her too bad. As long as she got Vogel off her trail and was more careful when she traveled, she thought she’d be okay.
With five minutes left to go before the ferry left, Lily thought it might be time to board. It was then she caught sight of Vogel’s black cloak lurking around the sea of people. As she thought, he anticipated she’d head for the ferry—and, in fact, it even looked like he might be boarding himself.
She remained hidden in the alleyway and watched him navigate his way through the people. He was subtle, but she could see he was keeping an eye out for her. Watching him make his way to the boat, she considered it might be better for her if he boarded.
I could head west on foot. Keep off the main roads and slip through the woods.
The bells went off, signaling last call for people looking to board. Vogel neared the plank leading onto the ferry and hesitated. He looked around at the crowd of people, and Lily ducked further into the alley.
Come on, board the boat. Just go.
The whistle blew. Finally, Vogel called for the hands to wait as he boarded. Lily grinned and almost cheered—taking some satisfaction in seeing the hint of frustration on his face before he gave up.
Not bothering to wait for it to sail off, she turned and headed back into southern Canton—feelin
g a massive weight lifted from her shoulders. She considered lingering in town and getting the rest she was denied the night before, but decided to play it safe. Whether Vogel spread some talk about her or not, it would be better to start putting some distance between her and him right away.
She left Canton from the south and headed west, drawing closer to the river that ran through the woods. She’d skip Dictum and keep going, following the river and avoiding the main roads.
Lily left town that morning thinking the worst was over.
22
If Lily were to try, she’d find it difficult to describe what it was like to lose control and let the Black take over. To say it was a blur or dream-like wouldn’t be entirely accurate—because she was always aware of what she was doing. There were only a handful of times where she completely lost herself and wouldn’t remember what happened while in frenzy.
Most of the time, when she felt the Black take over, she could see with great clarity what she was doing. In a way, she saw things even clearer. The world around her seemed to move slower, and she could anticipate what her enemy was going to do before he or she could do it.
Perhaps the best way to describe it was like stepping outside herself and watching it be controlled by an efficient and deadly machine. Her body would turn cold, and she would feel a tingle of relish at the thought of breaking her enemy’s limbs, rending their skin, and tasting blood in her mouth—as was the true nature of demons.
It was the same with Carlyle Hawke. She saw the color drain from his face. He was backing away and saying something she didn’t hear. She smelled fear mixed with his confusion. He thought himself some dark master—a summoner and controller of demons. And yet, here was one he didn’t anticipate. One he couldn’t turn away. She smelled his fear, and it made her smile.
His hands began to glow in green flame, but before he could attack, she was already ramming him with her shoulder. He flew through the air and hit the ground hard, like he was hit by a catapult.
