by Kate Sparkes
“That you’re a victim here. Verelle somehow called you to take her place and went somewhere else. Those who understand magic better may find a way to track her down.” He walked to the bookcase and the doll’s body crunched under his bare foot, shattering into sharp pieces that didn’t seem to bother his scaled feet.
“So this isn’t over for you?”
His lips curved in a dark smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Until I see her head roll, it’s not over.”
The room was quiet. Even the streets outside had calmed since the previous night.
“What did she—” I began, and stopped. It might be too personal a question, given his obvious hate for her, and I didn’t want to get on his bad side. On the other hand, I didn’t know when I’d be getting home, and needed to know what the hell was going on. I forced my way past my nerves. “What happened last night?”
Zinian grimaced. “You joined us at a bad time.”
“But you won, right?”
“Bad for humans,” he clarified. “Which you are, correct?”
I remembered the order he’d given the night before. By morning, this one should be the only human living. Were the rest dead, whoever they had been? My knees trembled. I forced them to hold me up, though collapsing to the floor and begging for mercy seemed like a valid option. “I am. I’m not a part of whatever is happening here, though, I swear.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, not unkindly. “You can relax. I have no desire to see you harmed, and I hope for your sake that you can return home. This is not a good time or place to be human.” His mouth quirked in a rueful smile. “It’s not even a good place for those who resemble humans.”
I took in his blue-bronze skin, wings, and heavy-looking horns, and wondered how that could possibly be a problem for him. But then I remembered Auphel, the felid Jaid, and the strange crowd from the previous night, and understood that to them, he probably appeared to be very human. It was all a matter of perspective.
“They all seem to respect you,” I said. When he turned to me, I quickly added, “Not that I think you look human. I just thought you meant that—”
“It’s fine.” He almost smiled, but not quite. “The fact is that my appearance is a liability. I’ve only come as far as I have because my skills and knowledge have been vital to us reaching Verelle after hundreds of years of trying.” He shrugged. “So while my instinct is to hate you for what you are, as any monster would, I have a certain sympathy for your position. It won’t be an easy one.”
It seemed the word monster wasn’t an insult here as it was at home. Perhaps he was using another word, and this was the only way my mind could translate it.
So we’re accepting that this is real? I asked myself.
On a provisional basis, I answered. Err on the side of caution.
“I’d actually like to keep that key,” I said, forcing my voice to keep steady.
Zinian reached into his pocket, but didn’t return my property. “As I said, you’ll have it soon enough.” He went to the windows and looked out at the city below. “I should get out there. Would you care to see exactly what kind of world you’ve come into?”
My heart skipped. I really didn’t want to. I wanted to get back in bed and sleep until I woke up at home. But if I was going to move forward as though this were actually happening, the first step to finding control and making a plan was to gather information. I would feel lost until I oriented myself.
“Can I dress first?”
He nodded toward the wardrobe. “Take what you wish.”
I opened the white doors, which were painted in pale florals. The wardrobe was filled to bursting with clothes. Long dresses, mostly. Not tailored and fitted, but flowing and comfortable-looking. Kind of hippie-ish. I’d thought these fantasy settings were all about the corsets, and couldn’t say I felt disappointed. The loose fit would work in my favour if this Verelle had been as dainty as the doll indicated.
I slid out the long drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe, and turned to Zinian. “This is a joke, right?”
He shook his head.
I’d expected shoes, but not like these. Six pairs of boots filled the space, all of them heavy, with vicious iron spikes studding the leather from the toes up to the ankle, covering the foot. Some of them had additional spikes dotting the leather up to knee-height or covering the bottoms of the soles.
Kinky.
“How does a person even walk in these?”
Zinian stepped closer. His shoulders tensed as he approached and his wings spread slightly, like the hackles rising on a dog. “It’s all humans wear,” he said quietly. “Good for kicking disobedient servants and slaves, and a visual reminder of who rules this world. Or who did, until last night.”
I shuddered. “That’s horrid.”
“I’m so glad you think so.” He returned to the bed and found a pair of golden slippers beneath it. “See if these fit you. They were only for wearing in her chambers, not in the streets, but I think they’d suit you better.”
“Thanks.”
The slippers were small, but the fabric had some give to it. Though they wouldn’t offer much protection, they would have to be enough. I wanted nothing to do with those boots.
Zinian turned away as I slipped into a pale blue tunic-style dress. It trailed on the ground but didn’t squeeze too badly, except across the bust. I resisted the urge to throw my hoodie back on to cover myself.
“We’ll have to see about getting you something more practical,” he said as he looked me over. “We might be short on tailors for a while, but someone should be able to make you something less…. Well.” He cleared his throat and offered me his arm. I appreciated the gesture, but realized he was probably keeping me close for everyone else’s safety as much as mine.
Less what? Human? I glanced down. The dress didn’t do as much for my figure as some, but it did cling to some rather feminine spots. Practical would be better.
As we walked through the gleaming white stone halls of the massive palace (filled with enough airy tapestries, sculpted furniture pieces, and sparkling windows to satisfy any fairy tale princess), the other monsters we passed nodded respectfully to Zinian. I got a few glares, raised lips, and bared fangs, but all in silence. Distaste. Not threats. Still, I clung a little tighter to my terrifying protector.
These are the good guys, I reminded myself, remembering the terrible spikes on the queen’s boots.
Then we stepped through massive double doors into the streets, and suddenly I wasn’t so certain which side I’d got myself wrapped up with.
Chapter Five
The fact that I’d missed the action was only a small mercy.
I stayed close to Zinian, who was at least familiar even if I still wasn’t completely sure I could trust him, and kept my gaze trained on the cobblestone street ahead of me. I’d have to look up some time, become familiar with the incredible variety of faces and bodies we passed, but knew that if I raised my eyes now I would be unable to stop staring. They’d hate that. Anyone would.
A high-sided cart passed, pulled by a pair of minotaurs. I peered inside. Bodies. Human bodies, piled on top of each other in a heap, limbs flopping over the sides. I gagged at the sight, and at the smell of blood rising from the corpses. Not a movie set. Not a dream. This, like nothing else, convinced me that all of this was real.
My stomach somersaulted, and I pressed a hand to my mouth to hold back the stinging bile that rose in my throat. My breath grew shallow, and I gripped Zinian’s arm tight as I fought against the feeling I was about to faint.
He looked down at me. “Horrible, isn’t it?”
I turned away as an ogre nearly twice the size of Auphel and with a far less pleasant personal odour scooped a young woman’s body out of the gutter and tossed her onto a passing cart. I squeezed my eyes closed and took a deep breath that only filled my nose with the stench of death. “Horrible doesn’t begin to cover it. Why?”
“Why did this happen? That’s a question wi
th a complicated answer.”
I released his arm. “You led them, though? You did this?”
His brow furrowed. “General Grys is in charge of everything, but I played my part. I provided information that allowed us to defeat the magical protections around the palace that have made a monster uprising impossible for so long. So yes, in a way I did.”
I turned toward a scraping noise approaching us from behind, and lost my fight against the urge to stare. The creature, which hurried toward us with a shuffling gate and a determined glare, looked like every bone in its body had been broken and poorly set. It opened a mouth filled with broken-off fangs, and reached its twisted hands toward me.
Zinian shoved me against a wall and spun on the creature, spreading his wings to shield me.
“Move along,” he ordered.
A wheezing laugh. “Protecting a human. I knew I hadn’t judged you wrong.” The rasping voice dripped with disdain.
I pressed myself against the wall and wished Zinian had offered me a weapon to go with my new clothes. Something that would at least give me a fighting chance.
The muscles of Zinian’s back shifted as he spread his arms. He hadn’t drawn his sword. “She’s not one of them. This isn’t her fight.”
“They’re all the same.”
I peered from beneath Zinian’s wing and saw one bent and broken foot step forward. In an instant, Zinian had drawn his sword. “Your orders have nothing to do with her.” He spoke as calmly as he had before. “Move on.”
“Or you’ll report me to Grys?”
“Or we’ll deal with this here and now.”
The street had fallen silent, and I imagined that all of the monsters had stopped to watch the scene play out. I hated that they were seeing me hiding, but knew there was nothing else I could do. Those horrible hands could have snapped me in half.
The creature let out a low growl and shuffled away. Zinian sheathed his sword and turned to me.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.” I’d hit the wall hard, but the pain in my shoulder was nothing compared to being torn apart by my worst nightmare. I wasn’t about to complain.
“Good. Stay close. We’ll head back soon.” He offered his arm again, and this time he added the protection of one wing held out, shielding me from curious glances from behind. The gesture, odd as it was, made me feel more relaxed. He was a strange guardian, and I didn’t exactly feel comfortable walking with a monster, but I didn’t doubt that I was safe with him.
We passed another human body. A man, bent backward nearly in half, spine snapped.
“Did they really deserve this?” The words were out before I could second-guess them.
I looked up to find Zinian’s face a hard mask, showing no emotion as he watched the cleanup. “Humans have tortured us for centuries, ripping us from our mothers’ arms, killing our children as punishment for parents’ minor crimes, chaining us and humiliating us. Even those of us with a measure of freedom have lived in fear of the day when they would come and demand our service. At least we were merciful enough to let them die quickly when we finally came for them. It’s better than they deserved.”
And that’s what I am to them, I realized. I shuddered. No wonder they glared. No wonder I needed a bodyguard.
We rounded a corner and found a handful of pink-skinned creatures of basically human shape, less than half my height, gathered around a heap of human belongings. Their faces ranged from long and thin-nosed to snub-featured, and their bodies from strong to gaunt. They each used one hand to shield their faces from the sunlight as they dug gleefully through the pile, pulling out metals and jewels and anything made of stone, squealing over their finds. They burrowed into the ever-growing pile, which other monsters added to as they cleared out the whitewashed cottages that lined the street.
“Welcome back, pretties!” one of the scavengers exclaimed, and planted a loud kiss on a golden coin.
A centaur who had been dumping a load of clothing on the pile reached down and snatched the coin. “Those will be ours,” he said in a resonant voice, and crossed his arms over his broad chest. As Zinian and I crossed the street and moved around them, I noted that his human skin—which matched the chestnut colour of his horse-hide—was crisscrossed with long, deep scars.
The little creature leapt up, but the centaur held the coin well out of reach. “Gold and gems belong to the gaublings!” squealed the smaller creature. “They come from underground. You can take their grasses and wood, forest-dweller.”
The centaur snorted. “My people mined this gold. If it belongs to anyone, it’s us.”
The imp-like creature—the gaubling, I supposed—snarled. “We’ll see what General Grys says about it.” He dove into the rubbish pile without his prize.
The centaur turned to us. “Major,” he said, and looked at the coin somewhat sheepishly. “We have permission to take what the humans stole from us.”
“And what good will gold do you?” Zinian asked, sounding more curious than accusatory. “Will it bring back those you lost below-ground? Return your sweat and blood to you?”
The centaur clenched his teeth, hardening the muscles of his heavy jaw.
Zinian turned away without an answer, and we continued our journey.
“Do humans in your world use coin?” he asked.
“We do. Gold like that would be worth a lot, I guess.”
He nodded. “We don’t. Monsters, I mean. We’ve always bartered with each other, even between species. Material things only have value because they’re beautiful or useful.” He stopped and sank onto a wooden bench with roses climbing its sides, narrowly avoiding stepping in a puddle of dark blood.
“This is what I feared,” he said, obviously not speaking to me anymore.
“What?”
He hesitated, then seemed to decide I could be trusted with an answer. “Repeating their mistakes. Becoming greedy. Fighting each other. How long until a monster species takes the humans’ place, believing themselves above everyone else?”
I didn’t know what to say to that, but he seemed to want an answer. “I don’t think I can offer advice on peace,” I said. “Humans in my world treat each other horribly. We’re not all bad as individuals, but…” I shrugged. “They say power corrupts, and I guess that’s usually true. Maybe you all can do better.”
Zinian nodded sadly. “I hope so.”
“Did he say that the centaurs worked underground?” I tried to imagine that huge creature in those surroundings, and couldn’t picture it.
Zinian’s shoulders and wings slumped as he leaned forward. “That’s correct. The captured gaublings were thrown in crates and shipped to the farmlands to work the soil and climb the fruit trees, while the centaurs were taken from their bright forests and forced to work in the cramped mines, hauling coal and diamonds and gold.”
“That seems inefficient.” I felt like I was missing something. “They would be stronger workers in their own habitats, wouldn’t they?”
He shrugged. “Efficiency wasn’t the goal. Centaurs working farms might have stayed strong and healthy, and possibly unmanageable. Gaublings working underground would have had the upper hand if they decided to free themselves. So the humans stuffed the creatures of air and sunlight into the dark mines, and put the gaublings out to be blinded and burned by the sun.” He nodded at a pink head that poked out of the heap. “They should be white as snow. They should never have to see the surface.”
My stomach clenched. “So they were easier to control when they were miserable?”
“And weak,” Zinian added. “I have great respect for all of them for finding the strength to join us.” He narrowed his eyes at me, taking me in. “It’s refreshing to meet a human who doesn’t follow the usual ways of thinking. Gives one a glimmer of hope that perhaps things can change for the better.”
Before I could answer, Jaid approached. Her feline tail twitched excitedly, and her grin revealed long, yellow fangs.
“Lieutenant,” Zinian
said. “Tell me you bring good news.”
“I do.” She shot me a glare, then returned her attention to Zinian. “Come with me. This should please you.”
We followed, though I had trouble keeping up with their long strides. The flowing skirt of my dress kept tangling up in my legs, and stones and rubbish bit at my feet through the soles of the golden slippers. Still, I didn’t let myself fall behind, and we soon reached an open square lined with shops. The clearing out of human culture was continuing here, but at least the bodies had already been taken away.
A crowd had gathered, and Jaid cleared a path through it for us. In the centre of the square knelt a creature more human in appearance than any I’d seen living so far. A beautiful man, fair-haired, with skin that glowed from within. Wings sprouted from between his shoulder blades, massive and powerful, covered in bright white feathers.
An angel, I thought, and immediately felt stupid. He wasn’t an angel any more than Zinian was a demon. Still, the name fit.
The creature held his head high even as he knelt in the mud, unmoving. He didn’t object to the situation, or even seem aware of what was happening. Not drugged… just not there.
Jaid stalked forward and took the largest sword I’d ever seen from a half-man, half-deer creature who struggled under its weight.
“Watch,” she said to Zinian. The crowd fell silent. No one asked for last words from the prisoner. Jaid raised the sword and brought it down through the back of his neck, just as Auphel was supposed to do to me last night with her axe.
I clapped my hands over my mouth to hold in a scream, but couldn’t look away. I expected blood. Instead, the angelic figure collapsed, then disappeared. All he left behind was a handful of feathers.
Jaid turned to Zinian with a wild grin. “You see? She’s well and truly gone. We are free!”
Zinian smiled, but it seemed forced. The rest of the crowd erupted into cheers, tears, and embraces. I stuck close under the shelter of Zinian’s outstretched wing, not wanting to be trampled by the others as we moved toward the space the angel had occupied.
“What of these?” he asked, and scooped up a long primary feather. He twirled it between his fingers. “And what of the fact that we’re still killing them? Yes, they’re disappearing when they die. They’re easy to catch now that she’s not directing their actions. But they should have disappeared immediately if Verelle is dead.” He caught another feather beneath his foot and ground it into the dirt. “How certain are we?”
