by A. K. Koonce
“Asher, is that any way to greet a friend?” she asks in a purring voice.
He breathes through his teeth in anger, and his eyes flash with rage to where the girl now stands at the river’s edge, a playful smile washing over her face and her pale blue eyes appearing to grow whiter. She takes small steps back and forth, her dress swooshing around her thin legs. She’s taunting him. Asher’s assessing glare never leaves her. She giggles, lunging left then stepping right.
Asher’s spine is rigid, his muscles taut. It’s a game to her, and he’s tired of playing. She shakes her head at him with a pout and takes a few more slow steps toward him, her hand outstretched to him in a casual way, her gaze that of a lover. She trails his body with her eyes. Anger and confusion rise in my pounding throat. The friendship fish now lays like dead weight in my palm, but I can’t bring myself to look away from Asher.
She lunges for him, her movement like lightning, her thin fingers like claws ready to clutch into him. Asher sees her advance before my mind even processes her actions. Her movement is like white lightning in a night sky. His arm extends back and rushes forward, the blade striking where she is, directed at her thin core. The blade doesn’t sink in though; a cloud of silver smoke fills the air, blowing away in the light breeze. Her melodious laugh echoes around the bluffs, chilling me to the bone.
She’s gone.
The breath I was holding escapes, taking a heaviness that filled my lungs with it. The sound of the river trickles through the rocks and into my thoughts. Asher lowers his sword, his shoulders falling. I see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows harshly.
“What the hell was that?” I ask in a shaky whisper.
My feet instinctively move toward him, needing to close the distance between us. My hand grips his arm, holding him in the present like he too might disappear before my eyes. His chest rises and falls, his eyes never stop scanning our surroundings.
“That was an Infinity witch. There’s a community of mystics who hide out here in the forest. Anything she said to you was a lie. Even her appearance was a lie. She appears to you as what you want to see, based on your ambiance.” He looks down at me for a moment, his anger diminishing. “She might appear as something kind, or pitiful, or something beautiful, but their shrouded bodies match what’s left of their souls and are actually quite mangled.” His eyes trail down to my hand that still grips her offering.
The meat she gave me is now a heap of white ash. I let it fall through my fingers, and the breeze carries it away. I can’t help but shudder as dried particles of it float into the rapids. The waves drink it up, making me cringe from the thought of something so unnatural mingling with nature. I wipe my palm on my jeans; a white, chalky stain appears on the black material. A token of the witch.
She was the walking image of innocence, so kind and angelic looking. What did Asher see? Judging by how she looked at him she must have been something beautiful, something more than I have to offer, I’m sure. I swallow hard, my heart dipping down at the thought.
Man and mystics once worked together to eliminate the masses of dominating vampires that threatened to devour all of our races—mortals, witches, werewolves—we were a team against the vampires. And now the mystics hide from us because we have lashed out at those who helped us, making enemies of friends.
“What did she want with me?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. All she had to do was touch you and you would have been whisked away to whatever hell she’s hiding in.” He pauses, and a small smile pulls at the corner of his lips. “Some say they eat humans.” My nose scrunches at the thought and he laughs. “I hear it’s quite the cuisine,” he says with a wink. A shudder crawls down my spine at a vivid image of her perfect teeth tearing the flesh from my bones. “Some say they keep humans like pets in a cage. Feeding them spells of food until they tire of them and dispose of them in creative ways.”
He laughs again at my horror, and I push away from his teasing … or is it honesty? As expected, he doesn’t stumble from my light shove against his shoulder; it just seems to make him more amused. My mortality is something of a joke to him. I turn to walk back to where we set up camp, but he touches my elbow, catching my attention.
“Seriously though, never forget what I told you,” he says, his palm slipping against my jaw, tilting my head up to meet his earnest eyes. “There are far worse things than me in these woods. Mystics live hidden lives out here in the forest. Communities of hidden mystics, like you wouldn’t believe.”
Staring into his pale eyes, I believe him. I’ve grown up hearing all the legends in my camp about the mystical beings our government shields us from; the sinister faeries that pull you in with their beauty and enchant your mind; the handsome men who under the light of the full moon shift into something else entirely, walking on all fours like snarling demons; the legends of the few vampires still inhabiting the shadows of the Red Hills, waiting to retake our world; and, of course, the tales of the violent pikes, the abomination race, the heartless monsters taken prisoner within the compound.
Asher doesn’t meet those descriptions. Not at all. He’s the furthest thing from them. He’s been nothing but my friend. More really. He’s become my unexpected and unrequested guardian angel.
***
“I have something for you,” my mother says in an unusually chipper voice as soon as we return to our camp.
She takes notice of Asher and I walking together from the same direction, but doesn’t question it. She doesn’t say anything about the time I’m spending with Asher, but I see her taking note of every little interaction we have in front of her. It makes me self-conscious of everything I do under her gaze. Do I glance over at him too often? Is this too close for me to stand next to him? Am I smiling too much at his jokes? Am I smiling at him too much in general? Should I stop smiling entirely?
It’s exhausting.
My thoughts are pulled from Asher for a moment when my mother takes something from her bag. She holds a black cloth in her hand. It’s folded in an odd shape, making it even more intriguing.
“Happy Birthday, hun.” She holds the item out to me, a big smile consuming her thin face. “It’s from Ky and me. And Ripper, too, I guess,” she says with an eye roll.
Ky walks over and stands behind my mother, his height shadowing over her small frame.
As I take the gift from my mother, my eyes can’t help but search for Asher. He’s restarting the small fire. The flames reach up around the fresh dry bark he’s carefully placed. Sliced fish hang over the eager flames. The meat doesn’t look as appetizing as the food the Infinity witch gave me. My stomach turns at the thought of ever eating fish again.
A hesitant smile touches the corner of my lips as I glance from my mother to Ky. Where would they have gotten me a gift? It feels heavy and unbalanced in my palm. The three of us walk over to the fire and sit down close together. Asher stands a few feet away, watching for me to reveal the item.
I push aside the soft cloth that barely conceals the gift. Beneath the black material lies Ky’s nine-millimeter handgun. It’s identical to the newer weapon he carries on his hip at all times. My eyes bulge at the sight of the scratched and worn gun. I hold in my hand something Ky loves as much as he loves my mother. I feel like he just gave me a piece of his soul for my birthday.
I wrap my fingers around the grip of the gun, turning it from side to side as if it’s the first time I’ve ever really seen it. My index finger is straight against the barrel like Ky taught me.
Everyone’s looking at me. It is my birthday, so I guess that’s normal, but I’m not sure what to say. I love the gift. It means so much to Ky that it automatically means even more to me. My mother loves that Ky and I are close, and I know this will only bring us closer, but it also feels morbid, like they know I’ll need this gift at some point in my life.
“You like it?” my mom asks, tilting her head to look me in the eyes.
Ky kneels at her side, concern etching his face.
“It’s amazing. I can’t believe you’re willing to part with this,” I say to Ky with a shy smile.
My mother looks at Ky with so much adoration I have to glance away. Watching them feels almost intrusive now when it never did in the past.
“Have you ever killed anyone, Ky?” I ask, swallowing a lump in my throat.
Ky nods, turning toward the fire to stoke the flames with a dry stick.
My question kills their intimacy immediately. It wasn’t my intention. I just had never thought about it before. I’ve shot this gun plenty of times with Ky and my mother, but it never felt like it was practice until this moment. Do they think I’ll need to defend myself?
“It’s hard pulling the trigger at first. It feels like your body is working against your conscious. An emotional part of you at war with a physical instinct.” His voice is even as he speaks, devoid of any emotion. “It’s surprising how easy it becomes when your life depends on it.”
My mother looks hard at him like she could pull the pain out of him with just the love in her eyes. Time pauses for them as Ky reflects on his past.
Asher sits across from me. The flames dance against his somber features. He opens his mouth to speak and then quickly closes it. He rolls his shoulders and then finally speaks. “When I lost my brother,” Asher whispers, his chest heaving for a breath he doesn’t fully find, “it hurt. The worst pain I’ve ever felt, actually. Like my heart was ripped from my chest and pushed back down my throat. Still there, still functioning, still beating, but never quite the same.”
Everyone is quiet. Even nature has fallen away from us. All I hear is his melancholy, haunted voice.
“It’s true. You don’t realize what you’re capable of until someone tests you. You come to realize you don’t know yourself at all. You might really be the monster everyone claims you to be.” His focus is on the flames, his eyes never meeting mine. “There was a warrant out for a pike that lived just west of here. A malicious man at a compound I’d never heard of sent armed guards out to bring him a new pet.”
My mouth falls open slightly in understanding, but my mind refuses to connect his story, needing to hear it in his own words.
“They shot my brother by mistake with a pike paralysis so strong it killed him. They hid his body to conceal their error. I specifically remember thinking how strange his lifeless eyes looked staring up at me, so different from my own. He was no longer the boy I had grown up with nor the brother I would grow old with.” His face is shadowed by anger as he looks into the flames of the fire like it’s the hell he’s lived. “When they realized their mistake, they tried to harness me. Two guards held my hands out at my sides, and one tried to inject a needle into my neck. Rage controlled my thoughts and actions.”
He pauses, looking out at the river. His arms rest on his bent knees. His words hang in the air for all of us to grasp.
“Then what happened?” I ask quietly, not fully wanting to hear how the story concludes.
“Then I ripped his throat out with my teeth, and he bled to death at my feet. A feeling of contentment filled my mind just before I fell unconscious,” Asher says, his steely gaze pinning me in place, his jaw locked tight as he waits for my judgment.
My mother and Ky remain silent. My eyes never stray from his.
Asher’s been punished his entire life. They tortured him before he ever stepped foot in the compound, doing more damage than they ever could within those walls. But he fought for his life. For his brother’s loss of life.
But he lost.
“Physical strength prevails when your mind is weak,” Ky says, nodding to Asher. An understanding passes between the two men.
“Do you think you could have killed them all if they hadn’t drugged you?” I ask, still wondering if I would have the courage to defend myself that way.
I see his chest rise and fall heavily. His eyebrows rise a fraction of an inch toward his hairline, my question surprising him.
“I guess I don’t know.” He searches my face, probably trying to find disgust in my reaction from what he’s admitted, but I have nothing but curiosity. “I think anyone would try, though. I would have tried and it would have ended one of two ways. I could have been locked away in a smothering sedation until a beautiful mortal helped me escape,” he says as a small, shy smile pulls at my mouth. “Or I could have killed them all and lived a life in hiding, more so than I already was.” He tilts his head away from me. His gaze settles on the flames again.
“Sometimes you don’t see the gift you’re given. You count your losses, not knowing there are more things out there worth gaining.” His voice is quiet, little more than a whisper.
The weight of the gun seems to dissipate as I think about what they’ve said. Asher’s story circles my mind on repeat.
Maybe I’m not as powerful as Asher or as courageous as Ky or even as confident as my mother. I am compassionate and intelligent and driven, traits that do not make me more capable of killing someone but make me human. And we all live off of that same basic instinct …
Survival.
Chapter Nine
Ditch The Pack
The nights and days pass in a blur. My hand has finally healed, leaving a thick scar across my palm, a reminder of how far we’ve come.
Sleep occurs in spurts, but we eat well, devouring meals Asher easily provides. Ky makes sure our water bottles are filled from the river and that we are always well hydrated. Asher has been insisting on more breaks. He doesn’t say it, but I know it’s because of how unsteady Ky’s running has become.
My mother signs something to Asher. He glances down at me. We’ve become comfortable with one another and developed a strange friendship I never would have imagined weeks ago. Asher and I have spent every day together, working together as if we’ve been friends our whole lives. He’s patient and teaches me to hunt, and how to hold a sword, a few techniques here and there. He’s even taken the time to show me edible food sources that we pass on our way, explaining their identifying traits to me.
I don’t know where his knowledge comes from, but I never doubt him and he never gives me a reason to.
My mother’s eyes narrow, looking from me to Asher, waiting for his reply.
“We need to find a better place to cross. The current is too strong here; we’d never make it across the width of the river.” He pauses, looking around at the three of us. “Well, you guys wouldn’t make it,” he says with a lopsided but arrogant smile.
Ky gives a chuckle, and I roll my eyes. My mother stays silent. Did she expect him to continue signing with her? It doesn’t exactly seem like top secret information to me.
“Let’s walk farther up, at least a mile. If we have to cross and the river isn’t any better up ahead, we will just have to devise a plan,” Ky says. The look in his dark eyes tells me he’s already considering different ideas.
We walk a few miles along the river’s edge. My eyes shift to Ripper every couple of minutes, worried the river might swallow the tiny dog up at any moment. The entire way, the water doesn’t slow nor narrow.
Ky gives a side glance to Asher. Asher clenches his jaw, and we all come to a stop.
“The farther up we go, the more backtracking we’ll have to do,” Ky says reasonably.
Ky loosens his straps on his backpack. Asher does the same, also adjusting the instrument that hangs from his back. The gesture holds my attention, and I’m once again curious of the wooden instrument, but he hasn’t brought it up. It just hangs there tugging at my curiosity, but never revealing anything.
“It’s shallower here. We could cross, if you think we can,” Asher says meeting Ky’s eyes.
My heart pounds in rhythm with the fast raging water. Fear washes into me, threatening to pull me under into a full-on anxiety attack. My eyes dart from Asher to Ky, waiting for a decision. I trust Ky. And Asher. More than I do myself, really. I can swim, poorly, but I can. Could I make it in that strong of a current? If I got swept away would I ever find the shore
again? Doubtful.
I’ve gained a little muscle tone from all the running and our new cakeless diet, but my small body would be swept through the water like paper in the wind. I might very well die out here before the camp guards and the veil ever find us.
“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Ky says, looking my mother’s slight frame up and down, his thoughts mirroring my own. “Keep your pack loose on your shoulders, should you fall.” He locks eyes with my mother before continuing. “Remove your backpack, ditch it, it’ll only drag you down. Once it’s off, if you get the chance to cling onto it, do it. It’ll keep your head above water for a short time.”
Asher nods in understanding. He shifts his stance closer to me. Like he’s already going to save me. His unintentional lack of confidence in me really helps my nerves. I wipe my palms on my jeans several times, but it doesn’t help.
I pick up Ripper, and Ky leans down to let me deposit the little dog into his backpack. I pet his head reassuringly and zip the bag up, hoping it’ll be enough to keep him safe, but Ky’s instruction to ditch the pack doesn’t hold much hope.
“Take small steps. The rocks will be slick. We’re all going to hold on to each other like a chain against the current,” he says slowly, resting his hand on the small of my mother’s back and guiding her closer to myself and Asher.
Ky takes my hand and places it behind my mother’s back, around her belt right next to his own hand. I try to will the sweat on my palm to dissolve so I can grip the leather tighter. My mother reaches behind my back and grabs onto my belt in the same manner. Asher stands on my other side and, after a short pause, he slides his hand down the small of my back and grabs onto my belt as well.
I understand the process and nervously but tightly hold onto Asher’s belt. The four of us stand, arms linked like we’re getting ready to take a bow on stage instead of walk to our drowning deaths. Asher gives me a small nod, and I try to take deep breaths as Ky leads our chain slowly into the water.
