“Okay. Good.”
“How is—”
“She’s not a demon,” he said sternly. He recalled the weight of his father’s fist across his chest, forcing his words to have an edge he rarely spoke with. “She’s really smart. And talented. And she’s not the monster everyone thinks she is.”
There was a long moment of silence shared between them. Samuel looked to his feet, kicking the dirt below. He didn’t want to fight with his father, and he didn’t come to discuss theology. He took a breath and reached into his pocket, carefully retrieving one of his throwing knives. He’d planned on practicing his throwing for a bit after the funeral, but the desire had left him. He held onto the thin handle, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. He maneuvered his hold to the edge of the sharp blade and extended the knife forward.
“Here. I have two more. It’s a small blade, but it cuts clean. For next time.”
His father hesitated a bit before taking hold of the tiny knife. Samuel gave a quick bow before turning away. He jogged his way back into town, nearly catching up with the crowd that had left the funeral.
Over the next few weeks, Samuel got back to his normal routine. He resumed his writing lessons with Zei, who had learned well over fifty words. He knew that she enjoyed the lessons, because he was getting better at reading her. When she was happy, or relatively pleased, subtle divots would form in the center of her freckled cheeks, and her hand would move in gentle strokes. Every time he would show her a new word, she would hover over the page, her cheeks dimpled, and watch his writing as if it was the most exquisite art piece. She would delicately trace her finger in the air and mimic the motions of his pencil as he scripted the word.
Samuel became more strategic with the words he taught her. He showed her words like hungry and tired, poorly drawing his own depictions of the words and explaining them as well as he could. He wasn’t sure if she would ever use words to communicate, but he was hopeful. He tried bribing her with the promise of a book at the conclusion of his lesson on greetings.
“If I tell you ‘Hello’ in the morning and you write back ‘Hello,’ then I’ll buy you your own book. You’d be able to read something other than what I write. It’ll be fun.”
To his surprise, the bribe worked. He greeted her with a chipper “Hello,” and she turned to a blank page and wrote “Hello.” He told her how happy he was that she’d done it and raved about how smart she was. He went to the square later in the afternoon to special order a children’s book from the dry-goods and specialty store. He browsed through the printed catalogues and picked a book titled Winds of Mercy. From the description he read, it was about a magical wolf that became an orphaned girl’s guardian. The postman told him it would take a few weeks for the order to make it onto the train cart.
“Shipments come through here every three or four days,” he said as he filled out an order form and took Samuel’s payment. “But Medda’s the closest city to us that has these things in stock, and for some reason it’s taking them a long time to get their orders through. I heard some rumor about the greenlands being in some trouble, but that could be just a bunch of gossip.”
Samuel nodded dumbly, deciding it was best not to mention the riots.
Zei wasn’t the only person he spent time with. Every few days, Charles would drive by the jailhouse to hang out with Samuel, but he no longer moseyed into the building. Instead, Charles would bump the jeep’s horn until Samuel came outside. They’d sit inside the jeep as Charles ranted about politics, complained about the weather, and bragged about the new garments he’d gotten shipped up from the south. He’d always insist that they go back to the estate, where they could relax, but Samuel made excuses why he couldn’t go over. He was too tired, he had more work to do at the jailhouse, the sheriff was supposed to come by soon, and he’d be in trouble with him if he left. It wasn’t that he didn’t like being with Charles, it was just that he wanted to be close to Zei. It was his job, and it felt good to be around her.
One day, Charles asked Samuel to teach him how to throw knives. They stayed outside the jailhouse, and Samuel took him to a tree he’d already marked.
“My dad keeps talking about you,” Charles muttered. “About how proud of you he is. I bet he wishes you were his son.”
Samuel didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
Charles rolled his eyes. “It’s not your fault.”
“I know. But I’m still sorry.”
He handed Charles another knife. Charles nibbled on his lip before clumsily throwing the blade forward. It landed several meters from the tree.
“It’d be better if we’d just go back to my place,” Charles said, his face pouting in a way that reminded Samuel of a small child. “Smoke some tobacco, drink, do fun stuff. Not work. Don’t you like hanging out with me?”
“Of course,” Samuel said. “But I have responsibilities. This is my job. Your dad is my boss.”
“I could pay you extra cash from my allowance if you need.”
“No. We’re friends. I can’t do that. I won’t.”
“Friends,” Charles said, kicking his loafers across the grass. “Sure.”
“Maybe some other time?”
Things had been quiet since the mayor’s return from the political assembly in Kairus, and Samuel hoped it would stay that way. The last thing he wanted to do was run into him at the estate. He didn’t want to face the mayor unless he absolutely had to.
Samuel also made a habit of visiting the butcher’s shop. If things weren’t busy, he would stay and chat with Claudette. If she was too busy helping her mother with the work, he would buy a small item and leave. Claudette would always greet him with a warm smile, and his blood would always rise when she did. One day they talked for more than an hour, and Laura Litten burst out from behind the swinging doors to dryly pick on their flirtations.
“Are you of wedding age?” she asked as Claudette showed him more of the fancy ways she braided her hair.
“Not yet,” Samuel said weakly. “Less than a year away.”
“I look forward to the day you can ease my daughter’s suffering.”
Claudette rebuked her mother; her face flushed red. Samuel was so embarrassed he couldn’t say anything the rest of his time there without stuttering.
“I think I’ve got it this time.”
Samuel folded three sections of Zei’s red hair over one another, the movements slow enough to ensure every lock was tidy. She sat still with her legs crossed together and kept her head up and straight. Samuel squatted lower, trying hard to make sure he was doing it right. Before he’d cross a new section over the center of the hair, he’d grab some additional strands on the side he was working on and include them in the crossover. By the time he’d reached the nape of her neck, all of her hair was wrapped into a tight braid. His insistence on watching Claudette rebraid her hair had paid off. Zei looked nothing like the wild creature she seemed to be the first time he’d met her. Her face and body were washed clean, she was wearing a white top and a fancy floral-patterned skirt that stopped right at her knees, and now her hair was fixed in a style that looked good enough for a politician’s daughter to wear. She looked like a normal girl, except for her eyes. And her missing arm. And the scars. And the shackles around her ankles. But it didn’t matter. She was beautiful.
“You look pretty.” He tied the end of her braid together with an elastic band. “I can get the mirror. Do you want to see?”
Zei nodded.
Samuel left the inside of the cell and went over to the hope chest, fumbling around for the portable mirror. He’d brought it over to the jailhouse weeks ago but had forgotten about it. The mirror was stained and cracked, but he got it at a cheap price. He moved around some of the clothes until he felt the wooden handle. He made his way back to Zei, turning the mirror so that the glass faced her.
“Here.”
Her little hand took the mirror’s handle. She studied the glass, tiltin
g her neck from left to right, her lips slightly parted. She watched her reflection studiously, blinking her long lashes in random spurts. She pulled the mirror back and petted her stub across her cheek, tracing it down her chin and back around to the other side. It was as if her own body fascinated her.
The sudden sound of a roaring engine followed by a harsh squeaking caught Samuel’s attention. He went over to the barred window and got on his tiptoes. He looked around and spotted a jeep in the far corner, and a large man with balding hair stepped out of the vehicle. It was the mayor. His suit was black, and his tie appeared to be a silky shade of purple. Samuel’s nerves caught fire. He extended his hand forward, motioning for the mirror. Zei handed it over without a fuss.
Samuel gathered up Zei’s sketchbook and pencil as well, tucking them in between his arm and his chest. He had to move fast. He hurriedly put the supplies back inside the hope chest and slammed it shut. He didn’t want to bring up Zei’s writing or her sketches, not yet. Not if he didn’t have to. He came back to the bars, pressing his face against the cold metal before slamming the gate shut.
“He’s here,” he said in a lower voice. “Please, I need your help. Do whatever I tell you to do. Okay? Just this one time?”
Zei said nothing, but something about her gaze made him believe she was willing to play along for the time being. Samuel straightened his posture. The wooden door into the cell room flew open, and the mayor sauntered inside, his smoking pipe hanging from his plump lips. He closed the door behind him and grinned as he removed his jacket, exposing his pressed, collared shirt and tight suspenders. Samuel carefully took the jacket from the mayor’s hold, placing it on the coat rack in the corner of the room. The mayor removed his pipe, smiling as he extended his arms welcomingly. Samuel bowed low, noticing an awful twinkle of delight on the mayor’s face. He stretched himself back up, and the sound of another engine echoed across the room. It had to be the sheriff.
“How can I serve?”
The mayor sucked on his tobacco.
“Formalities, boy. How are you? It’s been a long time.”
Samuel turned so that he could look at both the mayor and Zei.
“I am doing well, sir. Charles has been kind to me.”
“Good. He needs good friends, that strange boy.”
Samuel paused, unsure of how to respond next. He would hold onto Zei’s secrets as much as he could, but he knew better than to play the mayor for a fool.
“She’s doing well. Her leg is healed, as you can see. She’s gotten much more comfortable with me.”
Zei lowered her head slightly. Samuel cleared his throat.
“She is calm now. Peaceful. Compliant.”
The sound of harsh yelling from the outside hallway made Samuel’s muscles spasm. He heard the sheriff screaming obscenities, followed by a quick threat.
“Don’t make me break your skull!”
The mayor removed his pipe, smiling more widely.
“Sorry. I forgot to mention that we have a guest.”
The sheriff burst into the room, thrusting a bound man in after him. The man had to be in his forties or so, his lanky arms tied behind his back with a rope. A gag covered his mouth, his teeth gnawing into the white cloth. The man jerked his shoulders in resistance to his oppressor’s sturdy grip, but the sheriff jostled him harder. He hurled the man down, his head smashing into the ground. The man winced as he struggled to lift his face, blood running down his eyebrows.
Samuel’s breath stopped. He recognized the man. It was Claudette’s father.
The sheriff spat on the ground, glancing at Samuel before handing his revolver to the mayor.
“I’ve done my job. Can I go now?”
The mayor nodded. “Thanks, Eugene.”
With that, the sheriff stormed away as suddenly as he’d come.
Samuel pushed up his glasses, biting the inside of his mouth. Zei’s chains rattled as she stood and unleashed a piercing stare at the mayor.
“I am sorry, dear lad, if this is upsetting to you.”
The mayor pulled back the revolver and pointed it at Claudette’s father.
“I am a very patient man. I get what I want and reclaim what is rightfully mine. Even if it takes a bit of waiting. Isn’t that right, Harold? You thieving ingrate.”
Claudette’s father squirmed, his frantic eyes falling on Samuel as his teeth chomped into the cloth. The mayor took a step forward.
“And now it’s time to see what demons can do.”
Samuel stepped back, the heels of his boots crunching into the dirt floor. He readjusted his frames, his voice meek and vulnerable.
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“This is my thief, boy. Caught him tampering with my safe. Found more than three hundred silvers stuffed in his socks.”
Claudette’s father writhed on the ground, the dark circles around his eyes making him seem like a woodlands critter. Zei stood erect, her eyes glowing. Samuel rubbed his palms across his thighs. Was the mayor telling the truth? Samuel remembered the festival, and his tongue swelled.
“Didn’t he earn a bonus? For his hard work at the estate?”
The mayor’s belly jiggled, and he shook the gun a bit.
“A bonus! I pay my employees fairly. Do I not?”
Claudette’s father mumbled, but it was impossible to understand him with the gag. The mayor gave him a swift kick in the ribs.
“Shut your mouth,” the mayor hissed. “At least you could face your punishment like a true northerner, and not like some entitled greenlands bitch.”
Zei shifted her weight, and the chains rattled. The mayor nodded in her direction, his mouth forming a casual grin.
“Greetings to you, demon child. It’s been a long while.” He turned to Samuel. “Oh my. That demon looks deceptively lovely. Did you dress it?”
“Sir? I mean. Yes, sir.”
The mayor took a puff from his pipe.
“That is a bit concerning. Playing dress-up with a demon. It’s unnatural for a man to spend his time on frivolous things, don’t you think? Perhaps you’re not as good of an influence on my son as I hoped.”
Samuel stood silently as the mayor removed the pipe from his mouth and carefully laid it on the ground.
“Regardless. I’ve hired you for a job, boy. That job was to be this demon child’s caretaker, to befriend it, to get it to trust you. Have you done your job to the best of your abilities?”
“I believe I have.”
“You have a knife with you, correct?”
Samuel’s skin burned intensely. What was the mayor planning? What was going to happen to Claudette’s father? Could he do anything to help him?
“Yes.”
“Get it.”
Samuel went to the hope chest, the muscles in his chest constricting. He retrieved his hunting knife. The handle nearly slipped out of his grip as he unsheathed the blade.
“Good,” the mayor said. He waved at Samuel to come closer. “Cut him loose, but leave the gag on.”
Samuel moved toward Claudette’s father and got on his knees, the knife outstretched. Claudette’s father stared at him intently, his teeth chomping into the gag as he sat up and lifted his bound hands. Samuel wanted to ask questions, but he said nothing. He knew better. He carefully sawed into the rope until the strands broke free.
Claudette’s father wriggled his wrists, curling his fingers up. His bloodshot eyes were damp. He could’ve reached up to pull off the gag, but he didn’t. Samuel could tell by the positioning of his legs he thought about running, but the gun made it a risky choice. The mayor licked his bottom lip before speaking.
“I’m feeling generous,” the mayor said leisurely. “No. That’s not the right word. Equitable. Yes. I am feeling quite equitable. Look at that child there. Harold, I mean you. Look. That is a demon. Look at its eyes. Look!”
Claudette’s father did as instructed, his cheeks paling. Samuel’s palms perspired.
>
“I want to play a game,” the mayor said. “Samuel, open the gate. Give the demon creature your knife.”
Samuel had to make sense of everything. He couldn’t stand in the way of the mayor’s wishes, but maybe he could redirect them.
“Sir,” he mumbled. “I think—”
“Enough whispers. Speak up, boy.”
Samuel forced mucus down his throat.
“Sir. I wonder if this is the best course of action. I know how much this … demon means to you, and I don’t think she’s in a place to be trusted with a weapon.”
“Are you questioning me?” The mayor’s voice got loud, his disposition immediately shifting to rage. “Open the gate. Give the demon the knife. Now!”
Samuel had never known fear like this before. This was something terrible, like a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. He shoved his glasses hard into his nose before getting the key for the cell and sliding back the gate. His teeth chattered as he made his way to her. She didn’t move, but her eyes readjusted their focus onto him. He couldn’t keep his hand steady, the knife twitching in his grip. He stopped a foot away from her, curling the blade end away. Zei stood still. He towered over her, but he felt so small next to her in that moment. He inched the knife closer. She didn’t take it.
Samuel took her hand into his and opened it. He tried to shake his head, but he couldn’t. The thought of showing any sort of disobedience to the mayor terrified him. He was a coward. But still, he didn’t understand it. Why would the mayor do this? If Zei died, then it was all for nothing: the job, the lessons, everything. He lowered the knife into her palm, wrapping her fingers around the handle. He stepped back, for a moment imagining she would take the knife and plunge it into his guts.
The mayor waved the revolver at Claudette’s father.
“Go on. You want absolution for your crimes? You’ll have to earn it. Don’t be fooled by its looks. That creature is not human.”
Claudette’s father gradually moved himself into the cell. Samuel wanted to tell him something, anything. Don’t do it, he wanted to say. Please. Don’t. He pointed his chin downward, refusing to look at Claudette’s father as he skirted into the cell. The mayor switched the gun from one hand to the other, but the barrel never lost its target.
Demon in the Whitelands Page 15
