Samuel pressed his heels deeper into the ground. He put a hand on the pine tree beside him. He imagined the holy roots crawling around the earth below, able to see the things he couldn’t. He knew better than to ask Azhuel for help. The last prayer he’d made hadn’t done any good. His father was dead.
“Where are you? Come back!”
Samuel stopped, listening for the direction of the voice.
“I’m not going to hurt you, demon. I only want to talk!”
Samuel squeezed the knives’ handles and headed northeast, following the sound. He treaded lightly and could feel his heart pounding against his ribs.
“You have my word as the mayor of Haid!”
A loud boom echoed through the woods, and several birds took flight. Samuel’s ears rang. The gunshot was close. He kept moving. He could smell everything: the frozen snow, the sap seeping off the pine needles, the stench of wildlife. As he treaded farther down, he caught sight of the mayor. He was dressed in a fine suit, but his thinning hair was wild and ungroomed. His chin was shoved into his neck, and he pointed his silver handgun at the trees.
“I mean you no harm,” the mayor called out to no one.
Samuel slid his glasses farther up his nose, his right eye straining to see through the cracked lens. His hands shook. He was no soldier. He was the weak, bastard son of a dead cleric. What did he expect himself to do?
“We can provide better accommodations for you! More freedom! More time with the boy! You like him, don’t you?”
The mayor waved the gun over his head as he circled around the same pines. When he moved, he spotted Samuel. His lips parted, and his brows rose. He lowered the gun down to his side.
“Samuel,” he said uneasily. His forehead wrinkled. “I didn’t hear you. What are you doing here? How did you get free?” He paused. “That’s not important. I need your help.” He waved his free hand while keeping the gun’s barrel pointed at the ground. “I guess you heard all of the commotion. It got free. Someone must’ve let it free. And when I find out who did it, justice will be served.”
Samuel was stoic. Was he going to try and kill the mayor? Should he run? The mayor scanned the area once more.
“Come, boy! You’re the only one it trusts. The only brave soul in Haid. I need you. Help me get it back, and I will give you anything you want. Half of my income and reserves. Ask, and it’s yours. We can bury the past. You have my word.”
“He’s dead,” Samuel said.
The mayor’s expression went grave, his eyes going wide. “I am sorry.” He jiggled the gun across his leg. “But you heard Mikael. There was nothing else to be done.”
Samuel tightened his grip on the knives. He knew everything the mayor said was to serve his own interests. He wanted Samuel’s help in finding Zei, and he wouldn’t give him that. He wouldn’t give him anything.
The mayor gritted his teeth. “You should think before you act, boy.”
“You killed him.”
“I never touched him. How dare you accuse me of murder! I am the law. And what gives you the audacity to question my authority? You and the cleric are criminals. And, in my graciousness, I am giving you a chance to earn back my favor. Will you throw that away?”
Samuel didn’t want to hear another word. The burn mark sang as he cocked back his throwing arm. He ignored the pain, envisioning a carved X across the mayor’s large chest. He squinted, trying to judge the distance through the cracked frames. Before the mayor could aim the pistol, Samuel arched his wrist back, pivoted his foot, leaned forward, and released. The silver-bladed knife sailed past the rows of pine and plummeted into the mayor’s stomach.
The mayor hunched over. He groaned as he plucked the blade from his gut and allowed it to fall from his hand. Samuel stepped back. Blood leaked onto the mayor’s suit as he straightened his back. He pulled the gun up.
Samuel ran. He scurried behind a large pine. Bark and wood splintered next to him as several shots rang out. He tried tucking his body completely behind the pine but couldn’t. The trunk was too narrow. Another shot was fired, and Samuel felt fresh pain in his left leg. He nearly dropped to his knees. It was like molten fire had been injected into his calf. It felt like the burning of his arm. He forced his feet closer together. His eyes watered, and his limbs shivered.
Four more shots were fired, but none connected. Next came the sound of metal clinking.
“Damn it!” the mayor screamed.
Samuel sank down. He grazed his leg with his fingers and whimpered as he felt the sticky liquid. More pain. How much could he take?
“Don’t think I won’t find you, boy. I will put a bounty on your head so high every man, woman, and child in Haid will be searching these woods by nightfall.”
Samuel curled his arms around his chest. He’d failed. He was a fool for letting his anger get the best of him. He should’ve run to Claudette and Laura the moment he escaped the blacksmith’s shop. He never should’ve come into the woods. He wouldn’t be able to flee Haid, not with a bullet in his leg.
“I will have you gutted and hanged in the square as a traitor,” the mayor screamed. “I will keep your body there for days, weeks, and the wolves and wild dogs will eat your bones. I will hang your father’s body next to yours. Do you hear me?”
Samuel twitched his head. His father was dead because of the mayor. He clenched the knife in his left hand. No. He wouldn’t die waiting here. He huffed as his fingers clawed into the tree behind him, and he stood up. He tried putting weight on the leg but couldn’t. The pain was excruciating, and his muscles wouldn’t hold. He bit into his lip. He had to move, but he didn’t know how. He took a long breath and somehow forced himself to limp out from behind the tree.
The mayor stumbled eastward. His large body staggered pathetically, his arms cradling his gut. He was bleeding. He was in pain too. Samuel took several steps forward, nearly dropping with each one. He dragged the tip of his left foot across the snow, fighting to keep very little weight on it. He tracked after the mayor, but it was pointless. He wouldn’t be able to catch up with him. He was too far ahead. Samuel didn’t have the strength to throw another knife. Not accurately. Not this far away.
A thunderous snap filled the woods, the sound reverberating against the trees.
Clamp.
The mayor dropped flat on his back and screamed, his arms flailing. Samuel squinted through his broken frames, trying hard to see what had happened. As he doddered ahead, he saw the iron jaws of a bear trap snapped around the mayor’s shin. The metal teeth squeezed into his leg as if it were a tasty meal, fresh blood spilling over into the snow.
The mayor wailed as he dragged his leg farther up, his hands frantically clawing at the trap. Samuel paused, hovering his wounded leg in the air.
“No,” the mayor cried. He tried prying open the trap. He tugged with everything he had but couldn’t get it free. “No. No. No.”
Samuel tried swallowing, but his throat was sealed shut. The mayor yelled as more blood squirted out from the jagged teeth. He rolled onto his side and tried crawling away, but the trap had been anchored deep into the earth. The mayor bawled in agony. The pool of blood around him was growing.
Samuel waited.
The mayor’s thrashing and whining reminded him of the wounded deer snagged in one of the old traps. The fingers on his left hand curled over the knife’s handle, his thumb falling on top of the middle one. He teetered closer, making sure to not put much pressure on his injured leg.
“Stop,” the mayor choked out, his breathing hard and rushed.
Samuel came beside the mayor and lowered himself to his knees. “Don’t move.”
The mayor recoiled as he reached out his hand. “Get away from me.”
“Stop moving. You’re only making it worse.”
The mayor struggled for another minute before heeding Samuel’s advice. He rolled onto his back, defenseless, his belly rising and falling dramatically. Samuel dragged himself forwa
rd. He climbed on top of the mayor, straddling his large torso.
“What are you doing?” The mayor pushed his belly up, raising his arms against Samuel. “Get off of me, boy!”
“It’s okay,” Samuel said softly.
He dug his knees deeper into the mayor’s side, pinned him underneath his legs. The mayor squealed.
“It’s okay.”
Samuel allowed his weight to fall on the mayor’s stomach.
“Get off me, boy!”
Samuel swatted back the mayor’s feeble and desperate arms. He remembered his father’s lesson about not letting a creature suffer needlessly. The mayor was an evil man, deserving wrath and darkness. But he was also a creature in pain. No one was coming to rescue him. With the wounds in his stomach and leg, the mayor would bleed out eventually.
Mercy.
“You’re in pain,” Samuel said airily, his head buzzing. He wished someone would ease his own pain. He leaned into the mayor, switching the knife to his right hand. The mayor tried thrashing his body out from underneath him but was unable to get free. Samuel had done this before; he knew how to secure a trapped beast. The metal trap rattled as the mayor kicked out in desperation.
This was mercy.
“I will kill you!”
“It’s okay.”
Samuel guided the dark blade over the mayor’s jowl, aligning it over the neck. A deer, a pig, a human. It didn’t matter. They all had the same artery. The mayor cursed as Samuel closed his eyes and slit into his meaty throat. The mayor convulsed for several seconds as the blood came rushing out onto the snow, but then he stopped moving. Samuel opened his eyes, looking down at the mayor through his cracked lens. The mayor’s mouth was agape, the blood from the open cut on his neck now leaking onto Samuel’s jeans.
He crawled off the mayor and moved over to the nearest pine. He sat and propped his back against the trunk. He tried cleaning the blade with snow but couldn’t focus. A part of him expected Zei to emerge from the trees. She seemed drawn to blood and carnage. But she was gone, and he was alone with another corpse.
He sniffled and tucked the blacksmith’s fancily crafted knife inside his pocket. He closed his wet eyes. His lips quivered. He saw nothing but black. His shoulders arched as he rested his head against the tree. He allowed his body and mind to sink into the darkness.
The harsh stinging of his skin forced him awake. His dry lips cracked, and he tasted blood. He heard voices around him. He tried opening his eyes but couldn’t. His weary hand reached for his face. His glasses were missing. The end of a cup wedged itself into his agape mouth. Cool water slid down his sandy throat. He drank, helplessly parched. The liquid brought little comfort. A lump was wedged inside of his pipe, and the water didn’t force it down. His body felt like mush, his tongue unable to form words.
“Sleep,” a voice encouraged him.
He obeyed, allowing himself to drift into darkness. In his dreams, he saw his father’s swollen face glaring at him, choking for air he couldn’t get. He saw Jax’s split skull and the torn skin flashing bits of white bone. He saw the mayor and the way the blood from his neck flowed out like water from a faucet. He saw Zei’s predator eyes feeding on the fears of dying men, her metal arm humming as the two-pronged hook dug at the air. He saw his own arm and the way his flesh bubbled into the roots.
When his nightmares became too much to bear, he jerked awake from the bed. His body was coated in sweat. He opened his eyes, but everything was blurred. His hand rubbed the mattress below him. He was in a large bed with high-rising posts, and elaborate décor furnished the walls. He blinked heavily. His chest tightened. A lone, burning candle rested on top of the table next to the bed, the tiny flame flickering. He assumed he was somewhere inside the mayor’s estate. He wiped his face with the white bedsheets and realized he was completely naked. He moved a bit, groping over the table for his eyeglasses. He couldn’t find them.
“Can you speak?”
Samuel squinted, trying to make out the figure as it approached his bedside. When the figure leaned over into the light, he was able to recognize the outline of Elizabeth Tulsan. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before taking up his chin, stiffly turning his head from left to right.
His tongue moved like slosh. “Yes,” he groaned.
The doctor pressed a cold hand across his bare chest, feeling for his heart. Samuel eased his muscles at her touch.
“Be still,” she commanded. She took his right arm and lifted it to her face. The arm was wrapped in a thick layer of gauze. The doctor unfastened the bindings. Samuel winced.
“The burns are deep, but clean. Your leg is what I was most worried about. Don’t touch either.”
Samuel nodded, trying to ignore the pain as the doctor applied a fresh coat of paste over his burns. His eyes watered heavily. He involuntarily kicked his legs, and when he did, he felt the stinging of his left calf.
“It’ll hurt,” the doctor said. “But this blend promotes tissue growth and prevents infection. You need it. Three coats a day for the next two weeks.”
Samuel clenched his fingers into his palms, struggling to ignore the hurt. His neck craned, and he studied the glossy burn marks. He couldn’t make out the details of the lines. He brought his arm closer to his nose. The details weren’t as flawless as his father’s mark. A few of the roots were jagged and uneven.
“The scarring is permanent,” the doctor noted dryly as she grabbed a fresh roll of gauze. She took his arm and wrapped it in layers. “Patches and sections may fade over time, but it’s unlikely. You’re alive. Be grateful for that.”
Samuel shook his head. “My father isn’t.”
The doctor leaned back, rummaging through her medical bag. “I’m sure he prefers it this way. Children are supposed to bury their parents. It’s only a tragedy when it’s the other way around.”
Samuel pulled his left hand up to his face. His skin was clean, void of dirt and blood. Someone must have bathed him. His head throbbed as he reclined deeper into the pillow. Who had found him in the woods? And if someone had found him, they’d also found the mayor. He swallowed, his stomach sinking.
“Does Charles know?”
“Know what?” The doctor took out a green vial, shaking the contents before moving the vial to his lips. “Drink. This next part is going to hurt much worse if you don’t take this. With the swelling, I wasn’t able to get out the bullet last time I tried. If I don’t get it soon, all of this will be for nothing.”
Samuel obeyed. The liquid was bitter. He licked his tongue over his teeth, trying to scrape away the taste. The doctor dropped her bag onto the bed and began pulling out her tools. It only took a few minutes for Samuel to start feeling the drug. His body tingled with warmth, and his sight was further hazed. He wanted to see.
“Where are my glasses?”
The doctor pulled back the bedsheets, moving them up past his kneecaps. “The mayor took them this morning. Drove over to Lehles to get them fixed. Should be back by this evening.”
Samuel was forced to close his eyes. The spinning room was making him dizzy, and he didn’t want to puke. “The mayor’s dead too.”
The doctor lifted his leg and pulled it into her chest. He could make out the sensation of scraping and cutting, but he didn’t feel any pain. Only pressure.
“The new mayor. Why do you think you’re here? He’s sparing no expense for your treatment and care. You’re not a charity case.”
Samuel’s skin tingled. “Charles doesn’t know. He doesn’t know I killed him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the doctor said.
Samuel awoke to the groaning of his stomach. His bandaged arm itched, but he knew better than to touch it. A dull pain throbbed on his calf, no doubt in protest of the doctor’s work. He blinked repeatedly, fighting to get the sleep from his eyes. His sight was hazed. An unannounced hand grazed his shoulder. He turned to the side and could make out a female figure st
anding over him. It was Claudette, her unbound brown hair tumbling onto the bed as she leaned closer.
“Are you okay, Sam?”
Samuel cleared his throat, knowing he had to lie. “Yes.”
Claudette skirted a cup toward his mouth. “Are you thirsty?”
He shook his head.
“You need to drink more water,” she insisted. “That’s what the doctor said.” She pressed the glass to his lips. He drank, laboring to force it down. She wiped away the stray drops on his face with the back of her hand. “You must be in a lot of pain. I heard about your father. And your arm. I’m so sorry, Sam.”
He bunched his face. “I need more sleep.”
“Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll come back later.”
She leaned down and kissed his cheek before stepping out of the room. Samuel forced himself to breathe deep. She deserved someone better than him. He was both a pathetic coward and a murderer, and he wasn’t sure how he managed to be both of those things. He grabbed onto the sheets, wanting to cry and sleep and never wake up.
The hinges of the bedroom door creaked, and the sound of new footsteps filled the room. He opened his eyes, tired of pretending to be something he wasn’t and lying about everything. He went to push his glasses up, but then realized they weren’t there. The blurry figure grunted as it strolled over, sliding up a chair by the side of the bed. Samuel squinted, and he was able to make out the intruder. He felt relief. It was the only person in the world besides Zei he could be completely honest with.
“Wow,” the sheriff grumbled as he reclined into the chair, the revolver that was strapped to his side thudding against the chair. “You look like shit.”
Samuel smirked a bit, but it faded quickly.
The sheriff cleared his throat as he fumbled inside of his pocket. He pulled out what Samuel assumed was a flask and edged it to his mouth. “Some mess out there. Sixteen people dead. Mostly patrolmen. A few loggers. No women or children. So that’s something. Body count doesn’t include the redlander. Or the mayor. Two of my men found his body along the edge of the western woods. Throat was slit. Belly stabbed. And that’s not all they found there. Some unconscious little fool had gotten himself shot in the leg and had a bloody knife in his jacket.”
Demon in the Whitelands Page 25
