Rise of the River Man

by L. S. O'Dea

  Hands pulled at his shoulders, too many hands. He dropped his hold on the Guard, spun around and attacked. His arms and teeth connected and tore into flesh. Loud voices, some screaming, penetrated his haze. The hands were gone. The crowd had backed away.

  The scent of terror was everywhere. The surrounding Guards stared at him, faces pale and eyes wide. He couldn’t fight them all. He had to get away. He bared his teeth and stepped backward. His foot hit something soft but solid. His opponent’s chest was split open, exposing his organs. Flesh. Meat. He shoved aside his hunger; the silence of the crowd told him he needed to flee now before they organized. He stepped over the body and the crowd parted for him. As soon as he was far enough away he turned and ran.

  It wasn’t a conscious decision to go back to the grocer’s but that was where his feet led him. He stood in the shadows of the alley. He couldn’t stay. They would want retribution for what he’d done. He had to find food and then leave. He crept over to the dumpster, knowing there was nothing there but hoping for a crumb.

  The door to the shop opened. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” The Servant stepped outside, holding a small sack.

  “Stay away.” His hands trembled at his sides.

  “You need to eat something. The little bit of meat that I gave you couldn’t have been enough.” She continued toward him.

  He couldn’t let her get close. He might hurt her. He stepped toward the alley, moving out from behind the dumpster.

  Her eyes widened, but not in fear. “Holy Araldo, what happened to you?”

  The concern in her voice held his feet as she approached.

  “Where are you hurt?” Her hands touched his face and arms.

  “Not my blood.” His head throbbed now, probably from hunger.

  “You’re burning up. Come with me.” She grabbed his hand, hers tiny and soft in his big paw.

  He let her lead him into the building. He shouldn’t. She could get in trouble for helping him but he followed her into a back room with a sink, pallet of blankets and shelves filled with food.

  “I saved this for you.” She handed him the bag.

  When he opened it, the sharp smell of meat a little past its prime assaulted his nose and his stomach grumbled. He shoved a chunk in his mouth. “Thanks.”

  She filled a mop bucket with water from the sink. “What happened to you?”

  He hesitated, a hunk of meat in his hand. If he told her the truth she’d make him leave. No one had been kind to him in years. He didn’t want to lose this, but it was for the best. He stuffed the food into his mouth. “I killed a Guard.”

  “Were you attacked?” She didn’t blink as she stared at him, waiting for the answer.

  “No. It was a street fight.”

  “To the death?”

  “No.” Her green eyes hardened. He didn’t owe her an explanation but he couldn’t stop the words. “I didn’t mean to do it.” He started to pace. “I don’t remember doing it. All I remember is hitting him.” Again and again.

  “Do you fight often?” She continued to stare at him, but her eyes were pale green and soft once again.

  He stopped pacing. “I used to. I may have to again.”

  “Did you ever kill anyone before?”

  He shook his head. Except the little girl. He forced that thought away. That didn’t count. He’d had to do that to survive.

  “Take off your clothes.” She carried the bucket over to him.

  His heart skipped a beat and then picked up pace, racing in his chest. His hunger satisfied, his eyes roamed her body. “How old are you?” He wasn’t sure if it mattered. His head still pounded and his body was hot, but he’d mate. He’d fought and won. He’d eaten. Now, it was time to mate.

  “Not for that reason, you idiot. You reek of blood. They’ll follow your trail. ”

  “You can’t be involved in this.” He headed for the door.

  She grabbed his arm. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Why?” No one helped anyone without a reason.

  She pushed his shirt upward, her hands cool on his hot skin. Suddenly, he was exhausted. His legs trembled. He needed to sleep, now. He wouldn’t make it far until he rested, which left him with no choice but to trust her. He lifted his arms and ducked as she pulled his shirt over his head.

  Her hands moved to his pants; he pushed them away.

  “Turn around.” If they weren’t going to mate, he didn’t want her to see him. He was large and scarred. She’d be frightened.

  She smiled but did as he said. He took off his pants and then moved behind a shelf.

  “Wash up and then rest. I’ll be back soon.” She grabbed the clothes from the floor.

  He waited several minutes to ensure that she was gone before washing the blood from his face and body. He searched for something to wear, but settled on wrapping a blanket around himself. He would have to sneak out and find new clothes, but right now he needed to sleep before he passed out. He lay on the floor next to the pallet of blankets. He would not touch her bed.

  CHAPTER 8

  IT WAS DARK WHEN Mutter awoke. He was on the pallet. She was curled up next to him. He was hungry again but the warmth of her body was calling to him. He touched her shoulder and she rolled over, her green eyes hazy with sleep.

  “You’re awake!” She sat up, touching his cheeks and forehead. “Your fever’s gone.” She started to stand.

  He grabbed her arm, halting her.

  “I have some food saved for you.” She smiled at him.

  He slowly opened his hand, letting her go. She wasn’t for him anyway. She was too young. “I ate it all last night.”

  “No. You’ve been sleeping for days.”

  He sat up. “That’s impossible.” The night before was so fresh in his mind. He could still feel his fists slamming into the other Guard’s flesh.

  She dropped a bag on his lap and sat next to him while he ate. Once he started he couldn’t quit. He was ravenous, but there was only a little meat and he didn’t want bread or fruit. He dug through the bag.

  “Sorry. I had to toss a lot of the meat after a couple of days. Today, there wasn’t much that I was supposed to throw away.”

  He ate some bread, the crust dry and tasteless in his mouth. “Thanks. This is great.”

  She gave him a look that said she knew he was lying. “I’ll have more tomorrow. There’s quite a bit of older meat that the grocer will want me to toss.”

  He leaned against the wall. He felt good now, better than good. His eyes wandered over her tiny frame. “I need to leave.”

  “Why?” She tried to hide the hurt in her voice, but failed.

  “It’s dangerous for you if I stay.”

  “It’s fine. No one is looking this way for you. They did the first day. Followed your trail here, but I did a good job of leading them away.” She laughed a little. “I left your clothes at the Lake of Sins. No one will hunt for you there.”

  “Why are you helping me?”

  She scooted closer, her knee brushing against his thigh. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

  “I don’t know.” It was the truth. Maybe it was because she wasn’t afraid of him or maybe she reminded him too much of the little Guard.

  “Why did you kill the Guard?”

  “Why do you care, Servant? One less Guard around should be cause for celebrating.” He wasn’t going to talk about the fight. He started to stand and then realized that he was still naked. He tugged on the blanket but she didn’t budge.

  “Answer my question.” She wrapped the cloth around her hand.

  He tugged again, harder. She raised a brow, keeping her hold on the cloth. He had two choices, lose the blanket or settle back down on the pallet next to her. He sat back down.

  “I didn’t mean to kill him. I...I didn’t even know that I had until it was over.”

  “You are a good Guard.” She touched his cheek.

  “You know nothing about me.” He turned his face away. He’d always done w
hatever he needed to in order to survive. That did not make him a good anything.

  “You didn’t kill me and—”

  “That’s not a good enough reason to risk your life for me. I answered your questions. Now, you answer mine. Why are you helping me?”

  She stared at him for a long moment and then sighed. “I don’t know. Not really. At first, I was just going to give you the food as a thank you for...well, for not killing me.” She smiled.

  His heart skipped a beat. She was so young and innocent and he was so hardened and ugly.

  “But then when I saw all the blood...I felt bad for you. Life on the street is hard.”

  He could stand fear and hatred but not pity. He yanked on the blanket, but she held tight.

  “I’m leaving. Either give me the blanket or get an eyeful.” He shifted to stand.

  “I hate being alone. You need somewhere to stay and I...well, I need someone to talk to, live with.” A blush crept up her cheeks as she glanced at him from under her lashes.

  He didn’t know what to say. He’d been alone most of his life, but sometimes he still missed those first few years with his mother.

  “Please stay, at least until you’re better. The grocer doesn’t come back here, so you’ll be safe. It’s better than living on the street. Right?”

  She was pleading. He should tell her that it never worked, but instead he nodded.

  She put her hand on his chest and guided him down. She curled up next to him. “What’s your name?”

  “Mutter.” His arm naturally went around her and she snuggled closer.

  “Almost like mother,” she said.

  “No, like mutt. My sister gave me the name. She hated me.”

  “What did your mother call you?”

  “My son. Not really a name I could use, so I kept Mutter.” He wasn’t sure why he paused. She had eyes; she knew he was ugly. “It fits. I don’t exactly look like the others. More of a mix of things.”

  She leaned up, her hand on his chest. “A good mix. Strong.” She ran her finger over his nose and cheek. “Your eyes are so dark brown they’re almost black.”

  He looked away. Soulless most called them. “Scary, I know.”

  She leaned closer, resting her elbows on his chest and pulled his face back toward hers. “Not scary. Warm and dark like the night. I love the night.”

  Her lips were close. If he leaned forward just a little he’d be kissing her. “I should leave.”

  “You’re safe here. I promise.” Her fingers explored his face, finding each scar and examining it. Her eyes showed nothing but sympathy.

  It was as if she healed them with her touch. He was no longer ashamed of how he looked. If she didn’t mind, why should he. “What’s your name?”

  Hurt flickered in her gaze. “I don’t have one. Not any longer.” She lay back down, still near him but it wasn’t the same.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I know. The grocer hates me. He barely looks at me let alone calls me by a name.”

  This time he leaned over her, dwarfing her, but she didn’t flinch. “Why?” He couldn’t understand how anyone could hate her.

  “I was his daughter’s gift for her eighth birthday. I lived in his house with him and Anna until...”

  He waited for her to continue, staring at her tiny face and big eyes.

  “Anna died. I didn’t.”

  He used his thumb to wipe away the tears that slid down her cheeks. “What happened?”

  “Carriage accident. No one’s fault but Anna is gone.” She wiped the rest of the tears away herself.

  “He shouldn’t blame you.”

  “He doesn’t. I remind him of Anna. She was all he had. All I had.” She flexed her claws. “I suppose I should be thankful. He could have taken me to the House Servants’ Shelter or dumped me, but he isn’t a cruel man.”

  “How long has it been since she died?”

  “Ten years.”

  She’d been alone for ten years. He ran his thumb over her cheek. Her skin was soft under his rough touch. “What did Anna call you?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want you to call me that. That name is the past.”

  He leaned closer and brushed his lips against hers in a gentle taste. He’d never thought he’d end up with a House Servant. He’d never figured on ending up with anyone, but somehow they fit. “Sweet. That’s what I’ll call you.” He kissed her again. “You taste sweet and you are the sweetest thing that I’ve ever met.”

  She smiled, her eyes glowing in the dark. “I like that name.”

  Her lips were open slightly, begging for his kiss. “How old are you?” If she were too young, he’d wait. He wasn’t sure how he’d do it, but he would. He prayed that she wasn’t too young.

  “Seventeen.”

  He closed his eyes as he lowered his lips to hers. “Thank Araldo.”

  CHAPTER 9

  BY THE NEXT MORNING Mutter’s fever was back along with body aches. He’d been sick before but nothing like this. The pain was unbearable and it went on for days. The evenings were the only thing keeping him sane. Sweet would bathe him with cool water, her hands a haven from the agony. She’d feed him soup which he’d eat for her and then she’d curl up next to him and tell him stories from her days at the grocer’s or from her past. Usually, she’d fall asleep and he’d stare into the darkness, focusing on her breathing to keep the pain at bay, but tonight the moon was full and he wasn’t hurting as badly. His hand skimmed up and down her back. She snuggled closer. He loved her. He’d never thought he’d love anyone. He struggled with the words. He was strong. He could do this. He would do this. He’d be stronger than even he thought he could be, for her.

  “I have to leave. It isn’t safe for you if I stay.”

  She stiffened. Her silence was a stab to his heart, but he’d done the right thing. She pulled away and his arm clasped her tight, unable to let her leave.

  “Let go.” Her claws came out, digging into his wrist.

  As far as pain went, it wasn’t much, not compared to what he’d been going through. He should release her, but he couldn’t. She clawed him on the side, catching a tender spot and he gasped. His hold loosened and she scurried away but he snatched her around the waist, pulling her to him, her back to his front.

  “Don’t be mad,” he said. “I have to go. You know that.”

  “Then leave.” There were tears in her voice.

  “Come with me.” His lips brushed against her ear. He hadn’t meant to say the words, although they’d danced through his head every time he’d considered leaving. Now they were out in the open.

  “Really?” She stopped struggling.

  “I understand if you don’t want to.” It was asking a lot from her to abandon her home and travel with him.

  Somehow, she spun in his arms and her lips were on his, kissing him. His hand dug into her hair, adjusting her to his needs.

  “Is that a yes?” He murmured against her mouth.

  “Yes. Definitely, yes.” She playfully slapped his chest.

  He leaned on an elbow. “It will be dangerous.”

  “No, it won’t.” Her fingers stopped his protest. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

  “Really?” He hadn’t expected that. Now, he couldn’t stop from smiling. “Since when?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She blushed slightly. He leaned down for a kiss but she pushed him away. “Pay attention. I’ve been hoarding some food, the stuff that doesn’t rot.”

  “Won’t you get caught?”

  “No. The grocer allows me a certain amount. I’ve been eating some of the stuff I’m supposed to throw away.” She gave him a quick kiss. “Now, stop distracting me.”

  “What did I do?” He acted offended but he was thrilled that he had distracted her enough for a kiss.

  “We can leave in a few days, if you’re feeling up to it.”

  “We can go tomorrow. I’ll make it.” He’d force himself. Every da
y that he stayed put her in danger. The Guards may not be hunting him but Ableson and Conguise would be.

  “No. I need a little more time. We’ll leave at dusk and head to the Lake of Sins.” She sat up, almost trembling with eagerness. “We’ll be safe there. Everyone avoids the place.”

  He’d heard stories of the Lake of Sins, every child had, but the place held a fascination for her. She and Anna had read everything that they’d found about the area, including the history of the town. It seemed like a pleasant place if you could ignore the superstitions. “It’ll be perfect. We can swim and run through the woods, eating what we catch. I love the water.” He kissed her.

  Her fingers ran into his hair and then down his back. “I hate the water. You’ll have to swim on your own, but I’ll hunt with you and prepare what we kill. I want to learn how to cook.”

  “I’ll build you a house with a kitchen. Anything you want.” He winced as her fingers trailed over his ribs.

  She examined his skin where her fingers had touched. “I cut you. I’m sorry.”

  There were four thin gashes on his chest. He didn’t recall her cutting him or even touching him there. She leaned down and kissed the wounds. He didn’t remember much after that.

  Mutter’s fever didn’t return, but the headaches did. Even the slightest light made him almost scream in pain. He’d bury his head in the blankets and pray for the dark. He was always better at night. Once they left, they’d have to find a place to camp for the day. He would not be able to travel in the light. This sickness could not last much longer. He had to get better, for her.