Chapter 32

Lilitha soon reached the cliffside where the scent of blood carried thick on the wind. She followed it, weaving between the rocks. Upon entering the cave, she stopped, staring at Laymond’s empty cuffs, a hollow sensation gathering in her stomach. Thinking of all the meat she’d eaten, she turned away with a wince.

And that was when she saw the two dead Champions hanging from the ceiling. Trickles of blood stained their arms. They looked new. Fresh. Different. And she suddenly realized they weren’t Champions at all, recognizing the one on the left as the prisoner she’d been chained behind. Yes. His beard and bald head. Lilitha stepped back.

“What’s the matter?” Damon said.

Lilitha jumped and turned. She hadn’t noticed him. He was sitting in the corner, blood dripping between his fingers as he ate.

“What happened to the others?” she asked.

Damon looked at the dangling bodies. “Devoured, of course.”

She stared at the two men. An arm was missing from one. Their necks gaped open.

“Where did they come from?”

“From our supply.”

Lilitha’s throat went dry. “Supply? You—you mean there are people alive?”

“Of course. How else do you think we keep our food fresh?”

Something Damon once said suddenly came back to her: ~He’s not among our spoils. I checked.~ She hadn’t known what he’d meant at the time. It was clear now. ~Dreadfully~ clear.

Lilitha winced as Damon tore away a strip of dripping flesh with his teeth. She rubbed at her arms, a chill taking root inside her. It was one thing to consume the flesh of the already murdered—the deed was already done. But to think yet more were destined to die…

“I guess…I just thought…the herbs would be enough,” she said, referring to the green, minty herb they used to preserve them.

“Tamarron helps it keep for up to a month. Thenceforth, it turns rancid.”

“How many are there?”

“Don’t know, ten-odd.” He swallowed and licked his fingers. “It’s a big haul for us, what with all the slaughtered knights as well.”

“Where are they? Are they close? Can I go see them?”

He stopped eating. Blood smeared his mouth and stained his neck in streaks. His meal was like pulp in his hands. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“Please. I must.”

“If you insist but let me finish this first.” He narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t you going to have anything?”

Her throat filled with vomit and she swallowed. “Maybe later.”

When he was done, he cleaned himself off and they left the cave.

It was another clear night, a light breeze sending the highest leaves fluttering. Lilitha cinched her cloak. They walked through the trees, moonlight filtering through the branches. A small animal rustled through the ground cover and darted away.

Lilitha wrinkled her nose at an approaching stench. Then she heard moaning, just a single voice and faint, but enough to make her heart lurch.

Damon seized her wrist. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“You can’t stop me, Damon. I must see.”

He took her hand and held it firmly. “Fine, but just remember they’re only beasts. You’re not one of them, and you never were.”

Lilitha gripped her throat. All she wanted was to turn and run, but she forced herself to continue.

They broke through the trees and stopped. Lilitha stared, heart hammering in her chest. They were imprisoned beneath an overhanging ridge—eleven of them. All men, prisoners and Champions both, shackled to iron pins driven deep into the earth. They were cloaked and there was bedding and dishes of water. To the left and outside the ridge was the source of the stench—a shit pit.

One of them was awake—a man was sitting up against the ridge wall. He was crying. Lilitha had never seen a man cry before. Her stomach clenched. A terrible coldness spread across her chest.

“And who—who does the deed?” she croaked.

“All of us. We choose the ones we think are about to turn and unchain them and slaughter them,” he explained in a chillingly flat tone. He squeezed her hand. “It is the order of things, Lilitha.”

She swallowed, and it was like she was swallowing gravel. To think that while she fed and laughed and loved, such an evil should be happening.

“That’s enough I think,” he said, drawing her away.

“This isn’t right.”

She stumbled. Damon steadied her, said something, but she didn’t hear him, her blood pounding in her ears.

“This isn’t right,” she said again. She shoved him away. Sweat trickled down her back. The trees started closing in on her. It became hard to breathe.

“Lilitha, you must accept,” Damon’s voice echoed oddly.

“No,” she gasped. The world seemed to shrink, then expand. The ground rocked and swayed. She clutched at herself. Vomit surged up her throat, and she spat, tasting blood.

“Lilitha, look at me.” Damon seized her shoulders. “You go on like this and you’ll make yourself sick.”

“You’re all monsters!” she screamed in his face. She saw red, and it turned Damon’s horns the color of blood. She pulled and yanked against his grip but couldn’t break free. She was tied up, imprisoned, chained to a devil. “Let go!”

“Stop it, Lilitha! You’re being foolish!”

“Let go, Damon! Let go!” She squirmed and thrashed, and when he wouldn’t let go, kicked out, connecting with something soft. He released her with an “oomph”, and then she was speeding away, back to the poor men.

Upon reaching them, she flung herself into the fray. She yanked at their chains, but they were rusty and jagged and tore at her hands. She turned to the pins stuck in the ground, pulled with all her might, crying out at the strain, but no matter how hard she tried, they would not give, and she dropped to her bottom with a grunt.

Gasping, she wiped at her prickling forehead, smearing blood on her face. The prisoners were all around her, a group of pale faces. Some were watching hopefully, others hopelessly, most hidden deep inside their cloaks or turned away or pressing themselves hard into the ground, weeping. Something glinted in the distance. Horns silver against the moonlight, a tall cloaked figure stood watching, utterly magnificent, utterly heinous.

“Damon! You must help!” she cried.

He didn’t move. Refusing to give up, Lilitha crouched to the ground beside the nearest prisoner. A young Champion. She seized the shackle around his foot and tried to rip it open, but it was as infallible as the chain and the pin. She searched for a break, a lock, anything that might give. She twisted and pulled, but the prisoner cried out in fear, and Lilitha was sent sprawling at a kick to her face. The taste of her own blood filled her mouth and it was metallic and wrong. She spat.

Rolling onto her back, she looked up in a daze, hand pressed to her blistering cheek. Footsteps thudded. A shadow loomed over her.

“Help them,” she pleaded.

She gasped as Damon lifted her into his arms. The ground shifted beneath her, the moon arced in the sky, and then she was over his shoulder, clutching at her throbbing face as blood surged into her injury. The heels of Damon’s boots strode in and out of her vision.

“Put me down!” she cried, wincing as pain shot through her teeth.

Once they were safely away, he eased her to the ground. She stumbled. He steadied her, but she shoved him away. “How can you do this? You monster!”

“They are beasts, Lilitha.”

“They are not beasts. They are people with feelings and lives and minds and hearts. You are the beast!”

“It kicked you in the face. Even when you were trying to help. How is that not a beast?”

“He was scared!” She clutched at her face at another blast of agony. Tears fell, and they burned like fire against the cut on her lip. “Would you have treated me the same way?”

“Never.”

“I was once a prisoner like them. It could have happened.”

“I would have found you.”

Lilitha turned away, sickened by his apathy.

“Tell me,” Damon said. “Since you think you’re so righteous. How is this any different to the creatures they themselves eat? That you once did?”

“That is not the same,” Lilitha said.

“Isn’t it? They slaughter and maim and take what they will. Just like us.”

“Don’t even dare to try and compare the two. Lambs and cows and chickens cannot speak, cannot feel. They are different. They are lesser. They are b—” She stopped.

“They are what, Lilitha? Beasts? They may not speak, but do they not have feelings and minds and hearts? Could you look at a pig and say it is nothing? An empty vessel? Worthy of destruction?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Try and see, Lilitha. You may think we Diablons cruel, but the humans are no less so.”

She shook her head.

“Open your mind and see.”

“But we take care of our animals! Couldn’t you at least do that? Couldn’t you at least provide them with some comforts? Why do you feel the need to torture them so?”

“They are soon to die, Lilitha. No amount of comfort will alleviate that.” She opened her mouth to say more, but he interrupted, “And you are wrong. Humans care no more about their beasts than we do them. Their beasts are chained and lumped together. They are left to the elements, to their pain and heartache. All for their hides and their milk and their wool.”

“It’s not the same,” she whispered.

“To keep on saying that will not make it so.”

Rage lashed Lilitha’s insides. Burning tears gushed. She shoved him with all her might, and he stumbled.

Damon called after her as she rushed away. She hardly noticed her journey through the trees, the side of her head throbbing, her thoughts left behind at that terrible scene. With that weeping man. Did he have a family?

Lilitha paused, bracing her hand up against a tree as she leaned over. The vomit was close but she pushed it back down. On weak legs, she continued with her walk.

The sun was rising when she joined Clara. Her friend was already awake, sitting outside on a rock eating an apple. Her eyes widened and she stood. “What happened to you?”

Lilitha touched her cheek and winced. It was swollen and hot.

Clara’s eyes narrowed. “Damon?”

“No. It was—it was something else.”

“Liar!”

“I’m not a liar!” Lilitha bellowed and Clara stepped back in surprise. “Sorry.” She gripped at her head again. “It’s just been a difficult day.”

“We must leave,” Clara said quietly, studying Lilitha’s face warily. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Lilitha opened her mouth, then shut it. “I-I can’t.”

“It’s been days and you’ve done nothing. I’ve hardly seen you! And now…this.” She gestured at Lilitha’s face.

“It was my fault,” Lilitha said, looking away, unable to meet her accusing eyes.

“I don’t trust you anymore,” Clara said.

It was like a stab in Lilitha’s heart. “I know.”

“I should just leave. I’ll find my own way to Mainstry.”

“No.” Lilitha grabbed her wrist. Clara ripped out of her grasp and stood away. Lilitha’s heart pounded. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You’ve changed.”

“See reason,” Lilitha said quickly. “You leave now, and you’ll be caught, and Damon, he-he will kill you.”

Clara paled. “What?”

Lilitha swallowed. “There is more to the story than you think. We are not alone. There are others and they are dangerous too.”

“Others? What ~others~?”

“Just…~others~. There are four.” ~Five, including me.~

“Are they like him?”

“Yes, and they’re always watching.”

Clara looked away, and Lilitha could see something break inside her.

“But please, Clara, don’t worry. There is hope yet. I have something in mind. It’s going to be risky, and it’s going to take time, but I ~will~ succeed if it’s the last thing I do.”