Chapter 33

Lilitha slept the day away beneath Clara’s tree. When she next woke, it was to a basket of food Clara had left her. For a moment, she looked at it in confusion—did she know?—before realizing it was filled with fruits and mushrooms, nuts, and seeds.

Lilitha grimaced at the sight of it, but she ate it all. The fruit was sickly sweet. The mushrooms tasted like dirt. And the nuts made her feel nauseated. By the end, she was clutching at her stomach.

Clara crawled in beside her. “Feel better?” Then she frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Managing. I—I have to go.” And she scrambled into the open.

She got away from Clara as far as she could before the dizziness became too much, and she grabbed onto a tree and vomited everything up. Shaking, Lilitha wiped her mouth. How was she going to do this? She recalled what Silus had said: ~We Diablons can survive for a time on the flesh of animals, it is true…~

With a gasp, she hurried to the cave. It was a hard journey, her legs shaking, the air tight in her lungs. Her body was drenched in cold sweat. When was the last time she’d eaten? She couldn’t remember.

Thankfully, the cave was empty, though she checked the corners to make sure Damon wasn’t hiding like last time. Lilitha tried her best to ignore the hanging bodies, though it was hard not to notice how much their flanks had been stripped bare, the bones of their ribs gleaming between moist tissue.

She ignored the stacked baskets, despite the unbelievable smell reaching out for her so hard she almost fell to her knees and cried, going straight to the pile of weapons instead. She seized a sword, a spear, and tucked a knife with a golden hilt into her cloak. Then she hurried away.

She searched the forest for hours, eyes sharp within the darkness. She found a possum, an owl, and a rabbit, but the sword was too heavy, the spear slipped in her hands, and when she threw the dagger, it sailed through the air hilt first, hit a tree, and dropped to the ground.

Lilitha struggled not to cry. What was she thinking? How stupid was she? What skill did she have with hunting? She’d existed on bread and potatoes her whole life.

The tears were coming now, streaming down her cheeks. The sobs kept catching in her throat. She was so hungry! So guilty! So torn! And she missed Damon like a hook in her guts. She wondered where he was. Why hadn’t he come to find her? Was he really that angry with her? It was a good thing, she told herself. ~It is a good thing.~ Dropping into a crouch, she buried her head into her knees.

When she’d eventually gotten control of herself, Lilitha staggered woozily back through the trees, cheeks sticky with tears, the neckline of her tunic wet. Her heart was beating erratically. She was a short way from Clara’s little hiding place when she suddenly stopped, lifting her nose. Her mouth instantly watered. Her stomach roared. She couldn’t help herself—she raced ahead.

She slowed to a quiet creep as she approached the tree, doing her best not to wake her sleeping friend. Lilitha stared. A large rabbit sat by the little entry, its throat slashed. Lilitha looked around warily, but the trees gave nothing away.

Grabbing it by the ears, she hurried into the trees until she was out of sight. She sat down, took out the dagger she’d stolen, decided against it, and simply ripped the rabbit open with her fingers. She hardly knew what she was doing as she clawed her hand inside, snatching out handfuls of flesh and shoving them into her mouth like a hungry child.

It didn’t taste the same as human flesh. It certainly didn’t smell the same or feel the same, but it was much better than the fruit. It would ~do~. She’d eaten it all the way down to its little bones before she finally stopped, panting, looking down at her bloodied hands and the sleeves of her cloak in dismay.

She stood, hands upraised, twisting around as she tried to remember where the nearest water source was so she could wash herself. Then she noticed a familiar smell on the air. One that made her lick her lips. At the crunch of a heavy footstep, she spun around, stepping back with a gasp. She’d thought the rabbit a peace offering from Damon.

She was wrong.

“Please, don’t leave,” Mateus said. “I will provide you with more. Every night without fail. If that’s what pleases you. Just talk to me.”

Fear clutched at Lilitha’s heart. He’d left the rabbit right where Clara slept. He’d been too close. They ~were~ too close. She nodded and drew him away.

They walked together, close enough she could feel his heat beating against her side. She drew her cloak tighter. When they had gone far enough, she stopped and faced him.

His gaze lingered over her eye. “What’s happened to you?”

“Nothing,” she said, drawing her hood lower.

He gave a low growl. His tail cracked. “~She~ did it.” And he swung around in Clara’s direction.

“No!” she cried, grabbing his arm. “Don’t. It’s not from her at all!”

“From who then?”

She couldn’t tell him the truth, lest he attack the captives. And all her excuses were so feeble she doubted he would believe them. “It doesn’t matter.”

She drew him to the ground, and they sat together, but he kept looking over his shoulder in Clara’s direction.

“You said you wanted to talk,” Lilitha said. He turned back. She forced her mouth into a smile.

“Lilitha,” he sighed, shoulders sagging, “such a pretty name.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been meaning to tell you: I’m sorry for what I did to you. I didn’t mean to frighten you. You just took me by surprise, that’s all. It is rare to encounter another Diablon, much less a female. Believe me when I say it won’t happen again.”

Lilitha pinned her smile to her face and nodded.

“And I would never hurt you.” He reached out to touch her face. Lilitha stiffened but did not pull back. He ran his fingertips over her swollen cheek, through her fringe.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “Did you know that?”

He dropped his hand. Heat filled Lilitha’s cheeks, and she looked away. A light breeze rippled through her fringe. She tugged at her cloak, suddenly feeling very hot.

“It’s getting late. I should probably go.” She stood to leave.

Mateus scrambled to his feet alongside her. “Don’t go yet. I want to talk with you some more.”

“Maybe tomorrow then, if you can bring me more food. But don’t bring it here. Leave it in the cave.”

“Then you’ll talk with me?”

“Maybe.”

“~Maybe~,” he grunted.

“Yes, ~maybe~.”

He shook his head, sniffed, then stalked away.