Chapter 51

Lilitha blinked. She recognized the face but couldn’t place him. He had long, oily hair, a twisted mouth, and dark glistening eyes that narrowed upon her hungrily.

“Don’t remember me?” He pursed his mouth mockingly. “That’s a bit rude, isn’t it? I remember you.”

Crouching beside her, he ran his fingers through her hair. Lilitha slapped his hand away. He laughed.

“Going to let me sample a taste?”

Lilitha tried to sit up, but he shoved her back down, holding her flat with one veiny hand. Now, she remembered him. It was the greasy-haired man. The man who, along with his three friends, had chased Lilitha and Clara down the street the night of their arrival in Mainstry.

He reached for his boot and drew out a knife, the blade shining in the moonlight.

Lilitha tilted her chin back, exposing her neck. “Do it.”

“I intend to.” He bunched her tunic with his veiny hand and hauled her stumbling to her feet.

“What are you doing?” she cried as he dragged her into a nearby alleyway.

He pushed her up against a wall, eyes shining as brightly as the blade. Clawing his fingers through her hair, he shoved his filthy tongue into her mouth. Lilitha thrashed against him, but he pinned her arms firmly to her sides. Gagging, Lilitha tried to bite down, only to encounter empty air, teeth clicking together as he pulled away and sank his face into her throat.

She tried to shove her knee into his crotch, but he had her pinned too tightly. She turned her face away in disgust, his breath hot on her skin, his tongue wet against her neck. She didn’t want to be raped, she only wanted to die.

She tried to scream, but he clapped a sweaty hand against her mouth. “Keep quiet and it’ll be quick. I promise.”

He spun her around, swept his foot behind her ankles, and she tripped and fell, hitting the ground hard, the back of her head thudding against the pavement. Pain erupted in her brain. The alleyway went dark, then brightened again painfully. Vomit surged up her throat. She gasped and coughed. Hot hands were on her thighs. She tried to push her tunic back down as he pushed it up. Grabbing her hand, he pulled back one of her fingers until she squealed.

Discarding the dagger, he wriggled on top, pressing his hips hard against hers. Lilitha moaned, unable to speak, her tongue thick in her mouth.

“Like that?” he murmured, rubbing himself between her legs.

He cupped her left breast, leaned in, and Lilitha squawked as he bit her nipple right through her tunic. Using all her strength, she tried desperately to throw him off, but her body barely budged, her limbs strangely heavy.

He sat up, straddling her, hair hanging in greasy lengths, eyes bloodshot as he untied his britches. She managed to turn her head and saw the knife. It was within arm’s reach. She willed her fingers to move, but they were beyond her control.

She looked back at a yelp. “Leave off! She’s mine!” the rapist cried.

There was a figure, but she couldn’t see who at her angle, only a big hand gripping the man’s shoulder. The rapist swung out blindly, but he was dragged away with a cry. There was a dull thud, a ringing sound, a muffled cry, then a gurgle, another dull thud.

Lilitha waited, defenseless, unable to move, eyes turned toward the heavens. She heard footsteps, heavy breathing. A long shadow fell across her. Then she saw who it was.

“Nuhn,” she grunted, unable to curl her tongue around the word. ~No.~ Unable to do anything except lie uselessly upon the pavement, utterly at his mercy.

Bracing the tip of his bloodied sword against the pavement, none other than Sir Mandalay crouched beside her, strong hand tight around the pommel, golden hair loose, blue eyes glinting.

She was having a nightmare. She was hallucinating. She must be dreaming! Lilitha struggled against her limbs, coughing and spluttering. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. Mandalay rubbed his face and stood again, leaving her line of vision. There was another ringing sound as he sheathed his sword. Something heavy scraped against the pavement and was dropped beside her.

“Eat,” he said.

Lilitha stared up at him.

“Eat.”

Lilitha struggled to move. Her fingers bent as she clawed them into the ground. She rolled over. She tried to pull herself up but couldn’t. Big, strong hands heaved her up by the armpits and leaned her up against a nearby wall. Mandalay’s face was a blur. The alleyway wouldn’t stop spinning. Lilitha turned her head, closing her eyes as she willed herself not to vomit.

“I know you’ve hurt your head,” he said, standing over her. “But we don’t have time for this. ~Eat~.” He pulled the body closer, dragging it over by the arm like it weighed nothing.

Lilitha snapped open her eyes at the rich, heavy waft of blood. It filled her sinuses. It filled her lungs. It made her heart beat so hard she could feel it pounding in her head. Mandalay’s face came into focus as her vision narrowed to a sharp point. Life poured back into her limbs.

She stared at the body. At the wound in his belly. And it seemed to be the only thing in the world.

“Eat.”

Lilitha dove right in. His red moist delicious wound seemed to pull her right down into it. Sucking her down. Like a tunnel. Like a mouth itself. The world turned red as she plunged in her face, not even using her hands except to clutch onto his body as though fearful someone would steal him away.

She choked and spluttered as she ate, barely swallowing before moving onto the next mouthful. Blood trickled down her arms, her neck. Her teeth found something tough and stringy. She pulled and yanked, shook her head with a growl, until whatever it was tore free and she stuffed it into her mouth. She chewed, swallowed, gasped for breath, then dove in again.

When the worst of her hunger was satisfied, Lilitha leaned back on her knees and closed her eyes, taking long deep breaths. When she opened them again, she stared at the body. It was a mess. There was blood everywhere. The stab wound was now a crater. He’d been mauled, not eaten, utterly ripped apart. Her hands were red up to the elbows. She could only imagine what her face looked like. Lilitha clawed her fingers into her knees.

She reached over, about to eat more, when a shadow fell over her. Lilitha jerked her head up with a start.

“So, you’re alive,” Mandalay said. “I can’t say I’m surprised…~witch~.”

Lilitha stood, staggering as she backed away. There was a thumping pain in the back of her head. It blurred her eyes and made them ache.

“Or are you a demon?” he said, moving slowly toward her. He kicked aside the dead man’s arm. “Or perhaps a hellhound in human form?”

His boots thudded against the pavement. Lilitha continued to back down along the alleyway.

“What kind of ~thing~ are you?”

He stopped, golden hair bright in Lilitha’s night vision. His eyes were gleaming. ~Both~ his eyes. So, she ~hadn’t~ imagined it. Then he reached for his hip, unsheathing his sword. Lilitha watched as the blade gleamed.

He raised it up, pointing it toward her. “I could kill you. I ~need~ to kill you. I ~should~ kill you.” He lowered it. “And yet I can’t. I ~can’t~. Tell me why that is.”

Lilitha just stood there, dumbfounded.

“Tell me ~why,~” he shouted.

Lilitha jumped. With a wince, the knight looked over his shoulder. As he did so, Lilitha turned and ran.