Horns and Halos, page 11
He motioned to the bed. “Lay down, then. I’m keeping watch over you.”
I shook my head and held my stomach. “I’m hungry.”
“Very well.”
Thankfully, he let me go. I tried not to make too much noise as I crept through the house toward the kitchen. Darkness stretched and claimed any space not cast in the dim glow of the fire from the living room. That included Elijah’s form sitting on the couch. He was half doused in firelight and half in shadow. I almost didn’t notice him. I shuddered when he spoke to me.
“Hungry?” His voice matched the somber look that was claiming his face.
If I thought of denying it, my stomach wouldn’t let me. As soon as he asked, my stomach grumbled. I gave a nervous laugh. “Just a little bit.”
He laughed lightly and rose from the couch. “Come on. We’ll get you something, and I will help you braid your hair.”
I reached up to touch my hair and noticed several braids either undone partially or almost completely. I frowned. Meemaw always had to help me because I could never get a straight braid. It always came out crooked, or I would mess them up somehow. Momma always blamed daddy saying that it was because he raised me more like a boy than a girl.
“You can braid hair?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yup.” Stopping in the kitchen, he stirred the pot, fished out a helping of soup into a bowl, and handed it to me as he asked, “Cornbread?”
Considering how hungry I was for a moment, I paused in thought. “Yeah,” I admitted. A square was dug out for me, and he took the bowl from my hands. Instantly, I pouted. “Hey!”
He chuckled and pointed with his chin to my room. “Go grab a brush and meet me in the living room. The firelight will be more suitable than candlelight after I throw a few more logs on.”
With fresh understanding, I looked enlightened as I smiled. “Ah. Okay.”
I rushed to my room, rummaged through my bag, grabbed my comb, a few hair ties, and then ran back to Elijah. Excitement was quickly building in me as I was thrilled to experience that old feeling of someone playing with my hair by firelight while I ate. It was something that I missed more than anything. If I closed my eyes and let my mind drift, maybe in the small, silent moments I could pretend it was meemaw. Maybe I could convince myself that this had all been a horrible nightmare.
I quickly handed him the items needed. Plopping down on the floor in front of the couch, I grabbed the bowl from the side table nearby and cozied up to him without a second thought.
He stifled a chuckle. “Excited?”
I nodded, dipping the spoon into the soup. “Some of my fondest memories of my old village are of my meemaw braiding my hair by the fire while I ate snacks momma made for me.”
“Ah, I see,” he said while putting the ties on his wrist and picking up the comb.
For a long while, we sat in silence. By the time he had finished a couple of braids, I was done with my meal. I sat with my knees tightly drawn up to my chest while watching the flames dance over the logs and listening to the gentle pops of the fire as it ate away at the wood.
“How did you learn to braid hair?” I asked.
I could feel him pause as he grabbed another section of my hair. Silence claimed the room, and he remained still as a statue behind me. Finally, he moved and sighed to himself. “My sister taught me with rope making. It was the only chore I could do in bed.”
“In bed?”
“I was sick a lot when I was younger. She would take on my chores because there wasn’t a whole lot that I could do to help.” There was another moment of silence. He drew in a shaky breath and continued. “I could make rope, though. And she would teach me how to braid with the fibers. She also had really long hair that quite often got in the way, so every night—before bed—I would braid her hair for her.” He made a sound that mirrored a sorrowful laugh. “I miss it,” he whispered.
I felt that. We both had something dear to us that we missed, something that was taken from us against our will and left a mark upon our memories. The world we lived in was full of pain. It was full of loss, and—oddly enough—we managed to find comfort in connecting through it.
“I’m sorry,” I expressed while resting my chin on my knees.
He finished up the final braid and patted me on the head. “Don’t be. You gave me the chance to relive something that I missed more than I realized.”
“I wish things could be different.”
“I do too.”
He didn’t know how deep my words went. He didn’t know that it stood for every painful memory and even the decision that I had made that would lead to more horrible choices in my regrettable future. He didn’t know that it meant that I was sorry for him. In a different life, I would have remained there in that damned village and shared the horrible fate that he had been dealt, but I couldn’t.
“Hey, that reminds me. While you’re here, you should let me take a look at that wound of yours to make sure it didn’t rip open in your sleep.”
The moment his hand touched the fabric of my shirt, I turned to face him with a smile. “That’s okay. We can do it in the morning,” I claimed, trying to sound like panic wasn’t soaking every word.
He rolled his eyes. “Sia, normally I would listen to someone about this, but people have died over things like this. I’m going to look at it.” Fingers traced over my skin, searching for the bandage.
My heart thumped crazily, and I looked around the room. I thought about slapping his hand away. I thought about yelling and waking up everyone in the house. But all of that would only mean I’d have to explain my stupid decision to three people instead of one. Besides, anger would only raise suspicion. I put my hand over his to stop him from lifting the tape holding down the gauze. His eyes flicked to mine, and his determined expression faded into something else. He wasn’t looking at me like I was someone that needed to be mended. That’s when the idea hit me.
Rising to my knees, I lunged forward and let our lips collide. I meant for it to be just a peck, but the moment our mouths touched, I didn’t want to pull away. The slow, innocent kiss grew into something more passionate, and our hands drifted and grabbed onto each other. He lifted me up and twisted, and we both fell into the cushions of the couch. My tongue plunged into his mouth, and we panted between hungry kisses. I rolled and was on top. I pulled away and fixed my vision on him as he slowly opened his eyes. I just enjoyed the view of him beneath me, but something gold glimmered in the shadows of the room. It was only there for a second, though, I knew what it was.
Quickly, I fixed my shirt and scrambled off of Elijah mumbling, “I’m sorry,” before sprinting for the safety of my room.
I could hear him call to me as he jumped over the back of the couch, spurring me to speed up. I managed to close the door and lock it seconds before he could reach me. Meanwhile, my heartbeat thundered in my chest, and I could still taste him on my lips. I held my head and leaned against the door.
“Sia?”
“Please, just let me rest,” I whined.
“Okay, but ... can we talk tomorrow?”
I could avoid him until I left the city, right? “Sure,” I lied.
There was a long pause. Thankfully, I heard the sound of his shuffling footwork as they took him further into the home. A little while later, I heard a door shut across the hall. I let out a burst of air and slid down to the floor.
A slow clap resounded through the bedroom, and Draki was standing in front of me. “Brava!” he thundered with a flash of pearly white teeth.
Anger crawled through my veins. “Don’t,” I warned.
He threw his hands up in the air. “I wouldn’t dream of mocking you, my dear. I’m just amazed at your determination to get that young man addicted to you.” Draki’s smile was grand and held hints of evil behind the curl of his lips. I remembered them touching mine and how it burned. It was different than the kiss Elijah and I shared, but I liked it just the same.
As the days slipped by, I found less and less things to like about myself. I closed my eyes and drew my knees into my chest. Slowly, I hid my face away in the fold of my arms. “Please stop,” I whispered with tears smearing my vision.
He said nothing. One moment I was curled into a ball on the floor and the next I was cradled in his arms and surrounded by the smell of smoke and strange spices. Gasping, I unfurled, and he gently laid me on the bed. I must have looked confused because he covered me up, turned away from me, and said, “Rest. I was not trying to upset you.”
Chapter 10:
Freedom Has a Price
In the morning, I woke up earlier than usual and finished a few chores before Elijah ever opened his bedroom door. Stepping into the house, I was greeted by Janet and Marcel who were setting the table. I held my stomach. I had skipped breakfast that morning and had been regretting it ever since I left the house.
“Didn’t expect to see you up so early,” Marcel said.
“Come, come. Let’s eat together,” Janet urged.
I smiled. “Thank you. I am really hungry,” I admitted, walking over to the table. “I woke up earlier because of all the sleep I got yesterday and thought I would finish up a few things left on the list. I ...” I trailed off and gripped the back of the chair. “I need to leave today,” I stated a little quieter.
“Oh?” Marcel looked to the table and looked lost in thought. “I’ll get the things you asked for by this afternoon, is that going to be too late?”
I shook my head. “No. That should be perfect.” Even as the words left my mouth, I felt my heart sink. A lump grew in my throat, and I hoped that eating would help me swallow it and any feelings that might be growing along with it.
Janet went to wake up Elijah and returned with him shortly after. I tried to hide my flustered expression and focused on eating as he sat down across from me. Talk about awkward.
“Morning,” he said, and I could feel the smile he wore in the warmth of his voice.
“Mornin’,” I mumbled back.
“I’ll need you to come with me to the leader’s house today, son,” Marcel informed.
“Hmmm? Okay,” he said chipperly.
The father swallowed a bite and reached for his cup as he explained. “We need to gather up the supplies Sia needs before she leaves today.”
Elijah’s fork plummeted from his hand and clanged as it hit the table. “What?” he breathed.
I couldn’t help it. I winced like I had been struck. I didn’t want to be here when this happened. I wanted to avoid all of this. I stood from my half-eaten meal and announced, “I’m full.” Another lie tacked onto my growing list.
Elijah stood from his chair so fast that it hit the ground behind him. He slammed his palms down on the table and asked, “When were you going to tell me?” And there wasn’t a single thing in this world that could mask the hurt in his voice.
“Elijah!” his mother whispered heatedly.
I looked to the door to the bedroom I had been staying in and saw Draki on the other side of it, watching me with a smile. Peeling my vision from his form, I fully turned to Elijah and saw everything I was trying to avoid written all over his face.
“I came to the decision last night,” I answered confidently.
“Is there something we should know?” Marcel asked, plucking up an eyebrow over one eye.
“No,” I replied swiftly.
“I guess not,” Elijah muttered.
Janet looked around the table and rested her eyes on her husband. There was a silent exchange and Marcel cleared his throat while standing up. “How about you and I go ahead to Matulia’s house?”
“Fine,” Elijah growled and stormed out of the house.
Janet stood wringing her hands and mumbled, “Oh dear.”
Marcel kissed her cheek and said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to him.”
She nodded in reply and called to me as I stared at Elijah standing out on the porch. “Mind helping clean up?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure.”
Just then, there was the sound of drums pounding. It was a deep, relentless sound that made me feel uneasy. It rumbled through my body and awoke a sense of fear inside me. As soon as we heard it, Janet dropped the bowls in her hand and cried out loudly as they smashed to pieces on the floor.
“Marcel! No! No, Marcel, it’s happening!” she screamed as tears streamed down her weathered face. She rushed to the door, and Marcel grabbed her by her arms. “No! NO! Let me go, Marcel!” she yelled, thrashing about in her husband’s grasp.
Shaking the fear-stricken woman, Marcel bellowed out, “Get a hold of yourself!”
As if her legs couldn’t hold her up anymore, Janet crumpled and wept. Between sobs, she cried, “She’s going to take him. You know that she will.”
“We have to face this, Janet. You know that there isn’t anything that we can do.”
“She’s going to take our boy, Marcel!”
“You don’t know that!”
“Look at his chain!” she screamed.
Reluctantly, Marcel turned and looked at their son. His eyes drifted to the links that stretched all the way down the young man’s arm to the back of his hand. Slowly, he turned to face his wife. “We have to answer the call,” he whispered, defeated. His shoulders slumped, and he wore a deep frown.
“We have to help him escape,” she wailed.
He brought her to her feet and shook her again. “We can’t!” Marcel’s voice was a symphony of brokenness. A father and husband had been rendered powerless when his family needed him most, and it was made evident in every action he performed and in every word he spoke.
The silence that followed was accompanied by the deafening drumming that poured out of the sky. It felt like it was the morning we were to set out to war, but we had no armor or weapons. It was more like marching off to the gallows. I felt so strange as Marcel looked to me—holding his weeping wife in his arms—and told me, “Stay here. This is a village matter.”
As they walked away, I felt a familiar dread wash over me. Part of me wanted to run to them and grab hold of Elijah. I wanted to apologize. I wanted all of this to stop. When they were out of sight, I ran into the bedroom and called out, “Draki!”
“No need to yell, I’m here,” he said as he manifested in front of me.
“What’s going on?”
He smirked. “Oh, you shouldn’t be concerned with it. This is just life as you know it in this sleepy little village. You shouldn’t care. You were leaving, remember?”
“Did you do this?”
He balked playfully. “Sia! I have no control over what a devil does over their village.”
“Liar!”
Any trace of playfulness was erased from his expression and what slipped into his gaze was darker than the shades of night. Evil spirits swam in his vision, heat wafted off his body, and when he spoke it sounded like things were crying, wailing, and screaming, and they mingled with his voice until it became a song of torture. A flaming crown slowly appeared over his head, and it slowly spun as two sets of glossy black horns grew out of his skull. The ethereal glow of his eyes grew to something that was both beautiful and dreadful, and it almost hurt to look at him. Light poured out of him, and his robes rippled in a breeze that I didn’t feel. Fangs protruded from his gums and glistened as he snarled to me, “Beg me for forgiveness!”
I took a few fearful steps away from him with my mouth agape and—to my horror—he advanced as I tried to not trip over myself in my retreat. My mouth opened and closed as I forgot how to form words. My throat closed up and a sharp gasp escaped me.
His unforgiving stride had him upon me in seconds. I tripped in my terror, and his hand snaked out, catching me by the wrist before I could go far. Pulling me with immeasurable force, I slammed into his chest and could only stare up into his molten gaze as he whispered with authority, “Say. It.”
“I-I-I’m sorry,” I breathed.
He looked at me for a long moment. As his chin rose proudly, I watched the horns melt away, the flaming crown faded into dissipating smoke, and the light dimmed down until I could look at him without squinting. Slowly, he drew in a deep breath and released it even slower. His free hand ran through his wintery mane, and he cleared his throat before saying, “I forgive you.” Dark eyes locked with me. “Don’t do it again,” he warned.
I nodded, still dumbfounded with fear. When he released my wrist, I stumbled back and rubbed it while lost in thought. How did that happen? What was I doing? I remembered then, Elijah! As soon as I looked up to Draki, I floundered on how to ask him for help, so I asked the question I wasn’t ready to hear the answer to.
“Is ... is Elijah going to die?”
The devil pondered the idea, his playful expression resumed and he hummed in thought. “Is Elijah going to die? Hmmm. What a marvelous question, Sia. I do wonder what will happen to him. But I suppose there is a better question that you can ask.”
I dared to step closer to him. “What would that be?”
He grinned at me. “Is anyone going to save him?”
I already knew the answer ...
“Come,” Draki said and swept his hand to the door. “Let us go and watch the show!”
I felt his hand on my lower back as he ushered me toward the exit. Taking an unsure step forward, I drew in a deep, calming breath. One moment, I was in the bedroom and the next I was outside next to a building that was near the center of the village. The massive, wooden pillar that haunted me when I first walked through the gates was now surrounded by everyone that lived there. Standing among them was the grinning she-devil, Bushyasta. She flipped her dark strands over her shoulder and rolled her wrist as she pointed lazily to each person present, and shooed those with the shortest visible chains off to another crowd.
Janet and Marcel stood with a group on the opposing side from Elijah. Janet was clinging to Marcel, whimpering as he held her in his embrace. They both looked distraught. A tidal wave of emotions was sure to pour out if the worst came to pass. With the way Draki acted, I didn’t doubt a horrible outcome. With how far down Elijah’s chain tattoo went, I didn’t have a lot of hope to grasp onto.
