Chapter 3 #2
I shook my head. No, there was my father.
Warm brown eyes were underneath his lids.
And though his expression was wretched and weak, he would wake with a smile, the smile he tried his best to give despite the burden of his labor and his duty as our shield.
A wool blanket was fixed around his shoulders, and a small elixir vial stuck out of his shirt pocket—items of care left by Mother at some point in the night.
Calloused hands rested atop the crossbow in his lap, and his work boots were filthy from walking the property to light the torches and scrutinize any late-night visitors.
Visitors desperate for our last elixir vials.
I moved to wake him, knowing he’d be upset at sleeping so heavily, but reconsidered.
I had helped him before, during long nights such as these.
Elliot had, too. I could wake him later, after I’d finished.
I shivered, crossing my arms to ward off the chill in the air.
Besides, it wasn’t as if I had much more time left to help.
If my recent visions meant I was close to Corruption, my time was short.
Splintered. Blurry. It was impossible to be useful if my mind was half-rotted by a demon.
I scanned the surrounding clearing, noting the weak torchlight.
The flames ran precariously low, struggling to fight against the encroaching dark.
I quietly gathered the materials I needed into a bucket, its handle as worn and dented as the rocking chair, and positioned myself by the nearest torch.
The flame surged to life under my care, smoldering, glowing, then rising to take a breath.
It pierced into the night, defying the wind as its light filled the air.
I took a breath, too. Tried to squeeze all the darkness from my lungs.
Out of habit, my fingers threaded through the rising smoke. The warmth felt wonderful—cleansing, even. I eagerly stretched out my hands, closing my eyes as the smoke lapped against them.
Esmer.
Esmer.
Esmer.
“Father?” I called out.
But Father didn’t move. The voice was inside my head.
I swore, hands shaking as I relit the next three torches. Maybe a demon had finally curled itself around my mind, sinking its claws nice and deep as it waited to claim territory upon my soul. I swore again, muttering under my breath. Maybe it would be better if I just—
“It’s me,” called a tentative voice. Elliot was standing in the middle of the clearing, smiling sheepishly. Rather than wear a sweater or a cloak of his own, he had wrapped himself in a blanket. “Thought you looked lonely out here, but it turns out you can talk with yourself just fine.”
The voice hadn’t been inside my head. It had been Elliot all along.
I lunged for him, pretending to be upset, but he made a quick, dance-like spin, avoiding my hands as the blanket swished around his ankles. “This is how you repay me for helping, huh? Sort of rude if you ask me.”
“If you ask me, I never requested your help,” I said, lighting the next torch. It wouldn’t take long to finish, but I secretly welcomed his company. “But if you want to be useful, you can carry this bucket. I also need to check the bells.”
A hand darted out from underneath his blanket, snatched the bucket, and pulled it to his side. “Fine by me. Once Father’s back, though, I’m going to bed.”
“Once he’s back?”
“Really hoping my bed isn’t cold now. Don’t know when we’ll—”
“Elliot,” I said, grounding him. “What did you mean by ‘once Father’s back’?”
“Oh. Um, he wasn’t in his chair when I came out.” Elliot tilted his head to the side, eyebrows creased in growing worry. “I figured he was taking a break while you finished with the torches.”
I squinted at the porch.
Sure enough, the empty rocking chair was creaking softly in the wind, knocking into the crossbow and quiver that sat discarded on the ground in front of it.
Why didn’t I hear him leave?
It was unusual for him to desert his post, especially if he saw that we were outside, but I didn’t voice my concerns. Maybe he just needed a glass of water. Or a quick trip to the washroom.
Still, I took the crossbow and quiver as a precaution, slinging them across my back.
We made quick work of the remaining torches, saving the farthest for last. I watched the smoke as it rose, threading through the lower branches of an oak tree, and threw my arm around Elliot’s blanketed shoulders. It was going to be okay.
I was okay.
We’d check the perimeter for any missing bells or cut strings, then we’d head back inside—
A high, clear sound rang through the trees, warbling like a distorted wind chime.
Fear doused my skin in an icy chill, instantly raising the hair on my arms and neck.
Another bell chimed. Then another. Another.
The bells were designed as a precaution against any wandering Corrupt; they did not chime without reason.
In the dim torchlight, it was impossible to see who—or what—was creeping toward our house, but it shuffled heavily in the dark forest, carelessly snapping twigs.
“We need to get Father,” Elliot started, horrified.
“There’s no time,” I hissed. I took a deep breath, numb to the weight of the crossbow as I prepared to cock it.
With shaky hands, I quickly grabbed a bolt and affixed it to the crossbow’s groove, ensuring it fit snugly against the string.
Then, with a smooth motion, I drew the string back with a click. “Stay with me. Don’t move.”
A movement caught my eye, a flicker of darkness darting between the trees.
I raised the crossbow, sighting along its length with steady determination.
As I aimed, my senses sharpened, attuned to the subtle sounds in the forest. The whisper of leaves rustling in the nighttime breeze, the distant cry of a bird—then it all faded into the background as my focus narrowed to a single point.
There.
With a flick of my thumb, I released the safety.
A surge of anticipation coursed through my veins, my heart a frenzied, clawing thing as I aligned my sights. I held my breath, finger hovering over the trigger.
“It’s coming,” Elliot gasped. “Esmer, it’s coming!”
The dark figure surged out of the trees with a growl.
I squeezed the trigger, feeling the release of the string beneath my touch.
The bolt leapt from the crossbow with a fierce twang, slicing through the air with deadly precision.
It struck true, embedding itself into the figure with a satisfying thud.
The figure halted, swaying as if it were drunk, then fell to its knees with a cry of pain.
It made another sound, this time heart-stopping in its familiarity. I knew that voice.
I’d known it from the moment I was born.
“M-mother?” I gasped, dropping the crossbow. It slammed heavily against my hip, still attached by its leather strap, but I scarcely felt it. “No.”
My mother clutched the grass, steadying herself against the tremors moving through her body. The bolt had struck her soundly in her shoulder. Blood wept from the wound in a dark stream, nearly black in the torchlight.
“I didn’t know,” I choked out, numbly reaching for her. “I thought you were a—”
I froze, noticing the discoloration on her knuckles. The bloody rabbit clenched haphazardly between her fingers. The feral curve to her back. The missing shoes. And then, when she looked up, the two smears of shadow staining the skin under her eyes. Corruption.
“Oh, Esmer. How pathetic of you to act like you care,” Mother growled, lips peeling back in a savage grin. Her teeth were red, stained bright by a cut splitting her lip. “You may be beautiful, but you’re rotten on the inside. Such a mockery of your sister. What a shame.”
Elliot shouted from somewhere behind me, his voice a strange, piercing warning.
I stood with a stumble. “Elliot, run! Get Father. This isn’t Mother.”
Mother shook her trembling limbs into stillness.
“Oh, if you had just kept sleeping,” she said in a voice that was hers, and wasn’t.
A demon’s voice, rattling like bones over gravel, layered over her softer timbre.
“But you had to go outside, didn’t you? Had to meddle where it wasn’t needed.
I was just gathering some provisions for our trip tomorrow.
” I spun around, making to sprint for the house, but Mother was faster.
She dropped the rabbit and grabbed my face, squeezing her fingers around my throat before I could even register the movement.
“I’ve come for you and your softhearted brother.
I was going to take my time—savor your Corruption—but it’s too late for that,” the demon inside her snarled, its voice darkening.
As she dug her nails into my skin, blood pooled from her fingers and slid down my neck.
“I’d have one more babe to hunt, but she’s already dead. ”
She pinned me to the damp, rot-smelling ground as I screamed, clawing at her face, kicking at her shins, but it was useless, useless.
“Let her go!” Elliot sobbed, slamming his bucket hard into the side of her head.
Mother’s bloodshot eyes widened. I expected her to fall over—any ordinary person would have been knocked unconscious by the blow. But she merely stood up, spat some blood from her mouth, and snatched the blanket that had fallen from Elliot’s shoulders.
“Oh, Elliot. I would have saved you for last.”
Mother threw Elliot to the ground, easily overpowering him despite the injury to her shoulder, and pulled the blanket tight over his mouth and nose.
I staggered to the nearest torch, head spinning and legs threatening to give out.
Elliot was going to die, and this demon—this animal within my mother—would kill me next without hesitation.
But first she’d kill Elliot.
I heaved the torch from the dirt, fighting to stay conscious even as my vision blurred. A troubling decision was rapidly forming in my mind, desperate to sink its claws in before fear took over and rendered me useless.
“Your mother and father damned your village,” the demon inside her growled, stuffing part of the blanket into Elliot’s mouth and wrenching his arm away when he tried to pull it free. “Damned you, too. They made a desperate bargain for your safety, but I overcame. We always overcome.”
But first she’d kill Elliot.
The sound I made was unlike anything I’d ever heard: raw grief and primal terror.
It propelled me forward as I raised the torch and swung it hard at Mother’s face.
I hit her again, this time lighting her cloak on fire.
She immediately fell to the side, rolling in the dirt as she fought to remove her cloak, but the fire was quicker.
“Esmer,” Mother moaned, this time sounding more like herself. She knelt while the flames crawled higher. “No. Did I…? What am I…?”
Elliot sobbed in my arms, utterly horrified. I needed to get him inside. I needed to get Father, and—
“Elena!” Father screamed, half running, half sliding into Mother. He hissed in pain as he threw her cloak aside, stomping it into the ground until the flames were nothing but smoke.
“Esmer’s a vile girl,” the demon inside Mother condemned, its voice breaking and stumbling into cries as smoke curled around her ears. She clung to Father’s arms, glaring at me. “She tried to kill me, Galen. I fear we’ve raised a monster. She’s Corrupt—”
“You’re the one who’s Corrupt,” I gasped, taking deep breaths and trying not to pass out. I dug my feet into the ground, desperate for sensation to return to my body. “Father, just—just look at her.”
“Stop talking,” Father snapped. “Enough.”
“But she’s right,” Elliot cried. “Mother hurt us. She’s not herself.”
“Just. Stop. Talking.”
“But—”
“Give me the crossbow,” Father commanded coldly, holding out his hand.
For I had already aimed the next bolt at Mother’s heart.
“Get up,” I said shakily to my mother, defiant. “You’re both going to walk to the cellar and wait there until the Light Bringer can assess you. It’s protocol.”
“Give me the crossbow, Esmer,” Father commanded again. The hint of something other lingered in the underbelly of his words, making my skin crawl. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“If you don’t start moving, I will shoot this bolt through her heart. I won’t let her demon hurt Elliot again.”
“You’re—”
“I’ll do it!” I screamed, switching my aim from her heart to Father’s. “Go now!”
My hands shook violently as I directed them into the cellar, its weathered entrance like the dark, gaping maw of some terrible beast. I ignored the wildflowers that peeked through the stone and shouldered the door shut behind them, quickly wrapping chains over the lock to secure it firmly in place.
Elliot, hysterical, ran to the village to get help, and I dropped to my knees, retching into the grass.
Dawn was hours away, and the stars should have been bright and sparkling.
But darkness, leaking in through the trees, swallowed them all.