Chapter 22 Des
Des
Reporting Aurelie’s demon to Commander Yew was one of the hardest things Des had ever forced himself to do, and that was truly
saying something. But even if he had been willing to risk his own safety, he couldn’t jeopardize Daisy’s—nor that of the civilians
who would suffer if Aurelie’s inventing wasn’t stopped. He had been the one to discover her in the first place, the one who
had been tasked with watching her, and that meant this was his responsibility. He cursed her uncle for not returning when
he was supposed to, for not keeping an eye on her himself. For putting Des in an impossible situation with a girl he was afraid
he cared too much for.
It had been late Monday night by the time he made it to Commander Yew’s office, but the man seemed to be awake at all hours,
writing in files that no one else ever saw, because they were kept locked up.
“Whitlow,” he said when Des knocked on his open door. “It’s late. What are you doing up?”
“I just came from the university, sir. I need to report a demon consorter.”
Yew placed his quill down and leveled Des with his stony gaze. “If this is about Miss Blake—”
“Sir, I saw it myself. Inside her secret laboratory, where she . . .” He had to swallow before he could say the word. “Where I have cause to believe she invents things. She and her professor are working together to create demons, and while they seem to eradicate most of them, there
is one living on the Wisteria campus. She needs to be stopped.”
There. He’d done it. He’d turned her in. And now he could stop thinking about her and focus on what really mattered.
Unfortunately, there was no immediate relief. Only an awful, sinking dread.
Yew remained silent, that iron gaze never wavering. Finally, he sighed and said, “Take a seat, son.”
Des did as he was told, though a strange sensation washed over him. Yew had never called him that before. No one ever had.
And he realized in that moment he’d been waiting to hear that word for his entire fucking life.
“Whitlow, you’re an excellent guard. I’ve told you this, again and again, because I’ve known you since you were a child. You’ve
always needed reassurance that you were doing the right thing, even though I’ve never met a more diligent and dedicated soldier.
So tonight, I’m going to reiterate that you’ve done the right thing.”
Des felt the tension in his shoulders subside a fraction. “Thank you, sir.”
“I’m sending you out with the Iron Swords for your first mission. You’ll be back in plenty of time for your promotion. In
the meantime, stay away from the university. I don’t want you feeling the need to check up on that girl. I’ll handle her myself.”
Des nodded. Aurelie was not his problem any longer. He’d done his duty, the way he always had. Perhaps she’d been put in his life as a test. And if that were the case, he had passed. He was a good man. A good soldier.
So why did he still feel so awful?
He hoped that for once in her life, Daisy wouldn’t wait up for him, that he wouldn’t have to confront what he’d done. It was
easier to pretend that Aurelie would always be in her lab, tinkering with her beakers and hanging up bundles of herbs to dry,
writing in her silly notebooks and tying ribbons around her throat. A throat he desperately wanted to kiss. Because apparently
he’d lost his mind entirely.
But Daisy was there, as always, curled up and dozing on his bed. In that moment, he wished he loved her as more than a friend.
It was impossible now. They knew each other too well, had spent too much time filthy and angry and afraid to allow any sort
of romantic feelings to blossom. But life would have been much simpler if they could.
“Hey,” he said, nudging her gently. “You’re in the wrong bunk, Shaw.”
She blinked and curled away from him, clearly not intending to move. With a sigh, he crawled in next to her, wincing as something
cold and hard dug into his ribs.
“What is this?” he asked, lifting an iron key from the sheets.
“It’s Aurelie’s key to the university,” Daisy murmured. “I stole it.”
“You what?”
“Quiet. You’ll wake everyone.” Daisy finally rolled back toward him. “I took it off of her when she fainted, remember? To
let us into the gates?”
“I remember,” Des said, voice strained. “I thought you gave it back to her.”
“I was going to.” She shrugged sheepishly. “Then we saw the demon in her laboratory, and I thought it might be handy to hang
on to this.”
“Why? Were you expecting me to break onto campus?”
“Probably not. But you never know.” Daisy sat up, apparently realizing she wasn’t going to get any sleep without an explanation.
“Look. Aurelie may have a demon living in her lab, but we don’t know what it was doing there. She attempted to kill a natia, which means she’s not a demon sympathizer.”
“Even being sympathetic to one demon is enough,” Des said. They both knew the law, both knew the consequences. So did Aurelie.
“But what if her knowledge could be helpful?”
Aurelie was a lot of things, but helpful wasn’t one of them. “What do you mean?”
“She has experience with demons, right?”
“She says she doesn’t.”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “A lie, obviously. But how many civilians do you know of who’ve encountered demons and lived to tell
about it?”
Des thought for a moment. A few, maybe, but none who hadn’t been severely injured in the attack. “Point taken. She has knowledge
of demons that even we may not.” Including verita, it seemed. “Nonviolent encounters haven’t been studied.”
“Right. Because we didn’t think they were possible.
And Aurelie has been living with a demon!
She’s a scientist, Des. She’s smart, and insightful, and we know she’s faced demons before, based on her behavior tonight.
Isn’t there a chance that if she’s studying demons, she knows things we don’t?
Things that might actually help us make Wisteria safer for everyone? ”
Des inhaled deeply, trying to quell a rising sense of doom, and let it out slowly. “Yes, Daisy, it’s possible. But it’s too
late. I already turned her in.” He held out the key.
Daisy patted his shoulder and climbed out of the bed, ignoring his outstretched hand. “I’m sure if you went to the university
first thing tomorrow, you could catch her. But it’s entirely up to you, Des. Get rid of it, if you don’t think it could be
useful. If you don’t think there’s some chance Aurelie Blake isn’t as useless as you claim she is.”
“Daisy—”
“Goodnight, Destroyer.”
“Daisy,” Des hissed, but she had already disappeared in the dark.
Thanks to Daisy, Des got no sleep that night, and by mid-morning, he was on his way out of the city with the Iron Swords,
no time to visit Aurelie even if he’d wanted to. They were on horseback, which Des, despite his name, had never been truly
comfortable with. Even these destriers—black and gray stallions with the hooves of draft horses and withers higher than Des’s
head—shouldn’t have to bear so much weight, though they did it admirably.
He rode next to Aspen, his thoughts returning again and again to Aurelie as he tightened his grip on the iron key tied to
a leather thong around his neck, unable to use it but equally unable to leave it behind.
By the time they reached the village, it was dusk, and Des was afraid that they might be too late.
If the demon had fed on human flesh already, it could be even larger than when they’d departed that morning.
The village, which lay directly between Wisteria City and Hellebore, another large city, didn’t have its own Iron Guard, and the platoon in Hellebore was already stretched thin, covering several other outlying villages.
They went directly to the creator’s house, where his newly widowed wife and their three children waited. There would be no
catching this inventor alive; his illegal activity had cost him the ultimate price.
“If it’s all right, I’d like to help question the family,” Des said, earning an odd look from Aspen. “I’ve never collected
a witness statement,” he explained. The other Iron Swords agreed to wait outside, not wanting to overwhelm the family.
“Be quick. And take notes.” The order came from Lieutenant Commander Thorne, a man Des bore grudging respect for but had never
liked. Thorne was short and stocky, with a neck nearly as thick as his head. He had the most kills of any hunter in the Iron
Guard, and the ego to go along with it.
The young widow, a Mrs. Piper, and her children were huddled together on a sofa, looking as afraid of Des as though he were
a demon himself. “It’s all right,” Des said as he sat in a chair across from them. “We’re just here to ask a few questions.”
The widow nodded, quietly asking her oldest son to take the other two children upstairs.
“I’ll make some tea,” Aspen offered, heading off toward the kitchen.
“Can you tell me what happened, Mrs. Piper?” Des said, trying to be as gentle as possible.
“Did your husband make something illegal?” Seeing the concern on the woman’s face, he tried for a soft smile.
“You’re not in any trouble. We just need to know for our records, to help prevent things like this from happening again. ”
“Our well was contaminated,” she said, her voice raspy from crying. “Something must have died in it, or . . . I don’t know.
But we couldn’t dig a new well, and we were desperate for clean water.”
Unease twisted Des’s gut. “So your husband . . . ?”
“He created a filter using sand. I didn’t understand how it worked, just that it did. We finally had clean water again. But
he decided to tinker with it, to see if he could make it more effective.” She broke off in sobs. “He didn’t know he’d invented
anything. He just wanted to keep us safe!”
“Why didn’t you ask for assistance from your local magistrate?”
She released a watery sigh. “This isn’t the city, Lieutenant. The local government doesn’t have that kind of money. We’re
on our own.”
Des was relieved when Aspen returned with the tea and sat next to the woman, offering her a cloth napkin to dry her tears.
He thought of all the vials and jars in Aurelie’s laboratory, how he’d assumed everything she worked on was for her own amusement.
But Mr. Piper, even the person whose verita killed Des’s parents . . . who was to say what pushed them to invent. Was it really so terrible to want a better life? If
there really was no help from the government, how were people expected to survive hardship?
Another Iron Sword poked his head in the doorway. “Demon’s been spotted just south of here. We’re going after it.”
“Come on,” Aspen said to Des, and before he knew what was happening, they were all back on their horses, heading south at a breakneck speed that allowed for no conversation.
They reached a fenced pasture and dismounted as soon as they saw what they were looking for, the horses balking at the gruesome
sound of flesh being torn from bones. The verita was in the pasture, stooped over a sheep’s carcass, while the rest of the flock was bleating frantically, huddled in a mass
as far from the demon as the fence would allow.
Des began to draw his sword but was held back by one of Thorne’s gauntleted fists. “Let it pick off a few more before you
kill it.”
Des, sure he’d heard incorrectly, could only stare at the man blankly.
Aspen stepped up to the fence next to him and waited for Thorne to walk away before leaning toward him. “It’s protocol.”
“What’s protocol?”
“To let the demons cause a little extra damage before we kill them.”
“What are you talking about? Why?”
Aspen stared out at the pasture, where the demon was now loping toward the flock, which broke apart in panic at its approach.
Her short hair was ruffled by the passing breeze, her brown eyes seeming untroubled as the demon leapt on its next victim.
“It’s the Crown,” she said, voice low, as though someone might overhear them. “The demons are useful, you see.”
Des took a step back.
“Don’t look so shocked, Whitlow. If demons didn’t damage property every now and again, people would be tempted to start inventing
more.”
“You mean the king allows this to happen?”
She turned to face him. “Where do you think Commander Yew’s orders come from?”
A cold, sinking sensation washed over Des, and he steadied himself against the fence. “And the people?”
“What people?”
“The ones who get slaughtered by demons. Does the king allow that, too?”
She shrugged. “Maybe, every now and then. Better than the entire population of Wisteria, though.”
Des gripped the fence so hard the wood splintered.
At that, the demon raised its head and sniffed the wind, as if realizing there was human flesh nearby for the first time.
Its large red eyes were like two torches glowing in the darkness.
“Well, no waiting around now. Come on,” Aspen said, reaching for her sword. “Time to put all that anger to good use.”
That night, after the demon was killed by Lieutenant Commander Thorne and everyone went to a nearby inn to celebrate with
beer and war stories, Des made some excuse about feeling ill and headed upstairs.
The truth was, he did feel ill, and while a drink may have helped, pretending everything was fine wouldn’t. A man had lost his life simply for
trying to take care of his family. A woman was trembling in her bed, wondering what it would mean for her family that her
husband had died a traitor, perhaps not yet aware that she would get no government assistance because of it. And meanwhile,
another farmer had lost half his flock to a demon that could have been killed far sooner.
Was no one else in the Iron Guard bothered by the fact that they risked their lives every day for something their government seemed to want to perpetuate? That the Crown found convenient because it kept its citizens in line? He knew it was no coincidence he was
learning all this now that he was going to be promoted. No doubt he’d be expected to keep this information to himself, as
his superiors did. Just as the king was exerting control over his subjects, Commander Yew was exerting control over the junior
guards, who all believed their cause was righteous, if not downright holy.
He fell into a fitful sleep, his dreams dark and disturbing, morphing into a nightmare of the wolflike thrall chasing him
down, as defenseless as the sheep in their pasture.
When it finally had him pinned on his back beneath it, Des stared up into two massive red eyes, its hot, putrid breath steaming
onto his skin. Just as it was about to sink its teeth into his throat, he reached for Aurelie’s key and lashed out, as if
that tiny piece of iron could somehow save him.
He woke screaming, the key clenched in his fist, his heart hammering beneath it.
Commander Yew had said he’d take care of Aurelie Blake. But what if she was just another useful tool in his arsenal? What
if he knew all along that she was surrounded by demons?
What if he knew, and he was going to let her die anyway?