11
I collapse to the ground, trembling, after hours of enduring Kripot’s torture. I’m gasping for air as though there’s none around me, and muscle soreness has long settled into my thighs.
“There’s… no point doing this,” I wheeze.
“Your performance is… pitiful,” Kripot grunts, struggling to speak. I dismissively wave the criticism off; he has spent the entire day listing my faults. I wipe the sweat and blood from my bruised hand, injured on an obstacle course where sharp rocks littered the ground.
“We’re done for today,” Kripot declares. “Lizander will—”
“My love!” Nárs plummets down beside us like a bomb. With shining eyes, he stares at Kripot, hands clasped in a pleading gesture. “Aren’t you waiting for me?”
Longingly, he steps closer to the blue giant, who recoils. I rise from the earth, eyebrows raised, observing them.
“I thought… Lizander…” Kripot mumbles.
“Do you see this, Flower?” The orange-haired man turns to me, indignant. “Why does he do this to me? Everyone would rather be with that clumsy Lizander instead of admiring me!”
He points under his eyes to where two striped tattoos begin, then traces them down to the base of his ear.
“Do you see this?” he explains with a whine. “My dark circles disappear!”
He puts his hand on his hip, defiantly straightening himself as if offended.
“But it doesn’t matter,” he declares. “You’ll be mine, eventually!”
His eyes flirtatiously flash at Kripot, who seems unsure how to handle the situation. Of the three of us, only Nárs appears to be enjoying himself.
“It’s true, Darya sent Lizander,” Nárs interjects.
I cannot help but notice that, besides me and Léthé, only he calls him that – everyone else says Kraldem.
“But I heard Lotte was practicing with you, and by Diávolo’s fire, I wouldn’t have missed that! I screamed until that dirty Lizander was on the ground, begging Darya to bring me to the surface! But you, Kripot, I looked down on you! You big, stern giant!”
He shivers and strokes his face with his long, black claws, causing me to clear my throat.
“Oh.” Nárs looks at me as if just noticing I’m here. “Right, work first!”
He blows a smacking kiss in Kripot’s direction before turning towards me. Shaking his head, he appraises me with pity.
“Diávolo’s fire! They didn’t spare you today!”
“You don’t say…” I reply, laughing mockingly.
“Enough fun for today! Let’s go!” He unfurls the enormous wings protruding from his shoulder blades and reaches out both hands to me.
“No,” I assert, realizing what he wants. “I won’t fly with you anywhere.”
Nárs looks offended.
“So, you’ll limp with an injured ankle all the way to your room?”
I shrug. “Yes.”
“Oh, Diávolo, burn me, Flower. Don’t make this drama! Maybe you’re afraid I’ll lick you again? You know I promised not to!”
“I don’t trust you. And yes, I’d rather drag myself there.”
“Alone among the demons?”
I stare intensely at him. Demons would kill me before I reached my room. Nárs inches closer.
“Or maybe the problem is… that I’m not the one you’d like to travel with?”
His suggestive smile makes me blush. I slowly inhale. Exhaustion pulls me down. I just want a bed, a hot bath, and some solitude. I sigh deeply.
Nárs, understanding my decision has been made, starts dancing with clenched fists. Extending his arms, he invites me towards him. Reluctantly, I step closer, wrapping my arms around his neck.
He effortlessly pulls me into his arms, then turns to Kripot.
“Don’t be jealous, my love. You know I’m only yours!” He winks, leaving the blue giant swallowing hard. I roll my eyes.
I hiss as we ascend, and soon we’re gliding above the fluffy sheep-like clouds. I try not to look down, but of course, I do so instinctively. In the distance, I spot a blue dot taking massive leaps through the mountains.
“He’s…”
“Kripot,” Nárs responds. “He can’t fly.”
I look at him in surprise.
“Not everyone here is a demon?”
“If you come from humans, you become a demon. Or a herebia, but that doesn’t happen in Filizi. Or you die if you stay here. At least, only a few birds survive the prison. The cave would collapse on them.”
“Birds?”
“That’s what I call the herebias, Flower,” Nárs continues. “Their wings resemble those of a storm-beaten dove. There’s nothing good about them, though they themselves don’t know it.”
“And what is Kripot, then?”
“He’s neither a demon nor a herebia. He’s a native of this world. Don’t get me wrong, you could still be a demon or an angel if you’re born here, but we haven’t been able to reproduce for a long time.”
“So how…”
“We collect humans, and they become what they always were: demons.” Nárs smiles at me.
I ponder this.
“Much of the disappearances of humans, is because…?”
“Yes, it’s from us,” he affirms. “Or from the birds.”
“How do you handle it without raising suspicion?”
“I like it when a child disappears without a trace,” Nárs says, licking his pale lips. “But Darya likes to leave evidence and trails. I think it’s unnecessary. Parents just keep searching if there are tracks. Herebias have their silly habits too.”
“You kidnap children?!”
“If we didn’t, breaking everyone’s spirit would take as painfully long as yours is proving. Honestly, I don’t understand what Darya plans to do with you. We use a different method for children…”
“What?” I ask sharply. “What do you do to them?”
Every time I think of children, I see my brother’s face. The fixation is too old, and I can’t consciously do anything about it. Darya mentioned breaking demon-blooded ones when he dragged me into the dark crevice in the café. But children? What can they do to them?
“You’ll see someday.” Nárs shrugs, as if the kidnapping of someone’s child doesn’t evoke any emotion for him. It probably doesn’t.
“Oh my God,” I murmur in disbelief, and Nárs laughs bitterly.
“Why do you give a name to a phenomenon you don’t even know exists?”
“What do you mean?”
Nárs rolls his eyes.
“He doesn’t exist. God. Even if he did, why would you bother with him?
What’s the worth of a god who gave you Hell?
Who forgot to mention that, oh, there’s still a world before the real Heaven and Hell, where many of you will end up?
If you ask me, he doesn’t exist. If he does, he’s the evilest you could ever meet. ”
“Have you ever met him? Has anyone?”
“I haven’t. I said he doesn’t exist. But… Darya claims he has, apparently.” For the first time, I notice uncertainty in Nárs’s voice. Darya might have met a god or God… That’s a frightening thought. What have I gotten myself into? Why me?
“Where are the children?” I ask, envisioning blonde hair and a button nose in my mind.
“Here,” Nárs says, starting to descend suddenly, “there,” he adds, twirling around, “and over there.” We touch the ground.
I break free from his arms, my stomach turning due to his earlier antics.
“You asshole!” I scream at him, but he pays no attention.
“Oh, Lily Girl, didn’t you think I’d add a little fun?” Nárs asks, leading us to the entrance of a cave.
He moves along the ground as fast as he does in the air. Limping, I join him.
As we enter the dark cave, the bicolored light emanates from the stones, providing illumination. It doesn’t take us long to reach my cell. Nárs opens the door, and I slip past him.
“Tomorrow, I’ll take you again, Lily Girl! I’ll be your chauffeur ! Is that what they call it nowadays?”
“Yes,” I say, turning away.
Nárs bids farewell, but I’m not paying attention anymore. As the lock clicks, I collapse onto the floor, arms around my knees. Yellow eyes flash towards me, scrutinizing. I won’t cry in front of them. To hell with everyone. To hell with Darya!
What’s the point of all this? My nightmares have come to life, and I continue living in them.
Even if I put an end to it and go back home, they’d lock me up in a closed ward because they think I’ve lost my mind.
I would scream and ask why I deserve this, but deep down I know the answer.
The truth is so terrifying that I dare not speak it.
Bengt’s vacant gaze passes through my head.
He suffered because of me, so I deserve this.
I wipe my eyes. I should wash my wounds. The tub stands filled again in the middle of the room, its gilded edges warmly inviting. Next to it lies a golden bucket and a snowy-white sheet beside mud-brown vials. I approach them. A small note awaits me, its edges burned by fire.
Start with the Verbascum. Pour hot water over it. Apply the éhillea directly to the wound. D
The letters curve so beautifully that I envy the Kraldem’s handwriting.
With a hiss, I remove the bandages from my ankle and forearm, where Kripot treated me after I fell during rock climbing.
I place them on the chair next to the tub, then begin to gently wipe the wounds with the fresh cloth soaking in the bucket.
I try to be careful, but even the slightest touch is painful.
Bengt's face pops up in my mind as does Nárs’s horrendous grin and Kripot’s expressionless gaze. I feel Darya’s touch on me. Be mine. And I didn’t resist. What came over me? Darya is a demon. A disturbingly handsome demon who confuses me with his cynical smile.
I hiss again as I press the cloth onto my wound with more force than necessary.
I shouldn’t think about anything else but this.
I do as Darya says, applying the éhillea-labeled bandage directly to my wound, then glance at the other vial.
There’s no hot water in it, only in the tub.
I look around, and on my bed, I see a sizable silver tray.