Chapter 10 #2
People shout at his retreat, voices joining in with outrage as the shock wears off. It flings against our Govern’s twitchy back, but he doesn’t face them. He crawls back to his manor, like a bug hiding in his hole.
Abandoning us to our fate.
I look around, inwardly kicking myself. I shouldn’t have lingered. I have to get out of here right now. The crowd starts to recede like a tide, none of us wanting to be caught in the swell of the repercussions.
I start to back away, but before I can even take a full step, the Piper lifts his pipe. The instrument notches between his lips, and a melody suddenly webs into the air like a net, casting out with a sinister sound.
And snags over the crowd.
Everyone, including me, is caught in place. My body jolts beneath the controlling weave, feet sticking against the stained cobbles as I gasp in fear. Everyone else becomes glued in place too.
The song soaks in like a sopping wet weight.
He plays for long minutes, and more people drift forward down every alleyway, drawing nearer in a sleepwalking state until our crowd bulges.
And then, I hear the song shift.
There’s a scream. Movement within the mass.
The only thing I seem to be able to do is whirl my head around to look. A person jerks forward, moving strangely. The man breaks out of the throng and starts to walk on the road, passing the Piper.
My heart thumps as another person does the same. And another. Right before my eyes, people are drawn away from the rooted gathering. They weave between the immobile bodies, their faces terrified, movements stiff and forced just like the Rats.
The Piper turns in different directions, walking up and down the clumped crowd, playing his song. I don’t know how he’s choosing, don’t know if it’s random or not, but one by one, some are gripped by his music and tugged forward.
I see fae and fiends.
Men, women. Children.
Furious disgust ripples through me when I see the kids snatched from the crowd and forced to stumble ahead. Helpless cries shatter the air, but no one can try to stop what’s happening. No one can reach out and help the people being led forward. We can do nothing but watch.
The chosen walk down the street in a perfect, unsettling line.
Dozens get drawn out.
Every time another desperate wail sounds, I flinch like I’ve been whipped again. I frantically try to count the figures to keep track.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Fifty.
Seventy.
I lose count though, unable to see everyone. My eyes sting at the sounds of people crying, my heart cracking open for the stolen, all while my stomach twists in fear that I might be next.
Please don’t let him take me.
Finally, the collection slows, until no more people are being pulled from the crowd, and a breath of relief shakes out of me.
But my aunt always says, Don’t write your letters before the pulp has dried.
And now I’m the fool with soggy ink.
Because just when I think I’m safe, the Piper pivots, and our gazes lock.
A key turns.
His brown eyes sear into mine. They’re molten and destructive, and burning with so much hate.
My breath disintegrates.
Right at the sharp line of his jaw, his stars blaze to life. They would’ve been hidden beneath his bristle if they hadn’t flared so bright.
His constellation is a five-pointed warning. A fortune that glares.
Defender. Thief. Liar.
The whispered words scorch into my mind as brightly as his starry specks.
My heart slams against my chest as he walks over and stops just in front of me.
The air around us seems to singe.
Up close, he’s a shock of terrible beauty. A harbinger of ruthlessness. Jaw sharp, stubble scraping, nose straight, cheeks cutting. His lowered brow smokes over smoldering eyes, and his frame towers over me.
Time seems to slow. I suck in a frantic breath as his lips control the flow of his music, and he blows out a chilling sequence that echoes in my ears.
Like a doll stuffed with straw, my body goes rigid. Drops of blood drip down my stiffened spine.
His nostrils flare.
Silvery vapor trails from his instrument and curls around his face, making my vision haze.
His song suffocates every other sound.
Every other sense.
He plays, and I’m so caught in terror, so snared in his power, there’s nothing to do but listen to the music that chisels into my bones.
And suddenly, that song, it’s no longer a net. It’s a harmony hooked with bait.
And I bite.
No no no no no—
A terrible feeling slices into me as I step toward him. He backs up, eyes on me with the intensity of a stifling hold.
And I move with him.
I try to stop myself. Try to turn the other way and run, escape . . .
But I can’t.
The music has stabbed through my gut. If I don’t answer its beckon, it feels like it’ll rip through my organs and drag out my corpse.
I’m led to the back of the line.
The Piper breaks eye contact, and only then do I breathe again. An inhale grappled through a fisted chest.
I walk.
In a desolate, macabre parade, while the rest of Hamelyn is frozen and watching.
Our line moves onward, my footsteps forced, and I’m so terrified that even the wounds on my back aren’t enough to compete.
My situation truly settles in when I near the city’s entrance.
Horror consumes me as I look at the wall, but I can’t stop walking. Can’t stop following.
I’m caught.
Like the rest of the chosen, I’m in the Piper’s current, unable to break free. He moves to the front, leading us like a shepherd with his flock.
My lips tremble and tears pool in my eyes, while onlookers watch us go in dismay. In pity. In relief that it’s not them being taken.
Please stop this, I beg the Fates. I have to get home!
But my plea goes unanswered, and we’re led right through the city’s gates.
When they slam shut behind me, the iron clangs with finality, and horror reverberates down my limbs.
I’ve survived the Plagues and the whipping, only to befall a much worse fate. A fate that is nothing but a terrible unknown.
Because I’ve just been stolen by the Pied Piper.
And I think that, maybe, I should have begged for death instead.