Chapter 8 #2
Gerald’s gaze flicked between Jasher and me, calculating, distrustful. After a long beat, he nodded stiffly. “Hold for my command.”
The archers eased their grips but didn’t release Jasher from their sightlines.
I fought a rise of panic. Think!
The monstra nudged Jasher with its snout, confused, restless, and clearly expecting to work together to escape. My executioner didn’t move, still bound by my words.
Tears welled, blurring my vision. I’d come here to end the reign of the monstra. This shouldn’t matter.
But it did.
There wasn’t another way. It was the beast or Jasher.
He was going to hate me more for it.
If I could just whisk down there. Explain what I was about to do. Apologize. Fall into his arms and sob.
Guilt and shame seared my throat as I quietly called, “Kill it.”
Jasher’s jaw locked. The veins in his neck bulged. His eyes glittered. His muscles trembled as he fought the command.
Fought me.
Gerald stiffened, as if gearing to give another order.
Anguish tore through me. How could I do this to him?
“Kill it,” I repeated, louder. Harder.
Still he fought.
The monstra roared so ferociously, I would swear the sound toppled mountains all the way back in Kansas. Then it turned its burning gaze on me.
Pawed the sand once. Twice.
It knew who to blame, and it planned to help its brother.
A blur of molten rage, it launched forward.
Gerald shoved his son behind him. Others scrambled to flee from the arena. Arrows flew at it, bouncing off its scales.
Hot tears continued to rain down my cheeks. The creature’s chain snapped taut, flinging it into the sand. Upon impact, the links weakened, the gaps between them spreading wider, soon to break altogether. Another couple of yanks, and the monstra would gain its freedom.
I would die, and everyone else would fall with me. And still, I didn’t move. I just stood there, crying, knowing what I had to do.
“Oracle,” Gerald shouted, as chaos rippled through the crowd.
Words burst from me. “Kill it, Jasher. Kill it now,” I whispered, hating myself.
Finally, he moved. In one flawless motion, he flung his axe. The blade flipped over itself as it soared…then slammed into the creature’s skull with unnatural strength, cutting through the steel-hard scales.
The monstra shrieked and thrashed, tail whipping with such power it caught Jasher across the chest and sent him flying. He hit the sand, a lash of crimson wetting his shirt. I gasped, a hand flying to my mouth.
No! No, no, no. I made to run down to him, but Gerald caught my wrist, stopping me.
The axe remained buried deep in the monstra, but the creature didn’t die. Not yet. It stumbled toward Jasher, betrayal burning in its eyes, drool sizzling where it fell.
Jasher rolled up ready, blood leaking from his mouth.
“Jasher!” I screamed, half warning, half prayer. “Survive, whatever you have to do.”
The monstra lunged in his direction. Jasher ducked the strike and slammed his fist into the creature’s jaw.
That moment, the real battle began. Two beasts fought with brutal determination. They bit and clawed and grappled with expert precision, supernatural speed, and a savagery no mere mortal could have withstood.
I hugged myself. Jasher would forever hate me for this. I might forever hate myself. But at least he would live.
My Tinman landed a nasty blow. The monstra teetered, attempting to gain its bearings.
Climbing up its back, Jasher ripped the axe from its skull with a wet, tearing sound.
Blood sprayed in a steaming arc. Without pause, he drove the blade home again.
And again. Until the metal came out the other side.
The monstra staggered, choking on its own fiery blood. Its wings flared once, then its whole body collapsed, the light dimming in its eyes as smoke leaked from its nostrils.
Two beats of silence.
Cheers erupted, deafening and endless. Those jubilant cries soon coalesced into a song of deliverance. “Tonight we feast!”
I squeezed my eyes tight for one second, two. Then I faced the consequences of my actions.
Jasher stood over the carcass, chest heaving, hair plastered to his temples. He lifted his gaze to me, expression half triumph, half accusation, all malice. The look said: You did this.
I withered. I’d forced him to slay one of his own. A being he’d considered a brother. If he’d dared make me kill my mother or my father…
“I’m sorry,” I mouthed. Useless words. Not good enough. Nothing would be. What if there’d been another way, and I’d missed it?
He spit blood into the gurgling crimson spewing from the dead monstra.
The scent of iron filled my nostrils, drawing my attention to the crimson pool. Beneath the metallic stench of death, I detected a sweet pulse of life. The same one I’d encountered with the water in the hut. Despite my ragged state, that bloody water yanked at me, dragging me through the air.
Suddenly, I was standing beside Jasher. Confusion rocked me on my feet. How…why…?
The executioner’s eyes widened, then narrowed to slits. He raised his weapon, as if to strike me down.
Our audience went chillingly quiet again.
“No!” Gerald shouted. “Not our oracle!”
Knowing time was of the essence, my next moves critical, I buried every thought but that of survival.
“Work with me to save us both.” I threw the commands at Jasher.
“Retrieve the serpens-rosa dangling from the leader’s neck.
Meet me in the largest hut as quickly as possible.
” Where I’d left the backpack. “And give me the serpens-rosa, intact,” I added, covering all my bases. “Do what you must to survive.”
Orders given, I walked away, gait slow and steady. I’d promised not to run. But I hadn’t said I wouldn’t leave. Had mentioned nothing about not escaping. Just promised not to run. The wording mattered. Here, now, I could leave Gerald, exactly as hoped, as long as I maintained my leisurely pace.
As I neared a side door, an exit, chaos erupted behind me.
Archers unleashed their arrows as Jasher flew into the stands.
I watched over my shoulder. He ducked and dodged, avoiding injury.
Screams of panic and pain ebbed and flowed with heavy thuds.
Not the sounds of the easy snatch and grab I’d envisioned.
I winced. Jasher cut through the masses, no one safe from his wrath. He slashed through whoever got in his way, disarmed anyone who struck at him in the most brutal ways possible, and beheaded Gerald to pluck the vial from his neck.
I cringed inside and out, wishing I could change my command. I should’ve been more specific. No unnecessary deaths. But the compulsion didn’t care what I’d meant, only what I’d said.
Sniffling, I made my exit and continued strolling along the path, returning the way I’d come. People raced past, too afraid of being hunted by Jasher to mess with me. There. The hut. With Cluck Cluck still tethered across from it, forced to endure the cold without shelter.
Any survivors were gonna dine on monstra. They didn’t need my chicken, too.
I anchored her to my side and freed her from the tether. She didn’t attempt to escape as I entered Gerald’s shelter—and drew up short.
The blood-splattered Jasher stood near the fire pit, the necklace dangling in one hand, the pack hanging from the other, the axes strapped to his back.
“Your wish, my command.” He grated the words, his voice like smoke, and dropped the pack before tossing the vial my way. “Isn’t that right, princess?”
Guilt, shame, and questions grappled with my resolution. What if, what if, what if… “You may never forgive me, and that’s okay. I understand.” I would hate it, but I’d take my punishment like a big girl. “I was desperate and could think of no other way.”
He flicked his tongue over a too-sharp incisor. “You can’t understand,” he said softly. Soft, yes, yet still a scream. “No one has ever compelled you to murder a loved one.”
The denunciation lashed harder than a whip, and I ducked my head. “You’re right. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re not sorry. You would do it again.”
Yes. “Was he…was the monstra Anders or Reese?” I asked softly. No, wait. The timeline. They were still young, like Jasher himself.
This Jasher merely hissed at me.
“I did what I thought was necessary to save you.” Anything to save him.
“You wanted the monstra dead. That’s why you’re here, yes?”
I couldn’t deny it. I anchored the serpens-rosa around my neck and draped the pack over my shoulder, careful not to bang my cargo.
Noises broke out beyond the tent. Footsteps, mutterings.
“We should go,” he grated.
Clench. “This is Cluck Cluck, and she’s coming with us.
She isn’t to be harmed. We’ll exit the camp and take our chances in the forest.” The pitcher of water remained on the ground, exactly where I’d left it, drawing my gaze like a magnet.
Only a little liquid remained, and yet, still it called to me.
“Too late, princess,” Jasher snapped.
Furious trappers flooded into the tent, weapons drawn. Okay, so, no forest.
Driven by an instinct I didn’t understand, I darted over, grabbing Jasher’s hand along the way. I kicked over the pitcher.
The men advanced on us, all rage and hunger.
“Follow me,” I whispered to my Tinman. Then I stepped into the water…
I awoke with a start, the perfect whiff of damp dirt and blooming jasmine lingering in my nostrils. Heart drumming, I scanned my new surroundings. Wisps of fog danced over a pond, swirling with tiny orbs of light that quickly dissolved.
Confusion set in. I was half in, half out of the water. Before me, soft morning light bathed towering trees with ageless trunks wrapped in violet moss. Twisted roots wove through the earth, veins pulsing with life. Nearby, a scraggly chicken pecked at the ground.
A continuous slash of water accompanied the call of birds.
Why—memory returned in a rush. My return to Hakeldama. The trappers. Cluck Cluck. Betrayal. Jasher. Battle. Water.
Escape.
The teeniest, tiniest bit of triumph sparked through my horror. I’d carried us through the water, escaping Gerald without running. The question of how already had an answer, and I ground my molars. Elowen. Her serum hadn’t just opened floodgates to the past; it had changed me.
No doubt she would demand another “donation” for the antidote. A concern for tomorrow.
Thankfully, I spied no shimmery veils indicating hidden trapper territories… noticed no flesh-eating poppies, toxic sand pits, or singing sirenes. As safe as we’re gonna get.
Except—Jasher. The backpack. The serpens-rosa.
Frantic, I searched for all three, patting my neck for the vial while scanning the land…
yes! Vial still in place. The pack lay beyond arm’s reach, in a bed of wildflowers, and Jasher, well, he was clawing his way from the pond, weighed down by his wings.
I scrambled out first, snatching the too-heavy pack before he could claim it. Cluck Cluck never stopped pecking.
Jasher straightened with predatory grace and patient determination, a villain straight from a romantasy novel. He took a step forward, stomping on a cluster of silver-blue lilies that bloomed along the shore.
He was gorgeous but lethal, with water soaking the tattered remains of a shirt that clung to every hard-cut rope of muscle.
I dried in seconds, just as I’d done during my last trip to Hakeldama.
But this time, the moisture absorbed into my pores, as the water droplet had done in Gerald’s hut, and it was weird.
Guess that water hadn’t come from a magic well, after all.
Jasher and I squared off, an instant showdown. The forest itself seemed to suck in a breath. Wondering what came next?
Aggression rippled through his wings, a sign he prepared to take flight.
“Don’t you dare fly off,” I commanded.
He blew me a kiss full of venom. “How much do you love your newfound power, hmm?”
My cheeks flushed. “Have you remembered anything about me?” Please.
“Some,” he admitted, drawing out the “s,” turning the word into another hiss. “I’ve remembered you have killed me again and again and again.”
What! “I’ve never killed you.”
“Haven’t you?”
I opened my mouth to deny it a second time. Then I remembered he’d drunk a mysterious tonic, just like me. For all I knew, I had killed him in past incarnations. He could’ve been among the nameless, faceless hordes of monstra, and I’d slain him at the first opportunity.
I pressed a hand to my heart, saying, “I want you well, Jasher, not dead.”
“You will change your mind, but that isn’t my biggest problem.” His gaze raked over me slooowly. “Despite your heinous actions in other lives—and this one—I’ve begun to…not enjoy the thought of your death. As you can imagine, it’s quite distressing for me.”
Finally. A ray of hope. “You should probably lean into the feeling. The only way to overcome your challenges is to face them, amirite?”
“Hmm.” He made the non-committal, non-revealing noise while examining our surroundings. “The other side of Lawless Forest.” A dark shadow rose several inches from his skin, forming an outline before reabsorbing into his body.
Gasp. “You’re the one skulking about as a shadow, spying on me!”
“How interesting.” He tilted his head with eerie precision and grinned at me. It wasn’t a pleasant grin. “I didn’t hear affront in your voice but intrigue. Do you like being spied on, princess?”
Not an admission, but not a denial, either.
I had no desire to admit I was intrigued.
So, moving on. “We might as well set up camp here.” I could read the journal.
I didn’t want to face anyone else until I’d read what my father had to say.
Chin high, I told Jasher, “Do what you want, but remain where I can see you.”
He didn’t react, only cast me an assessing look. “Did I tell you how good you look in your new skin?”
New skin? Please tell me the serum hadn’t changed my appearance, too.
I rushed my gaze to my reflection in the water. Okay. No differences.
A bubble breached the surface, ripples spread out in sweeping circles. “Elowen?” I whispered, waiting, breath baited, furious with her all over again but also eager to see her. Except, she never appeared.
Disappointment set in. I straightened, asking Jasher, “What do you see?”
Another grin spread, this one the incarnation of carnality. “Well, well. You aren’t able to discern the alterations. Another interesting development.”
He turned from me and scaled a tree with ease, and chopped down a branch before jumping, landing on his feet, leaving me sputtering.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said then. “I’m sure you’ll discover the truth of your appearance… eventually.”