Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

MAEVYTH

T he fog of sleep lifted, and I stared up at a cloaked, dark figure looming over me, the lower half of his face hidden beneath a black mask with silver embellishments that glinted in the moon’s light. The upper half was barely discernible within the depths of his hood.

A stranger.

A stranger in my room.

A stranger in my room, staring down at me.

Reality struck like a zap of lightning across my skull, and I gasped, a scream cocked at the back of my throat ready to tear free.

A cold, sharp edge prodded my throat, the acute bite of a blade warning that, with one quick move, it would slice through my flesh like soft silk. Angry eyes lifted to mine. Even veiled by shadows, their irises blazed a golden yellow and orange, making the black pupils appear as eclipses that I feared looking at for too long. I’d never seen eyes so intense.

My body refused to move under a creeping paralysis that seemed to pin my limbs to the bed with invisible needles.

In a single breath, a swirling cloud of black surrounded the stranger.

I no more than blinked, and he disappeared.

As if he’d simply vanished.

The paralysis lifted, and shaken with nausea, I jolted upright, the scream I’d held withering to a terrified whimper. Tucking my knees close, I looked around the room.

Across from me, Aleysia quietly snored, entirely oblivious. The masked stranger was nowhere. A dream?

Another hallucination?

Clammy with sickness, I breathed hard through my nose, letting the rush of adrenaline settle inside me.

Hand trembling, I palpated my throat, and at the touch of damp skin, lifted it to find blood smeared over my fingertips. I practically leapt toward the window, peering down at the empty field and dirt road below. No sign of him there, either. As if I’d dreamed the whole thing.

The phantom sensation of that blade lingered across my neck, though.

A tapping sound steeled my muscles, and I spun around to the empty room, eyes searching for the source of the noise. I lowered my gaze to the floor, where the egg tottered from side to side. Moving on its own. As a twinge of excitement mingled with the fear still hammering through me, I crouched alongside the object, tracking the abrupt twitches.

A quiet crack announced a small fissure within the silvery lines of its surface, where a soft glow bled through. I watched in awe as the fissure widened, the crevice deepening, glowing brighter as it separated. Heart stammering in my chest, I reached out for the egg, running my fingertip through the soft radiance that heated my skin.

Another cracking sound. Another fissure.

A third crack sent another ray of light beaming toward the underside of my bed.

A tiny, silver claw slipped through the broader crevice, and I held my breath. Another followed. A chunk of the egg caved inward, creating a hole that grew bigger, as more chunks were broken away by those miniscule claws. A pointed maw, like a beak but lined with teeth, poked through, shifting and prodding, as though stuck. More of the egg cracked away, and a bony horn along the upper mandible lifted out of the destruction, giving way to a shiny, scaled, black creature with silvery eyes that matched its claws. Black wings lay tight against its body as it crawled out of the egg and stared up at me, drawing my attention to the small, silver crescents on either side of its face that glowed bright like the moon. Four taloned feet, each with three forward facing claws, and one hind claw left me questioning what kind of bird it could’ve been. Certainly nothing I’d ever seen before. The hind legs appeared thicker, stronger than those in the front, though all of them were equally vicious looking.

The little beast reminded me of a miniature dragon, like those that Grandfather Bronwick would tell me about from books he’d read to me as a child. It fluttered, spreading its wings outward to a span that defied its small size. Perhaps a foot in length on either side, before it tucked them back.

Beneath the small pulse of excitement racing through my blood, hummed fear. I’d never seen anything like it before. Had no idea if it was docile, or vicious.

Wide eyes gave it a cartoonish appearance, baby-like, and I reached out an open palm toward it, curious if it would jump there. It seemed to sniff my palm for a moment, running its beak over my skin. The dragon-bird stepped onto my palm, and I lifted it from the floor, into the light where I could study it closer.

“What are you?” I whispered in awe, noting the strange swirls embedded in its scaly flesh and over the long tail that, despite the creature appearing bird-like, seemed more akin to a lizard’s with its small spikes along the surface. The curvature of them, like tiny hooked blades, left me imagining them getting lodged into flesh.

It made a tiny chuffing sound in its throat that had me smiling. “You are the most curious little thing I’ve ever seen.”

It poked its beak at its claws, seeming to groom itself, and chuffed again.

A sharp sting bit into my palm, and I jerked my arm, knocking the creature from my hand. “Ouch!” I lifted my hand to find a tear across my palm, from where drops of blood leaked onto the floor.

It ran its claws over the pooled drops then brought them to its beak, but at a growling noise that I took as disappointment, it turned away from the blood.

Realization swept over me. “You’re hungry.”

Good grief, I hadn’t a clue what it ate. Birds ate bread and berries. I knew that much, having fed them on occasion, and though it clearly wasn’t like any bird I’d ever encountered, it did have bird features. With a glance toward Aleysia, who remained snoring away, I let out a huff. “I’m going to fetch you some food, okay? Stay here. Do not move.”

It tipped its head as if trying to understand me.

I tapped a gentle finger against the floor. “Stay.”

It mimicked the movement with its claws on a quiet tap, the sight of which made me chuckle. Smart little creature.

I hustled across the room, down the staircase, and out of the door, peering down the corridor for any sign of movement. At that hour, I suspected everyone would be asleep. Tiptoeing down the second flight of stairs, I examined the cut on my hand, noting it had completely sealed shut already, the skin left without so much as a scratch. The sight of it had me skidding to a halt, frowning.

How? I’d thought for certain I’d have to wrap it again.

How were these small cuts healing so quickly? It made no sense.

A cold tingle palmed the back of my neck, and I shook it off, not wanting to think too much on it because dwelling would’ve surely stirred my anxiety, and I didn’t have the headspace to deal with that right then. Instead, I kept on toward the kitchen.

From the pantry, I grabbed a slice of bread from the bread box, and few of the berries from a basket beside it, popping a couple into my mouth. A rustling crinkle from behind jarred my muscles, and I turned to find a rat nibbling on a bag of seeds sat on the floor. I slapped a hand over my mouth, shielding the scream that begged to escape. A wild tremble moved through my bones, and I quietly scooted toward the door.

The rat paused its chewing and stared up at me, as if it just then noticed me, except the shells and crumbs lying about told me it’d been there a while.

A flash of black streaked across the floor.

The rat squealed, and I watched in horror as the creature from my bedroom wrangled it beneath its body and raked its sharp, front claws over the rat’s fur, peeling away the animal’s skin.

Mouth hanging open in shock, I stared at the glistening skinless rodent that, still alive, continued to twitch and snap its teeth. The creature pecked its beady eyes out next, tipping its head back to swallow them. Weakly, the rodent kicked at its captor, still fighting for its slowly fading life. It wasn’t until the black, scaled beast began ripping bits of flesh away, that the animal finally stilled, its skin lying in a small heap beside them.

I glanced down at the berries and bread in my hands, acknowledging what a sorry substitute they would’ve made, and placed them back in their respective containers. Within seconds, the creature had cleaned every bit of flesh from the bones, which it discarded beside the rat’s fur. Blood glistened over its mandibles as it teetered to the side, clearly flesh drunk, its belly rounded and full of rat meat. It stumbled toward me, and as it neared, with some hesitation, I knelt down to let it climb into my palm as before, where it curled into a ball.

Inhaling deep breaths to calm my racing heart, I forced myself not to look at the rat remains, and instead focused on the tiny little beast captured in my hand, who lay nuzzling my fingers.

“You may have repulsive eating habits, but I’ll admit, you’re terrifyingly cute,” I spoke on the cusp of a whisper. “Adorrifying. And chaotic. I think I’ll name you Raivox.”

Raivox had been a fierce Vonkovyan, who’d plundered and raided in the age of old. History books had always described him as a contradiction of charmingly violent. It seemed fitting for the little monster.

Eyes on the discarded remnants of rat that I’d have to clean before anyone else happened upon it, I carried Raivox out of the pantry and back up to my room. Gathering the quilt from my mattress, I made a meager little nest under my bed, and placed the already-sleeping creature within. Once again, I hustled down the staircase, to the pantry where the fur and bones still lay in a heap. With a rag I swiped from the shelf beside me, I gathered the bits of rodent and tossed it into the trash, then wiped up the drops of blood. I shoved the rag deep into the trash so as not to draw attention, and washed my hands with far more soap than I’d ever used in my life. It was as I headed back up the stairs that I heard a voice from the vent crying out for help.

Not again.

Slapping my palms to my ears, I hustled up the staircase.

After a quick check of Raivox, sound asleep beneath my bed, I wrapped myself in the blankets, covering my ears so as not to hear the voice again.

My thoughts wound to earlier, when I’d woken to the man in the mask holding the knife to my throat. I suspected, by the way he’d vanished so quickly, that it was nothing more than an illusion, much like The Banished Man I’d seen before him, and Danyra, the Lyverian girl. And if that was the case, it could’ve only meant that I’d begun to lose my senses.

A gnawing thought chewed at my head as I lay there, willing myself to sleep–that perhaps something evil had infected me.