Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MAEVYTH

O n a quiet click, I opened the door to the shed and peered inside the open, dark space. A grotesque, squelching sound arose from somewhere toward the back, and I frowned, searching for Raivox in the dark. Padding quietly toward the center of the shed, I followed that horrible noise, peering through the dim light for anything that moved.

Along the east wall, a stack of pine boxes, built by Uncle Riftyn, sat waiting for the bodies stored in the morgue. How fortunate for Agatha, that both sons happened to be skilled in carpentry–one of wood, and the other of bodies.

The repulsive memory of Uncle Felix’s lips on Danyra’s breast sent a shiver spiraling down my back.

At the same time, a wet mass squished beneath my foot.

Lips twisted in a grimace, I lowered my gaze to the dirt floor, where a pink, fleshy mound enveloped my shoe. Tilting my head, I examined it, trying to imagine what I could’ve possibly been staring at, when a flash of black bolted in from the left and swiped up an end of it, before dashing back into the shadows. The pink mass trailed behind it. Long. Glistening.

Entrails.

I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth to stifle the acids burning the back of my throat, and tiptoed toward his hiding spot. Tucked in the corner of the shed, behind a stack of crates, Raivox sat hunched over himself, that disgusting sound louder than before. Movement flickered in my periphery, and I turned to see the stretch of intestines slithering across the ground into the little beast’s mouth. A glance toward the carcass showed the striped head of what I was certain was Agatha’s beloved tabby, Baxter.

Oh, no.

“What have you done?” I whispered, staring at the poor, unwitting thing. Not that I had much love for the feral little monster that tore up my legs with its claws, but if Agatha suspected I had any connection to its death, she’d probably tear me up with her claws. “Birds don’t eat cats. It’s the other way around.”

After minutes of my listening to those wet, masticating sounds, the murdering little creature stumbled, clearly engorged, and I glanced back at the severed head.

“No, no. You can’t leave that behind. You need to eat the whole thing and never eat a pet again, understand? Rats in the house are one thing, but we do not eat pets .” With a shove of my boot, I guided the severed head over to him, the repulsion of it all winding my gut in knots. “Eat it.”

Raivox hobbled over to the cat head and sank his teeth into the side of its face.

Instead of ripping away a chunk, he tottered to the side and let out a long, groaning sound, as if too full to take another bite.

“You must eat it! You can’t just leave her cat’s head lying about, or it’ll be my head rolling on the floor next!” I pushed the head toward him again, but he swatted it away with a clawed foot.

Oh, no. I’d have to bury the damn thing, or risk her finding it. While Agatha wandering into the shed was rare, she had gone in on occasion, for God knew what.

Swallowing a hard gulp, I bent down to lift the head off the ground with the very tips of my fingers, avoiding the bloody threads of meat that hung beneath it, and padded toward the shed’s door. The mere sight of it tugged a gag from my throat en route, but I swallowed back the urge to vomit.

Beyond the cracks in the wood, an obscure figure passed by, and on a quiet gasp, I froze.

If someone saw the severed head, I’d surely be punished. I winced at the last punishment to which Agatha had subjected me, when I’d been forced to clean out the abdominal cavity buckets for Uncle Felix. I swore I’d never do anything to earn that awful task again.

“Damned bird,” I whispered through clenched teeth, desperately trying to swallow back the gurgling sickness climbing my throat as I clutched the head.

Once the figure had passed where the cracks in the door were widest, I couldn’t discern whether, or not, they’d kept on, or still stood on the other side. With the cat’s head precariously dangling at my side, I padded closer, listening. A chittering noise from behind steeled my muscles, and I turned to see Raivox hobbling toward me on all fours.

“No!” I whispered, waving him off with my hand. “Back to your corner.”

He paused, head tilted as if confused.

A rattling of the door handle sent me spiraling into mindless panic, and I tossed the cat’s head to my right, where it rolled beneath a dilapidated wagon used to transport bodies to the nearby graveyard.

As the door swung open, I held my breath, wiping the animal’s blood on my dark skirt. Uncle Riftyn stood in the doorway, one of his hand-rolled cigarettes propped between his lips. As he removed it, he blew off the smoke, and his lips curved to a smile.

“What are you doing out here, Maevyth?”

I gave a furtive glance over my shoulder, and exhaled a breath of relief when I didn’t see Raivox standing there. “I thought I might’ve heard something in here. An animal.”

“An animal? I should check to make sure it isn’t rabid.” He stepped closer, farther into the shed, and my pulse hastened as I fought the urge to glance toward the discarded head.

“I searched. There was nothing. I was just leaving to head up for lunch.”

With a smile, he tipped his head. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, actually. Alone. About your sister.”

Oh, no. Then wasn’t the time for that conversation. Certainly not with him. “I’m actually really hungry.”

“She’s worried,” he said, ignoring me. “You know Aleysia. Protective. She thinks a man like Moros will ruin a pretty innocent thing like yourself.” I doubted that was the most pressing issue on my sister’s mind, which left me wondering if she’d lied about telling him about the baby. Or maybe he just didn’t give a damn.

He lifted a lock of my hair, letting it slip between his fingers. “She’s sick, thinking about him forcing himself inside your tight, virgin cunt.”

“I’d venture to say my sister doesn’t think about those things.” As I skirted him for the door, he grabbed my arm, sending off alarms inside my head.

“I could ease you into it.” A wire of shock snapped my back straight, and as if sensing it, his grin widened, and he released me. “Only if you wanted me to, that is.”

The urge to scream at him ripped at the back of my throat. That he could say these things to me, while my sister fretted over the child he shared inside of her. Even if she hadn’t yet told him, what sickening audacity that he could proposition me so crudely. “You are my uncle.”

“Step-uncle. We’re not even blood related.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

His cheek twitched, like the comment had somehow wounded him. “See, I heard a rumor that Mr. Moros is into some strange things. A bit rough, as I understand. You might do well to loosen yourself up a bit.”

“Excuse me, Uncle. I need to get back to the house.”

“Yes, of course. Lunch.” Tongue sweeping over his natural smirk, he tipped his head. “I understand Mr. Moros is due to be here at precisely noon.”

“I have no interest in spending the afternoon with Mr. Moros.”

“Doesn’t matter what you want. Awful thing about these arrangements.” Brows raised, he sighed. “Anyway, if you change your mind, let me know. I’ll be happy to oblige. I’d hate to see an innocent young thing like yourself suffer more than necessary.”

“I don’t intend to suffer, at all.”

His gaze lingered on my lips. “Well, wouldn’t that be something. Young orphan girl standing up to a respected member of this fine parish.” He let out a small chuckle and gave a curt nod. “I’ll see you later. Niece .” On those parting words, he strode out of the shed, and I released a shaky breath, every cell in my body locked in a state of repulsion.

As I let the shock work its way through me, I hustled toward where I’d thrown the cat’s head. I found it behind the wagon’s wheel, and glanced around the shed for somewhere I could bury it quickly without being seen.

A small gap beneath Uncle Riftyn’s carpentry bench.

Grabbing a spade from the benchtop, I fell to my knees and awkwardly hacked at the packed dirt of the shed’s floor, my hand burning with a new blister as the wooden handle raked across my skin with each plunge.

Raivox hobbled up alongside me, his gaze flitting between my digging and what must’ve been an absolute look of disgust etched into my expression.

“I never want to clean up after one of your … mishaps … again.” Air wheezed out of me with the toil of digging in such a confined space. Once the hole was big enough, I gently placed the cat’s head into the grave and covered it with dirt, then pushed to my feet. Brushing away the sprinkling of soil on my dark dress, I pushed the thought of having to see Mr. Moros again out of my head and placed the overfed cat killer back inside his little nest. “No more pets, okay? We have to find something less traumatic for you to eat. If you insist on meat, perhaps I can see about getting some scraps from the butcher in town.” I scratched the underside of his beak, and the small creature lifted his chin, letting out a purring sound that brought a reluctant smile to my face. “In spite of your macabre tendencies, you are ridiculously cute.”

“Maevyth! Maevyth!”

The distant sound of Lolla calling for me had me groaning. Abandoning my murderous, little pet, I headed back toward the house, greeting her at the back entrance.

“Maevyth, come quickly.”

“I know. Mr. Moros has asked me to lunch again. Has the man nothing better to do?” I prattled on. “I refuse to marry an abuser.”

“It’s your sister.”

It was only then I noticed the pallor of her face. Completely drained of color.

“What about Aleysia?”

“She was found to be with child. Your uncle’s child.” Tears welled in Lolla’s eyes.

The panic started small in my gut and curled its way with metal talons up toward my throat, scratching inside my chest. “How … how do they know?”

“She confessed.”

The panic wriggled and lashed, slicing at my lungs. Lolla didn’t have to say what I already knew. Aleysia’s confession had branded her a sinner.

Sinners were fed to the forest.