23. Scythe

Chapter 23

Scythe

Seven years ago

T here are no rules at The Jewel of the Jungle. While nearly all the beasts practice the Old Laws, following certain etiquette and customs, really anything goes. Plain and simple. There's something decidedly honest about that, I think, as I lead my brothers towards the black, glittering facade of the exclusive club in a tight corner of the CBD.

"Who are you to dare seek entry here?" sneers one of the four hyena guards standing in a line before the grand archway of snarling stone beasts.

I know what they see: three boys, big and tall for their age, but still young. Still stupid. Savage stands there in a white singlet and black track pants, a blue feather stuck behind his ear. Xander in an all black suit, glowing eyes, snarling face. And me: Pretty. Silver. Broken.

What they don't see is the rage. The cold, bitter power that grows day by day within my heart. Within my soul. They don't know it. Not yet. But soon, they will all be well acquainted with my power.

Xander and Savage hold up what they have in their hands. One of the hyenas turns aside and vomits right into the garden bed.

The other, now pale-faced and tight-lipped, waves us through the stone archway.

Xander passes them bundles of notes as he passes through. I learned the customs here on my father's knee.

And on the knee of a great many beasts. Pretty things can't listen, they thought. Pretty things can't learn.

I will show them they're wrong. I will show them that when vengeance comes, it's with ice and steel.

It's barely sundown, so the music is still low and only the leaders and independent agents of the territories occupy the massive black and red space, sitting around a table, conducting business. Behind them is a small tank of water where an albino baby dolphin is forced to swim, his tail bound in an obsidian chain leading to a stake in the bottom of the tank.

My stomach twists in violent protest.

We do not react , I tell myself. We respond.

The leaders of the territories quieten when they see me stalk in. I make my way, slow and measured, right up to their table. One seat is empty.

This is the moment I get to decide who I am. This is the moment I get to declare to the world that no one will ever again hurt me or those I love. Each horrible moment, each terrible decision in this lifetime, has led me to this place. To this time.

Now, I cement my reputation.

"I am the new apex of territory three," I announce. "The cassowaries of the five-toe flock are gone."

Laughter sweeps around the room in a riptide, a force I could easily drown in. My blood pressure rises, but I control myself. A look from me has Savage and Xander stepping forward and slamming our bounty right onto the table.

Two tubs filled with thick, red slush that violently splash onto the table as Savage slams his down extra hard.

To my great and terrible satisfaction, the laughter abruptly stops. Blood drips off the side of the tubs, making audible splats as they fall onto the table.

The stunned silence is broken by a young woman at the end of the table. She smokes an old-fashioned pipe and wears her black hair in a short, wavy style I've seen in black and white movies. Her aura flutters steely green flecked grey that I've never seen before. It's powerful, perhaps the most powerful of the beasts at the table, and I immediately know she's a crocodile, meaning that she'd be able to withstand any physical attack dealt to her, even a bullet—that is the power the Wild Goddess gave to the crocs.

"Now, how did three pups, barely weaned, snatch an entire territory right from under our noses?" Her voice is silky and amused. She does not fear me. She is intrigued. Aroused.

I bite down my rage at the low implication in her voice. A tone I've been hearing since I was thirteen.

"Sit," says Mace Naga. "Let us see what the little shark has to say."

It's been thirteen years since I'd been addressed by the serpent king and I am not the same beast I was back then. I am no longer cloaked by innocence. No longer wielded by my father. I've been hammered and forged into something far darker than he remembers.

I pull out the heavy leather seat, before another oily voice sitting to the side of the table says, " I remember you."

It's a lion, pale skinned, grey-haired and no less than fifty.

"There was an auction for your virginity, wasn't there? Forgive me, I've been to so many but… Ah, yes, I definitely remember that silver hair. That face. You were what, fourteen? Fifteen? Could have only been a few years ago." He smiles?—

Right before he screams.

His face flushes an unhealthy red-purple. Blood vessels pop in his eyes, making his sclera turn completely red. He shakes in his chair before I cut off my power and he collapses, slumping off his chair and going limp. Two of his felines run up to check on him.

"Is he dead?" Mace asks quietly.

"Yes," I say, my voice cold and dead.

"So it's true about what sharks can do then," the Crocodile Queen purrs. "How interesting. How very interesting."

The high witch of the hyenas cackles with mirth. When I turn to look at her, I see a knowing in the deep wrinkles around her kohl lined eyes. "I commend a creature who wants to forge his own path. Sit down, young man. You play with the big beasts now."