• Chapter Three - Agony

    It was midnight when I decided I had been right to tell Ezekiel the truth – to finally have him know why I had exiled myself from society. It was terrifying… and yet, the feeling of relief that came with finally telling someone my truth! It was a stronger relief than I could ever remember feeling at the end of any physical pain, more reassuring than the end of any time I spent crying. It was as though the rip through my torso that had opened when my memories returned was starting to try and stitch itself back together – as though my body was starting to realize that there was no danger now, that the tear wouldn’t stop some people from wanting to be around me… from wanting me.

    I was sitting on my bed, staring at the gibbous moon outside, replaying Ezekiel’s reaction as I watched a breath of a cloud wisp across the silver disk in the sky.

    He had kept his promise, and listened to my story quietly, even when I told him why I thought I had killed my family to begin with. I had seen shock, then fear cross into his eyes, and had refused to say anything more, turning away and asking why he was already judging me, when he had already promised that he’d let me finish – when he’d already said he didn’t see a monster in me.

    There had been a short silence, and then he had moved closer, until his lips were almost touching my ear.

    “I’m not judging you, Amatsu,” he had murmured, “I’m just… reacting the way any human would to such a story. You have to admit, for someone who’s lived a life devoid – well, mostly devoid – of any pain or loss, your story can be a little terrifying.” He’d put his arm around my shoulders and hugged me, as if he was trying to tell me it was okay to go on.

    Do I did – I finished my story, cringing whenever his eyes showed anything other than curiosity, but never stopping until I was finished.

    I smiled at the memory of what he told me when he’d recovered from his reaction to my past. ”That doesn’t make you a monster,” he’d promised me, ”Your… power… doesn’t determine your humanity. It’s what you do with it that makes you a monster or a human, and right now, seeing how you’ve exiled yourself, seeing the kindness you offered me, even despite the risk that I might set that curse off… How could I see a monster when everything you’ve done has been for the sake of the lives you might have taken otherwise?” And he’d hugged me, and the feeling of being wanted and cared for was strong in that moment.

    Tsukiyomi jumped up on the bed then, her grey-blue fur silvery white in the moonlight streaming through my window. She looked up at me with blue eyes that glittered, then opened her mouth and let out a soft mewl, as if she was asking, ”What’s the matter?”

    “I’m thinking,” I whispered, hyperaware of the fact that Ezekiel was sleeping in the otherwise-useless spare room on the other side of the thin wood wall. “Do you think maybe it’s time I let go of my past, Tsuki?”

    She purred, butting her head against my hand.

    I smiled and scratched her ear absent-mindedly, letting my mind wander again. I thought about the dream I had just a week ago, but all I could remember was the moonlight – it had been a full moon, hadn’t it? – so I didn’t understand why the dream had been so terrifying. I tried to remember more of it, but I may as well have been trying to remember the day I was born.

    A quiet thudding sound broke me out of my reverie. I looked around my room, trying to get my bearings. Tsukiyomi was crouched in my lap, her fur fluffed up so that she looked like a little cotton ball, her tiny ears laid back and her eyes glowing blue slits in her anxious face. I grabbed Tsukiyomi and held her close to my chest as I padded to the door.

    Ezekiel was on the other side, his eyes wide with terror.

    “Amatsu, there’s no time. We have to leave,” he whispered urgently, “If you have anything you can use as a weapon, I would grab it.”

    “What?” I asked, confused, “Ezekiel, what’s going on?”

    “They found me,” he hissed. Then he pushed me back into my room, urging, “Hurry up! Get dressed and grab your knife – we need to get moving before they come back!” He raced quietly to his room, growling under his breath.

    I wheeled and changed into the first set of clothes my fingers touched – a pair of black pants and a white top – and slipped into my sandals. I grabbed my knife on the way out, closing my door behind me. Tsukiyomi leapt onto my shoulders and dug in with her claws; I barely felt the tiny pricks in my skin as I headed for Ezekiel’s room.

    He met me halfway, grabbing the hand that wasn’t holding the knife and leading me out into the frigid night. As soon as the first light breeze hit my skin, I wished I’d brought my heavy wool cloak, but there was no way we could afford to go back and get it now. The sense of urgency seemed to flow through Ezekiel’s skin and into mine where our hands touched.

    It was a veritable D-Day.

    We ran until the house was no longer in sight, though I had used this path many times before – it was an old, scarcely-used hunter’s trail that lead to a stream that was full of fish in the summer. I would be able to lead Ezekiel back if I had to.

    We didn’t stop until the stream was behind us, pausing to catch our breaths in a small, well-lit clearing that seemed to be flooded from the light of the waxing moon above.

    The moonlight only seemed to make the night even colder, and I shivered as the breeze turned into a low wind in the closed-in space of the clearing – it was as though the trees were hissing at us, trying to kill us before the men Ezekiel was running from could find us.

    Something warm was wrapped around my shoulders; Ezekiel had the brooch to his own cloak fastened before I had time to realize it was the one he’d worn when we met – he now wore the brown cotton one, which was probably a little colder than the thick wool that draped smoothly around my own shoulders.

    “Thanks,” I murmured.

    He nodded absently, his eyes scanning the black forest for any signs of life, flicking towards the source of any sound or movement. I did the same, though I assumed my night vision was a litter better than his – I had traveled solely by night before coming to my current home. My eyes were used to the darkness.

    That was how I managed to see them first – three man, dressed to blend in with the forest, coming at us each from a different angle, so that no matter where we ran, there would be two people close enough to grab us. Their eyes were as black as their clothes – they cast no reflection in the moonlight, making the approaching men look like the walking dead.

    Something – some primal instinct, I assumed – stirred as I thought of them as dead. But it wasn’t fear; it wasn’t the longing to beg, to scream and run and hope they never came after us again. It was something much, much more sinister…

    My hand shot out of its own volition, grabbing Ezekiel’s, warning him. He immediately looked at me, expecting an explanation, but all I could do was whimper so quietly that it was almost a whisper as the men stepped closer to the clearing.

    Now Ezekiel saw them, and he froze for one frantic heartbeat as he saw the faces of the men in the dim light of the trees, his teal eyes huge with fear.

    The men all bore the same burn mark on the left side of their faces – a circle with one curl at its top and bottom, with the bottom curl facing left and the top curl facing right. In the center of the circle was a slit, like the eye of a cat. They all had the same hairstyles too; they kept their hair bleached and cut short, like bristle, and all of them bore tattoos across the backs of their right hands stating the gang they belonged to and what rank they held in that gang.

    Screechers – Grunt two hands read. The third said Screechers – Heavy Grunt.

    Heavy Grunt was the one who spoke, his voice low and thick with anticipatory amusement.

    “Well, looks like we found our little rat. Looks like your birdie was right, Mitchell.”

    Mitchell grinned – or at least, he pulled his lips back and bore his teeth. I wasn’t sure that kind of feral expression could be considered an actual grin.

    “Oh, and look at the pretty girl he’s found!” Heavy Grunt continued, coming closer to me, “Well, isn’t she the nicest piece you’ve ever seen? Hello, sweet one.” His voice was unpleasant, a mock coo whose false warmth and kindness did not phase me for an instant. I cringed closer to Ezekiel.

    Heavy Grunt laughed, and his voice was normal when he spoke again.

    “Well, she’s shy too! Good choice, Zeke. The quiet ones are the ones you should keep – it’s the noisy ones what don’t get held onto for long. Am I right?” He flashed his teeth at Ezekiel in much the same way Mitchell had, giving him what looked more like the human approximation of an amused snarl.

    The same stirring fluttered in my chest at the casual way he called Ezekiel – at the way he had twisted and mangled his name into something that did the man no justice. As if he was here to have a friendly visit rather than to kill “the rat”, as he’d called him.

    Then, it increased again as I took in the look on Heavy Grunt’s face, as though he though Ezekiel was a prize that would gain him a higher status in his filthy gang. But now the stirring had a voice, a soprano bell-tone that could only come from an angel of death.

    Mine, the stirring whispered fiercely, Not yours. He’s mine. The voice was becoming coherent as the stirring became a slight glow in my chest, like the beginnings of anger – only I knew this was not mere irritation. It was much too dark for that.

    “C’mon, sweet one,” Heavy Grunt cooed in that disgusting fake voice again, “Why don’t you tell us your name, eh?” If he saw the change burning in my eyes – as I could feel that glowing in my chest rising to the irises – he showed no sign of it. Stupid man.

    My throat closed on itself for a moment – a natural response to the terror that still burned under the dark glow that was slowly spreading through my torso – and then I was able to find my voice.

    “Amatsu,” I murmured – the bell-tone had crept into my voice, so minimal that even Ezekiel wouldn’t hear the change. It seemed to be growing with the darkness that had started to grow and roil inside my body. Tendrils were beginning to stretch into my knees.

    “Amatsu!” Heavy Grunt said, as though my name was some sort of toast to a team victory. “Pretty name, too. Can’t quite see it with Shoemaker, though. Can you, sweet one? Amatsu Shoemaker. Not very flowing, if you’re asking me.”

    Ah, but I wasn’t asking him. That was the problem the stupid man couldn’t seem to understand.

    And then there was a low, sick squelch behind me, and I turned to see the second Grunt take his knife from Ezekiel’s throat.

    “Sorry about that, pretty,” Heavy Grunt chuckled, “But he made the wrong gang angry. He obviously knew it was coming – why d’you think he found you to hide with?”

    “Ezekiel!” I cried, staggering to the place where he’d fallen, shoving the dead b*****d brute who’d murdered him out of my way. I hit my knees and hovered over the only man to ever show me kindness, angry tears welling out of my eyes and onto his face.

    “Amatsu,” he choked, trying to smile for me. His eyes were hazing over, becoming covered by the thin sheet of death. One trembling hand reached up and cupped my face as he staggered over his last words.

    “Don’t… be afraid… of it,” he gasped, “Use it… You won’t… lose… your human…ity… I won’t… stop… loving you…”

    His eyes closed, a smile on his face even in death – a smile meant to soothe me. His hand fell limply away.

    The glowing darkness surged, becoming a cold flash fire that seared every one of my veins with ice. The world spun, became clearer, more apparent as my senses sharpened. I heard the laughter of the monsters – dead men, the darkness giggled happily – as my weeping turned to a laughter that they didn’t immediately register.

    “Yes,” I growled in the bell-tone soprano of the death angel, “It is amusing, isn’t it? Soon you’ll all be dead – but he’ll never have to deal with damned souls like you where he is, and there’s only agony waiting for you!”

    The world went black as I attacked the damned man who still held the knife drenched in Ezekiel’s blood.