Queen of Swords and Silence Read online

  But I did.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Warm Blood and Soft Cries

  Iburied Kathy’s remains the day after I ate her. Later I could write my feelings about eating someone’s grandmother and gauge my levels of self-loathing for my Master to observe. Not that he needed to since he was there. Vainya, my Master, watched while I piled black soil up over the bones of Kathy, patting it into place under the shadow cast by the Manor. The tree root lowered itself, sealing her remains away forever.

  Before me, the wide expanse of the damp forest spread out. The dark bark held hints of faces embedded into the surface of the trees. Some neutral, others frozen in silent screams. Other than the moon overhead, the only source of light came from the large building at my back—the Manor.

  “I recall previous discussions,” Vainya said, his voice a deep rumbling growl, “where I listed better sources of nutrition for you. Most of them not on the verge of death.”

  “And I recall saying I wouldn’t eat children.” I rose and dusted my knees. “I’m not gonna snuff out some kid’s life when I have options. At least with the elderly, it feels like a mercy killing.” I jammed my hands into my pockets. “More mercy than the living give.” My tongue brushed against something lodged between my teeth. When I couldn’t work it free, I used a finger to wrestle out the grandma gristle from between my molars.

  “Many humans are accepting of veal. You’re justified in eating their own young if they are doing so to another species.” I heard long claws scrape across the hard floor from inside the Manor. I didn’t need to turn to know he’d made himself comfortable in a place overlooking the black forest about us. “At least select a human not on the verge of death. Your present method is leaving you in varying stages of starvation.” The pause lingered before he added, “I do not want to command you.”

  I huffed and turned to face Vainya’s feral eyes. At first glance, many would call him a large feline or a horse. Vainya never appeared as any one animal, but a blend of several, as many chimeras are. Large and feline-like in body, he had the head of a wolf and a long serpent tail that often swirled about his body. Two horns rose and curled into deadly tips from the front of his skull. When he sat on his haunches or lay down, thick dragon scales spread down and outward from his throat and faded into his shaggy black fur.

  Vainya regarded me without a word, his tail flicking on the ground behind him. “Must we discuss your slow descent into anorexia again?”

  I threw my hands up into the air. “C’mon, Vainya. The kid thing is taboo, anyway! I’d love to be able to get by on chocolate truffles and apple turnovers like you.”

  His ears flattened against his head as his red eyes narrowed. “You will not change the purpose of this discussion by pointing out the difference in our dietary needs. And yes,” he said, cutting off my rebuttal, “it’s an old discussion. One we’ve had countless times, but if I’m not reading, then all else I’m doing is guiding you to be a better creature.” His lips pulled back to expose sharp teeth—a terrifying grin to those not used to it.

  I scoffed. “Whatever. If we sold all the sweets stocked in the pantry, I could stop picking up odd jobs to pay for things we need. Anyway”—I tucked my hands into my pockets—“it’s hard to abduct people these days. I can’t yank them off the streets like I used to do a hundred years ago.”

  Vainya’s head tilted to the side. “You’ve been this way since your divorce. You should experiment with some young buck of a man. When he upsets you, you’ll have little discourse to contend with when you eat him.”

  I whined, “I don’t like playing black widow. It’s all weird and awkward afterward when I fuck my food and then eat it.” On reflection, I realized Vainya was trying to get a rise out of me, and it was working. Hunger and frustration never mixed well.

  “Your reactions have dulled due to your diet. You weren’t so weak in the 1400s. What should I do if you can no longer protect the Well? It is your responsibility to keep it safe from trespassers should they make it past Grave Wood. You have little issue with taking lives. Why hesitate with your feedings?”

  Vainya’s words made me wince. “It’s not the same. At least those who die because of nature can rejoin the cycle and live again. The ones I eat can never do that. Ever.”

  Concern filled Vainya’s eyes. “You weren’t always so picky.”

  “Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter what I do. At least this way I can pick what I eat rather than turn crazy again and eat until I stuff myself.”

  Vainya pulled in a deep breath and let it out in a slow sigh. “If you will not eat, then look into finding some work. It will give you a distraction.”

  “Maybe you should get a job,” I grumbled. “You sit around and read all day.” I gestured a hand toward his hindquarters. “It’s showing in your girlish figure.”

  His muzzle jerked up. “I’m showing proof of my dedication to my purpose through endless hours of study, so sayeth the Master of the Well of Knowledge.” He canted his head, eyes crinkled up in amusement.

  “If you got paid for every word you read, I’d have no complaints. How about we trade roles?” I placed a hand to my chest. “I’ll sit around and read all day and you can go out into the mortal world and murder people for money. You don’t even have to eat them if you don’t want to.”

  His mouth opened into a full grin before saying, “What is the English word? The one where they become cranky when they are hungry?”

  “It’s called hangry,” I said. “Becoming bad-tempered or irritable because of hunger.”

  He bobbed his head up and down. “Hangry.” Another flick of his tail and he rose to all fours. “Go to the mortal realm and don’t come back unless you have mail. Perhaps you can find a homeless person to devour.”

  I didn’t gag at the suggestion, but the idea of some hobo on the street made my stomach twist in the same way someone would when presented with rotten meat for dinner. “Why don’t we go paperless? Could we consider getting you an email? Even I have a cell phone.” I pulled mine out and displayed it with what I thought were exceptional jazz hands.

  Vainya’s head turned, red eyes narrowing again. “Even if the human technology worked here, I would still prefer my correspondence in parchment.” He leveled a stern look at me. “Go to the mortal realm, Ghost,” he said with a tone that transitioned from chiding old friend to admonishing father. “On my command, do not step back inside until you’ve found something to keep your mind off your hunger or eaten something of substance.”

  I clenched my jaw as the command slammed into my body. Tattoos along my forearms blazed, and I jerked at the sudden pain. It’d been a long time since my Master had commanded me to do anything and I’d forgotten the sensation of magic burning my limbs and forcing me into compliance.

  He must be worried, I thought as my feet took me around the Manor and toward the front entrance. “You’re old fashioned!” I yelled.

  His chuffing laughter reached my ears as I soldier-marched to the front door. It opened on its own, and the coat stand by the door leaned out to display my gray parka and scarf within easy reach.

  “At least you love me,” I told the building. My hand patted along the door frame. “Can you bring me Silence as well? I’m sure you’re tired of babysitting him.”

  The building creaked as a section of the wall I faced twisted and turned to reveal a sword mounted in a glass case. I walked over to it and placed my hand over the case to examine the blade.

  Silence took on the appearance of a machete with no guard to separate the blade and handle. His hilt appeared covered in a tightly woven black cord despite being all metal. His pitch-black surface faded into bright silver near the edge of the blade.

  The glass melted away from my hand as I reached inside to pick him and his sheath up. Silence’s will flowed into me, merging with my consciousness. His eagerness to deal death, to feel blood flow over the length of the blade, and to see the fading expression of one I killed filled my mind. I pushed the urges fro
m my thoughts with a shake of my head. The hilt felt warm in my grasp while a pleasant vibration ran up my arm and to my shoulder—Silence’s way of greeting me.

  I love you, as well, the blade whispered in my mind. You make men plead when they die. Warm blood and soft cries.

  My eyebrow arched at the blade. “You actually made a haiku?”

  What else would I be doing? I guess I could go see a movie—oh, wait, I don’t have arms, legs, or eyes. Silence yawned. I demand praise for putting it in the five-seven-five thing you keep babbling about.

  “Silence.” I turned him over in my hand. “A haiku is meant to be about nature, and the ‘thing’ I keep telling you to follow is the format it’s written in.”

  Look, I’m only doing this stupid exercise because you told me to. Silence sifted through my memories and settled over my conversation with Kathy. Did you really eat that? Gross.

  Guilt settled over me. “Yes.” I brought the flat of his blade to my face, seeing red eyes instead of gold looking back at me. “You could’ve come with me.”

  You eat the barely living dead. Silence scoffed. It is not worthy prey for me. No challenge. No enjoyment. What you did was put it out of its misery. His next words dripped with disgust. It’s pathetic.

  “Well, we can’t all be violence-loving blades like you.”

  A pity.

  Shaking my head, I said, “I can’t walk around with a bulky weapon in broad daylight. Turn into something a little easier to conceal.”

  Silence morphed in my hand, compressing and shrinking in on himself until a fixed boot knife rested in my palm. Is this better?

  “Perfect.” I secured Silence in his sheath at the small of my back before opening the case to pull out my Glock.

  Silence vibrated against my back. You don’t need a gun when I’m with you.

  I inspected the pistol before picking up the magazine and loading it. “We’ve talked about the advantage of range over melee.”

  And I said you should throw me at the people far away.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. If I threw you, I’d be weaponless. Just let me have the gun. I promise to use you instead when the opportunity allows me.”

  I set the gun down to work on my shoulder holster before securing the Glock inside. Pulling on my jacket, I tried to ignore the throbbing forming at my temples. Folks think small things like headaches wouldn’t be an immortal’s problem, but I’d suffered from that one for a few days and it only got worse the more time passed. Part of me thought it was due to lack of food, but it only worsened after eating.

  Are we taking work? Answer the text you got. I want something with lots of blood and death. The last job was tedious. Also, I used tedious in a sentence. Praise, please.

  “I’m not praising you for things I know you can do. What about when we went to the Philippines to stop a group of man-eating shapeshifters last week? That was exciting.”

  You scared them out of the village! he said, filling my mind with the vision of a child rolling on the floor in a tantrum. There was no death! No pain! No blood! I thought a group of shapeshifters would be entertaining. But no! I practically slept through the experience. The child image altered, arms crossed and bottom lip stuck out in a pout. I want something better! At least murder someone!

  I rolled my eyes and walked down the deer trail leading away from the Manor. “No promises, but I’ll see what’s available.”

  Silence shifted through memories, catching up on time we missed together. Vainya is right, he said as he finished my conversation with the Well Master.

  My brows drew together as I walked. “What do you mean?”

  You need to eat actual food. The garbage you’ve settled on is not working. Your moods have teeter-tottered from depression to temperamental for the last few days. If I wanted to deal with the mood swings of a teenage girl, I’d be with them and not you.

  “Not something you get a say in.”

  If you can pretend you’re okay while starving yourself, I’ll pretend I can pick my wielders. Then we can both live in pretend worlds.

  I wrinkled my nose. Vainya and Silence agreeing on something never happened and I didn’t like it. My feedings hadn’t been what they once were. It wasn’t uncommon for Vainya to shoo me from the Manor, but when he did, it was necessary for both of us. It cost him in a few ways. He could keep the Well safe, but he hated committing violence and it sometimes took a violent act to chase off the worst who came prowling to the Well. Though, with me gone, the duties of host rested solely on him. Vainya was good at it, but it’s hard to offer water and tea to visitors when you have talons. Turning a page in a book was never an issue for him since he had so much practice reading, but he was utterly useless in a kitchen.

  So where are we going?

  “Out. I can’t step back inside until I fulfill the command.”

  Oh, great, Silence groaned. I know what that means.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Family Outcast

  With my temporary homelessness, I justified a bit of bar hopping. For a few days, I moved from establishment to establishment trying to find the bar suited for me. This was hard as new places opened and closed faster than I could track. The place I ended up in on day three of my exile smelled of beer, lust, vomit, and smoke. The neon “open” sign over the door had two broken letters, and the bartender didn’t notice me until I waved a twenty in the air.

  But they had vodka, which was all I cared about.

  “And then he kicked me out of the house,” I slurred. The musk of the bar filled my nose pleasantly as I fondled my shot glass. “Like, what am I supposed to do? It’s bad enough my ‘family’ hates me. They only call me when we have to go to war or to steal something.” I downed another shot. “Other than that, it’s always ‘No, freak. You stay in the boonies with the crazy chimera. Kill anyone who approaches the place unwelcomed, though.’”

  I sighed and leaned back on the barstool and closed my eyes. “Such a fucking mess.” Lolling my head toward the wall, I smiled at the debonair man before me as he leaned on an elbow, looking at me with a twinkle in his eyes. Under his charming image were the words Stay Thirsty, My Friends.

  I toasted the poster with the empty shot glass. “Thank you for listening to me, Mr. Goldsmith. You truly are the most interesting man in the world.”

  Silence cut on my one-sided conversation with the wall decor. Are you done feeling bad about eating the grandma yet?

  “I’m allowed to drink when I want to,” I said, motioning to the bartender for a refill.

  Then drink after we are done. C’mon, let’s do something else. Like the work text you got.

  “Not in the mood.” I shifted on the stool to see who else was engaging in some daytime drinking. There weren’t many in the room. A couple here and there, another lone drinker, and a group of loud college students in the corner by the window. Music played from a stereo, drowning out the conversations of those close to me. It wasn’t a bad or good bar. But if someone wants to get drunk, a bar didn’t need to be good or even bad. It just needed to have booze—and a lot of it.

  The Norse, my pantheon, lived hard, partied hard, and drank hard. The one thing that kept us from drinking everything in sight was knowing once it was gone, we’d have to wait for more to be made. Pacing was important. We would find any reason to drink—weddings, peacetime, wartime, football, tax season. National hat day? Yep, we were drinking.

  My eyes lingered on a group of college boys laughing in the corner. Most of them had bushy beards or top-knots at the back of their heads. A gurgling sound reached my ears as my stomach voiced its need for sustenance. One of the boys, clean shaven and sporting a man-bun, looked my way as I licked my bottom lip while fantasizing about what his screams would sound like as I ripped him open.

  His wink snapped me out of my staring and I turned back to my still-empty shot glass. I glared at the bartender at the other end of the bar talking to some blonde with bubbly giggles.

  “What’s a girl like you doing i
n a place like this?”

  I glanced over at the frat boy leaning against the bar by me.

  If only I could eat popcorn.

  “Drinking,” I said. “No offense, but I didn’t mean anything by staring at you. Just lost in thought.”

  He placed his warm hand on top of mine. “Well, maybe you’d like to join—”

  I lifted my gaze, our eyes meeting for only a second before he looked away. His words died in his throat and he paled. A shudder ran through him, and he pushed away from the bar. “I g-gotta go.”

  Watching him scurry out of the bar reminded me of a rabbit fleeing a fox. It didn’t help me control my predator instincts, but I managed. Barely.

  Silence mused, What do you think they see when they look into your eyes?

  “Maybe my soul.” I wiggled my empty glass at the bartender on the other end of the bar. “Can I have another, please?”

  I returned my attention to The Most Interesting Man in the World. “You know what I want? I wanna be one of those immortals from a romance novel—wealthy, smart, classy, and a fancy dresser. You know the type, right? Where people would look at me and see something special about me? That whole draw-the-eye-of-every-person-in-the-room kind of thing.”

  You can’t be wealthy if you keep spending your money on booze, guns, and ammunition, Silence said.

  “Let me have my vices, please.” I picked up my refill when she walked into the room. It wasn’t the fancy suit, the noble features, or even the I’m-worth-it shine of her hair giving away she was a mythic. When her eyes found mine, I knew. Her lovely face twisted as if I were a piece of shit smeared over her three-hundred-dollar heels.

  I downed the shot glass as she walked toward me and tried once again to wave down the bartender to get a refill as she settled onto the stool next to mine. If I didn’t have to endure the encounter sober, I wasn’t going to.