Parasite Soul (23 page)

Tiera’s eyes flew wide. “You
what
?”

“Your mother,” Minus said uncomfortably, “Was also weak.
But she was of common blood. I thought that was why she could not resist
the bloodsucker’s soul. By rights, Merequio…”

“You did this
twice
?” Tiera screamed. Hot rage flared
within her like a rising phoenix. A red veil dropped over her eyes.
She had an impression of her father and his men staggering, clutching at their
chests, crying out for her to desist, to stop whatever sorcery she was doing,
but her fury was a hurricane and she could not. When the veil lifted, all
three men lay crumpled and dead upon the floor, her father’s unseeing eyes
staring blankly past her own. Panting, she stared at what she had
wrought, and the world seemed to have stopped. She let the sword drop to
the floor and joined it seconds later, her knees striking the cold flagstones.

A long moment passed before she became aware of the sardonic sound
of clapping.

“Well done,” Merequio said. Her brother had allowed his head
to loll to facilitate his applause. “I suppose we know why the men
upstairs are dead, then,” he added dryly.

“That… was me?” Tiera whispered. Her whole world had grown
cold. Her eyes drank in every detail of her father’s corpse; an
impression of his glassy eyes, parted lips and jutting beard burning itself
into her brain. With more confidence she repeated: “That was
me
.”

“You are indeed powerful,” Merequio asserted. A note of
admiration colored his voice.

“What have I done?” Tiera felt swollen with fear, yet suffused with
potential. “And how… how did I do it?”

“Neither of us know,” her brother admitted, “But the details of
agreement have changed, sister. Free us and not only will we not harm
you…” He paused for dramatic effect, grinning down at Minus’ crumpled
body. “We will
serve
you.”

Tiera stared at the creature blankly for a moment. Then her
mouth quirked. The twitch bloomed into a full-blooded smile.

“The keys are yours,” she returned, and tossed them.

Sallinger proved to be a much more distant than Simon imagined - or
perhaps passage through the forest just seemed tortuously slow. Beneath
the filtered light of a watery sun, he, Niu, and Sasha followed the lurching
Oswald and a disgruntled Hezben through the dripping forest, the ground still
treacherous underfoot. At least the torrential rains had ceased;
occasional drizzle was the worst discomfort the travelers endured as they wound
through the depressingly unceasing sea of trees.

Following several attempts to sketch a working map, Oswald had
scrunched up his parchment and tossed it into the hearth, offering instead to
guide them to the border town. This gesture of goodwill did not sit well
with Hezben, who had launched into a lengthy rant forbidding his imposing
friend from accompanying a ‘creature’ so ‘dangerously volatile’. Oswald
stubbornly stuck by his original determination to lend the refugees his aid,
but the leshy’s evaluation of his nature did little to boost Simon’s confidence
or esteem. He said little as they walked, folding in on himself in an
attempt to become as unnoticeable as possible.

Niu seemed content to allow him to wallow in his insecurities. Since
Hezben’s identification of the murderous soul possessing him, she’d been
depressingly reserved in her interactions. No doubt she worried that some
ill-considered remark might trigger a lethal reaction in Simon which would
destroy the party. Unbeknownst to her, it was Simon’s increasing sense of
isolation that was fraying his emotional stability. Even in his brightest
moments he felt like a pariah; in his darkest, more akin to the ooze squelching
beneath Oswald boots with every heavy step. Niu’s cool distance stung him
terribly. He would have done
anything
for her; could she not spare
some sympathy as a balm for his conflicted emotions?

He’d spent much of the night tossing and turning, sick with dread
yet attempting to master his fears, with the result that he’d arisen both
mentally and physically exhausted. The thought of accidentally harming
Niu spearheaded his anxieties. Deep in the bubbling soup of raw feelings
he was now trying desperately to repress, he knew he might love her.
Having never been in love before he wasn’t absolutely sure, but her courage and
resourcefulness – as inadequate as she occasionally made him feel - had long
since won his heart. The mere sight of her could quicken his pulse:
her expressive eyes, quirky smile; her lithe, sinuous movements.

He was quite sure she didn’t feel the same way about him.
Pondering that made him nauseous, but he tried not to linger on the
thought. The best way to keep his feelings in check was to concentrate on
the practical. If he gave himself even an inch of emotional rope,
allowing his thoughts to linger on Niu, his dead father, or the trail of
destruction he’d wrought, he would surely hang himself - or more precisely, his
friends and allies. Picturing the light leaving Niu’s bright gaze as she
clutched accusingly at her chest made him ill, a gnawing sickness from which he
strove to distract himself by counting his plodding footsteps.

At least finding a way through this sea of trees wasn’t on his growing
list of woes. Hezben proved to be an invaluable guide. Even the
densest and most tangled undergrowth parted for the leshy, who navigated the
featureless forest with effortless ease. In an encounter which would have
proved disastrous had he not been accompanying them, he drove off a slavering
bull jaggermund with a volley of thorns and a flurry of whip-cracking
vines. The woodlands answered his silent commands instantly and in
implausible contradiction to their normal roles, leaving Simon in awe of the
cranky sprite’s powers.

“He can’t do much outside of the forest, though,” Oswald confided
from behind a meaty paw. “In town, or in the high mountains he’s as
normal as you or me.”

Simon wasn’t feeling particularly normal, but he smiled weakly, at
least until Hezben hissed, in a carrying whisper, “Do not be telling this
scourge, this open wound, of my weaknesses.”

Oswald hung his head. “Sorry, Hez.”

“I’m not a scourge.” Simon, unable to muster a scathing or
witty rejoinder, retorted. He felt like an emotional stewpot: bubbling
with anger and chunks of fear; flavored with desolation. Frankly Hezben’s
constant barrage of scathing judgments was only hastening the very meltdown the
leshy claimed to hope to prevent.

“Indeed.” The leshy arched a mossy eyebrow and moved ahead, leaving
Simon to seethe.

“I don’t think you’re a scourge,” Sasha told him solemnly. As
ever, the bruxa didn’t betray the slightest hint of an expression, but Simon
took heart in the fact that she wasn’t openly hostile. She moved briskly
beside him, spattered in the faded remnants of yesterday’s victims.

“Thanks,” Simon muttered. “Look, about what I said, about you
attaching yourself to us…”

Her eyes glittered. “You think me a parasite, too?”

“No, I…” Simon had no real idea what he thought of the bruxa.
His opinions had been much more clearly defined before he’d discovered that he,
too, was a monster. “Do you think your… mother… will send more hunters
after you?”

Sasha nodded solemnly. “Yes. She did warn me never to
try to sneak away again. She’ll have decided that I’m not worth the
trouble I could bring down on her. Unless she’s certain I can’t be traced
back to her, she’ll keep trying to destroy me. Next time, though…”
Sasha’s brow creased even as her lips curled into the ghost of a smile. “You
can bet it won’t be humans. I’m disappointed she thought those fools
would be able to stop me.”

“What will she send?”

Peeling a strand of black hair back from her face, Sasha
contemplated the sky for a moment. Slowly, she bared her teeth. “I
suppose we’ll see.”

Shuddering, Simon drew his jacket closer.

“They’re afraid of you,” Sasha commented. “Niu and the
others.”

Simon grimaced. “I know.”

“I’m not.”

“That’s because I can’t hurt you.”

“It’s because neither of us have a place in this world.” Sasha
didn’t sound bitter, just pragmatic. “Not really.”

“It’s because I can’t
stop your heart
,” Simon reiterated
irritably. He wasn’t ready to give up his place amongst humanity, not
yet.

“If you want,” Sasha said nonchalantly, “I could kill you.”

Simon stared. “What?”

“You’re scared you’ll hurt Niu. I could kill you, then you
couldn’t. Or…” she looked thoughtful, finger on lips. “I could kill
her, before you could get to her…”

“No!” Simon yelled, drawing the attention of everyone in the group.
“No one’s killing anyone!”

“What is going on?” Niu asked, her tone deceptively light.

“Nothing!” Simon snarled, fixing Sasha with what he hoped was a
threatening gaze. “Nothing is going on. I was just having a…
disagreement with Sasha.”

“About killing?” Niu remained calm and casual, but her eyes
were dark with misgiving.

“What
else
would she talk about? It’s all she does,”
Simon snarled with disgust. Splitting away from the group with a dismissive
gesture, he stalked off into the trees.

“That’s not the way, young fellow!” Oswald called after him.

Like I care
, Simon thought
furiously. Why should it concern him if Niu got home? There was no
version of her future into which he factored, unless he was standing over her
body. She could no longer tolerate his company, that was plain. Let
Oswald point her home. If Simon’s future was to have the living shrink in
fear from him as though he were some leprous tumor - to be accepted only by the
murderous undead - then he might as well cut his ties with humanity
immediately. What did he have to lose? He’d already inadvertently
killed his father. He might as well forfeit the girl he was coming to
love as well.

Worse, his faith had been shaken. He’d grown to believe that
Vanyon had been guiding his journey; that the Afterlord
cared
what
befell him, that the gods might have some kind of destiny in mind for
him. Disabused of that comforting notion, he was left conflicted as to
whether to believe in the gods at all. Why would Lesquann create a world
in which an abomination like the heartstopper could thrive? Why would
Vanyon prevent the poor girl who had once been Sasha from entering his kingdom,
allowing her to roam the mortal plane as a bloodsucking monstrosity?
Tucked away in his peaceful, simple corner of the kingdom, his father and
Brand’s priest informing his worldview, Simon had never stopped to consider the
possibility that his deeply-held beliefs might be grounded more in hope than
reality. He came to no conclusions as he tramped deeper into the green,
but the comfort of unquestioning faith had fled his soul and the loss left him
hollow.

Profoundly disheartened, Simon ignored the entreaties of his
companions as they called after him. Niu’s voice was the only one which
meant anything to him, and she was putting little effort into her attempts to
turn his feet around; she called his name only once, and uncertainly.

“Let him cool off,” he heard Hezben loudly advise. “He’s a
danger to everyone around him at present.”

Simon could happily have strangled the leshy with one of his own
vines.

With no destination in mind, he brushed past dripping boughs and
ferns, stumbling over roots and occasionally slipping where the moss gave way
on slick rock. The taste of self-imposed exile roiled bitterly at the
back of his mouth. He thought he might have emptied his lungs at the sky,
had he not wished to preserve some illusion of cold dignity. No one
followed him. He wasn’t sure if this was hurtful or a relief.

After some time of blind blundering, Simon’s left boot caught on an
unseen snag, pitching him face first into the sodden moss. For a moment,
he simply lay there, stunned and winded. Then the misery of the past few
days caught up with him in a rush; his pent up fears and frustrations boiled up
and spilled over. He wrenched his jaws wide and screamed.

Minutes passed as he alternated between beating the ground with
bunched fists and flinging clumps of moss about like a spoiled child.
When he’d exhausted himself – he felt a bit sheepish, but fractionally revived
– he righted himself, deeply relieved that none of his erstwhile companions had
witnessed the tantrum which would surely have killed them. Breathing
deeply to calm himself, he wiped his eyes with the back of one filthy hand,
straightened his jacket, and trudged onward, freshly numb. Behind him,
one by one, a family of squirrels fell dead from a tree.

For the duration of his lonely sojourn, Simon thought of very
little. An affliction which would force him to shun the company of others
for all his days; his father; Niu; being a wanted, hunted man; he pushed all
this into the depths of his mind. He only desired to be nothing, feel
nothing at all. When he happened across an overhang of the type his
childhood imagination might have conjectured some primordial troll to lurk
beneath, he crawled underneath and huddled there, mentally fatigued.

Barely conscious of the passage of time, Simon wasn’t sure how long
he’d been balled up in the shadowy dampness before hesitant footsteps
squelching in his direction intruded themselves upon his attention.
Warily, he looked up. That traveling cloak was very familiar to him, and
despite himself Simon experienced a rush of warmth as Niu peeled back her hood,
considered him for a moment, then dropped to her hands and knees to crawl under
the overhang beside him.

She does care.

“So,” she said, sitting across from him so that the toes of their
boots touched. “How is your exile going so far?”

“Don’t mock me,” Simon muttered, but he didn’t pull away. He
craved her closeness.

Her mouth twitched into a furtive smile. “This is not
necessary. You are welcome to come with me to Jynn.”

Unsure what to feel, Simon stared at her. “You would bring a
killer into your homeland?”

Niu’s smile faded, but only slightly. “I am no angel
myself. If I am recognized by the authorities, I am certain this time to
be executed.”

“If you stay with me, you’re almost certain to die.”

Niu chuckled humorlessly. “Perhaps this is my fate. To
be torn between certain deaths.”

Simon shook his head. “You don’t need to be. Flee to
another kingdom. Verivista, maybe, or one of the other ones Oswald
mentioned. Start fresh.”

Niu shuffled. “That would be an easier prospect with a trusted
friend at my side.”

Simon’s heart bloomed with hope, but he kept it from his
voice. “Sasha?”

She kicked him. “Do not be ridiculous. I pity Sasha, but
she is a monster.”

“Like me.”

“Not like you. She is literally a monster.”

Simon hugged himself. “If I were to go with you… to Verivista,
Jynn, wherever, I could only bring misery.”

Niu didn’t outright deny this. “It is possible. But I
think you could learn to control your emotions.”

A thick ball of sudden sorrow closed Simon’s throat. “Perhaps
I could. But having no strong emotions…” He spread his hands. “That
would mean I would have to abandon…”
Any hope of love
.