Wings (A Black City Novel) (8 page)

Just then, the doors to the back room burst open and Patrick and Drew emerge, carrying a kicking, screaming girl. Even though her head is covered in a burlap sack, it’s clear from her size what she is—a Howler. The congregation lets out startled gasps, and several of the women grab their children and rush to the back of the chapel, away from the creature.

“What is this?” Grandfather demands.

Mr. Langdon doesn’t respond as he yanks off the Howler girl’s hood. My breath gets trapped in my throat as I stare at her. I’ve never seen a Howler in the flesh before, and she’s nothing like the monsters described by the Guild. The girl is dangerously beautiful, with eyes like mercury and a mane of snowy white hair. Her wrists have been bound with rope.

“Patrick found this beast in the woods, beside Mrs. Hope’s body,” Mr. Langdon says.

There are gasps and jeers from the crowd. We all know how Mrs. Hope was found—tied to a rock—but no one mentioned they’d found a Lupine at the scene!

“Let go of me!” the Howler screams. “Icarus is to blame, not me!”

Grandfather bristles, like he recognizes the name.

“Put her in the pool,” Mr. Langdon says calmly. “A life for a life.”

“No!” the girl cries out as Patrick and Drew drag the girl toward the water.

“This has gone on long enough!” Grandfather says. “This is a house of worship; I won’t allow this.” He tries to step in between Patrick and the pool, but Mr. Cranfield and Mr. Kent pull him back, their faces turning red under the strain of holding him.

Mr. Langdon raises his hand in prayer. “And His Mighty spoke to the Pilgrims and said,
‘Will thou cast out all the Impurity in the world, for only the Pure shall enter my Kingdom?’
and the Pilgrims cried,
‘We will!’
”

“Cast it out! Cast it out!” the congregation chants as Patrick tears off the girl’s clothes and drags her into the pool beside Mrs. Hope’s body. The congregation pushes toward the water’s edge, nearly knocking me and Catherine into the water too. I grab her before she falls in. She buries her face against my chest as the Lupine girl is dunked under the water. Her mouth opens in a silent scream as she thrashes against Patrick, Harriet and Drew, trying desperately to resurface. Tendrils of white hair ripple around her naked body, and for a brief moment she’s like a beautiful sea nymph, her luminous eyes gleaming up at us through the water.

“Cast it out!” the congregation chants.

“Stop this!” Grandfather yells.

The Howler frantically flays about under the water. My chest tightens and I can’t breathe, like I’m the one drowning. Her silver eyes widen and with a terrified gasp she sucks in a fatal breath. It’s over. They pull her out of the pool and dump her body by my feet. Splashes of water drip on my boot. Grandfather stares grimly down at her body.

“Let this be a warning to the Lupines,” Mr. Langdon says. “For every life they take, we will take one of theirs.”

“So sayeth His Mighty,” everyone chants.

Catherine throws a guilty look in my direction. I glance down at the Howler girl, shame squirming in my stomach.

“So sayeth us all,” I say.

EDMUND

P
ATRICK AND DREW PICK UP
the girl’s limp body and carry her outside while the rest of the congregation files out of the chapel. Mrs. Langdon looks adoringly up at her husband as they walk down the aisle. Tears glisten in Catherine’s eyes as she obediently follows them.

Outside, the October air is crisp and fresh, the ground still damp from last night’s downpour. Women lift their bustle skirts to prevent their hems from getting muddy as they gossip to their friends about tonight’s dance and what they plan to wear, the conversation polite and forced. In the center of the town square is a large wooden cross, more than eight feet high.

During the Misery—a yearlong conflict between the Darklings, Lupines and people of Amber Hills that resulted in hundreds of deaths—any citizens caught associating with a Darkling would be tied to the cross, on the Guild’s orders. They’d be left up there for days. Many would die from exposure or starvation. It hasn’t been used in almost two decades, until today that is. Patrick binds the dead girl to it as a warning to any more of her kind if they come back here searching for another victim.

Mr. Langdon strolls over to Grandfather, his wife still hanging off his arm. He can’t be much older than thirty-six, but his sandy beard makes him look older. All the kids in Amber Hills have young parents, as it’s common to marry at eighteen and have your first child at nineteen. I look longingly at Catherine, who is outside her house with some kids from school.

Eric Cranfield—the boy Catherine was hoping would take her to the dance—strolls over to her. He’s lanky in a way that’s stylish rather than awkward, with a sprinkling of freckles over his nose and auburn hair. He dips his head and whispers something in her ear before placing a consoling arm around her shoulders. Jealousy flares inside me.

“Fine service today, Hector,” Mr. Langdon says, drawing my attention.

“Thank you,” Grandfather replies coolly. “The ending was certainly eye opening.”

Mr. Langdon gives a forced smile. “It’s important to show our strength in these terrible times. We can’t let the Howlers think they can take our people without consequence.”

Grandfather scowls. “Is it really worth starting a conflict between our species over four people?”

“If you ask me, the Howler got what was coming to it,” Mrs. Langdon chimes in, ignoring the fact that no one asked for her opinion. She looks just like her daughter, with the same brunette hair, pale skin and heart-shaped face. “If I had my way, we’d put them all down. We have to protect the children, Hector.”

Grandfather slides a look at Mr. Langdon. “I always do.”

A muscle flexes in Mr. Langdon’s jaw.

“Will you be attending the dance tonight?” Mrs. Langdon asks me, her eyes constantly drifting toward the Howler girl. I suspect she wants the girl’s long, snowy white hair—Lupine fur is worth a lot of money.

“Yes. I’m taking Catherine, actually,” I say.

Grandfather arches a thick brow at me.

“Oh, that’s . . . wonderful,” Mrs. Langdon replies, clearly disappointed. “You’ll have to come by the shop later, so we can fit you for a new suit.”

I glance down at my brown woolen pants and jacket. I’d intended to wear these.

“I can’t . . . um . . . A new suit would be very expensive,” I mutter.

“Don’t worry, Edmund. It’s on the house,” Mr. Langdon says, brushing some imaginary dirt off his own expensive frock coat, which has faint fleur-de-lis pattern on it.

“Thanks,” I say, feeling anything but grateful. I hate charity; it’s the same thing as pity.

“Will you please excuse us?” Grandfather says.

I reluctantly follow him inside the church, giving Catherine one last, lingering look. She’s too busy talking to Eric to notice me leaving. We head upstairs to our living quarters. There are just four rooms in the apartment: a kitchen, a tiny bathroom, Grandfather’s bedroom, and the attic where I sleep. The best word to describe our home is
sparse.
The walls are white, the hardwood floors and furniture all the same shade of brown.

There aren’t many objects in the kitchen, which is the main room in the house. On the table is a glass jar filled with dead butterflies, while mounted on the wall is a telephone and an old photograph of my mother. We look a lot alike, with matching gray eyes, dark hair and a wide, thin mouth. Did she really kill herself, like Mrs. Hope said?

Grandfather turns to me. “You’re not going to the dance with that Langdon girl. What were you thinking, Edmund? You know it’s forbidden for Darklings and humans to date.”

“Only because the Guild says so.”

“And for a very good reason. You only have to look at yourself to understand why.”

I flinch.

“I’m sorry, Edmund. I didn’t mean . . .” Grandfather gazes down at me with kind eyes, which are so much like my own. I praise His Mighty every day that I inherited my mother’s eyes and not my father’s. “I know you’re not like the other Darklings; you’re a good boy. But His Mighty never meant for our species to be together. That’s why their offspring are—”

“‘Cursed with a heart of ice,’” I mutter, reciting from our scriptures. “It’s not fair.”

“I know, Edmund,” Grandfather says. “I pray to His Mighty every night to take pity on you and bless you with a heartbeat. It’s all I want for you.”

I pull away from him and walk to the window. Most people have gone home by now, but a few mill about the town square, including Catherine and Eric Cranfield. They’re with her brother and the O’Malley siblings. Patrick is checking his silver dagger while the brother-and-sister act lounge on the steps outside the Langdons’ store. I watch them for a moment, imagining what it would be like to be them. They don’t need to make excuses when they get invited over for a meal because the food makes them sick, or hold their breath when someone’s bleeding because the scent makes their insides tear apart. They didn’t have to have their teeth ripped out of their heads when they were babies to hide the fact that they were born with fangs, or lie to their best friend about what they are because if they ever knew, if they ever
knew.
They don’t have to do any of these things because they’re alive, and I’m . . . I touch a hand to my chest and feel the silence beneath.
A demon.

Grandfather says I’m not like the other Darklings, that I’m good. But I’m certain that’s only because of him and my faith, which keep me on a true path. If I didn’t have those things, I’m quite sure I wouldn’t have turned out this way. The predator is always there, lurking within me, wanting, hungry. But it’s not the only part of me that has desires; the human side of me thirsts for
other
things. I gaze at Catherine for a long moment, watching as she unpins her hair, letting it fall in loose brown waves around her narrow shoulders. Eric smiles.

“You can never be with her,” Grandfather says gently. “It’s not just your safety I’m worried about, but hers. You know what sinful desires are within you, Edmund.”

I look at the floor, ashamed. My father raped my mother, so I know exactly what I’m capable of. I hate the fact that his blood is in my veins. But I would never hurt Catherine!

Grandfather draws me away from the window. “Are you hungry?”

I nod, sitting down at the kitchen table while Grandfather collects a knife and glass from the cupboard. He nods toward the jar of dead butterflies on the table.

“Will you grind some of those up for me?” he asks.

I take off my gloves and unscrew the lid, pouring a few of the silvery-blue-winged butterflies into a stone mortar. I start grinding them into a fine powder with the pestle. My grandfather has been mixing it into the holy water for years, under the Guild’s advisement, to keep the townsfolk placid. It’s not easy being enclosed inside a walled compound without going stir-crazy after a while, so it’s for their own good. I pour the powder into a small pot.

“That should be plenty,” Grandfather says, sitting down at the table. He rolls up the sleeve of his dark tunic, exposing his arm. There are slashes all the way up it; some old, some fresh. He slices his arm with the knife and pours his blood into the glass. The rusty scent stings my nostrils. He fills the glass to the brim before passing it to me. I greedily drink.

“Slow down, Edmund,” Grandfather says. “That’s all you’re getting this week.”

I force myself to stop guzzling the blood and try to savor it, but it’s hard when I’m this hungry. The heat spreads over my tongue, awakening my taste buds. The blood has a slight bitter undertone to it, which I don’t like, but otherwise it’s good. I place the empty glass on the table and wipe my lips with the back of my scarred hand. They still look hideous, even after all these years. Darklings are meant to have amazing regenerative abilities, and I do to some degree—these wounds would’ve killed a human child.

“Why did you save me that night Mom dropped me in the bath?” I ask quietly.

“Because there is goodness in you, Edmund. Part of you is human; that part can be saved.” He sighs, getting up, and reaches for the phone. “I should call Mrs. Langdon and tell her you’re not taking Catherine to the dance. I’ll say you’re unwell.”

“No, wait,” I say in a rush. “It’ll look weird if I don’t go. Everyone will be there.”

His hand hovers over the receiver. If there’s one thing he hates more than the Langdon family, it’s gossip about ours. “Fine. But you’re not to see that girl again after tonight.”

I nod, not looking at him, knowing it’s a promise I can’t keep. I’m sick of watching my life from the sidelines. If things go well with Catherine tonight, then I don’t care what the risks are; I’m going to ask her to be my girlfriend. I place a hand over my silent heart. For once in my life, I want to know what it feels like to live.

EDMUND

A
SWARM OF BUTTERFLIES
fill my stomach as I rap on the door of Langdon’s General Store. Behind me, in the town square, the dance is already in full swing, with men and women dressed in their finest clothes. Strung from some of the shops is a hand-painted banner, reading
CELEBRATING 18 YEA
RS OF PEACE
. Tied to the cross in the center of the town square is the Lupine girl. Her dead eyes stare blankly at the banner.

To the left, a stage has been set up for the band, and to the right is a long row of tables, where an elaborate buffet has been laid out. My stomach roils. I’m not looking forward to eating it later; human food makes me sick, but occasionally I have to swallow it down, to keep up appearances in front of the Guild.

I quickly check my outfit for the umpteenth time, my nerves mounting, as I wait for Catherine to answer the door. Mrs. Langdon could barely conceal her contempt for me when I went to get my suit earlier. She picked out a burgundy velvet frock coat for me, with a cinnamon-gold waistcoat and cravat, dark brown pants and dress shoes. Clutched in my right hand is a purple wrist corsage.

There’s a sound of footsteps in the hallway and the door finally swings open. I smile, holding up the corsage.

“This is for you,” I say, expecting to see Catherine.

“You shouldn’t have,” Patrick replies dryly. He’s dressed in an expensive ink-blue tailcoat and matching pants. Tucked into his belt is a silver dagger. A lot of people carry weapons these days, ever since the Lupines started snatching people from the town.

I look past him, into the house. “Is Catherine in?”

“She’s already at the dance. With
Eric,
” he says, nodding over my shoulder.

I follow his gaze, and my face drops. Catherine’s outside Mr. Elwin’s curiosity shop with Harriet, Drew and, much to my confusion, Eric. They’re studying the macabre objects in the store window: stuffed Phantom owls frozen in midflight, Bastet skulls with gleaming saber teeth and—most disturbing of all—a table with glass jars filled with Darkling hearts.

Catherine’s wearing a silk brocade dress in buttercup yellow, with a voluminous bell-shaped skirt and tight corset top that shows off her curves, much to Eric’s obvious delight, given the way he keeps leering down her top when he thinks she’s not looking.

“Oh. I thought . . . ,” I murmur, not quite understanding what’s going on.

Patrick looks at my outfit, then the purple corsage, his blue eyes bright with amusement.

“Fragg, you didn’t think you and Cat were going on a
date,
did you?” he says.

“No. I thought we were meeting here first,” I lie. This would be more believable if I wasn’t carrying this stupid corsage. “This is for your mother, to thank her for the suit.”

Patrick gives a deep belly laugh before pushing past me, muttering “pathetic” under his breath. I shove the corsage into my jacket pocket and follow him across the square. Grandfather is by the stage with Mr. and Mrs. Langdon. There’s a faintly smug expression on Mrs. Langdon’s lips. Catherine smiles when she sees me.

“You’re here! I was starting to think you weren’t coming,” she says giddily.
Has she been drinking?

“Nice suit,” Eric says sincerely, sliding his hand down Catherine’s back.

Furious, I grab Catherine’s arm and lead her away from the group. Patrick watches us, a smirk on his lips.

“What the hell, Catherine?” I snap. “I thought
I
was your date tonight.”

“What . . . ?” A small crease forms between her brows, and then her eyes suddenly widen as she catches on. “Oh, Edmund, no, I’m so sorry.” She lightly touches my arm. “I meant we’d come together as
friends.
That’s why I invited Drew and Harriet too.”

“But we kissed,” I say.

Color floods her cheeks, and she lowers her gaze.

I think back to the kiss and realize that at no point did Catherine return it. She also told Patrick it was just a good-night kiss between
friends,
because that’s all we are in her mind. She was trying to let me down gently, to spare my feelings. It’s my fault I chose to ignore the signs. There’s a titter of laughter from Harriet, who’s clearly been eavesdropping on our conversation. I don’t dare look at Patrick’s reaction.

Catherine nervously plays with her yellow lace gloves. “I care for you, Edmund, so much. It’s just—” She flicks a look at Eric.

“You like him more,” I finish for her, letting go of her arm.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, her brown eyes brimming with tears. “Please say you forgive me. I couldn’t stand you being mad at me, Edmund.”

“Don’t worry about it, Caterpillar. My mistake. Can’t blame a guy for trying.” I chuckle slightly, but the sound cracks. “Friends?”

She gives me a grateful smile. “The
best.
”

Catherine takes my hand as we walk back to the others. I want more than anything to go home, but I don’t want to give Patrick the satisfaction of knowing how much Catherine’s rejection stings. Harriet laughs as we join the group.

“The moron thought you were on a
date
?” she says.

“It’s not funny, Harri,” Catherine says.

Eric scratches his freckled neck. “Sorry, Ed, I didn’t know you and Cat had plans.”

“It’s fine,” I say flatly, dying inside.

Patrick strolls over to me. He dips his head so that his mouth is just millimeters from my ear. “How could you ever think my sister would want to be with you,
freak
?”

That does it. I spin around and shove him. Patrick staggers back, surprised by my unexpected strength. Fury blazes over his face, contorting his features, and he strikes back, his punch landing squarely on my left cheek, sending two teeth flying out of my mouth. They fall into the dirt by Catherine’s feet, like a pair of glistening pearls. She gasps. The teeth are neatly attached by a thin steel wire. Drew and Harriet start laughing.

“Oh my God, the freak wears dentures!” Harriet squeals.

The music stops, and a hush falls over the town square as everyone turns to stare at us.

I drop to my knees and frantically gather my dentures, wedging them into my mouth without bothering to wipe off the dirt. Grandfather was right, this was too risky! What was I thinking? Patrick narrows his blue eyes at me. Catherine pushes past him and sinks down beside me, not caring that her yellow silk dress is getting covered in mud.

“Are you okay?” she says.

I can’t look at her. I can’t look at anyone, as fear and humiliation burns through me like the scalding water that destroyed my flesh.

“Lots of people have dentures, Edmund,” she says kindly. “It’s not an issue.”

Eric crouches down beside her. “Yeah, really, it’s no big deal. My uncle lost all of his front teeth when he was our age. Admittedly, a horse kicked him in the face . . .”

They haven’t put two and two together yet, but I can’t quell the panic rising in me. It’s only a matter of time before they start wondering why a boy my age needs fake teeth. A shadow passes over us, and I glance up to see my grandfather, along with the Langdons.

“Catherine Elizabeth Langdon, you’re ruining your new dress!” Mrs. Langdon says.

Catherine rolls her eyes, getting to her feet. Grandfather helps me up.

“Perhaps you should go home?” he says. His voice is tense.
Afraid.

Mr. Langdon glares at his son. “Patrick, apologize to Edmund.”

Hatred simmers in Patrick’s blue eyes. “Sorry you’re such a freak.”

“Patrick!” Mrs. Langdon exclaims.

My heart suddenly cramps and I gasp, clutching a hand to my chest. “Gah!”

“Edmund, what is it?” Catherine says, placing a hand on my arm.

Instinctively I whip my head around, drawn to the Boundary Wall for some reason. I scan the dark, searching for . . . I have no idea what. Something silver flashes across the rooftops.

“Is everything all right?” Catherine asks.

Another streak of silver leaps between two buildings. I get a good look this time.

“Howler!” I cry out.

The town square erupts into screams and chaos as the Lupine springs off the rooftop into the plaza, his long, smoke-gray jacket flaring behind him. The cool night breeze ruffles his snow-white hair, which has been decorated with feathers and bones. I know who he is, based on Grandfather’s past descriptions of him: Alaric Bane, the Lupine pack leader.

Behind him, more Lupines leap off the rooftops and surround the plaza, blocking the escape routes. Others hang back on the wall, their faces obscured by shadows. Families huddle together, terrified, realizing they’re trapped. One of the Howlers—a vicious-looking man with a speckled-gray mane and a crescent moon tattoo on his neck—stands nearest to us. Catherine lets out a whimper and clings on to Eric, and Mr. Langdon stands protectively in front of his wife. Out the corner of my eye, I notice Patrick drawing the dagger from his belt. Harriet and Drew do the same.

One of the Howlers—a plain-looking teenage girl with short hair and wind-burned cheeks—slowly approaches the wooden cross. Her furlike hair is white, just like the girl on the cross. Given the way she’s looking at the girl, I wonder if they were sisters.

“We don’t want a fight,” Alaric says to my grandfather, which I find odd, since Mr. Langdon is the man in charge. “I just want my daughter’s body back.”

“You’re trespassing on Guild territory, Alaric,” Grandfather says. “You need to leave.”

“Not without my sister,” the Lupine girl replies.

“Ulrika, be silent,” Alaric snarls.

The girl’s jaw immediately snaps shut, but her eyes are like flints.

“You kidnapped four of our people and you never returned their bodies to us,” Mr. Langdon says. “Perhaps this will be a warning—”

“I will ask you again, please leave,” Grandfather interrupts and Mr. Langdon throws him a cold look, his cheeks flushing.

“Not until we get what we came for.” Alaric approaches the wooden cross and uses his razor-sharp nails to sever the binds around his daughter’s arms. Her body collapses over his shoulder. Ulrika clenches her jaw, visibly holding back her grief, but her father knocks back his head and lets out a pained howl. The other Lupines join him.
Big mistake.

The second they’re distracted, Eric reaches for something in his belt—a dagger—and thrusts it at the Lupine beside him. The blade sinks into the man’s flesh, and he howls in pain. Eric pulls out the blade and attempts to stab the Lupine again. This time he grabs Eric and rips out the boy’s throat, spraying hot blood into the air. My senses explode as the predator inside me roars with thirst. The Lupine tosses Eric’s dead body to the ground.

It all happens in a flash: Patrick lunges for the Lupine and it swipes out a clawed hand to protect itself, accidentally slashing Catherine’s neck and chest in the process. She gasps, staggering back, as blood blooms over her yellow silk dress, while Patrick and the Lupine crash to the ground. They roll across the dirt, wrestling for their lives.

Harriet, Drew and Mr. Langdon draw their daggers and plunge their blades into the Lupine’s body, stabbing him over and over until the ground is awash with his blood. Mrs. Langdon faints, her blue satin dress pooling around her like an ocean. The town is soon in pandemonium as people push and scream, desperate to get out of the plaza. In the melee, Catherine slips down a nearby alleyway, clearly keen to get away from the Lupines blocking the path to her house. I chase after her.

The winding passageway is cramped and as black as Cinderstone. I follow the trail of Catherine’s blood, my hunger igniting with every footstep. I don’t feel like a boy looking for a girl; I feel like a hunter stalking its prey. I shake my head, trying to force out these thoughts.

Somewhere behind me, Alaric howls, calling his pack. I quickly scan the rooftops. The Lupines are retreating to the wall, Alaric leading the way. In his arms is his dead daughter. At the end of the pack is Ulrika. There’s a pop of gunfire and a bullet whizzes past her, grazing her right arm. She gasps, losing her footing, and falls, unbeknownst to the other Howlers. They keep going without her, leaving her to the mercy of the townsfolk. I don’t have time to worry about her now. I rush over to Catherine, who is lying in a ball on the ground at the far end of the passageway, quiet and still. I kneel down beside her.

“Edmund . . . thank His Mighty . . . you’re here,” she rasps, causing crimson blood to spurt out of the gruesome slash marks on her neck. My insides clench and I shut my eyes, taking a shaky breath, but it’s too late. I’ve smelled her blood. I can taste her in my mouth. My thirst consumes me, touching every nerve, every fiber of my body, demanding one thing:
drink.

She lets out a startled gasp as I sink my teeth into the open wound on her neck and begin to feed. Unlike my grandfather’s blood, hers is sweet and delicious, and a groan forms in my throat. Her fists pound against my arms, trying to stop me, but her struggling just excites the predator in me even more. In my darkest moments I’ve fantasized about doing this to her, but the reality is so much better than any dream. I don’t have to hide what I am now. I can take her, I can have her in a way no other boy can, and she’s powerless to stop me.