Labyrinth of Stars(10)

I glanced away, but not before Lord Ha’an saw what had caught my attention.

“A’loua,” he murmured. “The child is alive because his forebear fed him his own flesh. And now the child repays him.”

“I know,” I whispered.

Lord Ha’an gave me a long, piercing look. “Our Kings who are bonded to you, young Queen . . . all the blood they have spilled while bound to your heart? What does that say about your hunger?”

“It says I’m a monster.” I stopped walking and pointed. “Are those cats drunk?”

I was staring at an area outside the encampment, thick with shadows that gathered beyond the ring of campfires. Mahati warriors crouched in the thick grass, long fingers sunk into the dirt: anchoring themselves into preternatural stillness, every inch of them tense, taut, starving.

And then there were the demons from the Osul clan.

As a kid on the road with my mom, we’d stay in strange hotels in strange cities, and the only constant I clung to (besides Zee and the boys, and my mother’s sharp smiles and guns) were the Saturday morning cartoons. Those were my religion—and each series was a different god.

Voltron, Transformers, even the fucking Smurfs. But nothing, I mean nothing, was better than She-Ra. And after She-Ra, there was He-Man. Along with his trusty sidekick, Battle Cat. Who wouldn’t want to ride a giant green tiger into battle against the Forces of Evil?

No one would be riding the Osul—not unless they wanted to be eaten—but those demons certainly made me feel like a kid again every time I looked at them.

They were sprawled on their backs, in the most undignified poses imaginable. Muscular legs stuck lazily up in the air. Serrated claws jutted from flexing paws, and scales glistened beneath ragged silver pelts. Long tails rose and fell against the grass, a slow, thudding rhythm that was way too relaxed to make me comfortable. One of them yawned, revealing fangs almost a foot long, curved like scythes.

“I do not know the meaning of ‘drunk,’” Lord Ha’an replied, somewhat dryly. “But if you intend to say that battling Aetar constructs, tasting their blood, and smelling their agonized deaths makes them want to contemplate breeding, then yes, they are drunk.”

I gave him a long look. “Why are they here?”

“They are acting as . . . guards,” he replied carefully, and I choked down a terrible, inappropriate laugh. “There was a rush on the flesh when these human bodies were first discovered. Some of it was distributed before I became aware of the deaths.”

A rush on the flesh. Something the size of a golf ball threatened to rush up my throat. Nausea from the pregnancy or total disgust, it didn’t matter. This was my fault. Humans were dead because I’d gone against my upbringing—and chosen compassion instead of genocide.

I could still make it right. Lord Ha’an stood beside me: flesh and blood. Kill him, and his people would die. All their lives, bound together. It would be easy.

But the demon child and his cannibalized elder were right behind me; and they weren’t alone. Death and murder, compassion and love. Right here. Right here, amongst these demons.

Kill that.

“Fuck,” I muttered again.

I could almost see the dead humans in the grass. They couldn’t have been here long. I’d learned about the cabin massacre less than an hour before, but according to the reports, those murders had taken place a full night before. Somehow, the authorities had managed to keep it quiet until now. FBI were involved, God only knew who else. The two survivors, boys who had been having sex in the locked basement, had called 911 once the screaming started. Otherwise, it would have taken days for the bodies to be found.

I was certain, as well, that the tape of the Mahati had not been intended for public release. Something that big, that powerful . . . it was too much. Someone had leaked it. If I had to take bets, that someone had been possessed by a demon. Probably Blood Mama. Just to fuck with me.

The Mahati warriors didn’t so much as twitch as I approached the second killing ground, but the Osul stiffened and rolled onto their stomachs. No longer relaxed. Not even a little. Shoulders hulked forward, muscles and bone shifting until the demons appeared, from my vantage, to be little more than big toothy heads attached to a solid, impressively rippling wall of scales, fur, and claws.

Growls rumbled in their chests. Lord Ha’an moved between us, making a guttural warning sound, but the Osul ignored him. He wasn’t their lord. And I didn’t have time for this shit.

“Zee,” I said. The little demon had been drifting in and out of the shadows but reappeared at my side, coalescing from between blades of grass. His ears pressed flat against his skull, and his gaze, as he looked at the Osul, was cold, narrow, and disgusted. Which should have been enough to shut them up. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem to notice—which meant they were blind, or just very stupid.