Shiny groaned suddenly and I jumped, glaring at him in consternation. The dragging must have injured him even further. No choice now; if I didn’t kill him, he would give us away.
Swallowing hard, I did as he had done to me in the House of the Risen Sun. I pressed my hand over his mouth, pinching his nose shut with my fingers.
For five breaths—I counted my own—it seemed to work. His chest rose, fell. Stilled. And then he bucked upward, fighting me. I tried to hold on, but he was too strong, even damaged as he was, jostling me loose. As soon as I let go, he sucked in air again, louder than before. Demons, he’s going to get us both killed!
Demons. I flexed my hand, remembering.
There was plenty of blood to use as paint, at least. I reached under his neck and got a generous handful. My hand shook as I put it on his chest, gingerly. Before, I had imagined that I was painting, and then I had believed the painting real. Slowly I moved my hand, smoothing the blood in a wide circle on his skin. I would make another hole, like the one I had used to kill Shiny before, like the one that had pierced Dateh’s Empty. Not a circle drawn with blood-paint. A hole.
His chest rose and fell beneath my hand, belying this. I scowled and lifted my hand so that I couldn’t feel him breathe.
A hole. Through flesh and bone, like a grave dug in soft earth, edges neatly cut by an unseen shovel blade. Perfectly circular.
A hole.
My hand appeared. I saw it hovering in the darkness, fingers splayed, trembling with effort.
A hole.
Compared to the sickening throb already in my head, what arced through my eyes was almost pleasant. Either I was getting used to it or I was already in so much pain that it didn’t matter. But I noticed when Shiny stopped breathing.
My heart pounding, I lowered my hand to where his chest should have been. I felt nothing at first; then my hand drifted a little to the side. Meat and bone, cut neatly as if with a knife. I snatched my hand back, my gorge rising again all on its own.
“How peculiar!” cried a bright voice, right behind me.
I nearly screamed. Would have done it if my chest hadn’t hurt. I did whirl and jump and scramble back, jarring my arm something fierce.
The creature that crouched at Shiny’s feet was not human. It had a human structure, more or less, but it was impossibly squat, nearly as wide as it was tall—and it wasn’t very tall. Maybe the size of a child, if that child had broad, yokelike shoulders and long arms rippling with muscle. The creature’s face was not that of a child, either, though it was cheeky, with huge round eyes. It had a receding hairline, and its gaze was both ancient and half feral.
But I could see it, and that meant it was a godling—the ugliest one I had yet seen.
“H-hello,” I said when my heart had stopped jumping around. “I’m sorry. You startled me.”
It—he—smiled at me, a quick flash of teeth. Those were not human, either; he had no canines. Just perfectly flat squares, straight across on top and bottom.
“Didn’t mean to,” he said. “Didn’t think you’d see me. Most don’t.” He leaned close, squinting at my face. “Huh. So you’re that girl. The one with the eyes.”
I nodded, accepting that bizarre designation. Godlings gossipped like fishermen; enough of them had encountered me that word must’ve spread. “And you are?”
“Dump.”
“Pardon?”
“Dump. That’s a neat trick you did.” He jerked his chin toward Shiny. “Always wanted to pop a hole or two in him myself! What’re you doing with him?”
“It’s a long story.” I sighed, suddenly weary. If only I dared rest. Maybe…“Um. Lord D-Dump.” I felt very foolish saying that. “I’m in a lot of trouble here. Please, will you help me?”
Dump cocked his head, like a puzzled dog. Despite this, the look in his eyes was quite shrewd. “You? Depends. Him? No way.”
I nodded slowly. Mortals constantly asked godlings for favors; a lot of godlings were prickly about it. And this one didn’t like Shiny. I would have to tread carefully, or he might leave before I could explain about his missing siblings. “First, can you tell if anyone else is around? I heard something before.”
“That was me. Coming to see what had dropped into my place. Lots of people get tossed out and end up here, but never from so high up.” He gave me a wry look. “Thought you’d be messier.”
“Your place?” A junkyard was not my idea of a home, but godlings had no need of the material comforts we mortals liked. “Oh. Sorry.”
Dump shrugged. “Not like you could help it. Won’t be mine much longer, anyway.” He gestured upward, and I remembered the blackened sun. The Nightlord’s warning.