Eyes of the Woods (4 page)

“But—”

“Eris, his little body has been defiled enough. Let him rest in peace.”

“Yes, Father.”

I pretended to look back once more to hide my relief.

“Eris, stop it,” Clemens snapped. “It wasn’t human.”

I glared at him. “He
was
. He was a little boy, Clemens.”

He looked away. “Not anymore.”

I couldn’t speak to him, for fear I would cry. As a daughter of the Priory, we couldn’t afford emotion. Tears were frowned upon. We received no special treatment. Keep up, or stay behind and tidy the home, and get married off sooner rather than later. The latter gave me the motivation I needed to continue hunting, even though I didn’t see the nightwalkers as others did.

Instead of shedding tears, I gritted my teeth—not only out of frustration, but also because I felt so sorry for the boy and whoever loved him, and out of wondering how my brother could be so heartless.

“I’ll carry him,” I whispered, lifting him in my arms.

Father took a deep breath and began to argue, but instead he turned around and walked toward me, stopping only for a moment before lifting what was left of the young one. He cradled him gently, nodding for me to walk ahead.

Clemens scowled at me.

What?
I mouthed.

We watched Father stop at the first ragged rock, set the remains of the boy on the forest floor, and then pull a short shovel from his pack. He shoved it into the ground and jerked upward, pulling dead leaves, vines, and earth with it. The contents of the shovel flew up and over Father’s shoulder, and then he dug in again.

Clemens shook his head. “If anyone had told me when I gathered the equipment that Father would be using the shovel to bury a nightwalker instead of digging a trap, I wouldn’t have believed him.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” I said.

“It’s disrespectful, asking him to bury one of…them.”

“He was a boy once,” I whispered.

Father picked up the young one, placed him in the hole, and then said a few words.

Clemens took a step forward, and Father looked back.

“Stay there, son.”

Lukas’s lip quivered. “W-why would he do that? It’s sacrilege.”

Clemens covered his mouth with his hand. “He’s lost his mind.”

I craned my neck at my older brother, my entire body tense. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“Eris,” Clemens began.

I pointed my finger in his face. “He is your father. You will respect him.”

Father appeared next to us, his brow dripping with sweat. He slowly lowered my finger from Clemens’s face.

“He was a boy once,” Father said. “I prayed for his human soul, not for the headless animal in the hole.”

I blinked, stepping aside as Father passed by. Clemens nodded, satisfied.

Lukas patted me on the shoulder, encouraging me to follow as Father and Clemens walked away.

We hunted all night, but found nothing. Father became increasingly frustrated, and as the dark became darker, he began cursing under his breath. No tracks, no broken branches—even the sound seemed to escape us.

“Sunrise is in an hour,” I said. “Maybe we should pack it up?”

Father let a frustrated growl simmer in his throat. “I don’t see our luck improving, do you, Clemens?”

Clemens simply shook his head.

“Just a while longer, Father?” Lukas pleaded.

I elbowed my little brother. “If we go to bed now, we can wake up early and sit in the sun.” My small bit of encouragement was lost on Lukas, but the thought made me smile. Oh, how I loved the sun, even though I rarely saw it. The warmth spreading on my skin, the blinding light, the smell of sunshine. I wanted to bathe in it, breathe it in, and let it settle inside me. But there was never enough time in the sun. Not for us.

The thoughts of warmth and light were snuffed out by screeching, maybe half a mile away. Clemens immediately drew his bow, as did my father. Lukas unsheathed his sword, holding it low and steady.

I walked cautiously, leaving my daggers in their holsters on each of my thighs.

“It’s just an animal,” Lukas said.

“They’re feeding,” Clemens said.

Father held his finger to his mouth, and motioned for us to continue. We moved in formation, soundless, ready for anything.

Father glanced at me, and I caught the small smile that touched his lips for just a moment. It wasn’t lost on me that he was proud, knowing he didn’t have to worry; he had taught me to take care of myself.

But what he didn’t know was how well I could pretend. How it was really Clemens, Lukas, and even Jonathan who killed more than I. The boys were so blind with pride, it was easy to feign that I was just a slow, weak girl who could never quite get to the nightwalker in time. The boys claimed victory over their kills. They were happy to take them from me.

If Father thought about it, he’d realize I’d only killed a single nightwalker since I began hunting, and it was self-defense. He wouldn’t be proud if he knew the truth, so I let him believe that I understood my duty and carried it out with conviction, just as he did.

“You’re getting soft,” Clemens said.

I frowned. “Focus. It’s close.”

The screeching was intermittent. It was definitely an animal. Just before we came within range, the noise stopped. Father pointed to a tree in the distance. Dark red drag marks could be seen partway up one tree, and then they stopped, beginning again at an adjacent tree.

“They’re on the move,” Father whispered.

“Good,” Clemens said.

Father watched the pines for a moment. We listened to the woods, the breeze blowing through the leaves, and the doves cooing, their haunting call echoing through the Glades.

“We’re finished for the night,” Father said, unhappy.

We began retracing our steps, heading home.

Clemens let his crossbow rest on his shoulder. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“You were upset about that boy.”

“My apologies. It was my first decapitation.”

“False,” Clemens said.

“I’m not used to seeing the young ones. Watching that man hack off its head wasn’t upsetting…it was disturbing.” My heart beat a little harder in my chest. I wasn’t sure why I felt so defensive.

“It’s okay, you know,” Clemens said. “I’ve always known how you felt. You used to want to be one of them.”

“What?” I said in disbelief.

Clemens chuckled. “It’s true. You don’t recall?”

I thought about it for a moment. “Vaguely.” It was a lie. I remembered like it was just hours ago.

I had been just four or five, with my yellow dress twirling around me as I danced around the fireplace. The flames cast shadows on the wood, flicking around like the tongues of a thousand devils. They had seemed to thrash at the stone walls of the hearth, reaching out, trying to escape. Shadows had swayed on the walls, seeming to dance with me. Father had been resting in his chair, his belly full with dinner. He laughed and clapped when I would bow, and then smiled when I would start again.

Lukas had been fast asleep in Mother’s arms, so when I was finally out of breath, I had crawled up into Father’s lap. He hugged me to him, and I felt so safe and warm in his arms.

“Father, I want to be a nightwalker,” I had said.

Father’s shocked expression had matched Mother’s, but neither deterred me.

“I could run so fast, I would win all the races at the Vileon Festivals”—at the time I didn’t know what Vileon was made out of—“and I could hear a butterfly on the moon! I would catch it for you, Father, and bring it back.”

Mother had gasped and put her hand over her heart. The line that always appeared between Father’s eyes when he was cross was deeper than I’d ever seen it.

His voice boomed when he finally spoke. “Eris, don’t ever say that again! Do you understand me?”

Lukas had startled awake and began to cry. Mother tried to soothe him.

My lip had quivered. What had I done to make him sound like that? Tears had welled up in my eyes.

He had sighed and hugged me to him. I sniffed, resting my head on his chest, listening to his soothing heartbeat as he rocked me back and forth, patting me on the back.

“Eris, nightwalkers are sad people. They’re dangerous. If you were one of them, you couldn’t live at home with us. You don’t want that, do you?”

I had shaken my head.

“If you were…one of them, you would attack Clemens, or even little Lukas.”

I had gasped and had shaken my head furiously. “
No!
I won’t eat Lukas
or
Clemens! Even if he calls me a weed!”

“But you wouldn’t be able to control it. That’s why we must end their suffering. They want us to,” he had said, tapping my nose lightly.

He had sat me on the ground and then stood, watching Mother lay Lukas in his crib. Father had cupped her shoulders and then hugged her to his chest once, kissing her temple.

“All right, love,” Mother had said. “It’s time for you to get to bed. Clemens, you too.”

Clemens whined.

Father had looked down on me, the shadows from the fire dancing across his face. “Do you still want to be a nightwalker, Eris?”

I had shaken my head. “No, no,
no
.”

“That’s a good girl.”

I lifted my chin, the memories from that night still replaying in my mind, even as we reached the edge of the forest.

Father disappeared behind the thick foliage that bordered the woods, then Clemens, and then Lukas.

I paused, feeling something was watching me again. I turned quickly, placing my hand on the grip of one of my daggers. The trees swayed gently in the early-morning wind. I could smell rain. A storm was brewing.

Lukas ducked his head out from behind the trunk of a tree. “Eris? You coming?”

My eyes pored over the branches, the forest floor, and everything in between.

“Do you ever feel like we’re being watched, Lukas? Toyed with?”

“I don’t know,” he said, nervous. “Should I?”

I shook my head. “I think I’m just tired and hungry. Let’s go home,” I said, following him out.

As we made our way to the house, the young nightwalker stayed on my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about who would miss him—if they missed one another at all.

Mother waved at us as we breached the front gate.

“How’s Jonathan?” Dad asked after hugging and kissing Mother. She sighed, crossing her arms.

“He’s unhappy that he missed the hunt.”

“He didn’t miss much,” Clemens said.

Mother hugged her eldest son. “Welcome home, dear boy.” Clemens bent down a bit for her to kiss his forehead. She wiped her hands on the dirty apron wrapped around her waist and then repeated the process with Lukas.

Mother’s golden hair was always pulled back in a long braid and then wrapped around in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Her sharp features complemented her piercing blue eyes. My tresses resembled hers, but mine were wavy like Father’s. Everyone in the village had told me since I could remember that I was a perfect copy of Mother. I took it as a compliment, because she was the epitome of beauty, but our physical resemblance was where it ended. The hem of Mother’s skirt was never stained with mud from wandering, like mine always seemed to be. She had dreamed of her betrothal since she was a girl, and I had dreaded it.

When it was my turn, she kissed my forehead, and squeezed me to her chest. “Welcome home, my sweet girl.”

“We didn’t have much luck tonight,” I said.

“Shame,” she said, winking at me. Her arm slid across my back, and she cupped my shoulder, guiding me inside. The wrinkles around her eyes seemed deeper, the circles beneath them darker.

“Dinner is on the table,” she called to the boys. “I need Eris in the kitchen for a bit.”

She guided me past the kitchen to the pantry. The servants all seemed to notice we were having a private conversation and made themselves scarce.

“Your betrothal…,” she began.

I sighed. “Mother, not today. I’m tired.”

She laughed quietly. “If not today, then when? It’s just a few days away.”

“What about it?”

“I just wanted to make sure you had the ceremony memorized. It’s so important that traditions are followed, especially for a daughter of the Priory, and—”