Flawless//Broken

Sleep comes like a nightmare - dark and brutal.

  ***

  1672 - Colony of Virginia - Reign of Charles the II

  The Iroquois called him ‘Tawiskaron’s Bloodless Wolf’.

  The great night-god Tawiskaron created the vicious animals, and the Bloodless Wolf was the most vicious of them all. One could only encounter him in the deepest wood, where no man could survive on his own. But survive the Wolf did, striking fear into the hunters who saw his pale skin and white-gold mane of hair, tangled and matted and dirty. His gold eyes were of the wolf. His body was naked save for a pair of torn breeches.

  The Bloodless Wolf had powers; he called deer to him and they came willingly, only to be slaughtered for food. He cut pieces of himself off - fingers, hands, feet - but he never bled, and the hunters swore when they saw the Wolf again, he’d regrown the parts as seamlessly as if a god-healer attended him. He could make fire with his hair, he disappeared into the smoke of it when cornered. Despite his powers, he never attacked the villages, though his presence alone was enough for the people to form hunting parties. They never found him - the best trackers lost his trail so quickly the rumor began to spread the Wolf was an unsettled spirit, wandering until he found what he was looking for.

  Gaderi knew these legends as bedtime stories - things her mother would tell her to frighten her away from the more dangerous parts of the woods. When Gaderi expressed her fright to Odese, her best friend, he had laughed and called her a wet trout - a coward. The name burned in the back of her mind for weeks - when she gathered mushrooms with mother and saw a dark patch of forest, or when a feast song was supplemented by the howling of a wolf pack. Always the Bloodless Wolf lingered in her head, taunting her with his mere presence. Gaderi’s father had been a great warrior - Gaderi was no coward. She would show Odese that, with proof. She was nearly bleeding age - almost a strong woman. She would do what no warrior and dozens of hunting parties had failed to do - retrieve a piece of the Wolf.

  Gaderi pulled her hair into a braid and bound it to her ears with moose-bone rings. She packed jerky and a pouch of seasoned bear fat, and wrapped her mother’s fox-pelt cape around her shoulders. Her father’s jagged obsidian dagger went on her hip, where it would be easy to draw in the face of danger. She slipped from the village like a shadow. Her heart pounded in her chest, hitting her throat. Fear gripped her as she made her way deeper into the forest, but she wouldn’t let it win. Father had taught her better than that.

  She followed the hunter’s paths through the forest until the usual noises of the night began to fade - crickets, owls, and rodents. Wildcats were the only real threat beside the Bloodless Wolf - silent and fanged, they could strike at any time. But Gaderi knew how to stay low and make little noise. Soon, she found herself in the deep woods, and she kept moving to the quietest part of the forest. She couldn’t track like the village hunters, but she knew fear well; where animals feared to be, the Wolf would be.

  Gaderi felt the eyes on her before she saw them.

  There were many - the moonlight illuminating their skin as they emerged from the bushes. They had long dark braids, and the builds of warriors. They weren’t white men - Gaderi recognized the wampum around their waists as Mohawk clan. What were they doing out here, miles from their territory? A raid? No - they held no weapons and wore no warpaint. The hungry look in their eyes as they circled her paralyzed her. It was not the look of humans, but of starving animals. She gripped her dagger, but felt a cold hand on the back of her neck. Her feet left the ground and pain shot down her spine - they laughed. It was then she knew they were wrong for sure - true Mohawk warriors would simply kill her. They’d never play with their opponent. Father had taught her that with his death.

  The man threw her down on the ground, and the others tightened the circle around her. Gaderi reached for her dropped dagger, but one of them kicked it away.

  She couldn’t let this fear pass, no matter how she focused. It consumed her, her looming death a red-hot flame eating at her heart. She wanted to die old, in her sleep, surrounded by her children and not in any pain. But the gods had other plans, and she was terrified of them.

  As the first man struck his head out like a viper to bite at her, she saw a spark in her the corner of her vision. From the shadows a fire leapt - blazing white and longer than a horsehair lash. It struck the man on the side, throwing him far. His body hit a tree, disintegrating into a pile of ash like a crushed ember. The other men snarled at the fire as it retreated. Gaderi squinted through her pain; there, emerging from the shadows, was the Bloodless Wolf. His hair shone like sunlight on the river, his height looming and shoulders broad. His chest was streaked with mud and blood - and his eyes burned amber. In his hand he clutched daggers made of white bone.

  The men ran at him, but the Bloodless Wolf threw a dagger into one’s forehead. He staggered, and instantly turned into a cloud of ash. The Wolf ducked into a fighting pose, then struck, his daggers moving faster than Gaderi could follow. A slice, and another man disintegrated. The last man tried to run, but the Wolf cut a portion of his hair off with a dagger. He threw the hair to the ground, uttering a strange word, and a tongue of fire sprang forth, catching the fleeing man and consuming him in flames. Ash choked the air in the forest, raining down softly in the moonlight. Gaderi’s heart beat still, waiting for the Wolf to turn his rage on her. She dared a peek at him, and saw him squatting beside her, eyes focused on her in a way that was neither hungry nor murderous.

  “Are you alright?”

  His voice was calm and low, though his Onodowaga was lacking - stilted and twisted with a heavy accent.

  “I-I’m fine,” Gaderi managed. As her panic eased, she saw now the Wolf meant no harm to her. At least, not yet. “Thank you for helping me.”

  “I made them,” The Wolf said. “My duty is to kill them.”

  “Men cannot make men. Only a woman can make men,” Gaderi frowned. To her surprise, the Wolf smiled, though it was a sad smile filled with deep pain.

  “This is true, little one. Men cannot make men. But men can make monsters.”

  Gaderi was quiet. She saw the Wolf was missing a finger, and pointed to it.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I do not hurt anymore,” He assured her.

  Gaderi’s curiosity burned, but the Wolf disappeared into the shadows before she could ask more questions.

  She would seek him many more times as she grew older - he would always come from the shadows, and always when she least expected it. She begged stories of him, and he told her only little; he was a monster, made by accident in a land far away. His enemies wanted him dead, and were also like him. He was trying to stop their spread into Gaderi’s land, but they were many, and they were converting the Iroquois into monsters, too. Gaderi asked to help, but he refused. He did, however, teach her the ways of the dagger where her father had stopped. And so the years went by. Sometimes, when two moons would pass, the Wolf would get a hungry look in his eyes, similar to the monsters he killed. But it would always be gone when she saw him next.

  One day, she found him in the woods, unmoving.

  “Go away,” He groaned when she turned his body over. Pine needles stuck to his face and laced his mane of hair.

  “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Gaderi looked him over, touching his hand. The hunger in his eyes flared, and he grabbed her wrist. His face was thinned by starvation, a pale mockery of the handsome face Gaderi had grown fond of. Terror gripped her. The Wolf seemed to remember himself, and pushed her away.

  “Go, run,” He croaked. “Before I hurt you.”

  Gaderi watched his labored breathing for a moment, and then took out her father’s obsidian dagger.

  “Stop!” The Wolf snarled, but Gaderi ignored him. She sliced carefully across her wrist, and offered it to his lips.

  “Blood feeds them, so it must feed you.”

  The Wolf knit his lips and turned his head away, but Gaderi smeared the blood on his lips with a frown.

  “Ea
t,” She commanded. “Eat, or you’ll die.”

  “I want to,” The Wolf snarled. “Leave me to die.”

  “Don’t be selfish,” Gaderi snapped. “You have to stop the monsters, don’t you? You can’t do that if you’re dead.”

  “They keep coming. They never end. It’s hopeless.”

  “As long as there is life in this world, there is hope.” Gaderi propped his head into her lap, and offered her wrist again. “If you won’t stop them, I will.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I’ll learn,” She insisted. “Even if I can’t, I have to try. Father told me someone has to fight the darkness. If you won’t, then it falls to me.”

  She ignored the Wolf’s intense gaze, but the gentle feel of a mouth on her arm drew her attention back. He ate, and when he was done he looked up at her with a bloodstained mouth, amber eyes hard.

  “I will teach you to protect yourself from those like me.”

  ***

  PRESENT DAY

  In a few days, Lake’s back to his old self. He hits on Ellie with renewed vigor, and his smirks are even more infectious than they were.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” I say, spooning oatmeal into a bowl.

  “What are you talking about, sweetcheeks? I never left,” Lake sniggers.

  “You did, for a while there,” I insist. “But now you’re back.”

  Lake shrugs. “Some old, cranky dude gave me a good talking-to. Turns out old people are pretty smart, if you can stand their blathering. He reminded me I’m damn good at my job. I just put a lot of shitty pressure on myself when Darius asked me to guard you. I tried to be perfect, instead of being good, and it made me sloppy. And Ellie and you went through hell because of it.”

  He smiles at me instead of the usual ribald smirk.

  “I won’t let that happen again. I promise.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I singsong. “Who knows - some alchemist could kidnap me at the showing and make me his Azoth - oh, wait. That’s going to happen for real.”

  “Except with a bit more money,” Lake chuckles. His phone goes off, and he answers it with clipped ‘yeahs’ and ‘okays’. When he hangs up, he looks at me.

  “It’s tonight.”

  “Seriously?” I feel my heart rocket into my throat. “But - that’s so soon.”

  Lake shrugs. “Darius must’ve kicked their asses into gear. He really wants to get you an alchemist to protect you.”

  I flush and look down at the table. Lake continues.

  “It’s at nine p.m, at the Autumn House.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “It’s one of the four secluded mansions around the world the Sage Council uses for showings - the Autumn House is on a private island off the coast of Crete. It’s fine. It’ll do. I’m a bigger fan of the Spring House up in Hawaii.”

  “Wait wait wait, hold up,” I raise my hand. “How are we going to get to Crete by nine tonight? That’s at least a twelve-hour trip.”

  “Portals, sweetcheeks. You and me’ll be there in no time. Do you wanna go get some makeup, or something? My treat.”

  “Do you even know how expensive makeup is?”

  “Sure,” He laughs. “I’ve dated enough girls to know that, at least. Consider it my farewell gift to you, yeah?”

  “It’s fine. Ellie’s going to do my makeup. All I want you to do is protect her. Consider that my gift, okay?”

  “Fine,” Lake pouts. “But I at least get one dance with you. Deal?”

  “Dance?” My stomach plummets. “There’s dancing?”

  “Oh yeah, they love that shit. Masks, dancing, a quartet, fancy marble floors, the whole shebang.”

  “But I can’t dance.”

  “According to Darius, you totally can,” Lake smirks.

  “Not that kind of club dancing,” I feel my face flush. “I meant the old fashioned kind.”

  “Have you slow-danced before?”

  I shake my head, my blush growing hotter. Lake laughs and laces his arm around my waist, taking my hand in his.

  “It’s not real hard. I’ll provide the music,” He starts humming, moving us in a gentle rhythm. He smells like leather and menthols, his hands warm and broad.

  “Ack, sorry,” I murmur as I trod on his boots. He grins.

  “S’fine. Just remember to do that a little less with six-inch heels.”

  “I hate heels.”

  “That’s a damn shame,” Lake laughs. “We’d like to see you in ‘em. Darius especially.”

  “Darius doesn’t care about me, in heels or out of them. He cares about my Azoth.”

  “Shit, that’s more than most. I can’t tell you how many alchemist chicks have tried to get him to care about them.”

  “Well, they’re idiots.”

  Lake laughs. “You don’t know how right you are. But you’ll get to see it with your own eyes soon enough. C’mon, more practice. We’ll make a good dancer out of you yet.”

  When he spins me, my necklace flies out from under my shirt. Lake lets go of my hand and backs up with a flinch.

  “Holy shit, where’d you get that?”

  “The necklace?” I hold it. “Darius. It - it’s supposed to -”

  “Ward off fuckin’ Munkies, yeah, I can sort of tell,” He snarks. “Alchemist-made stuff has a scent - Reapers can smell it. Munkies, fire, buildings or jewelry - anything made by alchemy, we can smell. And that thing - phew! It’s way stronger than anything I’ve smelled in a while.”

  “Is it bad? I can put it back into my shirt -”

  “No, no. It’s totally fine. It’s not a bad smell, it’s just strong. Damn if it isn’t the prettiest thing I’ve seen, too. Darius keeps surprising me with all the cool shit he can make.”

  “If you can smell it, will the homunculi?”

  “Nah,” Lake shakes his head. “They only smell living Azoth, you know, the kind inside people. Once it’s out of the body - poof! They can’t smell it anymore. If an Azoth took out all their blood, they’d be invisible for once.”

  “And also quite dead,” I say.

  “Very dead,” He laughs, then thumps me on the back. “Aw man, I’m gonna miss you, sweetcheeks. You’re the only one with a sense of humor around here.”

  When Ellie gets back from work, I break the news to her. She smiles wanly as she sits me down in front of her dresser. My reflection is nervous, hers is forced-happy. But despite her inner turmoil she works like a pro, applying perfect eyeshadow and pinpoint cat’s eye liner. When she tries to put foundation over my scar to hide it, I stop her. She hesitates, then smiles. With a swab of baby-pink lipstick, she nods and puts her hands on my shoulders.

  “There. One extra-beautiful Mia, coming up.”

  I put my hand on hers, and I notice her tears in the mirror.

  “Do you remember what I told you,” She murmurs. “That night you called me over to the trailer park?”

  Of course I do. I remember every second of that night, whether or not I want to. She held me in her car, after we’d gotten rid of the evidence, and I cried and cried into her shoulder.

  “Bad things happen to good people,” She’d said, and she’s saying it again now, holding my shoulder tightly. “And bad people happen to good things. But the bad things and bad people don’t last, because nothing in this world lasts forever. Sometimes all you can do is just hold on.”

  I stand, and it’s my turn to wrap Ellie in a hug, even as my heart is breaking for her. For myself. For Darius, who really has lasted forever.

  “Just keep holding on,” She sobs. “And it’ll all be okay.”

  ***

  This time, the portal is hidden in a rose garden.

  It took us a while to get here, mainly because Lake wouldn’t shut up about my dress, or my legs, or any part of me, really. Finally I just yanked him by his jacket to the motorcycle, and his endless compliments were drowned out by the wind. I have the sneaking suspicion it’s just his way of trying to make me less nervous, but it
’s doing the opposite. I might look nice, but on the inside I’m tired and I feel ugly and nothing makes sense. I want to get this over with, so I can go back to creating some semblance of a peaceful life.

  Instead of red light, the portal is written on the ground in a symbol made of small pebbles, perfectly placed and meticulously hidden in the West Park’s rose garden. People passing would assume it’s some sort of elegant stone arrangement, innocent and normal. I’m reluctant to walk on it, but Lake pulls me on it and says ‘bicallis’. The stones don’t glow, but when I look down I see them shaking slightly. And when I look up again, the roses have faded. The smell of them is replaced by the smell of the ocean. Bright sun nearly blinds me, and I realize we’re standing on a white sand beach in ankle-deep water, with the same pattern in rocks below us.

  “Ah, shit,” Lake swears. “I forgot about the water. Sorry. Your pretty shoes ruined at all?”

  I take them off and fling them back and forth, spraying water on him. “Oh, they’re totally fine.”

  “Hey!” He laughs, shielding himself. “C’mon, that ain’t fair at all. I can’t splash you back or your dress will get wet.” He raises one eyebrow. “Unless that’s what you want.”

  “As if,” I roll my eyes, and look around. The water is completely turquoise, clear as the sapphire necklace around my throat. Seagulls dip on the horizon, the sun setting like blood beneath the waves. Stark white cliffs surround us, with lovely green foliage as far as the eye can see. Lake points to a massive white mansion, even bigger and more grand than Darius’s, sitting on the north cliffside.

  “That’s us.”

  He leads me up a path in the cliff, and I’m suddenly grateful I took my shoes off - even the tiny two-inch heels I’m wearing would be killer on these rocky steps. I look back at the beach and notice other people are stepping out from seemingly thin air - couples, usually, or a group of people. Most of them are dressed impeccably in designer dresses and tuxedos, elegant shawls and jackets barely hiding expensive jewelry. They’re all skin colors and ages, and the only common factor between them is the fact every group is escorted by someone in black and leather, with knives and swords at their hips. Reapers.