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Behind him the hollow shuffles and groans in the dark like he’s in pain, and Arsene shuts his eyes as if he can block out the sound.
Chapter 6
NUR
The hunger comes in waves,and whenever it ebbs the pain from his wound fills the space left behind. Nur wraps his arms around his knees and stares into the embers of the fire until his eyes ache. An illusion rises out of the flame: a single drop of blood falling from the angel’s finger, containing a million particles of his brilliant soul. The blood somehow coats the cracked surface of his lips, a glorious and soothing elixir. It slithers across his tongue and blazes through every crevasse like molten gold. Finally, it slides down his throat, burning deliciously.
Nur whimpers into his arms, squeezing his claws into his own flesh. But the vision won’t leave him alone.
“Be quiet,” the angel growls into the darkness.
In the aether the angel is haloed with light, with stars for eyes, and huge, gleaming wings spilling across the dusty ground.
Nur would do anything for a taste of his essence. If he could only reach—but the bonds around his ankles jerk him to a halt.
“Just one drop,” he rasps.
“Can you think of nothing else?” The angel rolls over with a groan. He throws something at Nur and it lands next to him. “Drink some water. It’s good enough for demons.”
Nur kicks the tin away, furious. Hunger rips at him. “I only need a taste! Barely anything. You won’t even miss it.”
The angel snarls incomprehensibly and turns his back again.
“I didn’t ask for this!” Nur hurls at his back. “You won’t even prick your finger to help me? I need it. Ineedit. INEED?—”
He howls, throwing his whole body weight toward the angel. The bonds around his ankles pull him up short and he slams into the ground, barely missing the coals. His wounds erupt with fire. For a moment the fall shocks him into stillness.
Then hunger claws at him again, ripping a moan of despair from his throat. Unable to be still, he drags himself back and forth in front of the fire, sobs wracking his chest, each movement jostling him again, digging the knives deeper, and he spirals into a black pit of fear.
The angel covers his ears like it’s an unthinkable burden to listen to Nur dying.
Chapter 7
ARSENE
By the endof that awful night Arsene is sure he’s going mad. He’ll be glad to be rid of the creature. His instincts spike wildly with every fresh cry, sending his primus into a frenzy. It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced. His mind bows under the pressure, threatening to send him leaping at the hollow just to give him what he wants—but the thought of those teeth sinking into him keeps him pinned in place, clutching his head instead.
When the howling finally peters out Arsene manages a few short, restless hours of sleep. Vivid dreams shake him awake in the pre-dawn haze. He jerks upright, ears buzzing with the silence.
Is the hollow gone?
No. His prisoner is still there, a silent lump on the other side of the cold fire pit. Another fear slithers in—is he alive?
Arsene crouches next to the hollow and touches his hand. It’s cold as ice.
Black ichor stains all up and down the grey rags covering his arms, but it doesn’t seem like the hollow sustained any serious wounds. He rolls the hollow over with little effort, his body light as his namesake. The hollow doesn’t wake. His scarred faceremains slack. Arsene pulls the cowl away from his neck to check his heartbeat, but what he sees makes his stomach turn.
Red infected flesh rings the hollow’s neck, the color streaking high and disappearing into his clothes. The wound is open and untended, the skin peeling back, patches of black ringed with white mottling the flesh. Arsene bites his tongue to keep from vomiting as his stomach churns.
“Fuck.” He lets the cloth fall from numb fingers, covering the awful sight.
What did this?
Hellbeast or not, the wound is sickening to behold.
He sits back on his heels. A change in the air makes his senses prick up and distracts him from his unease. Their camp is sheltered, but with all the noise the hollow was making…it would be more of a surprise if theyhadn’tattracted predators. Of course he’s not tended the fire properly and it’s stone cold. He prods the coals, but there’s no spark, just grey ash. Fire is the best weapon against a chimera. The second best is a sentinel. A rapier and his sword only rank third.
Arsene drags his pack closer and pulls out the sword in pieces, alert to the prickling on the back of his neck. The presence of one means others may follow. Nasty opportunists.
