“Then you are the demon speaking.”
The laughing response confirmed it.
“So I put it to you. I will hear vows from you twice. Once from each soul within this doggy body. I have no need of a vow from Brindle, who is a good doggy, yes you are.” Here, I chucked the dog under the chin, for this was hardly his fault. “And I know that Sir Branson will pledge without hesitation and will not allow himself to pledge a second time to free you, demon, from having to answer. So, I will hear the pledge twice. Once from each of you. You will vow to me that you will not leave this dog unless you are crossing on to realms beyond this bodily plane. You will further vow to accept my dominance over you in all things until that time has come to pass.”
What good will a vow do you?
“I know as well as you do the power of words to bind. While you have no honor, your word will bind you.”
Not as well as you think.
“I’ll have it all the same. It is you and not I who will dance to the tune of the other, or our paths end here.”
I thought you loved the dog.
“My soul I dedicate to none but the God,” I quoted. “And he, only, will I serve.” I cleared my throat. “As I said, I don’t want to end poor Brindle.”
I allowed Brindle to lick my face, feeling like there was a brick in my belly. Despite the cold of the evening, I felt feverish but I forced myself to keep going.
“One dog for the sake of many innocents? I will wear the stain of his death on my hands, if I must, to achieve that end.”
I swear I will not leave this dog until I am crossing to realms beyond this earthly one. I will accept your hand as master over me in all things until then.
That was certainly Sir Branson. I swallowed miserably. I’d been working very hard to try not to think of him, but it was hard. I missed him brewing tea in the morning. I missed his rambling chatter about people he’d known and things he’d done. I missed how he fussed over how I pitched our tents and tended our horses and the absent-minded way he always forgot to tell me about details or deadlines until it was almost too late.
I was mourning my best friend and the man who had been father to me since I was eleven years old. It wasn’t just the road-weariness, exhaustion, and the worry of having a major undertaking shoved into my hands while I was still coated in the earth of his burial place that was making my throat thick and eyes wet. It was also a wound deep and bleeding from losing someone who mattered.
I had the strangest sensation of being a boat set adrift without a port to which I might return.
I didn’t want to kill the dog his ghost had taken refuge in. Not just because Brindle was an innocent, trusting dog, but because he was the last link to the man I knew.
And yet. If I must render this one black deed to stop a thousand others, I would.
It’s adorable that you’re waiting for me to surrender. If only I had a painter here to record it and a few weeks to watch him depict your caught-fish gape. That would please me enormously.
I clenched my jaw until it ached, but I couldn’t see another way forward. With a sigh, I drew my belt knife as Brindle rolled onto his back and put his doggy head in my lap, begging for affection. I rubbed his belly as I seated the blade in my palm. My heart was in my throat, choking me, making my breathing painful. I wasn’t ready to do this. But I dared not flinch from it. Hesitate, and I’d make the poor boy suffer more than he needed to. I must be quick and certain.
Sometimes I still had nightmares about a child we found early in my time with Sir Branson. He’d been only a few years younger than I had been. He’d killed his parents in the most grisly of ways. I do not like to speak of what the demon did with him and to him after that, or of how it ended.
“I didn’t mean for you to be seeing that,” Sir Branson had said at the time with a heavy sigh. His gaze had trailed me for a week after that as he clutched at his hair and beard distractedly. I could never tell if he was more distraught by what we’d both seen or by the fact I’d seen it with him. Now that I was grown, I thought maybe it was the latter.
There are nights even now when I relive pieces of that day and wake retching.
So, would I kill our beloved dog to prevent that from taking place again? A dog whose only goal had been to love me? Yes, I would. Even if it meant crying over it for the rest of my life.
My vision was blurry as I set the tip of the blade against Brindle’s neck and prayed for strength. I drew in a long, sawing breath.
The vow tumbled into my mind, words said with the steaming snap of the demon’s original mental voice.
I swear I will not leave this dog until I am crossing to realms beyond this earthly one. I will accept your hand as master over me in all things until then.
Well then. My breath whuffed out, unshed tears spilling with a suddenness I hadn’t expected. I swiped them away violently, put my knife away, gave Brindle his belly rub, and then got back on my horse.
Don’t think it will hold me for long, snackling. Words are just words. I have no honor to hold me.
But I knew that was not entirely true, for the God heard them, and his listening made them powerful.
Best to stop whining about it. She’s bested you and you can’t even make coy jokes about underbritches to hide your pain.
