Dark Gods Rising (22 page)

Maybe so but this one— this one was different.

Anithia turned slowly toward her daughter. The tight, nervous feeling in her chest had grown much worse. Missa had been impossibly correct about someone— something— being trapped inside the crate. What in the name of the two Hell’s possessed her daughter?

Drawing in a slow breath, she leaned back over the opening. Anithia had to pull the spawn out. She couldn’t afford angering the thing inside Missa. Although she no longer cared about the dealings of the heavens or hells she wanted no more problems from those realms, either. No, she would get the spawn out and then go about her business.

"Hey, you," Ani called. "Climb up out of there." Reaching in, she cautiously shook the spawn's boot. The boot looked like it might once have belonged to a highborn, but if so it had been long ago. The boot was scuffed, torn, and covered with filth. She searched his ripped and threadbare clothes for signs of injury. His body appeared thin, stick-like. His skin held a gray mottled color, but there were no bloodstains.

"Come on. You have to get out of there."

"Is he okay?"

Ani smiled at her daughter's worried tone. Missa cared for everyone and everything. Larson had been like that, too, when he wasn’t hunting demons, devils, and other hellkind. "I don't know. He won't answer me."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the thought of having to reach into the crate. Its sides were covered in black dust, and someone had thrown rotted food into it.

"Damn," she muttered. She didn’t want to crawl inside, but she could not leave him lying there looking like a stupid chicken waiting to get its head chopped off. Anithia thought about asking for help, but help was notoriously rare in this neighborhood, and most sensible people would prefer the spawn died. Besides, the only possible help she had seen frightened her more than did the spawn.

Cursing under her breath, she pulled up her sleeves, leaned over the edge of the crate, and grabbed hold of the spawn's clothing. She shook him.

"Hey, you!"

The spawn blinked and began to come out of its seeming trance.

"Is he okay?" Missa called.

"He's alive. That's a start." Ani shook him again. "Come on. You have to get out of there."

It opened its mouth once, made a croaking noise, and tried to move.

Sighing resignation, Ani reached further into the crate and started to remove bits of debris from him— then she stopped. Traveling slowly along his body, her eyes became transfixed on the end of his left arm. A strange, vile, green, hook met her gaze. It was his, this being’s, attached to its wrist instead of a hand. The hook was ghastly, but somehow, it almost felt— alive.

Shivering, Ani leaned up out of the crate, and started to leave. She didn’t care what creature she angered. There was no way in the two hells she would touch the spawn or its cursed hook.

"P-Please," the thing whispered.

Turning back, Ani saw the thing looking at her, his hook reaching out, reaching toward her.

She released a small shriek and stumbled back.

"Mommy!" Missa squealed.

Ani grabbed Missa's hand and tugged her away. "We're leaving."

"But you have to save the man." Missa insisted. "You said he might get killed if he stays there, and the lady in my head told you he had to be saved."

Breathing hard, Anithia stopped pulling on Missa's hand. She looked down into her daughter’s heart-shaped face and wondered if Missa would ever understand how Ani could leave a being to die.

But could she abandon the spawn? Could Ani defy the being living inside her daughter and risk its retribution? Larson would have expected more of her, but Larson was dead, killed by his own ideals. Look at what they had gained for him.

Disgusted, Ani shook her head. Fuck Larson’s ideals. She was no hero.

"Missa, you don't understand. He's not right. I can't help him."

With a slight tilt of her head, Missa gave Ani a look very much like one Larson used to give her when he thought Ani wasn’t doing the right thing. It was a sad, disappointed look. Missa’s eyes swirled again, becoming cobalt blue and granite hard.

Damn

“The spawn must live to seek his heart and soul. He must find what was lost.”

Missa blinked slowly. The darkness in her eyes faded, and her child's face looked surprised. "His heart and soul, Momma.”

Ani shivered before turning back toward the spawn. "I can't find his heart and soul, Missa, but I suppose we can pull him out of there and let him stay in the broken-down shed behind us.”

Missa smiled up at her. The rays of the setting sun outlined her delicate frame in strange tendrils of pure white light. The picture terrified Ani. Missa was a divine child, too full of purity, kindness, and love to thrive in this world. Ani hoped experience would eventually drive most of Missa’s fluffy-headed dreams away before she was too badly hurt. She prayed Missa would eventually be smart enough and tough enough to replace her unrealistic expectations with the hard-edged reality of constant suspicion and distrust necessary to survive the Downs.

But not today. Missa did not need to learn those lessons today.

Against all her better judgment, Ani reached into the crate, grabbed the spawn’s filth encrusted clothes, and pulled. She shuddered when the hook brushed her skin. Its touch felt evil, horrid, but Ani pulled on the spawn anyway, helping it to stand, and then to climb out of the crate. It staggered, dragging Ani to the ground as it fell.

Screeching, Ani shoved the spawn away. She scrabbled to her feet, turned to look for Missa, and saw the three street toughs walking toward the alley. They fingered knives and laughed loudly.

Ani shivered and grabbed for the knife she had left lying on the crate. How could she defend against all three of them?

After entering the alley, a cut-faced man nudged the other two while rubbing his already stiff member through his torn leggings. “This is for you, whore. I’m gonna to pound you into the wall and then watch these two do the same.”

He was almost upon her, only a few feet to go. He laughed, then paused, almost staggering. His face grew anxious. Sweat beaded his upper lip and dripped down his forehead.

Ani shook. Her hand gripped her knife tightly. If they wanted her at least one of them would pay with his life. She was done with being beaten and raped. Twice in the last month was more than enough. Both times her rapist had paid a heavy price, but now there were three.

“Missa, when I tell you to run— run fast. Run all the way to the end of the alley then go left. Just keep running. Ask one of the street kids how to find Mother Brood.”

“Momma, I don’t want to.”

Frustrated, Ani nearly screamed at Missa. What little courage she owned was slipping closer and closer to outright panic. “Sweet goddess, don’t argue with me. Just do it Missa.”

Cut-face’s expression shifted, changed into something Ani didn’t understand. “Forget this bitch. I just saw a toff lead a whore into the old warehouse. Let’s go wait for him. We’ll teach him what happens to people who come into our territory without asking.” Cut-face spat on the ground at Ani’s feet before the three turned and strolled toward the warehouse.

Ani stood still, disbelieving her good luck. Shivering with released tension, she turned slowly around to see the spawn standing directly behind her, eyes blazing-white orbs, the putrid hook pulsing with a life of its own. Gasping, Ani took several steps back.

The spawn’s eyes drifted to Ani, holding her in place with the force of his stare. The corners of his mouth slowly twitched into a macabre semblance of a smile. Without a trace of fear, Missa stepped up beside the creature and slipped her hand inside his. She turned and smiled at Ani, sweet, kind, and innocent.

“Shall we go home now, Mommy?”

Ani shivered. What she saw made her wonder if Cut-face would have been a kinder, quicker death, for she now watched not one set of swirling, god touched eyes— but two.

* * * *

Ani wearily brushed her hair. At twenty-six, she knew she looked tired and too old. Life since Larson's death had taken its toll. Still, she might be thought beautiful by some, she supposed, if she could ever lose the appearance of haggard weariness. Even then it would be a sad and wasted beauty, a mockery of what she truly was inside. She felt nothing of the youth she still possessed. Her blue eyes, once shiny and sparkling, were now deep and troubled. Laughter, what was that? The only thing she still possessed of her old self was her strength of will and an unwavering desire to survive. She had only managed to keep those because of Missa. If not for her daughter Ani would have ended her life when Larson was murdered because his death took away so much of her light. However, with the passing of time she had discovered that life sometimes had its lighter moments. During some of those moments she occasionally smiled. Mostly, those smiles occurred when Missa's bright and beautiful soul wrapped itself around her and chased away the darkness wanting to claim her thoughts and memories.

Sighing, Ani set down her brush. It was late, and she needed to get up early to go to a job she hated and had once tried to avoid. The work wasn’t so bad, she supposed. As a rule, she made adequate tips passing ale and beer, and most of the daytime customers knew by now they would draw back a stub if they accosted her with wandering hands. No, the problem with her job was that one particular person made her dread the start of each new day. Unfortunately, Missa needed a secure home, and Carrid Brewer was the only man who would hire Ani. Some others had made offers, but those offers were always withdrawn before the next day. One potential employer was murdered within hours of Ani accepting his job. Desperation had given her no choice but to work in a tavern Larson had loathed.

Rising, she walked over to her window and looked toward the back strip of land she called her yard. The patch was only fifteen feet deep and completely dirt covered. Truthfully, she didn’t own the land, but nobody else had bothered to claim it so she tried to keep it clean. On the very edge of the strip was a small building she called her shed. Only four and a half feet wide and seven feet long, it had been the home of more than one beggar since she and Missa moved here after the unpleasantness regarding Miss Simta’s family. Most of those beggars had moved on. A couple died, forcing her to drag their bodies out of the shelter and into the street.

The building now housed a clumsy-footed spawn.

Responsible for the spawn for over four hours now, she still knew little about it. She knew it was mostly stumble-mouthed and incredibly stupid, but on one occasion something happened, some growing sense of comprehension occurred, and it’d seemed almost brilliant. She didn’t know why it changed from one extreme to another, but the thing came from Hell. Who could explain anything about Hell?

Turning away from the window, she sat down on her bed and released a heavy breath. This was madness. Hell's creatures could not be trusted. If she didn’t regain her senses and send the thing on its way, the spawn would likely try to murder her in bed.

She fidgeted, nervously pulling her wedding band up and down the too thin length of her finger. It was the one thing she had refused to sell, a constant reminder she had been married to one of the good men, married to a man with principles. Larson would have known the right answers. He always knew the right thing to do, but he wasn’t here anymore. According to rumor, a demon named Bent had murdered him.

She closed her eyes and tried to remember what it felt like when Larson held her, the touch of his lips and the sound of his voice, but she was tired. He had been dead for so long even those memories were fading. Anithia held her single blanket up to her nose and tried to breathe in his remaining scent, but it, too, was gone, lost long ago to the incursions of dust and household odors. All her reminders of him were disappearing, and this truth made her want to cry.

Ani stiffened her shoulders. "Larson’s dead. There's no sense in wishing him alive."

Exhausted, she lay awake until well past midnight, and then she fell into a fitful sleep filled with dreams of demons, gods, and Missa. In them all she saw the floating face of a scarred spawn and the wicked curve of an evil green hook.

* * * *

"Momma?

"What, Missa." Red-eyed, Anithia stirred cold oats into hot water and wished she had managed to get more than a couple hours of undisturbed sleep. The morning sun made her eyes water and her head hurt. Tired and unfocused, it had taken her more than half an hour just to get the stove lit.

"The man is digging in Good-woman Durm's garbage. She's about to yell at him."

"Huh?" Anithia snapped her head around and looked out the back window. She saw something gray and dirty shuffling about her neighbor’s garbage pile. "Oh no!"

Groaning, Anithia pulled the pot off the stove and rushed out the back door just in time to see the thing put something moldy and brown in its mouth.

"Anithia!" Good-woman Durm shouted from a suddenly flung open back door. Her high-pitched voice, shrill and demanding, rent the air. Thrusting her knobby chin forward, she shook her walking stick at the spawn. "Is this another one of your strays? You get it out of here. Do you hear me? Get it out of here!"

"He won't be here long." Ani promised the old shrew. She rushed up to the spawn and pulled a half-chewed rat's skin from his mouth, making her stomach churn at the sight. The last thing she needed was hag-woman Durm making more problems for her. The old harridan had caused enough trouble by spreading gossip that Ani had started whoring to support Missa.

"You get it out of here," Durm called, "or I'll have the guard on you!"

"Yeah, right." Ani muttered under her breath. To the best of her knowledge a city guard had not stepped into the Downs for over a year. Grabbing the spawn, she spun it to face her. After a moment, she grabbed its chin to capture its attention.

"Look— ah, whoever you are. Please don't eat out of the garbage pile, or at least not this one.” Anithia tried to smile but knew the attempt ended in a grimace. “The bigger dump to the east of town would suit you better. It holds the garbage of hundreds and thousands of people.”

The spawn looked at her with a confused, hungry expression on his face. For the life of her, Ani could not imagine why she had been worried about the thing murdering her in her sleep. It was pathetically helpless. “Or,” Ani hesitated, sure she would regret what she was about to say, but what the hell. She had already given the damned thing shelter. “You can have some of the porridge I'm cooking right now. I’ll bring it out to you. All right?"

The spawn blinked and nodded slowly. Parts of his eyes started to turn a cloudy white. A shiver ran down Ani’s spine at the sight. The last thing she needed was to see more changing eyes. Missa’s were already too much.

Turning, the spawn shambled back to the shack and disappeared inside. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ani went back into her home. Once inside, she looked out her open window to see Good-woman Durm still watching. Durm gave Ani a glare and stomped off.

"Old bitch," Ani muttered.