The Elemental Mysteries: Complete Series (184 page)

The girl lifted shaking fingers to her mouth and felt the long, curving fangs that pressed against her lips.

Her mouth dropped open in a mindless roar.

She screamed, and she didn’t stop.

Chapter Two: The Monster

They called her Saaral. It was the word for woman in their language. She thought. She was the only female in the camp except for the human women they would occasionally capture and kill.

Human women, she came to realize, were very breakable. If she’d wanted to live, she might have felt grateful to the solemn chief who had made her a monster.

But Saaral didn’t want to live.

She’d lain in the tent that first night, shaking and weeping as she held the cold body of the boy she’d drained of blood. She would not move until the hunger struck her again, and that was just before the dawn began to break. She fell into blackness with her stomach twisted in knots.

And woke with another struggling victim. This time, it was an emaciated woman. Her hunger didn’t care. By the time she realized she’d killed again, the woman lay with dead eyes staring into the blackness of the small tent where they’d thrown her.

The third night, it was a goat.

Then another child.

Then a pig.

A man.

She vomited up the blood from each kill, only to lap it from the dust when the hunger took her again.

The fourth night she woke in darkness, Saaral tried to hang herself. But though the leather strips she twisted around her neck held and her body hung loose from the tent supports, she did not die. She did not even lose consciousness. And that was the way the girl learned that she no longer needed to breathe.

A few nights later, she snuck out of the tent and found a dull blade stowed in a bedroll. She cut her neck from ear to ear, feeling every inch of the knife as she searched for death. She lost her vision at some point, but woke the next night with her captor grunting between her thighs, her healed throat was burning with hunger, but the flesh between her legs burned with pain. She raged and screamed, beating him with her fists, knowing it was useless. Then she turned her face to the side, and blood ran behind her eyes.

She didn’t try to speak.

The girl they called Saaral was passed from tent to tent after that. Mostly, it was her captor who fed her and raped her. Other times, it was one of the men who seemed to please him. She never saw the frighteningly beautiful chieftain again. Within the small camp, her captor led the men. Most of them were human, but they followed the monster’s every command.

Saaral spent most of her first summer searching for death, only to be disappointed. Once she learned the sun could burn her, she tried to crawl outside, but exhaustion took her before she reached the searing rays. Her captor tied her from that night on.

His name was Kuluun, and he was powerful. His fangs were thick and long. When they weren’t covered in blood, they glowed like small white blades in the night. Saaral tried to smother him once. He’d looked like he was sleeping. He wasn’t. Kuluun laughed and slapped her across the tent. Saaral felt her jaw unhinge, then slowly shift back into place. Then he tossed her to one of the humans who had pleased him by driving a small herd of ponies into the camp the night before.

The human kept her for two nights. On the second one, Saaral snuck out of the tent, tying a rope from her neck to one pony’s saddle before she kicked it and hoped her head would pop from her body before anyone noticed she was gone.

Kuluun caught her before she reached the edge of camp, dragging her back as the men laughed around her. Her rage-filled screams were shredded by the wind as Kuluun beat Saaral in front of the fire until the blood ran from her back and she fell silent. Then she felt her back knitting together as she lay in the dirt and he raped her again.

By the time the leaves began to change, the hunger for blood had eased, and Saaral had stopped screaming.

When the first snow fell, she gave up any hope of death.

The monsters called themselves the Sida, and they could fly.

Not like birds. They moved through the air as if they were swimming in invisible streams. They caught rivers of wind that carried them over the plains, often dropping from the sky to capture and kill the way that Kuluun had taken her that first night. There were only three of them. Kuluun, along with his brothers, Suk and Odval. Their chief, the monster who had bitten her neck, and another of their brothers were traveling on other parts of the plains. It was Kuluun who was in charge while they were gone. The others in the camp were humans who followed the Sida, hunting and offering up captives and animals to the monsters as if they were gods.

Saaral knew they were not gods, for she was one of them now, though she could not fly and she barely held control of her body and senses.

Why they had decided to keep her, instead of killing her like they did most women, was a mystery. Why was useless. She was one of the Sida, even if she was unwilling. She began to listen to the language, though she still spoke to no one. She listened when she washed clothes for the camp. She listened when they growled and grunted between her legs. She listened as she roasted the meat they ate and when she rode next to them as they moved south to warmer places. She listened to everything.

The humans rode ponies, like all raiders did. The ponies also carried the tents and skins that they used to shelter themselves from the sun.

The tents weren’t like the large dwellings made by the people of the plains, who moved from place to place with their families and animals. These tents were far smaller. For shelter, not living. Kuluun burrowed into the ground like an animal, then put the low tents over the opening, sometimes he buried himself completely with dirt before the sun rose. Saaral often woke to find herself buried next to him or one of his brothers, when Kuluun let them borrow her. It terrified her. But as winter grew more bitter, Saaral grew stronger and more coordinated. She watched how Kuluun moved. How he fought with Suk and Odval. She watched silently from the dust, though she still did not speak.

Soon, there were more.

Seasons passed. The band grew. Some of the humans who followed them, the strongest and most vicious, were turned into monsters as she had been. And though Saraal was raped nightly, she never grew heavy with child. Kuluun made children his own way, picking the humans who pleased him most to turn into Sida. The new Sida were given the fattest captives to drink while Saaral was fed just enough to keep her alive. This was the way she learned that the best blood made the Sida stronger. She was never given the best blood.

As the new Sida were made, Saaral was given to each in turn. She was long past protesting their lust, even feebly. She lay nightly as the monsters took what they wanted of her body, then tossed her back to Kuluun’s tent like a dirty skin. If he had no other task for her, she was bound until the next night. Usually, she was put to work washing their blankets or cleaning their tents.

Saaral no longer thought of herself as human. She didn’t remember the name her mother had given her. She didn’t recognize the land they passed through. One day, she looked into a river on a moonlit night, noticed her reflection, and realized that she still looked the same as she had the summer after her son was born, though she’d seen more than ten winters under Kuluun’s hand. The only difference was her eyes, which were some light color she barely recognized. She couldn’t see clearly in the moonlight, but they were not the rich brown her human husband had admired.

Saaral was not surprised. She was no longer human. She was a monster, too.

She looked over her shoulder at one of the humans near the fire, her eyes seeing clearly in the dark.

Though she was thin and weak for a Sida, her senses had been honed. She no longer clenched hands over her ears when the animals were near. Her stomach did not turn at their scent. She had become accustomed to her new body, though Kuluun limited her to pony blood, keeping her just short of starving, so she did not become too strong.

But though she wasn’t strong, her senses were as keen as any other Sida as she watched the human.

Saaral remembered laying with him when he was only a young man, his black hair thick and shining in the lamplight. He had not been as cruel as some. Now, there was grey in his hair, and his shoulders were stooped. Soon, she knew Kuluun would give him to one of the new Sida, who would drain his blood until he was only a husk.

She put down the clay dish she was washing in the sand near the riverbank where they had camped.

The man looked up. “Saaral?”

She didn’t speak, but crouched down in front of him. She lifted a hand to his temple, tracing the silver she saw there as her eyes dipped to his neck.

“What do you want, Saaral? You know that Kuluun told the men not to touch you without his permission.” A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

Saaral still said nothing. She never did. As far as most of the men knew, she was mute. Kuluun was the only one who had heard her speak because he forced her to ask him for her nightly ration of pony blood. He liked to hear her beg, and blood was the only thing Saaral would beg for.

But now, she wondered why.

Why beg, when she could simply take it? She might not have been strong for a Sida, but she was still far stronger than the humans. There was no one around to see. Neither Kuluun nor his brothers was even close.

She leaned forward in a crouch, letting her senses absorb the delicious scent of fresh human blood. Her fangs were already down, aching to bite.

“Saaral?”

She wished he would be quiet. She had no desire to hear him talk. Or cry. Slowly, she brought her eyes to his. Then she put a finger over his lips and whispered, “Tssssshhhh.”

The rough sound left her mouth like a hiss. The human’s eyes widened for a moment, and he opened his mouth to speak. Saaral clenched her hand around the nape of the man’s neck, and she felt it.

Like a current of air, her will caught his and held.

Quiet.

She thought it, and the man fell silent. His watery gaze was locked on hers.

Interesting.

Give me your neck.

He leaned forward, offering up the wrinkled skin to her mouth. Saaral bent and took.

As the rich blood hit her tongue, the human arched his back and let out a grunt of pleasure.

She pulled her mouth away and scowled. She had no desire to please him. Had this human cared about pleasing her when he’d used her body like a vessel? Her hand tightened on his neck as she remembered the terror of her first years in the camp. The man’s grunts of pleasure turned into whines of pain. His mouth dropped open, so Saaral sent the thought again.

Quiet
.

He said nothing, frozen in fear. She took his neck again, taking gulps of blood fresh from his body. Live blood. She could feel her body grow strong as the old man grew weak. Her energy mounted. Her senses came alive. She could feel tiny currents of air teasing her skin. Her hair. The night wind caressed her body with eager fingers. Her skin grew flush and pink as she drank.

The human’s heartbeat slowed.

Then stopped.

Saaral looked down in disgust. Surely he had more blood than that! Her hungry eyes swept the creek bed, only to see that none of the other humans was about. In the back of her mind, she knew Kuluun would not be pleased, but she ignored the fear for a moment, reveling in the rush of energy and strength. For a moment, her toes left the ground, and something she thought might be laughter bubbled in her chest.

Then her feet came back to earth, and she cocked her head, considering the lifeless human body that lay in the dirt. She bent down and threw it over her shoulder. Jumping easily across the stream, she worked her way back into the brush where the branches of the trees grew thick and no goats could graze. Then she found a small clearing and stopped. She tossed the old man’s body to the ground and began to dig.

In a few minutes, the hole was deep. Saaral barely felt the exertion. She kicked the body into the hole and buried it, brushing the earth from her hands as she stood.

Then, she calmly walked back to camp. For a moment, she considered walking away as she did every night, but where would she go that Kuluun would not find her? He told her every night.

“If you leave, I will fly out and find you. Send one of my sons in every direction until they track you down and drag you back. Then I will bind you in my tent every night. I will bury you when you sleep, so you wake with the earth in your mouth.”

If there was any threat that Saaral feared, it was waking with the earth in her mouth. It struck a primal fear into her that bordered on madness. She froze even at the thought, and Kuluun knew this.

But as she crossed the river, she saw him. His glare chilled the blood in her stomach, and she suddenly felt like vomiting up every drop of blood she’d taken. He knew. He would be able to see her energy. See the flush in her face. See the life in her eyes.

In the blink of an eye, Saaral ran.

She ducked back into the copse of trees, darting this way and that, running under the branches where the monsters could not sweep down from above. But in too short a time, the trees ran out and she faced a broad meadow. She could hear them behind her, the humans crashing through the brush, the swirl of Sida above. She had nowhere to turn. Going back into the brush put her in the path of the humans. Going forward put her at the mercy of Kuluun.

She felt her fangs drop, and she ran into the meadow.

Perhaps, the blood of the old man would make her strong enough.

Perhaps, she would make the distant stand of trees that promised shelter.

Perhaps—

“I told you, Saaral.”

He grabbed her by the hair.

“No!” she screamed, her voice rang thought the cool night air. “Let me go!”

Kuluun swept her up, jerking her closer as she struggled against his hold. She tried to reach for the blade at his waist to cut off her long braid and release herself, but she couldn’t reach. He saw her trying for the knife and backhanded her, causing her vision to blacken and stars to flash at the edges of her vision.