House of Vultures Read online

  “Do you love him?” Wolf repeats, his clawed fingers scratching himself as he crosses his arms tightly.

  “Falcon is the one wielding the whip, but Condor never stops it. No, Wolf, I do not love him. I hate him,” I whisper, clenching my teeth as the remembered crack of the whip fills my ears.

  My response is enough to soothe Wolf’s anger marginally, though why he is directing it toward me, I do not understand. Another scream pours from my lips as Fox begins covering his handiwork to keep it clean. Wolf reacts too, lowering a bottle toward my lips. “Drink this, Mynah.”

  “What is it?” I ask, smelling the acrid odor of flavored alcohol.

  “It will numb the pain,” Wolf entices, sensing my unease.

  “It will probably kill me quicker than the infection I’ll be getting on my back,” I snap back, gritting my teeth as Fox bears down on another open gash.

  Wolf shoves the bottle up to my lips, forcing the liquid into my mouth. I sputter as the drink scorches my throat, searing its way to my stomach. It tastes like rotten strawberries and paint thinner. Gasping, I can hardly breathe as the heat of the drink steals the thoughts from my head, and I am unconscious once more.

  ***

  It is the sound of children’s laughter that wakes me from my slumbers. My body aches as though I’ve been pummeled by an avalanche of stones. I am now laying on my side, my face pointing toward the mouth of the cave. Strong arms pin me to my cot, replacing the belts that had been my constraints, and a nose is resting on my neck. Though not quite touching, my back feels the closeness of another body near the wrappings around my stitches.

  “Good morning, Lupe,” Wolf whispers beside me, sleep making his voice gravelly. “How are you feeling?”

  To be honest, the warmth of his chest soothes the pain in my back more than the vile drink he’d forced down my throat ever could. I almost do not answer until a sharp pain in my mind jars my skull. I sit up quickly, hissing at the pain of stretching stitches along my spine. “How long have I been sleeping?”

  “Two days,” Wolf answers blearily, his hand raising my shirt to inspect my wounds. It is not the tattered rag I had been wearing when I first entered this lair. “You look good in my clothes, Lupe,” Wolf chuckles as he catches my scowl. “And your stitches do not look infected after all.”

  “Panther,” I rasp as another pain lances through my head.

  Wolf sobers then, his hand on my forehead. “I’ve had spies watching your House. They have not seen the boy.”

  “I commanded that he stay in my room until I return.” I throw my hands to my head with a howl. “What was in that alcohol? Two days later, and I’m still struggling with a terrible hangover.”

  Wolf shakes his head grimly. “It’s your bond with the boy. Your mind and his are connected now, and you’ve neglected your duties. You’ve been away from him too long. That little headache is your body’s first way of making sure you check on him. The longer you are apart, the more physical ailments you will have. Stomach aches, loose bowels, leg cramps, and so much worse, until you both beg for death. I’ve felt those pains before myself, Lupe. I do not envy you.”

  I had no idea that Wolf had ever known the true name of another person. He seems to notice my surprise and my pause as I wait for his story.

  “You are my first equal, Lupe, but you are not my first love.”

  “What happened?” I question, trying to cope with my feelings about his revelation. Not my first love, replays in my head. I’m not sure if I am flattered or terrified by his words.

  “Her name was Lavender.” My shoulders tense as he speaks, knowing that she is dead. That’s the only reason he would share her true name with me. “She chose that to be her name because she liked the color of the flowers. I thought it was because it matched her eyes.”

  “How did she die?” Did he really just admit to loving me? I wonder to myself, knowing already that my feelings toward him are nowhere near the same. In this hell-hole that we live in, love is a luxury. He may be able to consider such emotions important. I cannot afford to think past my own survival.

  Wolf’s throat bobs as the old pain resurfaces, and I force myself to focus on his tale. “Lavender was taken. We had tracked too close to the Devil’s Spine and met up with a raiding party from Déchets. They tortured her for two weeks. She wasn’t tough like you, Lupe.” Wolf runs a hand across my own, taking comfort in my closeness. “I felt every possible ache and pain this body can give. It was a morbid blessing when they stopped. I was grateful for the end of the physical suffering, even if it meant that my love had died. The emotional trauma, I soon learned, was far worse than anything else I had endured. They sent her body back over the mountains in pieces. It was a long time ago.”

  “Horrible, awful people! How could they do such a thing to another creature?” I exclaim in outrage. Then it occurs to me how difficult it must have been for Wolf to help me save Antero. How on earth could he find it in his heart to help someone he knew was from that land?

  Wolf seems to know my thoughts, smiling sadly as he brushes my hair. “Lupe, for you, I can do anything. You think this boy’s worth saving, and I will stand by you through it.”

  I wonder if you’d say that if you knew he was the son of the Déchets’ king. Now is not the time to announce such a thing, so instead I ask, “Why, Wolf? Why would you do all of this for me?”

  “Can you really not guess?” He hints, his voice drifting over my skin as his mouth brushes my shoulder. I can hear the soft hum of his breathing as he skims a hand over my ear. “You are tough, a fighter. You are clever and cunning, yet kindhearted too. In another life, I would have begged your father to let me marry you. I would have asked you the very first time that I saw you.”

  I smirk at the thought. “I would have probably kicked you, thinking you were insane.”

  “It would have only made me want you more,” Wolf replies smoothly, a chuckle coloring his words. Then a pain in my head seems to slam my brain into my skull, and I wail, clutching my temples as my fingers claw at my mask. “You have to go back to the boy,” Wolf remarks, upset at the idea of me returning to the House of Vultures. His hands open and clench as if they are at war. Closing—they want to hold me, protect me, keep me beside him—and opening—they know that the only way to save me from this torture is to let me go. “I will take you back there.”

  “You cannot! You will be at risk yourself!” I dissuade, panicking at the thought of his pack at war with my House.

  Wolf winks at me slyly. “You care for my safety. That’s a good sign, Lupe. You are one step closer to loving me too.” Wolf stands by the bed, holding out a hand to help me up. The soreness in my broken skin nearly knocks me back down.

  I wheeze through the pain, “Wolf, I am serious. If you get caught, Condor will—”

  “I am not letting you leave this place alone,” Wolf barks suddenly, all lightness in his demeanor gone. “You will not talk me out of this. Do not try.” A sharp tug on that bond between me and Panther makes my decision to quit arguing an easy one.

  From the height of this cavern I can see Wolf’s people going about their daily routines. The younger children laugh and play in the rocks. Parents stay close by, absorbing the sight with solemn faces. How many of those children will soon be taken from their families and given new identities? How many would choose the House of Vultures? The idea of Condor leading them with his brutal methods, Creeper using them for his wicked ways, and Falcon hurting them in jealousy puts tears in my eyes. “Are any of these children nearing their masking rituals?”

  “There are two that will be of age in the next month. Why?” Wolf informs me, and I feel my heart sink.

  “If the House of Vultures is still around, if your pack is still at war with us, order those two children to choose the House of Piranhas. Or tell them to forsake their masks and live as nameless unchosen. Even that would be a better life for them.” A sob chokes any other words from my throat.

  Wolf does not respond as
I observe the other members of his pack. They work at their own stations, performing important tasks with clear efficiency. A group of twenty or so women prepare copious amounts of food, some cleaning meats, some washing dishes, and some serving those that are waiting at the long dinner tables. Laughter roars near the stream where a group of men and women wash clothes. How different from my own House! They almost seem like living a life in a mask does not have to be a depressing existence. There is true joy here, I think, and Wolf works hard to maintain it.

  “I should have joined you,” I reveal with a sniff. “I should never have taken the boy into the House of Vultures.” Wolf stands like a statue beside me as I confess what I truly think. “I know it would still have brought a war, but there is contentment here for your people, where there is only trouble in my House. Your people are fortunate to have you as their leader, and I am sorry that I didn’t see it before.”

  He grazes his fingers along my jawline, gently forcing my tear-filled eyes to meet his own. “I will win this war, Lupe. I will fight until your House is defeated. You will have a life here too; I have always told you this. I will keep my word.”

  “When it is done,” I whisper, my lip trembling as I speak, fear and excitement making me quiver, “I will tell you everything about the boy if you wish to hear it. Whatever you wish to know, I will share. Until then, I can only give you this.” I slide the mask of the mynah from my face, letting it clatter against the stones at my feet.

  I watch as Wolf drinks in the sight of my unmasked face, much in the same manner that I had when I first saw Antero. It has been so long since I’ve seen my reflection that I can only guess at what he sees. My pale, creamy skin, my short stubby nose that turns up slightly at the tip, my thin white eyebrows arching over my chameleon eyes that always subtly shift between green and gold and brown.

  Then the smaller details, the light freckles on my cheeks, the beauty mark next to my left eye not quite raised off the skin, just a small dot of darkness on an otherwise snowy surface. The scar over my eye from that time growing up when I’d caught my face on a rock and fallen into the river. I remember my parents screaming in terror as they pulled me through the current to safety. I had never worried; I knew that they would take care of me. I miss the sight of that scar, for it is a visible reminder of my parents’ love. Lastly, the frown lines around my lips that had formed when I realized that my parents were not as invincible as I had believed.

  Suddenly, I realize the same feeling of security that I felt with them is what I have grown to feel for Wolf. He is a calm, safe, place that I can always run to, a second mind that shares my burdens. The shuddering of my limbs ceases as he watches me, and I know that even in this moment I am safe. I may not love him as he might wish, but I am certain that he will protect me no matter the cost.

  “You are even more beautiful than I had imagined.” Wolf’s voice breaks with the gravity of the emotions he feels. His eyes never leave mine as he strips away the claws from his fingers, gripping the jaws of the wolf carcass, sliding it from his head.

  His hair matches the wolf pelt he wears, strands sticking out wildly in dark russet waves. His jaw is as strong as I’d imagined, his nose straight and well defined. His sharp stare scrutinizes my reaction to his appearance, a vulnerable smile on his lips as my tears fall. “You are so disappointed in my looks that it made you cry?” He teases with a twinkle in his eye. I do not get the chance to answer him as he pulls me gently into his arms. Even in this embrace he is cautious of my wounds.

  I do not love you, I repeat to myself, holding my breath as I prepare to speak the words I feel forming. “When I am here, I will tell you anything you wish to know. All that I am, all that I have will be yours. For now, I can only repay my debt.”

  “Is that all this is?” Wolf whispers as he leans closer to me. “Payment for services rendered?”

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly, deciding that in this instance, Wolf deserves the truth. “I cannot afford to think about romantic sensibilities right now.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Wolf is careful as he worships my lips with his own. I can almost feel him savoring the taste of this kiss as if he is finishing a favorite meal, relishing every last bite. His fingers tighten possessively around my hips, and I can feel the rapid beat of his heart.

  Pulling away from him lightly, I whisper, “You should have been named Tiger. As in, slow down, Tiger.”

  Wolf laughs, a deep rumble that vibrates through his chest. “We will have our day, Lupe. Mark my words.” He holds me close, as if waiting for me urge him on.

  I have a feeling that had it not been for Antero and the ache in my head, I would never have left that cavern.

  ***

  “Looks like you lost the bet, Grouse!” Goldeneye crows with laughter as I approach the House of Vultures, leaning heavily on a knobby tree branch I found along the journey. “You’ve got all of my chores for the month!”

  “What did you bet on?” I question, unable to shake the upturn of my lips. I had been seen, truly seen by another of my kind. Kissed by someone who cherishes me, a strong man who will protect me. Even now he is nearby, surveying the scene from his hiding place in the shadows of the tree line. Every crunch and pop that I hear echoing from the forest could be him. It takes every shred of willpower that I have not to turn back and wave.

  What are you, a doe eyed fourteen-year-old swooning over your first boyfriend? Get a grip, I reproach myself. The effect of my own reprimand is enough to shatter the rose-colored glaze through which I am viewing my circumstances. I realize then how easily I could learn to love Wolf, and the thought terrifies me. Love in Cassé is equivalent to allowing someone control over you, to let someone else have a say in your actions, and to let their thoughts help you shape your own. I am not sure if I am ready for anyone to have that much space in my heart and head.

  “We bet on whether or not Wolf would kill you. Goldeneye said he’d take his fill and send you back on a stretcher.” Grouse curses softly before continuing. “I said he’d kill you on sight.”

  “Told you they had a fling going.” Goldeneye swaggers as he drops into the porch swing, his gleaming smile at odds with his dark mask.

  “Looking at her smile, I’d say they still do,” Falcon scowls, pushing Goldeneye over to make space for her. “Too bad we’re going to war with his pack.”

  “Too bad he’s going to die,” Condor announces from the door, looking past me for any signs of danger. “What did you learn at Wolf’s campsite?”

  “I didn’t get there,” I lie smoothly, discreetly searching for Wren. My breath exhales in a relieved whoosh when I find he is not on the porch with us. “I shared my message with Wolf in the woods.”

  Condor snorts as he jeers. “Holed up together in your lover’s nest these last three days then?”

  “He had to stitch and clean my shredded back, you idiot! I’ve struggled with fever and hallucinations! I slept through two days entirely, just from shock! The walk back here nearly exhausted me. I hardly think anything we’ve endured has been romantic.” Even as I say the words, an embarrassing blush floods my body. Even with my mask, I am certain that Condor feels my unease.

  “You are not a convincing liar.” Condor towers over me, using his height in an attempt to intimidate me into shrinking away. “Hope you realize that from now on, you had better not even think about going off alone. You and your lover are done. No one leaves the House until the war is over.”

  “Why, Condor,” I jeer, my eyes narrowing at the sight of his black mask inches from my forehead. How badly I want to tear the flesh off his bones! “I’m glad to hear you finally admit how important I am to you. Given how many times you’ve let your henchwoman beat me over the years, I’d begun to doubt—”

  “Oh, you are valuable to me, little Mynah.” Condo smiles as I tighten my jaw. How dare he use Hawk’s old name for me! “I’m guessing that Wolf really cares for you too. Somehow your pitiful, wiry form captured his eye. So, I am g
oing to keep you locked up tight in this house. I will do whatever I want to do with you. Rumors will spread throughout Omphalos. You will be the topic of gossip for every willing ear, all in an effort to get to Wolf. When he can no longer stand it, Wolf will come for you. And I will be waiting.”

  I attempt a confident bravado that I simply do not feel. “If that is your plan, you’ll be waiting a long time. Wolf is not stupid enough to fall for such a trick.”

  “A heart in love does not make wise choices,” Bittern remarks from the stoop, a faraway look of sadness on her features.

  “You’re a part of this too?” I accuse, shocked that she would side with Condor. Bittern never takes much interest in any of the affairs of the House.

  “Love is a weakness; it makes those who endure its touch act like fools. I did not say I agreed with Condor. I only meant that the reasoning behind his plan is sound.”

  “Where is Panther?” I question, hoping to distract them from more discussion. I pray that Wolf has stayed in the fringes of the trees beside our House, eavesdropping as Condor announced his plan. Stay away, I beg, knowing that he cannot hear my thoughts. Do not fall prey to their schemes. Do not be in love with me, so you do not act rashly.

  “The boy’s still in your room,” Warbler calls to me from her usual haunt in the kitchen. I practically run into the House just to get away from Condor and Falcon. “He hasn’t eaten since he got here, Mynah. Are you sure he isn’t sick with something? Condor would let Falcon practically skin you alive if you brought illness into the House.”

  “Give me some food. I will get him moving. I told him to stay in my room until I returned just for his own safety.” Then I notice the bruises on Warbler’s arms as she reaches for the stew pot on the fire. On closer examination, I see bandages around her left hand’s fingers. Warbler practically vibrates as she moves, and every sound seems to startle her. The sunken space around her eyes and collarbones makes her face appear hollow. “You’re not sleeping, Warbler! And you’re hurt.”