Amelia Atwater-Rhodes - Bloodwitch

I wanted to argue with him, but my tongue had turned to dust in my mouth. I knew there had to be a way to defend my world, but at that moment the pain of Calysta’s death was too raw.

“Midnight is an empire that operates through slavery and fear,” Malachi said. “You see, vampires are incredibly strong, and impossible to kill. They do not fear the elements, and they can transport themselves around the world in the blink of an eye. They have subdued most races, including the serpiente, the avians, the wolves … well, it would be a long list. The only reasons they have not conquered the entire world are that their numbers are few and they cannot perform magic on their own. They rely on spells that they can acquire only through the rare witches who are amoral enough to be hired out as mercenaries, which means they cannot fully subjugate those shapeshifter races that have powerful magic: the shm’Ahnmik, the Shantel, and the Azteka. That is why Jeshickah wants a witch, like you, who she can raise to be perfectly loyal and use to breed an army. I cannot allow that.”

“Then … what will you do?” I asked as a chill passed through me that had nothing to do with the winter air.

“I should kill you,” he answered. “It would be simplest, and safest. You could disappear in this forest and Midnight would never know who was responsible. But as it happens, I’m sick of having blood on my hands. I’m sick of making sacrifices for the good of—” He broke off mid-rant and swallowed thickly. “I want to bring you to the pochteca —the Azteka traders. They will know where you came from and whether you have magic. They are your family, Vance,” he said, imploring. “Your real family. They are also the only people I know with the power to protect you if you agree to run.”

My own kind, maybe even my own parents. I knew I should hate them for abandoning me. Why did my heart beat faster at the thought that I might get to see them?

“And if I don’t agree to run?” I asked.

“The market itself belongs to Midnight,” Malachi answered. “Any guard there will be able to bring you back to your … masters, if you wish. All I ask is your promise that you will speak to the pochteca first. Hear what they have to say.”

“Then I can go home?” I believed him that the market would be a safe place for me; Mistress Jeshickah had mentioned Lady Brina going there, so it had to be part of Midnight. But if I was so dangerous, why would he risk letting me go?

“If you still want to.” He put a hand on my shoulder to turn me and looked me straight in the eye, his expression so intense that I couldn’t look away. “But I need to ask you for a favor.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to say I didn’t owe him any favors, but my mouth felt locked shut. All I could do was listen to his words.

“If we get separated and you go back to Taro, you will not tell him that I knew who you were. I recognized you as a quetzal and offered to take you with me to the pochteca. We didn’t talk much, and I never learned anything more about you. Can you do that?”

“I can—” He looked away, and I broke off, feeling shaken. I rubbed my hands on my arms. “I don’t lie to Taro. Especially for someone like you.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It will be okay.”

“ Now you’re sorry? Why?”

“Because you’re a child, and it’s not right that you have so many people meddling with your mind.” He looked through the trees and announced, “It will be light soon. We should pack up and get on our way. It’s not far.”

MALACHI WAS Aliar.

The market wasn’t “not far.” The market was very far.

We walked all morning, until my body hurt and I was hungry and tired and grumpy, and we still weren’t there. I might have been grateful that Malachi didn’t make me carry anything, like his heavy pack or the tightly rolled bundle that had once been his camp, but I suspected I was burden free because he considered me useless, not because he wanted to be nice.

When the sun was high enough in the sky to make the glistening snow blinding, I gave up.

“I’m starving,” I announced. “I’m cold. My feet hurt. My legs hurt. My back hurts. Why aren’t we there?”

Malachi looked at me incredulously. “First, you don’t know what the word starving means ,” he said. “Second, we’re not there yet because you lack the endurance to keep a reasonable pace in human form and the strength to cover any real distance by air. Third, I will accept that you are probably hungry, since you have the metabolism of a bird.” He looked around for a moment and picked a mostly snow-free log to sit on. He slung his pack around and took out a tightly wrapped brick of something and a knife that looked sharp enough to make me step back. “We can’t afford to stop for lunch—I don’t want to risk getting there after dark—but you can eat this while we walk and it’ll keep you going.”

What he handed me then was a greasy-looking block that didn’t seem to resemble anything I’d ever eaten. “What is it?” I asked.

“Food,” he snapped before closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath. “It’s called pemmican. The meat in this one is mostly rabbit. It also has berries and whatever else Torquil had on hand and felt like putting in this batch.”

I still wasn’t sure it was edible. “What’s a Torquil?” I asked.

He started putting his belongings away again, ignoring the question long enough that I didn’t think he was going to answer. At last he stood up and said without looking at me, “He’s family. He’s back home, and I haven’t seen him in a while, because I’ve been here chasing my nightmares.”

“Why would you chase a nightmare?”

Malachi sighed and shook his head. “Because the rest of my family is in those nightmares.”

“I don’t understand.”

He was silent again for a long time, but this time it seemed thoughtful, as if he were trying to figure out how to explain. In the meantime he started walking again, and I followed.

“I have—had—a little brother. Shkei,” he said, so quietly that I had to close the distance between us and walk lightly in order to hear. “He died … just a few days ago. I had a chance to save either him or my sister. I had to do something horrible, and even then I couldn’t save both of them. Just one. I saved my sister. She’s home now. I came back here because I wanted to be near my brother in his last days, but now I think I’m just not ready to go home and look my family in the eye.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Before Calysta the worst loss I had ever suffered was one of the songbirds in my home. I had found it and cried over the still body. Taro had been the one to explain to me that animals had short lives, and that sometimes they needed to pass on.

It seemed silly, now, to care so much about such a little creature.

“How did he die?” I asked.

“In a cage with no windows,” Malachi answered. “He died cold and hungry and in pain, far away from his family.”

The answer, so flat and cruel, stopped me in my tracks. “Why?”

“Because the world outside your cage is harder than you could ever imagine,” Malachi answered.

“Why am I still following you?” I shouted.

I wasn’t expecting him to answer, but he did anyway. “Because you’ve never had to do anything for yourself or make a single important decision on your own. Trying to fight me and find your own way home would be too hard.”

“You’re the most arrogant person I have ever met,” I grumbled.

Apparently that was funny. Malachi burst out laughing, so hard he had to stop and lean against a tree. Gasping, he said, “You spend your time with trainers and Brina and you think I’m arrogant?” He shook his head in awe. “Little quetzal, they have been so very careful with you.”