Chapter 172

The next morning the ferals and I gathered in the bailey.

Clo had done her makeup again, though this time Mirri had apparently supervised the process. The difference was staggering.

Black lipstick darkened and defined her lips. Heavy eyeliner framed her red eyes, giving her an intense stare that somehow only emphasized how pretty she actually was. The spiked collar around her throat, matching wristbands, SLAYER shirt, and skin-tight black leather pants completed her bizarre metalhead-meets-goth look.

Honestly?

She looked cool as hell.

I threw devil horns at her and stuck my tongue out.

Clo froze instantly. Her head slowly tilted to one side as she studied my hand gesture with absolute seriousness. Her brow furrowed.

“Are you challenging me?” she asked cautiously.

I burst out laughing before I could stop myself.

She stared harder, clearly attempting to decode whatever ritual behavior I’d just displayed. Then she carefully copied the gesture herself, fumbling her fingers briefly before finally managing it. Her tongue lolled from her mouth in imitation of mine.

“Does this mean humans wish to fight?” she asked. Then, more excitedly, “Is it a mating signal?”

I completely lost it.

A choking snort escaped me as I doubled over laughing. Tears sprang to my eyes while I struggled desperately to breathe through the hysterics.

The ferals watched me in total silence.

Vel looked mildly concerned. Thae looked confused. Nim stood motionless as a mountain. Tansy blinked slowly like she was trying to determine whether I was having some sort of episode.

Mirri and Ashlara exchanged a glance that suggested they were both seriously reevaluating my sanity.

It took me over a minute to recover enough to stand upright again.

I wiped tears from my eyes and sucked in a deep breath.

“It’s called devil horns,” I explained weakly. “Metalheads use it to look cool.”

Clo’s eyes narrowed. “What is a metalhead?”

“It’s…” I gestured vaguely at her. “Someone who dresses like you. On Earth there’s an entire culture built around music. Metal is one type of music. I was a metalhead when I was younger.”

“This metal music is…” She hesitated, visibly searching for the words. “Sharp? Hard? I don’t understand.”

“Remember that night I sang songs Mirri hated?” I asked. “Du Hast. Freak on a Leash. Killing in the Name.”

“DOO-DOO HAST!” Clo screamed immediately. “I loved that song!”

I laughed again. “That’s metal. And yes - it’s very hard. Very heavy.”

Clo immediately threw devil horns back at me and stuck out her tongue.

I nodded approvingly. “You got it, girl.”

* * *

Mirri wasn’t thrilled that we were heading back out again despite my repeated promises that we would be more careful this time.

She made Vel swear she’d bring me home unharmed - a promise Vel accepted just a little too quickly to inspire confidence.

Thae carried the first completed iteration of her dragonspear.

The weapon was unmistakably hers in both design and philosophy. Three long barrels sat in a pyramid like the muzzles of rifles, while a cluster of adjustable lenses mounted along the top provided different magnifications for sighting. At the end of the barrels, twin axe blades swept outward in the shape of dragon wings, transforming the firearm into something between a rifle and a halberd. The entire thing stood nearly six feet long. Its stock curved into a crescent designed to brace against her shoulder and chest comfortably despite her draconic frame.

Instead of a traditional trigger, a series of pressure plates lined the grip - arranged specifically for her clawed hands and built to prevent accidental discharge.

A simple leather belt hung at her waist - a rarity for Thae. Tucked into it were two dozen sharpened metal spikes, each roughly the size of a finger.

I still hadn’t seen the weapon in action.

Part of me was fascinated. Another part was deeply concerned that I eventually would.

I kissed Mirri and Ashlara goodbye, promised them both I’d return safely, and then we stepped.

The rest of the day disappeared into travel.

Most of the waystations resembled the first one we’d visited - isolated homes left to rot in the wilderness, locked root cellars beneath them, and lingering signs of what had happened there.

All had been cleared out. All still bore traces of blood, red sap, and rotting flesh.

None showed evidence of a gallows nursery.

Thae remained airborne, circling high overhead. Clo scouted ahead - fast, silent, and almost impossible to track, like some predatory ghost slipping through the trees. Tansy and Nim guarded the exteriors while Vel, Moss, and I searched the buildings themselves.

No ambush came this time.

Whether the Covenant had only been watching the first station, whether our caution had discouraged them, or whether they simply chose to observe from a distance, we found no sign of enemy activity.

The second-to-last waystation on Amberleigh’s list was different.

Thin gray smoke drifted lazily from the chimney.

Everyone immediately tensed.

Clo vanished ahead to scout while Thae widened her circles overhead. The rest of us approached slowly and carefully between the tall trees.

No movement outside. No visible traps. No sign of an ambush.

That did little to calm any of us.

I eased the door open. The hinges groaned like they hadn’t moved in years.

A weak fire crackled in the hearth. A blanket sat crumpled in one corner as though someone had tossed it aside moments earlier.

The air smelled of mildew, damp wood, and rotting hay, though the fresh smoke helped mask the worst of it.

I listened carefully.

Nothing.

But where my ears failed, Faith did not. Faint threads of gold woven with blue shimmered behind one of the interior walls.

I pressed a finger to my lips and moved lightly toward the doorway on the left.

The room beyond was little more than a storage closet. A broom leaned in the corner beside broken pottery and an old cabinet.

I paused. Whoever hid inside was mortal. And based on the color of their Faith, probably not dangerous. Gold was innocence. Purity of heart. Blue was compassion. Empathy.

“You can come out,” I called softly from the doorway. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

Silence answered me.

“I know you’re in the cabinet,” I continued. “If I wanted to hurt you, I’d burn the house down. Or drag the cabinet outside.” I leaned lightly against the doorframe. “I haven’t done either, and I don’t plan to. We just want to talk.”

Something shifted inside the cabinet, but no voice followed.

I glanced toward Vel.

She raised an eyebrow.

I shrugged.

“Hey,” Vel said gently.

I nearly looked at her in surprise. I had never heard her use that tone before. Soft. Patient. Almost warm.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” she continued. “We just want to see if anyone’s here. See if they need help.” She crouched slightly near the doorway. “Are you hurt? Hungry? We have a healer with us.”

I tried very hard not to let my shock show on my face.

“I’m going to open the cabinet now, alright?” Vel asked calmly. “Just to make sure you’re not hurt. Then we’ll leave if you want us to.”

After several long seconds, a timid, muffled voice answered. “Yeah.”

Vel smiled faintly and stepped aside.

I approached slowly and opened the cabinet door.

Inside crouched a young man barely into his twenties. He was painfully thin - thin enough that I honestly wasn’t sure when he’d last eaten properly. His dark hair hung greasy and tangled around his face while a patchy beard clung stubbornly to his jaw.

His robes had once been white. Now they were stained with soot, mud, and old sweat.

“Hey,” I said quietly. “We have food. Are you hungry?”

His bloodshot eyes locked onto me warily. Dirt streaked his face and hands.

I reached into one of my pouches and pulled out some jerky.

He hesitated only briefly before hunger overcame caution. He tore into it ravenously once he started, chewing so quickly I worried he’d choke.

I handed him another strip. “Are you hurt?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“How long have you been here?”

He slowed his eating slightly, suspicion creeping back into his expression. “Two weeks,” he answered carefully.

I glanced at Vel. She still stood outside the room, hidden by the cabinet door.

The young man sighed shakily. “Guess there’s no point hidin’ now,” he muttered. “Even if you’re with them, doesn’t matter now. Ya already found me.”

“With who?” I asked.

“The Covenant of Mercy.”

* * *

The man started to climb out of the cabinet, but I placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

“Hang on,” I said.

He froze immediately.

“You seem like a good guy…” I paused expectantly.

“...Vinric. Vin,” he supplied nervously.

“Vin. Nice to meet you. I’m Seth.” I gave him a serious look. “Before you come out, I should warn you - my daughters are outside.”

His expression immediately became earnest to the point of panic. “Sir, ya can trust me. I won’t touch ‘em. I ain’t that kinda guy. I’d never hurt nobody. ‘Specially not girls.”

The sincerity on his face was almost painful. He genuinely believed I was worried he’d assault one of the ferals.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” I assured him quickly. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

He blinked.

“My girls are… different,” I explained carefully. “And I don’t want you panicking and doing something stupid. They already know you’re here. They’re not going to hurt you.” I squeezed his shoulder lightly. “I just don’t want you hurting yourself.”

His brow furrowed harder. “I don’t understand, sir.”

“Vel?” I called over my shoulder. “Could you come meet Vin?”

Vel stepped into the room slowly.

Vin followed her movement with confused eyes at first, clearly not understanding why I’d felt the need to warn him.

Her copper-red hair fell around her face in thick, unruly waves, though the top had been braided back to keep it from her eyes. Those eyes were large and sharp, the dark ring around her crimson irises giving her gaze an intensity that never entirely softened, even at rest.

She stood a little over six feet tall - just taller than me. Athletic. Powerful. Built like someone born for violence, though her curves softened the severity of it.

And she was beautiful. Painfully so.

High cheekbones. Smooth jawline. Perfect symmetry. Even the sunburnt hue of her skin somehow only enhanced her appearance instead of detracting from it. A faint scattering of freckles crossed the bridge of her nose - something she’d inherited from me.

She wore loose leathers built for movement rather than protection. Bare feet rested silently against the warped floorboards, the claws on her toes making footwear impractical as always. Around one wrist hung the small braided cord she’d worn for years - somehow still intact despite battles, age, and even the Interstitium itself.

Vin’s confusion lingered right up until Vel met his eyes and smiled at him.

Not a predatory grin. Not threatening. A soft, careful smile that hid her teeth completely.

And in that moment, realization struck him.

He screamed.

Then he tried to flee so quickly that he slammed face-first into the back of the cabinet hard enough to knock himself unconscious.

The entire cabinet rattled violently.

Silence followed.

Vel and I stared at the unconscious man crumpled awkwardly in the tall cupboard for several long seconds.

Then we looked at each other and shrugged.