Page 52 of The Devil's Mercy

Calix stiffened, but Titus tsked at his other side.

“Enough, little killer. You’ll frighten him.”

Aodhan pressed his mouth against Cal’s ear, probably so Titus couldn’t hear, and whispered, “Maybe we should put you in the cage. That way you’re locked up with nowhere to run, no matter howfrightenedof me you get.”

He was about to snap some witty remark back when the next creature was called out and another cage was exchanged for the one that was already on the table. Air got caught in Cal’s lungs the second he saw the animal trapped within the small rectangular prison.

There was barely enough space to fit it, its white bat-like wings tucked tightly against its side, the tip of its left antler poking out from between bars. There were two atop its head, the other scraping against the bars when it tried shifting. Its body was feline, with fur the color of freshly fallen snow, and two ruby red eyes peered out at the crowd, a mixture of anxiety and fear glimmering brightly.

Sylars were indigenous to several planets throughout the universe, but they were rare on Emergence and not often taken as pets due to their wild nature and scarcity. Even shippingone from another planet where they were abundant could cost hundreds of coin, and most people weren’t equipped with enough space or resources to properly care for one.

Calix hadn’t seen one in ages, not since he’d been a kid bumbling through the forest behind the orphanage. He’d been following two other boys who’d only recently moved in, but they’d purposefully lost him in the woods. They hadn’t stayed at the orphanage for long, adopted out within that same month they’d arrived, but their impression and influence on Cal had lasted.

The bidding started, and he struggled to focus as his mind pulled him back to memories he wished would remain buried.

Of stumbling on a furry body in the snow.

Hearing laughter and footsteps as they ran away.

Leaving him with a cooling bundle and bloodstained hands.

Had it been Cal’s fault that day? He couldn’t remember.

He didn’t think it was. If he tried really hard, he could picture the older boy lifting the rock while the younger one held the poor creature down. Calix had never harmed an animal before, not then, and not now, but…

His memory couldn’t be trusted, becausehecouldn’t be trusted.

If you tell yourself a lie long enough, you start to believe it. You forget it was made up in the beginning and buy into the false narrative to make yourself feel better. Cal knew this. Knew that was his expertise.

Whether he’d done it or not, he had been the one to carry the bleeding creature back to the orphanage. He’d been naïve. Had thought Sister Grace would help him.

Instead, she’d called him a monster.

She’d dragged him inside and tossed him into the tub and rubbed his skin raw with a sponge that had felt like sandpaper.

Those two boys had returned, and they called him a liar when he asked them to confess.

In his memory, Calix had arrived just in time to stand there and watch them deliver the killing blow.

He’d just stood there.

And watched.

“How unfortunate,” Titus said, tearing Cal out of his thoughts and back to the present.

He was sweating, and his palms stung from where he’d been unintentionally digging his nails into his hands. Calix forced them to flex, but it took him another few seconds to get hold of himself enough to speak. “What?”

“Mr. Edwarz has a unique palate,” Titus said. “He’s got a real taste for things he shouldn’t.”

“You can’t mean…”

“He’s going to eat it.”

“If he wins,” Aodhan chimed in, listening to them despite how quiet they’d been.

There were other bidders, but no one ever bid more than a couple hundred coin above the elderly man in the front row, almost as though they were backing out gracefully. Calix had never heard of the name before, but then, it was probably an alias, meant to protect his real identity just like the masks they all wore.

The images returned of himself at eight years old, dragging the body through the debris of the forest…A trail of blood left in his wake…The lashing Sister Grace gave him when he’d cried and pleaded for help…The bundle of cooling white flesh and fur tossed carelessly into the trash bin on the side of the road.

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