Page 61 of Eldritch
“You want to know why I loathe your kind?” The warden didn’t spare him the opportunity to answer. “You’re weak. When I told your father I’d pitted you against an orgoth, he cried. Sobbed like a woman. And you…with your diseased face and those infernal-looking eyes.” Lips flattened, he crossed his arms. “Shame about Jagron, though. Was a good sector guard. He relied on the loyalty of his kind. Called them a brotherhood. You think anyone here gives a damn about brotherhood? Power earns loyalty and respect. The more power you wield, the more you’re respected, and you, my friend, are utterly powerless.”
“I’m ready to return to work,” Zevander said through clenched teeth, ignoring him.
“Oh, you won’t be going back to the mines. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to watch you try to outsmart another one of my orgoth friends here, but…seems General Loyce took a liking to you after that fight. She’s requested that you join her Gildona. Her flock of caged birds. Worse than this place, as I understand.” A slow grin crept across his face, revealing a rotting graveyard of brown teeth. “Worse than death.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
MAEVYTH
Ajarring thud tore me from sleep, and I jolted upright, the reflex knocking my foot against something. The book I’d been reading had fallen off my lap and lay splayed like a broken bird on the floor.
Wind howled against the thin panes of glass, and twisting around in the rocking chair, I noticed the cabin felt too quiet.
“Zevander?” I called out for him, my nerves rattled from the abrupt waking.
Glancing around the room showed no sign of him. Frowning, I pushed to my feet, and a quick sweep of the back bedroom showed no sign of him there, either. When I arrived at Aleysia’s door, I peered inside, hearing no more than her quiet snores on the other side.
Where is he?
Passing the window, I caught sight of a figure on the porch, and my heart shot to my throat. Eyes narrowed, I studied the hulking, shadowy form that blocked out the moon’s light.
Zevander?
I darted across the cabin toward the door and swung it open.
With his back to me, Zevander didn’t move, or even twitch at my presence. I noticed something dangling from his fist. A white rabbit, covered in what I presumed to be blood, though it was too dark to confirm. The frenzied kicking of its legs told me it was still alive.
Slowly, I rounded Zevander’s body, coming to a stop at his side. A dark sheen across his mouth and chin had me questioning if that black glisten was blood smeared across his face, as well. His eyes were fixated on something out in the expanse of the yard, but when I slowly turned to look, I saw nothing.
“Zevander?”
He turned and seemed to look past me, his eyes unfocused and as black as onyx, and as he did so, light from the hovel showed a faint red hue to the glossy mess across his chin. Definitely blood.
“What are you doing?” I asked, frowning.
“Waiting.”
“For what?”
“Death.”
I let out a shaky breath and turned toward the yard. Dozens of glowing eyes stared back at me. Gasping, I reached out for Zevander’s arm, clutching his bicep. “Come, we have to go inside. Now.”
“Te’igniret abysira.”
“Get inside, Zevander. Now!”
The scattering of eyes in the field blinked in unison, as if belonging to a single creature, and I yanked harder on his arm.
“Zevander!”
He closed his eyes, head lopping forward, but he remained standing.
“Damn it, Zevander! Wake up!”
His muscles contracted sharply. His eyelids shot open. When he looked at me, the black had given way for the familiar color I recognized. “Maevyth?”
A breath of relief escaped me, but only briefly, because when I turned, dozens of pale, white creatures barreled across the yard toward us on their long spider legs.
