Page 59 of Fires of the Forsaken
Darcie lay face-down on the ground. She’d been stripped of her clothing.
A man crouched over her. I recognized him, but only vaguely. Grady, I believe his name was. He was a market vendor as well, but one Terrick had rarely visited.
Grady was still clothed but had pulled his trousers to his knees. His reddened face was contorted in what looked to be pain. One gnarled hand clasped over Darcie’s mouth, the other yanked on a fistful of her hair.
At the time, I didn't fully comprehend what I was seeing. I was too young. I’d never seen humans copulating before. But I still knew something was wrong.
I backed away, a cold sensation writhing along my spine. The loaf of bread slipped from my numb fingers, landing on the booth with a loud thud.
Darcie whipped her head up.
A steady stream of blood ran from her nose. Grady had struck her. Likely several times. Bruises marred her throat and shoulders. Her wild, terrified eyes found mine.
She tried to speak—perhaps to ask for help. But with Grady’s palm stuffed between her lips, all that came out was a stifled gag.
Raaaphuh.
My skin prickled.
Before me, Darcie roiled in pain against the ground. But, in my memories, I saw Mama collapsing in the tomato field. I saw that great big toad, with his bulging eyes.
My blood coursed like fire through my veins. My palms itched.
I wanted to help Darcie. But my emotions whirled in a dizzying frenzy and my body seemed to have turned to stone. I couldn’t move toward her. Nor could I step away.
Raaaphuh,came Darcie’s muffled plea.
“Stop,” I whispered, clasping my hands over my ears. It dulled the noise but did nothing to ease the raging itch spreading across my skin.
Grady drew back. “Oi!” he bellowed.
Darcie tried to yell.Haapufh!
“Stop! Stop!” I closed my eyes and screamed.
I don’t remember what happened next. Perhaps my brain rid itself of the traumatic memory. I’m told that is possible; the human brain is quite fascinating.
Regardless, the next thing I knew, I stood before the smoldering market booth, staring in horror at the two bodies on the ground. Both Grady and Darcie were unrecognizable—their flesh turned mottled shades of black and red. Their faces were swollen and puffy, teeth bared as though in agony.
They weren’t breathing.
“No, no, no,” I whispered.
Flames danced over my fingertips.
Another scream filled the air, but this one was not from Darcie.
Darcie would never scream again.
Instead, Carragh stood a short distance away. One hand covered her mouth, the other was outstretched, her trembling finger pointing at me. “You-you…what have you done?”
I stared at her, a chill gripping my body despite the fire that frolicked over my skin. The scent of charred flesh filled my nostrils.
More people spilled onto the street.
“A hybrid?” Some questioned as they studied me.
“Impossible,” others scoffed. “No hybrid has that ability.”
