Page 154 of Monster Daddies
Will it come if I stand on the altar?
I eye the white stones. Hundreds of years ago, it was common for villagers to leave animal sacrifices on the altar, and the Elders are worried the demon was sent to Zochal because we’ve turned our backs on the old ways. They say the demon is punishment.
As I stare at the altar, I shiver and tremble and feel as though I might be sick. What will happen when I stand upon the white stones?
I peek over my shoulder and catch sight of the numerous archers in the watchtower. All have their bows drawn at the ready.
If I don’t play my part, those arrows will pierce my flesh rather than the demon’s.
Not for the first time, I curse my brother for his recklessness. Last week, he accidentally killed an Elder’s son during a drunken tavern brawl. And now, through a chain of events I could’ve never anticipated, I’ve become demon bait. How could I refuse the Elders’ proposal? I feel awful that Daniel killed someone, and I’m angry with him, of course, but I can’t fathom watching him hang.
“Keep going, girl. Stand on the godsdamned altar.Now.”
I swallow hard and finish approaching the stones. Another glance around the forest shows no sign of the demon, but surely if there’s a demon nearby, it’ll sense my presence. It’s said that demons hunger for human flesh. It’s also said they’re attracted to innocence. I try but fail to suppress a shudder. Those archers better hit their target.
Can arrows even kill a demon? My stomach bottoms out. I search my memory for stories about demons and other dark creatures, but I can’t remember anything about how they might be vanquished.
Well, I’m already here. I’m inside the forest. Might as well step onto the altar and see what happens. Besides, if I attempt to run, the archers will release their arrows on me, and Daniel will hang.
I don’t have a choice.
Just as I step onto the altar, the wind gusts harder, and I’m momentarily blinded as my long, dark hair blows in my face. I tuck the errant locks behind my ears and turn in a slow circle, my eyes performing a constant scan of the trees. Still, nothing.
Despite its ominous reputation, the Dark Forest is enchantingly beautiful, and I allow myself a moment to bask in the loveliness of it. Lush and green and ancient, the soaring trees block out most of the sun, but I can see well enough. There’s a vibrant, blue-green tint to most of the vegetation, but I also glimpse hints of color. Are the huge red berries on the bushes that surround the altar edible? And is it my imagination, or have the yellow flowers on a nearby vine gotten bigger since I entered the forest? Demon or not, there’s something otherworldly about this place.
Deeper in the woods, I glimpse the intermittent flashes of fireflies. It’s late afternoon, and I know the sun is still shining, but beneath the thick canopy created by the colossal trees, it looks and feels more like evening.
Suddenly, the wind ceases blowing, and a preternatural silence follows.
Time seems to stop, and I hold my breath as I wait for…it.
The demon.
It’s here. I sense its arrival, though I don’t see it yet. All I know is that I detect the presence of a powerful creature. My legs won’t stop trembling.
A low growl rumbles through the forest, and the sound vibrates through me like a sensual caress. An unexpected wave of surrender follows, the inexplicable urge to submit myself to the creature. To my utter shock, warmth also spasms between my thighs. I finally release the breath I’ve been holding.
Then I see it.
The outline of a massive stag appears amidst the trees, its many-pointed antlers towering above its head like a crown. Power radiates from the animal, and I muse that if the forest had a king, this stag would be it.
Though it looks like a stag, another deep growl rumbles from the majestic beast, and I know in my heart it’s not really a stag.
Is it the demon, orsomething else?
The Dark Forest is home to many strange beings. While I haven’t glimpsed any of the creatures with my own eyes, I’ve never had any reason to doubt the stories shared by the hunters who brave the woods, particularly the stories my father used to share.
The stag’s nostrils flare, and it stamps one foot in the dirt. He meets my gaze, and I cannot look away. The beast has dark, glimmering eyes that pierce straight to my soul.
Shocked murmurs ripple through the small crowd that waits back in the village. I want to glance at the archers in the watchtower, but I still can’t tear my gaze from the stag’s. I can’t be certain, but I think there’s a mocking gleam in its eyes. I get the sense that it finds some amusement in my predicament.
Does it know I’m meant to be demon bait?
Fresh waves of fear course through me. This stag, or whatever the creature really is, isn’t afraid of the villagers. It’s not afraid of the archers or the Elders.
At last, the stag starts approaching me with a purposeful stride.
As it walks, however, its formchanges.
