Rest In Pieces

21

Xadezhda

You should not be here, child.

Xadya startled at the voice. She jerked awake.

The hunger was constant. Picking away at her insides and even when she ate it wasn't enough. Nothing sated the hunger except those hearts, and there were no hearts around that she could take.

Be where? Xadya asked, but no response came. She wondered, then, whose voices she had been hearing.

Sweat beaded against Xadya's forehead. She scooted away from Malakhai, leaving the tent they shared as quietly as she could.

"I can take over, if you'd like," she offered. Finley looked up, and her eyes widened. Xadya sat next to her, ignoring the other girl as she stared. "I am not going to hurt you, Finley."

She blanched. "I'd like to believe you."

Malakhai's heart was the only one she did not crave.

Both girls were quiet for an incredibly long time.

"You did not bring your partner with you," Xadya noted. Finley blinked in surprise. "Airo and Jamie are my family. I don't think I'd last a week without them."

The voices would have rotted her away.

"I miss her," Finley said quietly. Xadya looked at her.

"Surely you're not on this quest to help me find answers. Why did you come?"

Finley shrugged. "I was let go of the Guard and I think it's unjust."

"It was," Xadya whispered.

"And... Luisza and I had a fight. My decision to come was last minute, if you get what I mean."

"I am sorry to hear that."

Finley smiled, then. "So. You and the other Arcane?"

Xadya quickly looked away. "I—he—" She sighed. "I don't know why he's here."

"He seems to care for you. Maybe that's why."

"Blunt, but I can appreciate that. I suppose you're right."

But she didn't really know. She fascinated Malakhai, she knew that, but what had made him set the course of their journey? What had made him come?

Finley stood. "Maybe you're all right, Xadezhda."

She let out a soft snort. "I wouldn't get too comfortable."

The other girl rolled her eyes, and went to bed. Xadya appreciated the silence.

Go home, Xadezhda.

What the hell do you want from me? She thought. Silence.

She was there to get help. Xadya knew there was something wrong with her by the way Airo looked at her. By the way her insides burned and scraped and yearned for blood, and in all her time being Arcane, she had never felt such hunger before.

She had not meant to leave her friends. But when Xadya came to, she was surrounded by forest. If she focused, she could still see their tents. But the smell—oh, the copper smell—filled her nose and her eyes flooded obsidian and she crept away, crossing the lines to a small village tucked away in the heart of the forest.

Perfect.

Xadya did not remember entering the house. She did not remember leaving footprints on the slick floor. It was red, she noticed, and when she looked around, she understood why.

Her doing, of course. No other monster had been in the woods that night. Heads and hearts and blood and blood and blood. The family was separated, holes in their chests where their hearts had been before she ate them. Flashes of biting down, blood and flesh and satisfaction.

Xadya wanted more.

Malakhai stood in the doorway. She smirked at him, locking into his colourless eyes, and beckoned two fingers at him. He had not crossed the threshold to the bloody floor.

She could make him.

"Come back to bed, Xadezhda."

She tilted her head. Bed?

"I'm still hungry, krevenczdhe," Xadya snarled. She faltered, then. Her corrupted hand began to ache.

Talons shot out from under Malakhai's nail beds. His eyes were black.

She would fight another Arcane, if she had to.

He smirked. "Well, then. Let's find you a feast, my lady."

She woke in the snow. It had seeped into her skin and frozen her bones and she could not move.

No, that was dramatic.

Xadya forced her eyes open and peeled herself off the ground. What she saw was a horror, a gruesome scene displayed before her eyes. And she had done it.

With certainty, Xadya knew that this had been her. All the victim's hearts were missing.

She barrelled through the snow, ripping open doors to houses only to find each one filled with bodies of the families that used to live there and blood-soaked floors to match.

A sigh. Someone was behind her.

"I tried to stop you."

Xadya whirled, pinning Malakhai against a tree. "This is not funny."

He looked down, amused. "Of course not, Xadezhda, you were incredible." Her eyes flashed. "Come on, don't try to tell me it didn't feel good."

She could not force the words out. She could not lie to him.

Instead she said, "You shouldn't have let me slaughter every person in this village."

"Trying to blame me, are you?" Malakhai chuckled. "There was no stopping you, milaczek. You were going to kill all these people whether I liked it or not."

Xadya huffed. She released him.

"Shall we head back before the others find out?"

Her eyes widened.

Airo and James could not see this. Finley could not see this.

"Yes." Her voice shook. "Let's go."

To Xadya's surprise, Malakhai held his hand out to her. There was blood under his fingernails as well. At least he shared the burden too. He seemed to mind far less than she.

She laced her fingers with his, inching closer to him as they abandoned the scene of the slaughtered village. They left the blood and bodies behind, but not the memory. Xadya would remember forever.

They finished the rest of the watch together. Neither would sleep.

"Malakhai, what's wrong with me?" she whispered, tucking in close to him, legs draped over his. She picked at the blood under her nails.

"There is nothing wrong with you, Xadya," Malakhai soothed. He moved a strand of hair behind her ears and in one swift motion his mouth was pressed against hers, hands moving into her hair as he pulled Xadya in closer, closer, closer.

His lips were soft on hers. He braced one hand on the back of her neck, one hand on her waist, pulling her into him. Chaos blurred around the two as they collided, edges sharp and rough and sharp again, a mixture of darkness and hunger and voices.

Oh, they were louder. They raged at Xadya, flooding her with aches and pains and a burning, scraping hunger that only hearts could sate, and she had eaten them all.

She pulled away, hand at her lips.

"Oh," she whispered. "Oh, they do not like you."

Malakhai tilted his head. Xadya settled in close, tucked under his arm for warmth. He would understand.

She sat with him and fought the hunger.