Blood for Honor

I am out of control, and my life is spiraling into chaos as it falls apart around me. I have never felt turmoil swirling in the pit of my stomach as I have of late, and I am beginning to believe I am not wholly in control of myself.

But that could be the whiskey.

This jarring sensation inside me is far beyond the usual anxiety I am so attuned to, nearly overwhelming me.

I tap out after two more shots and leave without a word to Eddie. I will pay him later. The old man’s gaze weighs heavy on my back as I unsteadily make my way out of the cafeteria. But I am always in control of myself—in front of the masses.

As a part of the ruling family of Blackthorn, I’ve been conditioned to hold it together under the scrutinizing gaze of our people. ‘Never show your weakness to the public’ is my life motto. We are the manifestation of the people’s strength. If we fall apart, so do they.

It is a heavy burden to bear, but it is one I’ve been trained to carry on my shoulders. But even now, I can feel my feet digging into the ground beneath me, dragging me into a suffocating pit under its weight. I do not think I can muster the strength to climb out alone, but I cannot bear the company of anyone right now.

I slog my way back home, numb from the alcohol in my bloodstream. I do not falter at seeing the cabin I shared with Danny. Not this time. My blurred vision is a filter against the reality of my world, and I am unaffected.

The numbness spreads outwards from my chest, making its way down to my fingertips and toes. As though on autopilot, I shamble inside and roll up a few furs. I tie the bundle to Danny’s leather rucksack, identical to the one I left at the safe house.

I should get that one day, I think dismissively.

I shove a change of clothes into the bag with a package of dried fruit and jerky. I take a dagger and short sword from the weapon rack and slide them into the sheathes on my belt before turning to fill up my canteen. I cannot feel the cold water from the well-pump sink as it splashes over the sides of the container and my fingers. I should acknowledge that this is not normal, but I don’t. I can’t.

My mind is blank as my hands move of their own volition. I watch, but I can’t feel it. I can’t stop. My fingers lithely wrap around the two bottles of corn liquor under the kitchen sink. I uncork them with my teeth and turn the bottles upside down. Then I begin to twirl.

Liquor splashes around me, grasping at everything it touches. It rolls in rivulets down the walls and soaks into the blankets and rugs. The pungent smell of alcohol permeates the air, taking my breath away, but I don’t stop until they are empty. I let go, and the bottles hit the walls with a shatter. A dark part of me rejoices as the broken pieces rain down to the ground as shattered as I am.

From inside the bedside table, I grab a pack of hand-rolled cigarettes I keep for a rainy day. Heading for the door, I pull one out and place it between my lips. Despite my lack of touch-sensory, the taste of delicate mint leaves envelops my mouth as I breathe in through my mouth. I can feel the heady high before I even light the tobacco.

I inhale deeply as the end of the cigarette ignites in the small flame of a match and take one last look around the room. The earthen tones are drab, and the sand floor is only made bearable by the fur rugs, but it is home—was home.

Now it is a dark cell of painful memories.

Standing outside the door, I drop the flaming match at my feet. It lands in a puddle of liquor and ignites with a whoosh, quickly spreading across every surface unlucky enough to have come in contact with the alcohol. I languidly step away, never taking my eyes off the fire engulfing the structure. Flames pop, sending burning debris into the air as the thatched roof catches fire. Within seconds the entire thing is consumed in a raging inferno.

I take a deep drag off the cigarette and flick it into the flames as the first of the shouting starts. I dart into the dark toward the back exit and away from the chorus of voices converging on the blaze.

“Iylara!” a voice cries out desperately.

I am afraid my father has spotted me, but no. There is too much fear in his voice to have seen me. He must assume I am inside, but it doesn’t matter. I still can’t feel anything, not the cool night air on my skin or the light mist swirling through the air. My body acts and reacts as though in control of itself, with no input from me. My feet take off in a sprint carrying me away into the forest.

I don’t know how long I run, but weariness finally overcomes my body. Every ache and pain that has so far been numb to me as my feet have carried me further and further away from the village finally catches up to me, forcing me to stop.

I brace myself against a large pine tree, gasping for breath. It only takes a moment, and my knees give out. I crumple to the ground, choking sobs ripping at my parched throat.

How did I get here?

Blinking, I glance around at the trees, and my vision clears brilliantly. The noise of the woods around me grows louder, like I am coming out of a tunnel. My senses are heightened as the fog clears in my mind. The forest animals around me scurry about, sounding like men tramping through the woods. The rustle of leaves in the wind is like a heavy breath in my ears. I can almost taste the dirt of the earth around me, and the breeze washes over me like crashing waves.

“What in the world?” I wince, my voice sounding as if I were screaming in my own ears.

My hands start shaking. I did not choose to come out here. It was like my body was taken over, and I went with it in a daze.

I didn’t even think twice about it.

It felt right then, but now I am horrified at what I have done.

Why would I burn it down?

I stare down at my hands, sticky with corn liquor I could not feel spilling onto my hands.

You snapped. It happens.

“What?” I ask, frightened at the proximity of a man’s voice. The familiarity screams at me, but I cannot put my finger on how I know it.

Looking around, I find no one there.

I am in your head, my love.

“Danny?” I ask in a hopeful whisper, but Danny never called me ‘my love.’ I stand with weak knees, eyes sweeping the trees for any signs of movement.

No.

I am rooted to the spot, a million thoughts running through my mind, and I cannot settle on one.

It is shocking, I know, but you don’t need to be scared.

“I’m not scared,” I say, “only crazy. I can’t do this.” I turn and walk away, but I cannot escape my mind.

You can try to run, but you cannot hide.

Anger rises in my chest, but another voice stops me dead in my tracks before I can retort back.

“Can’t do what, sweetheart?” The voice is rough and unfamiliar but very much real and nothing like the voice in my head.

I turn to face the voice’s owner as he steps out from the brush behind me. I unsheathe the dagger and sword, holding them out in front of me defensively. My eyes narrow in distrust.

A second, larger man follows the first, and adrenaline rushes through my veins. Both men are filthy and bare the signs of a hard nomadic life.

The voice speaks again, catching me off guard, but I do not let it show. Forest rats, it says, as if I need to be told.

“Anything we can help you with, sweetheart?” the first, smaller man asks.

“No, I’m fine,” I say stiffly.

The man ignores my blades, speaking cordially. “Well, that’s not what it sounded like, did it, Bill?” he asks the bulkier yet younger man next to him.

Bill shakes his head. “Sure didn’t, Frank. What do you say we help each other out? How does that sound, doll?” The man named Bill speaks in a greasy voice. They smile at me with blackened, rotting teeth, and I cannot contain the disgusted grimace that spreads across my face.

Bill takes a step forward as Frank speaks. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

I take a step back, the grip on my blades tightening. “Oh, don’t be like that. You’re such a pretty thing, ain’t she?” Bill asks Frank, beady black eyes never leaving my face.

“Mmmhmm,” Frank purrs, licking his cracked lips. He steps forward to stand next to Bill, but I hold my ground this time.

“Stay away from me. I’m only going to warn you once,” I say, fight quickly taking over flight in my brain. An unfamiliar blood lust bubbles up inside of me, emboldening me.

Bill raises his hands in surrender, but Frank draws a short, rusting sword from a sheath on his belt. “If she ain’t gonna put out willingly, maybe we should just take what we want,” Frank says darkly, caressing the ill-kept blade lovingly.

“I don’t think so,” I say with finality.

“You should make it easier on yourself. I don’t take too kindly to ‘No,’” Frank says, holding his blade out to touch my own as Bill draws two rusting daggers from under his jacket.

Fear of being outnumbered rises in my throat, but it is quickly doused by anger under Frank’s hungry gaze. I run my sword down the length of Frank’s, testing the waters as resolve settles in my belly.

“You sure you want to do that, doll?” Bill asks. “I don’t think you know who you are up against.”

I narrow my eyes as I stare at him. “I don’t think you know who you’re messing with, and I’m positive,” I spit out.

I strike before either man has time to react.

Twisting my sword around Frank’s, I push up and out. Frank’s wrist bends with it until he lets go. He stumbles back with a yelp, blocking my dagger from coming at his face with his bare hand. He cries out in pain as the blade slices through his palm like butter.

With a growl, Bill brings his daggers down toward my chest. I thrust my blades out in front of me to block, staggering backward as he bears down on me. I dig my heels into the dirt to keep him at bay, but he is much too large to hold back for long.

Our faces inches apart, I gag at the smell of his putrid breath. Holding back bile, I push him away with everything in me. The force sends me, rather than him, stumbling and I struggle to maintain my footing.

I turn at the sharp sound of Frank stepping on a twig behind me. I sidestep his fist rushing through the night air, barely missing my face. I slash out at him across the abdomen. He withdraws with a hiss of pain as I duck and spin back to face Bill. I deflect his blade with my sword to slash him across the ribs with my dagger.

“Bitch!” Bill doubles over with a growl of pain, protecting his midsection.

“And you thought this was going to be easy,” I taunt. “You should have thought twice before messing around with a Vance,” I say arrogantly.

There is recognition in the men’s eyes because they know the name—clan-less or not.

Frank retreats to pick up his sword before turning back to me. “I don’t care who you are. You are just some bitch we are gonna gut,” he says before lunging at me.

I knock his blade away with my sword, but my foot catches on a tree root as I shuffle backward. Frank’s fist lands a right hook on my jaw in my desperate attempt to stay on my feet. The impact spins me around a full one hundred eighty degrees, and I fall to my hands and knees.

Frank kicks my sword away, leaving me with only my dagger to contend with. He towers over me, and I kick, knocking his feet out from under him. Frank hits the ground with a grunt, and Bills rushes at me. I roll to avoid being pounced on by the hulking man.

A meaty fist grabs hold of my rucksack, yanking me back and throwing me to the ground. I hiss in pain as the buckles of the pack cut into my shoulder. I try to scurry backward, but Bill grabs my boot, pulling me to him like I weigh nothing. I swing my dagger at his head, but he deflects it with a metal arm guard, knocking the blade from my hand. Bill pins me to the ground with his legs and wraps his fingers around my throat. I yank and claw at his hands, but I cannot break his vice-like grip. Even in an injured and weakened state, the man is much stronger than I could ever hope to fight off from this position.

“I love watching the light fade from their eyes,” he says as Frank stands to his feet.

My vision begins to blur as my body starts to struggle for oxygen.

This is not your end.

The voice would be comforting if I believed it, but I can no longer fight against the brute of a man hell-bent on choking the life out of me. The little bit of hope that I have left begins to fade.

The ringing in my ears muffles Frank’s voice. “Don’t kill her, Bill. I can’t get my jollies off if you kill her. Dead bodies make me soft.”

Bill lets go with a sigh a moment before I lose consciousness. He gets up, leaving me gasping for air on the ground. I roll over and push myself up on my knees.

Frank pants in anticipation. “Hold her still.”

Bill grabs me from behind, pulling me from the ground as he pins my arms back against his body. I throw my head around weakly, trying to make contact with his face, but the back of my head hits his collarbone. As Frank starts tugging at my belt, I let out a pained, desperate cry.

“Hey now, sweet thing, don’t make this so hard. You might like it,” Frank says through a hungry grin.

My ears begin ringing again, and my vision turns red as he kisses sloppily down my neck. My belt hits the ground with a thump, and time slows down as he lifts his head to look at me with lust in his spirit-less eyes, his fingers working at the clasp of my pants.

I smile sweetly despite it all. How I can manage such a thing is beyond me, but it has nothing to do with submitting to this man’s will—that’s for damn sure.

Frank smiles devilishly, believing that the smile on my face is a good thing, but he is wrong.

Oh, so wrong.

Frank leans forward, and I strike, my teeth sinking into the side of his throat. He screams out and tries to pull away, but a predatory growl rumbles in my chest. I bite down harder and yank my head back, taking a chunk of Frank’s neck with me. Blood gushes from the wound. Frank screams in agony, grabbing at his neck as he tries to stop the torrent of blood cascading down his chest.

Stunned, Bill lets me go out of pure shock. I turn, head-butting him before he can retreat. I don’t feel the pain through the adrenaline driving me as my forehead connects with his face. Bill cries out, holding his broken and bleeding nose. He looks at me in terror, and I smirk with satisfaction at the sight of his fear.

I yank a small dagger from his belt, unhindered by the man in his hesitation. I ram it into the side of his head, straight through his temple. I pull the blade out, staring blankly into the black pits of Bill’s eyes, the light of life gone from them. He crumples to the ground dead as Frank collapses behind me with a gurgling sound. Frank twitches once and moves no more.

As reality sets in, I drop the dagger and stagger away from the two dead men, spitting out the chunk of flesh still held tightly between my teeth.

Violent shaking starts in my hands, making its way up my arms, and before even a moment has passed, my entire body begins shaking in shock. I violently vomit, bracing myself with my hands on my knees until nothing is left in my stomach. It is mostly whiskey and leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but I welcome it over the caustic bite of iron.

I collapse to the ground once more, still shaking. I desperately try to wipe the blood from the lower half of my face, but I only succeed in smearing it around.

“What have I done?” I ask no one, my voice coming out in a low rasp. Bill’s hands have damaged my throat, and even the simple task of swallowing is nearly unbearable.

But the pain is overshadowed by something else.

Taking drastic measures to preserve my life and dignity is not that astonishing. What is astonishing is the ecstasy swirling around in my belly like a gusty wind. It would make me sick again if I had anything left to throw up.

I look to the heavens as if the sky will answer me, but my vision begins to blur and spin. I rub my eyes, trying to clear the haze clouding my vision, but the trees turn to mush around me as I try to focus. I blink, and everything goes black, snuffing out the sound of my heart hammering away in my ears along with my vision.

It would be utterly silent if not for the faint chuckle that sends a shiver down my spine. I cannot place the familiar voice through the crackle of what sounds like an antique record player or understand the language, but the words are plain as day. "Tu seras mia, mi amor."