Creusus's Arc

Chapter 24 of 43

Malachai stepped back from the fight. He wiped dust from his skeletal breastplate and laughed once more, sharp and bright. Then he turned and ran. He moved faster than a man should move. His feet barely marked the dirt. In three breaths he was down the track and gone into the trees. Creusus stood in the road with his fists still raised. His ribs burned where the punch had landed. The broken pack lay open at his feet, shards of the orb dulling in the light. He spat blood and started after the running man, but he already knew he would not catch him. Malachai had chosen the trees on purpose. Malachai had chosen everything on purpose. Creusus stopped at the edge of the path. He needed a plan. Punching had not worked. He turned back toward the little building where he had left her. The love shack sat at the end of the track, ribbons stirring on the porch, a heart carved above the door. Kallista was already outside. She had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. She was looking down the road for him. She saw him and started to smile. Then a shape stood beside her that had not been there a breath before. Dark hair. Bone plates. A red skirt at the hips. Malachai's hand rose almost gently and struck her across the jaw. The sound reached Creusus a moment after the blow. Kallista's head snapped sideways. Her legs folded. The blanket slid from her shoulders. Creusus ran. Malachai looked up at him and smiled. "I heard last night," he said. His voice carried down the track without effort. "Every word she told you. Creusus was still running when Malachai came apart into smoke and was gone. No wind. No sound. Only the porch and the fallen woman and the ribbons moving. Creusus dropped to his knees beside her. Her jaw sat wrong under the skin. Her breath was shallow. He put one hand under her head and one at her shoulder and did not lift her yet. He lifted her carefully and carried her inside.