Legion's Arc

Chapter 9 of 22

Diana stayed by the barn wall after the swarm sank back into the cellar. She held the bark book against her chest. The words she had read still turned in her head. The change could not be undone. But the last page said more. It said the swarm could be destroyed. Burn the book. Burn the human thing that ties the man to the pack. Do both, and the hunger dies. Inside the walls, Legion felt her go still. Mark clung to the swarm like a man holding a rope with torn hands. The hunger surged harder now than ever. Each time he held it back, it came back worse. He had lifted her without biting. That effort had cost him. Now the pack pulled at every seam of his will. If it snapped, he would forget her face. He would forget his own name. Diana knelt and pulled the torn shirt from under her jacket. She spread it on the rotting boards. She took her lighter from her pocket. Her thumb rested on the wheel. "Mark," she said. "I know you can hear me." The swarm poured up through the hole again. Rats spilled onto the floor and formed together. Fur climbed on fur until a shape rose above the boards. A face pushed out of the mass. It was a monster's face, wide and wrong, the mouth stretched with teeth. But the eyes held. Brown eyes. Mark's eyes. The face smiled at her. For one breath it was gentle. Then the hunger took it. The mouth split wider. The eyes went black at the edges. The whole mass shook and leaned toward her. The rats hissed as one voice. Mark was losing. Diana did not run. She looked into the eyes while they still knew her. "I'm sorry," she said. "This is the only way I can free you." She flicked the lighter. The flame caught. She touched it to the torn shirt. The old cloth took the fire fast. She lifted the burning shirt and dropped it into the open book on the ground. The bark pages hissed and curled. Flame ran across the drawings of men and beasts. The swarm screamed. It was not a rat sound. It was a human scream, torn from a thousand throats at once. The shape of the face broke apart. Rats fell from it and scattered across the boards. The fire ate the book and the shirt together. The scream thinned. The swarm shuddered and pulled back from the flames. It did not snap toward her. It broke around her, wild and blind, and drained down into the cellar dark. The book burned to black flakes. The shirt was ash. The last thing that tied Mark to the man was gone. Diana stood over the fire, alone, and listened to the swarm sob somewhere below.