Monica's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Monica stepped out of the smoke and into a stranger's kingdom. She was a demon, sent to take a mortal ruler's soul, and she took souls the slow way. No knives. No bargains scratched on paper. She would make the ruler of Mournpeak want to give his soul away, whisper it into her mouth like a kiss. That was her craft. That was her whole reason for being here. But she had arrived in a muddy village square with no idea where the ruler even sat. The town smelled of wet ash and pig fat. Farmers hauled carts past her. None of them looked up. A demon in a red gown should have turned every head, yet these people kept their eyes down, as if looking up cost coin they didn't have. Monica's wolf pressed against her leg. He was hers, sleek and wrapped in shadow, his eyes two coins of yellow light. Mortals felt him before they saw him. A woman gathering water dropped her bucket and ran. "They're afraid," Monica said. "Good. Fear is a start." She needed the court. Without it she had no ruler, no game, no soul. She crouched and took the wolf's jaw in her hand. "Find the fattest hall," she told him. "Find where the food goes." The wolf lifted his nose. He turned toward the far edge of the village and pulled. Monica followed him past the last crooked house. The track climbed. Then the wolf stopped and growled low. Ahead stood a tree that had no business living. Its bark ran red, split with lines of dull fire. A face bulged from the trunk, mouth full of thorns. Branches curled like hooked fingers over the only path forward. Monica had seen many wicked things. She had made a few. Still, she stopped. The tree's eyes rolled toward her and burned. "You block the road," she said. "Why?" The trunk creaked. A voice ground out from the wood. "All who seek the throne pass me first. The lord pays me in blood to keep the weak away." So the tree knew the way. That was worth more than its threat. "I'm not weak," Monica said. She stepped close, past the thorns, and laid her palm flat on the burning bark. Heat bit her hand. She did not pull back. "And I bring your lord something better than blood." The fire in the tree dimmed. The thorned mouth worked, tasting the truth in her. Slowly the branches drew back and cleared the path. "The hall lies beyond the ridge," the tree said. "He holds court at dusk. Go, and let him learn what you are." Monica smiled. She knew now where the ruler sat. She knew when he would be watching. The wolf trotted ahead onto the open road, and she walked up toward the ridge, her seduction finally begun.