***
I stumble up the stairs to the Houseof Vultures around midnight. The place is lit with candles in everywindow as I plop onto the couch. Condor, Falcon, and the rest ofthem hear my movements and come thundering down thestairs.
“It’s you,” Condor muttersin surprise, eyeing the door warily.
“Looking for your friendCreeper?” I enjoy the sound of the half-broken mask rattling on thefloor as I toss it to Condor’s feet. As he picks it up, his handsare careful not to land on the bits of hair and tissue still stuckto the frame.
“You actually killed him?”Condor studies me closely as I point to my bloodyclothes.
“Are you really thatsurprised? It’s not like I haven’t taken a life before,” I remark,hearing the waver in my voice. Now I need to be alone. Now, I needto grieve.
“Yes, but Hawk wasdifferent. Killing Creeper—killing for revenge….” Condor’s wordsfail him. He edges closer to the couch, a hand reaching for myshoulder, as if to comfort me.
I stand up, unwilling to let him nearme. “It was too good for him in the end. He deserved far worsesuffering than I could inflict.”
Condor catches my arm as I pass by himheading toward the stairs. The feel of his warm fingers on my skinmakes me cringe. I am so emotionally raw that my skin hurts withany human contact right now. “Warbler?”
“You really expect me tobelieve that you care?” Pushing Condor hard against the wall, Iwrap my fingers around his throat. My limbs ache, but I manage tohold him tight. Condor must motion to the others to stay away,because no one comes to his aid behind me. “Looks like there’s twovacancies in our House now.”
“This was never what Iwanted, Mynah.” Condor’s pleading tone sounds so eerily likeCreeper’s that I almost fear I am holding onto a ghost.
“An eye for an eye,leader. Falcon allowed my friend to die, so I’ve taken one of herhenchman from her. You had to have known what she was up to, so Ifind you just as guilty. Be thankful that I have stopped withCreeper.” I stalk away before he can say another word, fearing thatI will lash out with my blade if anyone tries to touch me again.Panther jolts up the stairs behind me, a grim set to hismouth.
I drop face up onto mybed, uncaring that I still wear bloody clothes. Panther sits on thestool beside me, stone still as he waits. His hand wraps aroundmine when I don’t volunteer any information, and strangely, histouch does not bother me. Maybe it’s thebond in our minds, maybe it’s the fact that he’s a child, or maybeI’m just too exhausted to care anymore. Panther carefully tends to the scratches on my arms, and Iallow the ministrations without arguing.
“Aren’t your priestlysensibilities shocked by my behavior?” I mock with an unceremonioustone.
Panther does not rise tothe bait, patiently laying out clean clothes for me while the shockof my actions wears off. I killed anotherhuman being. Willingly, purposefully, viciously. It was so verydifferent from hunting for food. I hadalways struggled with killing an animal, an innocent creature thathad done nothing to deserve such a fate. What I had done to Creeperwas the equivalent to torture. I’d made him suffer, and I had evendrawn some sick satisfaction from it.
I can still hear his high-pitchedkeening as I tore him apart, limb by limb. “Please, don’t! I’ll begood, I swear!” he had sobbed when I set my knife against his arm,preparing to skin him from knuckles to elbow.
“Can you bring her back?”I had taunted him as the knife bit deeper into his wrist. “Can youundo the damage you’ve already done?” Oh, how he had screamed! Thesound still rings in my ears. Staring at my shaking hands, I seehis blood crusted around my fingernails.
That’s when the vomitingand chills rack my body, sobs and short breaths overpowering me.The crushing guilt finally overtakes the heat of the moment actionsreplaying in my mind. What terrible thingsI have done! Didthe murder of Creeper honor Warbler or shame her? Would she have felt justice wasserved, or would she look at me in fear? Am I any better than Falcon orCondor? Will Iever stop seeing Creeper’s face?I feel like there is nothing in the world thatcan make me clean again.
***
After only a couple of hours spentshivering and begging for my own demise, a pounding at my doorpulls me out of my guilty ruminations. Panther hurries over toanswer it for me as my bones quake with a coldness that seems tohave settled in my heart. Nothing I do removes the fault from mytrembling fingers. No act of contrition can possibly atone for whatI have done. I cannot force my head to turn nor my eyes to focus onBittern as she enters my room. All I can see is Warbler’s pitiful,teary eyes and her open, sobbing mouth.
“Mynah, you are neededdownstairs. Condor has prepared the wake,” Bittern coos, smoothingher fingers through my sweaty hair.
“You tell that bastardthat I am staying right here! I will never be a part of the wakefor Creeper!” I shout through gritted teeth.
“Not Creeper, Mynah.Condor decided not to hold the wake for him, and he gave ordersthat no one is to even mention his name. This is strictly forWarbler,” Bittern explains, her tone comforting, as though she isspeaking to a child who has just woken up from a nightmare. “Willyou come down for her?”
A moan wrenches its way through mythroat. “She wouldn’t want me there.” All I can remember is ourstupid fight. “I called her a cheap prostitute,” I confess, tearspouring down my mask. “Did I push her further into Creeper’s reach?How can I honor her passing
