Iris’s lip quivers, her teeth nipping at its soft flesh in an effort to still the action. “All those years in the house together, and I never told you how jealous I was of Falcon. That you chose to spend your nights with her instead of with me. I think that’s why I lashed out at you so much—I was just sore. Wolf was a good friend and ally to me, but you’re the one who always held my heart.”
She’d never be that sappy, Cyrus attempts to assure himself, even as the creature’s words send a tremor to his heart. She wouldn’t—but oh, if she did! “Enough, please. I can bear no more.”
“And that evening that I was locked in the traitor binds, when you brought me water and food—I pushed you away, when all I really wanted to do was be close to you. I wasted all my time fighting with you, Cyrus. And I’m sorry; I’m so, so sorry,” Iris whimpers, tears making her beautiful eyes appear glassy as she shivers. “You’ve always looked out for me from afar, and I was just too stupid to notice. So, when we became Cadogans, I just knew our time had finally come. I’m so sorry it’s ending like this.”
Not her, not her, Cyrus chants, trying to force his mind not to listen to the false Iris’s confessions. She doesn’t love me; she hates me. I drove her to hate me. That realization is almost as agonizing as the Vibría’s torture itself.
“Say your goodbyes, brother” Wolf demands, grinning widely as he slides the knife across Iris’s neck with a sickly, slurping sound.
Blood splatters across Cyrus’s face, pumping steadily out of Iris’s throat. Still, her voice manages to wheeze, “I…loved…you,” before her body collapses forward. She lands on his knees, her life blood coating his pants in warm, sticky waves. The feeling is so revolting that Cyrus vomits, rocking his body from side to side in an effort to wriggle free of her hold. Sobs overtake Cyrus as she heaves her final sigh. How long have I wished to hear her say that? How many nights have I dreamed of hearing those words?
It’s not her, Suryc reminds gently, but Cyrus’s hysterical mind cannot make sense of his words.
And now, to finally reach that dream only to feel her death as if it were my own blood. I can’t…I can’t…. Cyrus’s breaths become erratic, his eyes wild. “No more! NO MORE!” He repeats, his head thrashing from side to side.
Iris’s cold, deathly hands suddenly grip his knees. She inches higher, her lifeless head raising to reveal a mask of death. Her eyes and skin have a grayish tinge, her blue lips twisting into an insane smile. She crawls her way up Cyrus’s lap, laughing maniacally as she moves.
Cyrus’s panic quickly morphs to terror. “Get away! Get away! Oh please, no more!” He shouts as he struggles against his binds. Not real, not her! Suryc! Help me!
“What? No kiss hello? I’m still alive, my darling,” Iris wheezes, her voice echoing through the hole at her throat. Looking closely, Cyrus can see her neck bones exposed by the force of Wolf’s blade. “Come on, lover—don’t you still want me?”
Cyrus screams, and despite any attempts at consolation from Suryc, nothing breaks through to him. Iris’s hands wind into the hair at the nape of Cyrus’s neck, her face creeping closer and closer to his. Her bloody lips pucker over Cyrus’s widely gaping mouth, patiently waiting for him to take a breath or quit screaming long enough to endure her kiss.
Yet before she can fulfill her action, Wolf growls a soft command. “That’s enough for now. I’m getting hungry. Leave us.”
Immediately the creature leaps off Cyrus’s lap, its body resuming the form of the small boy. “As you desire,” the strange insect sounding voice whispers. With a small bow, the boy disappears out the main entry to the House of Vultures.
None of this registers to Cyrus. His mind is so far gone that he doesn’t even flinch when the screen door slams shut. His eyes are wide, his voice mumbling incoherent words, and his legs tremble in their blood stiffened pants. In this moment, not even Suryc can call him out of the depths of his despair.
Chapter 8
“We’ve exhausted this land, I think,” Lerual mumbles to me as we scour the tree line for any more nomads that might have moved in overnight. “The ground needs time to replenish, the game needs time to restock, and we’re just flying in circles, Iris.”
“I know,” I snap, immediately regretting the harshness of my tone. “I’m sorry, Lerual. It’s not your fault that the nomads are struggling and I can’t be the leader they need me to be.” She’s just so much like Warbler it’s uncanny, I confess to Siri, wishing that I could hear my dear friend’s voice one more time. Lerual’s bright eyes trick me, forcing my memories of Warbler’s yellow mask up to the surface of my consciousness once more. My vision clouds with tears as I remember her cheerful singing as she slaved away in the kitchen. I miss that little ray of sunlight in my life.
And where my dear friend’s ghost appears, the monster who brutalized her skulks in the fringes. Even now I see him smiling from the shadows of my mind. His crooked, yellowed teeth mock me; his dull, dark eyes scoff at me even as my hands grip the hilt of my knife, threatening to smash it through his imagined face.
