Naturally Ruth glared at me as I descended, but I ignored her, too, continuing toward the water cistern at the far corner of the lot. Her shoes clumped against the ladder as she climbed up to join Zeke, and I forced myself to keep walking. Hopefully, Ruth’s single-minded adoration would distract Zeke from coming after me, though a part of me wished he would.
It’s better this way, I told myself, passing the barn. Soft murmurs and contented bleats came from within; the rest of the group was taking advantage of the unexpected stop, probably relieved not to be hiking through rabid-infested woods. That was way too close, I continued, hurrying past before anyone could see me. What would you have done if Zeke found out? You think he could like you, if he knew what you really were? A mental snort. You saw how he was with the rabids. He’d put a stake in your heart or a bullet in your skull without thinking twice about it. He’d sell you out, just like Stick.
I came to the tiny woodshed in the shadow of the gravity-fed cistern, really nothing more than a three-sided wooden shelter with a tin roof. It was stacked high with split logs, and I loaded several into the rusty wheelbarrow sitting nearby, when I heard a soft moan.
Warily, I put a hand on my sword and waited, unmoving. It came again, the soft, hopeless sound of a human in pain. From the other side of the woodshed.
Still keeping a hand on the hilt, I edged around the building, ready to draw my weapon if necessary. When I saw what was making the noise, however, I dropped my arm. There was no need.
A large iron cage stood at the back of the woodshed. The bars were thick and close together, though far enough apart to see inside. The door was barred in two places from the outside, padlocked shut and wrapped in chains. Even the floor of the cage had iron bars running across it, separating the prisoner from the natural earth. A thin layer of straw had been spread over the ground, partially absorbing the smell of urine, iodine and blood.
Huddled under a blanket, curled up in the corner closest to the woodshed, a familiar, bearded face raised its head to stare at me.
I blinked. “Joe?” I whispered, recognizing the man Zeke and I had dragged back from the woods. “What are you doing in there?” I asked, appalled. I could smell the blood on him, the torn flesh under the bandages. He was still badly hurt and needed to be in a bed, or at least a room where he could be looked after. “Who put you in here?” I demanded, wrapping a fist around the bars. He stared at me with bleary eyes, and I backed away, fuming. “I’ll get Patricia,” I told him. “She’ll let you out. Just hang in there.”
“No,” Joe wheezed, holding out a hand. I stared at him, and he coughed, shuddering beneath his quilt. “No, it’s all right,” he continued when the spell had passed. “The boar savaged my leg pretty bad. I have to be locked up till they can be sure I don’t Turn.”
“They did this to you on purpose?” I came back, gripping the bars as I peered at him. “And you let them? What about your leg?”
“It’s been looked after as well as can be expected,” Joe replied, shrugging. “In the morning, someone will come and rebandage it. And it’s not as bad as it looks. I think I have a good chance of pulling through this one.”
I looked at his sallow, sweaty face, the pain glazing his eyes, and shook my head. “I still can’t believe they’d leave you in here like an animal. I’d be screaming and tearing the walls down, trying to get out.”
“I want to be here,” Joe insisted. “What if I die in the house and Turn before anyone notices? When everyone is asleep? I could kill my whole family. No.” He leaned back, drawing his blanket closer. “This is necessary. I’m not a danger to anyone here, and the family is safe. That’s all I care about.”
“Good man,” said a voice over my shoulder.
I whirled. Jeb stood at a corner of the cage, looking in, his sharp face impassive. The man moved like a vampire himself; I hadn’t even heard him approach.
“You see, Allison,” Jeb mused, though he wasn’t looking at me. “This is a man who is more concerned about the safety of his family, rather than his own short existence. In fact, everyone here understands what must be done to protect the whole, rather than a few individuals. That is how they have survived here so long.”
“You think locking an injured man up like a dog, with no treatment or help or medicine, is the best thing for him?”
Jeb’s steely eyes turned to me. “If that man’s soul is in danger of corruption, and his body is in danger of succumbing to the darkness, then he is no longer a man but a demon. And when the demon emerges, it is best to have it contained. For the safety of the untainted humans, yes, I do believe that is the best thing.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he overrode me. “What would you do differently?”
“I—” Jeb raised his eyebrows expectantly, and I glared at him. “I don’t know.”