Their heads snapped up from me then and they locked eyes with one another as a primal, dominant rage tore through them. At once they both bared a full set of blade-like teeth, and strangled hisses resonated in their chests. They were not men, but beasts. Sharp, clawed hands dug into my pale flesh as they latched on to me. The pain was unbearable. So much so that the sounds I desperately wanted to release were paralysed and trapped in my throat.
It was only when they started to pull against each other, like children fighting over a new toy, that I found my voice. My joints crackled as they strained against the strength of the creatures and my continued pleas went unheard. My shoulder finally popped out of place and the world spun around me, my body draining of all warmth and colour. My skin stretched and seared beneath their ghastly claws and the individual snaps of my joints echoed in the silent clearing. But not even my screams could muffle the sickening sound of my body starting to rip—
I woke with a start and coughed, choking on the saliva I’d inhaled sharply. The dogs whined at the base of my bed as they usually did after a standard nightmare, but for the first time in six months my dreams had changed. The sound of my body being torn apart crept back into my ears and a cold feeling prickled up my spine. I hurled myself out of bed and into the washroom as I began to retch excessively.
After there was nothing but air to heave I pressed my head to the cold, wooden floor. Judging by the position of the moon outside it couldn’t have been far off dawn, maybe only a few hours, and slowly – so slowly – I picked myself off the ground and returned to bed, using every little fragment of my will to block out the resonating sounds from my dream.
THE DOGS WERE barking downstairs in the kitchen and scratching at the door. I blinked my eyes once, twice, and sat up in bed while the desperate hooks of sleep still clung to me. I’d slept far longer than I’d meant to and hurriedly clambered out of bed and down the stairs.
When I reached the bottom, however, I doubled back and crouched behind the wall. The dogs were up against the window and hadn’t even acknowledged my presence. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled when something knocked around outside. My thoughts travelled back to the shadow outside the window the previous morning and I fought the urge to vomit again.
Carefully, I moved back a few steps and thought. Upstairs; I’d left my knife upstairs on the dresser. Footsteps crunched. I moved toward the kitchen again and pulled a heavy, old frying pan from the stove. Locks clicked. There were spare keys under one of the broken plant pots outside. I ducked and moved over to the door noiselessly, grasping the metal between my fingers. Shadow or not, if it could open a door it could take a pan to the face. The handle turned and the door swung open with an elongated creak. The dogs barked and retreated, whimpering, and I swung the makeshift weapon over my head at the trespasser. He turned to face me and the pan dropped quickly from my hands, as a strangled noise freed itself from my throat.
“Roan!”
I was so relieved to see him that I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him. It was only when he hugged me back that I remembered why he’d been missing in the first place. A flash of anger ripped through me and I pulled back, shoving him away.
“What happened yesterday?”
He didn’t look at me, not directly anyway. There were new scuffs on his face and dried blood on his hands. Eventually his gaze travelled to the bruise on my neck and his eyes glassed over.
“I have to leave,” he said bluntly, shaking his head clear.
“What?”
“I have to go – to get away from here.”
“You’re talking nonsense. This is your home.”
“But I can’t-” his voice broke. “I can’t be here, with you, anymore. Not after what I’ve done.” He charged past me and stomped up the stairs. I followed.
“What do you mean? What you did was wrong, and I’m still angry at you for it, believe me, but it doesn’t mean you have to leave,” I yelled. “You lost control. Father and I know how unstable you’ve been since-”
“So what happens next time?” He rounded on me, his eyes burning. “What happens the next time I get angry? What if it happens again and again and no one is around to stop me?” He grasped my shoulders. “Whoever came between us last night – if I wasn’t stopped…" He paused. "I can’t live with myself, Ava. Not if I’m a danger to you.”
“Everyone is a danger to me-”
“Not like I am. Please, just understand. I can’t be around you. I have to go-”
“Go where?” I snapped. Bitterness bled through my voice like acid. “What happens when someone tries to break in? When there’s another incident on the farm like yesterday morning? What happens when word spreads to town that I’m alone; unguarded. People will talk and men will decide that without anyone significant around to stop them they can take me and my land however they like.”
“Don’t,” he yelled, covering his ears.
I ripped his hands away. “This is the fear you’ll leave me with. No father; no friends; only a false identity that won’t protect me for long.”
“You can handle yourself-”
“Against a drunken fool, yes,” I said, my rage washing over me. “What happens when they come in twos or threes? Cedar isn’t real, Roan. He can’t protect me when they see past my lies.”
Roan deflated. He seemed to age several years at that point, and though I tried to look past it there was something about his expression that I really didn’t like.
“I’ll wait until your father returns.” He picked himself up. “But the moment he sets foot in this house I’ll be gone and you won’t hear from me again.”
A COUPLE OF days later there was a knock at the door. On the other side was Kaela, a semi-wealthy young woman from the western city district, and one of my dearest friends. Instinctively I looked myself over, making sure I was posing as the right person before opening the door.
Dress – check –
“Kaela,” I said cheerfully to the smiling girl. “Daeus, it’s been ages since I saw you last. How have you been?”
“Afternoon, Ava. Fine, fine as usual,” she said, flipping her golden hair over her shoulder and closing her silk fan with a snap. “My sister’s becoming a bit too intense about her Matching plans so I thought I’d come up to see you. May I?” She gestured inside.
“Of course, sorry, come in.” I held the door wider for her to pass through and set about making tea while Kaela settled in one of the kitchen chairs. Despite her upbringing and eye for finery she never once turned her nose up at my background or way of life. Sometimes I even thought I saw a sliver of jealousy when she dropped her walls. “How did you get up here?”
“My brother dropped me.” She smiled. “I thought he would protest but it gave him a chance to get out of the house too. My sister was releasing most of her frustration on me and I think he sympathised.” She chuckled, pointing out the window. I followed her finger and saw a tall, blond-haired man patting his horse. “I think he’s thankful for a breath of country air.”
“They always say planning a Matching is the most stressful time for a woman. Too much is expected of her-”
“Especially if they’re unhappy with their partner.”