“Speak, demon, or we will kill you,” Castien threatened.
“Not kill! Not kill!” the creature’s voice was warbled and rasping.
“You didn’t kill a man in these woods?” Finn clarified.
The creature’s head whipped back and forth. “Not kill! Just eat.”
Castien’s stomach turned. That explains why Heron’s organs were missing.
“Did you see him die?” Finn asked.
Another head shake. “No. Just eat!”
Finn met Castien’s gaze over the creature’s shoulder. Castien nodded. Finn’s blade blurred in the moonlight as he sliced clean through the mimicta’s neck. The head tumbled to the ground. Castien pulled his sword out. Its body followed the head. Black blood coated his blade and dripped onto the ground. Castien wiped the metal on his pants before sliding his sword back into its scabbard. The thick stench of rot clung to the air and now his clothes.
“Still think this wasn’t reckless?” Finn asked as he cleaned his blade.
“We got information. It was worth the risk.”
“Ah, so you admit there was risk involved,” Finn hedged.
Castien shot him an unamused look.
“Now is not the time to argue semantics.” Castien gestured to the creature. “It looks just like Kalyxi. They can only take on the appearances of those whose blood they’ve shed.”
“Maybe Heron was killed without his blood being shed until it came along? Or the creature could have lied. After all, it is a depraved monster.” Finn’s blade clicked into the belt around his waist.
Castien’s Gift drew in the air above. Gold diagrams and words swirled. An idea surfaced amongst them, quickening his heartbeat.
“I don’t think it lied. Hand me the candle,” Castien said, and Finn passed it over. The wax was pooling in the thick brass plate. It wouldn’t be long until the flame burnt out. They needed to get back on the other side of the Wall quickly.
Castien bent down and grabbed the creature’s head by the hair. He flipped it over so it faced up. The monster’s maw was wide open. Castien ignored the chilling number of teeth and looked for bruises or marks.
“He was punched,” Castien said as he hovered the flame over the mimicta’s copy of Heron’s face.
“He? Don’t you mean it?” Finn questioned.
“No, I mean Kalyxi. A mimicta takes on the likeness of its prey. If Heron was dead or injured when it got to him, then it would have taken on the appearance of those injuries.”
“The mimicta could have been hurt before we saw it.”
Castien nodded. “True, but I doubt it.” He studied the body next, noting a large violet bruise on the rib cage.
“Because it suits your theories?”
Castien stood and met his cousin’s gaze. “Because I can’t think of anyone or anything that would punch something with that many teeth in the face.”
Finn tilted his head from one side to the other. “Fair point. So we know he was injured before the mimicta got to him. That doesn’t rule out another cryptura being the killer.”
They started back toward the door they came through. There was only one official way to get beyond the Wall, and thatwas by the docks. But there were severalunofficial ways to sneak beyond the borders of the academy. The secret doors were supposed to be used for emergencies–like the sudden disappearance of a beloved student–but the Order used them for whatever purposes they deemed necessary. Heron would have known how to use those exits.
Dry leaves crunched beneath their feet, some sticking to their bloodied boots. Castien kept one hand on the hilt of his sword, his eyes scanning the fog-laden path before them.
“What kind of cryptura would give Heron a few bruises before leaving him behind to be the meal of another?”
“I don’t know, but I’d like to get on the other side of the Wall so I don’t find out,” Finn said as he picked up the pace.
“I ought to tell Alessia about how scared you were out here,” Castien teased.
