As he slit through a final dangling strand of flesh, Kinzer tossed the removed cartilage aside.
Hayde howled as drops of translucent red, a mix of blood and tears, dripped off his cheeks.
“No!” he whimpered, his chin quivering under what now appeared to be red butterfly wings stretched across his face, steadily growing.
“You’re doing this to yourself!” Kinzer shouted, sticking the sword into Hayde’s mouth and pressing the edge against the corner of his lips.
“No, please!” he cried, his voice shrill. He choked again, his tongue cutting against the edge of Kinzer’s blade.
“Then tell me where Veylo is!”
“I don’t know,” Hayde whimpered.
Kinzer pushed the sword toward Hayde’s jawline, Hayde’s flesh dividing at the corner of his lips.
“No, no, no! I don’t…Please… I don’t… I swear…” His eyes met Kinzer’s. They were filled with terror, despair. Kinzer could see all the pain, the rejection he must’ve faced as a flit. As he stood over this mutilated creature, ripped and ruined, he couldn’t help but pity him. He wanted to throw his arms around him and tell him he was sorry, that everything was going to be alright. He was ashamed of what he’d done, but he knew this was the only way, and over the course of his long existence, he’d done far worse.
“There’s a higherling!” Hayde cried. “Fehrin’s his name. I think he might know. I can take you to him!”
“You think I’m gonna fall for this shit again,” Kinzer said, tearing farther along Hayde’s mouth.
“No! Please! Please, stop! Please…” he begged, his voice cracking.
His plea threw Kinzer back. Kinzer’s eyes filled with tears so quickly he had to turn to hide his shame. Was Hayde tricking him again? A part of him knew that he had to keep going if he wanted to be sure that Hayde was telling the truth.
He turned to see the whimpering, deformed flit. Hayde’s squinting eyes spewed tears. The black holes where his nostrils had been looked like skull eyes, oozing blood.
Kinzer knew that even if Hayde was lying, he wouldn’t have the strength to continue hurting him.
***
A higherling threw Maggie onto a thick ivory-colored carpet, which felt soft—far softer than anything she’d slept on in a long time.
After she’d been captured by the higherlings, they’d driven her to a gas station, where they’d met up with a Teleporter who’d brought her to a palace-of-a-house. The Teleporter had exchanged her with another higherling, who’d led her into the house, to the bedroom she now found herself in.
A dresser, vanity, and a few bookshelves lined the walls. A white-sheeted bed was placed between two large windows with white blinds and silver drapes.
Was this her new prison?
She started to her feet, in no particular hurry, as she had nowhere to run.
“Well, well,” a familiar voice said.
She turned to the doorway, where she saw Veylo—the fallen she’d remembered when she’d been in labor, the fallen who’d taken her baby.
He was just as she remembered him, his brown eyes cast in the shadow of his brow. Long strands of dark hair hung down either side of his face and curled beneath his chin. He wore a navy-blue blazer that seemed to glisten in the room light. He grinned as he looked down at Maggie like a hunter who was so proud of his kill.
She spat at him, hoping her disrespect would convey how much she despised this creature. Her projectile of hatred hit his blazer, and he removed a violet-colored handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiped it across the spit, and returned the cloth to his pocket.
“Oh, Maggie. Why are you so upset?”
She didn’t respond, because he knew very well she was beyond upset.
Veylo looked at the higherling who had dragged her in and gave a subtle nod, after which the higherling exited.
Maggie stood tall to confront the villain who had caused herself and Kinzer so much heartache and despair.
“It seems happenstance has brought you back to us,” Veylo said. “We were all so worried when you and Kinzer went missing as you did. So concerned. I suppose it’s fortunate that you returned to us as you did.”
