“Who killed her, then?”
Sooah shrugs.We never found out. She simply vanished into thin air.
“And afterward… was that when you asked to work for the captain?”
Didn’t ask. He offered.Sooah combs her fingers through her hair, washing away the suds.He knew I’d have a hard time finding a new job, so he gave me one. Served with him ever since.
I allow her words to sink in, trying to imagine a younger Captain Sonam swooping in to save a poor servant girl. It’s all rather fantastical, something out of an old, clichéd fairytale. The handsome and righteous Prince Sonam, slayer of demons and savior of damsels. The thought makes me laugh.
Sooah finishes with her bath and pulls herself out of the pool, wrapping herself up in a fluffy cotton towel Kelai left behind. She motions to the water, inviting me for my turn. I hesitate only a moment before shrugging off my dirty robes and quickly slipping beneath the surface. The hot water soaks into my skin—so hot it nearly stings—but it’s a most welcome balm against the frigid weariness of my bones.
I startle when Sooah takes a seat behind me on the ledge of the pool and brings the rice soap to my hair. I jerk away for a moment, staring up at her in disbelief. She isn’t afraid of me, and I can’t decide whether she’s brave or foolhardy—perhaps both. She holds my gaze, unflinching, before I finally understand. She’s a gentle giant. Only looking to help. Normally, such a notion would disgust me. I am a strong, vicious, man-eating demon, for gods’ sake. Has she forgotten this? I thought she had better sense.
But then her nails gently scrape my scalp, working up a lather. The calming sizzle of popping bubbles fills my ears. Somethingstrange happens to me. My chest tightens and my throat burns. When I close my eyes, I’m able to remember my sisters. For a brief moment, I forget my clawing emptiness, reminiscing about the days when my family would fawn over me.
I miss them. More than anyone could ever know.
I take a deep breath and relent, letting Sooah wash my hair as a sister might. I allow myself this one rare indulgence and try not to fall asleep, lest the soapy water take me. I suppose this particular human isn’t so bad. If it comes down to food, I can eat her last.
“I have one more question for you,” I murmur. “Back in the Court of Temptation… if your father and the madame were so horrible to you, why didn’t you take your revenge?”
I hear the squeak of Sooah’s fingertip against the tile beside me. Turning my head to read, I fully expect some tired old idiom about how revenge is a two-headed snake, and how it will harm you as much as it will your victim. Instead, Sooah surprises me.
There is little time in the world, she says.Why choose to hate when you can choose kindness?
It occurs to me then, that out of all of us in Hell, Sooah might be the one person who doesn’t truly deserve to be here.
I, on the other hand, do. Because I would never choose kindness where the Maskmaker is concerned. There isn’t a mountain he can scale, nor the smallest crevice he can hide within—Iwillfind him. Why choose hate over kindness?
Because it’s all I have. If I give up on my quest for vengeance now, I may as well have let him kill me along with my sisters.
25
Houyi did not manage to catch the star god, for each time he came close, the god would don a new mask and disappear. The archer grew too old for the hunt, his justice unfulfilled. He spent the remainder of his days setting out cakes in offering to the moon goddess, the very same sweets she enjoyed when she still walked the earth.
“You must avenge her,” he said to his son upon his deathbed. “And if you cannot, then the duty will fall to your own son, and then his in turn.”
But revenge waxes and wanes, as does the moon. And eventually, it fades altogether.
The ninth star spent centuries exploring every corner of the world, slowly growing more dedicated to his craft. He found great pleasure in discovering new materials out of which to mold his growing collection of faces.
He had a distaste for marble, for it was a temperamental beast, oftentimes too difficult to handle. Crafting masks from paper was far too delicate a task. But clay… Clay was the perfect medium to honehis skills. Easily molded and cool to the touch, he painted the faces of all those he happened upon.
Beggars and kings, heathens and holy men, the local whores and ladies of chaste repute. With Death still on the hunt, he would don a human face and slip through the reaper’s fingers. He’d change his mask as seamlessly as a leaf flowing along the current of a river. He vowed never to rest until he found a way back to his throne on high.
But as the years dragged on, with no end to his exile in sight, the star god grew embittered. While the humans worshipped his surviving brother, the rest of his family was trapped in Hell. He never stayed in one place too long for fear of Death, and thus grew sullen and miserable in his isolation.
Until, that is, he stumbled upon a pack of peculiar creatures.
White fur, nine tails, and six obsidian eyes. A family of nine-tailed foxes. Upon closer inspection, he saw that one of them—the smallest of the pack—had fallen into a pit, whimpering loudly as she clawed at the edges seeking purchase. Her sisters could only look on, much too large to reach in and grab hold.
The star god was just about to walk away, unbothered and uncaring, when the trapped beast cried out a low, desperate howl. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to turn back. Demons were, after all, worse than the scum of the earth. Born from shadow, their powers could sometimes rival that of the gods, however. Their insatiable hunger, if left unchecked, could one day devour the world.
And yet, when he peered over the edge into the pit, he felt… compassion. How curious. Perhaps he needn’t be so hasty to abandon the beasts. It might be nice to have a few pets.
“Allow me,” he said, but was immediately met by a sea of sharp teeth.
“Stay away, human,” one of the foxes snarled, “unless you want to lose your head.”
