She tries again and again with a determination that is… admirable, but to no avail.
“You’re not so terrible,” I tell her when she huffs in frustration.“You haven’t lost a finger or the tip of your nose yet, so that’s worth some praise.”
Yue turns and pins me with a skeptical glare. “How long did it take you?”
“My whole life.”
“And who was your teacher? I might be better served learning with them.”
A grin tugs at the corners of my lips. “Trial and error were my teachers, Yue. Proficiency isn’t a garden that blooms overnight.”
She snorts. “How poetic.”
“Here,” I offer with a low chuckle.
Continuing to stand behind her, I take up her wrists, using the length of my arms as a frame for her to balance against. I correct her hold around the rope, adjusting her fingers so that the dagger’s end can slip free of her grip. I am close enough to smell her hair, my lips grazing the curve of her ear. I move her hand as though it were my own, swinging the rope with a controlled rhythm.
When we let go, the dagger flies true, striking the rock with such force that the tip leaves a noticeable mark against its jagged surface. The clang that follows echoes into the expanse of the garden, a gong announcing our success.
“I did it!” Yue exclaims, laughing softly as she turns toward me. “With help, of course.”
A low chuckle rumbles in my chest as I yank the dart rope back. I’m alarmed to realize I am studying her enchanting visage, now that I can do so unhindered in close proximity. Why am I intrigued by the curl of her long lashes? Why do I find the shape of her lips so beguiling?
She is a monster of monsters. A beast who feeds on those far more wretched. At any moment, she could unhinge her jaw and rip my throat out if she felt so inclined. I have foolishly allowed myselfto be alone with her. If Yue decided to attack, Wen and Sooah would be helpless to stop her. I should put distance between us.
Yet all I can focus on is the whisper of her breath hitting my cheeks. The way I could tilt my head down, easily capture her mouth with my own and—
“CAP’N!”
The panic in Wen’s voice lances through my chest. The hairs on my arms stand on end. There’s something bitter in the air, the undeniable stench of rot. The jade statues creak and groan, craning their necks as they step down from their column pedestals. I realize then that these aren’t statues at all. One by one, they step down and expose themselves for what they truly are: demons hiding in plain sight.
“Bring the woman,” the dragon statue growls.
“And the rest?” asks the rat.
“Eat them. The Maskmaker doesn’t care so long as we bring her alive.”
I reach for my sword. “Keep your hands off of—”
It’s too late. They move with startling swiftness, attacking us in full force. Caught by surprise, we have no choice but to fight. I make it to Wen and Sooah, but the mistake has already been made. I thought Yue was right behind me. I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off her.
I turn, all too late, to see one of the beasts strike her over the back of the head.
30Yue
Hunting Log #392:
The element of surprise is a tactic demons know all too well.
My joints creak. There’s aterrible pressure threatening to burst through my skull like a hammer nailing a spike outward. I can feel my pulse thudding in the tips of my fingers, causing them to swell. I pry open my eyes, but see nothing. I’ve either gone blind or I’ve awoken in the dark. I’m not sure which is more terrifying.
“Little thief, awake at last,” a familiar voice claws into my ear. A chill runs down my spine. “My, you’ve grown into a fearsome thing.”
Someone snatches me up by the chin, fingernails digging into my cheeks. I struggle against my restraints, which I realize is the stone body of the snake statue. The demon has wrapped itself around me, pinning my arms at my sides in a vise. I try to free myself, but the more I struggle, the harder it squeezes, forcing the breath from my lungs and crushing my bones. My vision comes into focus just enough to reveal the Maskmaker’s face—he’s wearing Sonam’s. Though they look perfectly identical, the Maskmaker’scruelty seeps through the captain’s features like ink blotting fine linen. Even at his worst, Sonam lacks this harsh a coldness.
“How dare you wear his face,” I hiss. “You’re still the same old coward hiding in fear.”
The Maskmaker scoffs, gripping my chin that much harder. “Hypocrite.” With a harsh yank, he rips my mask off my face. “I’ve missed this beautiful mask of mine. Did you really think you could steal it from me?”
