“You have something of mine,” the Maskmaker seethes. “First Yue steals my mask, thenyousteal my brush. You two really are of a kind.”
“Get off of him!” I scream over the rush of blood past my ears. Sonam struggles furiously, throwing every strike and kick he can manage—to no avail.
“Did you think you were in the clear?” The Maskmaker laughs darkly. “I bet you thought you were clever, using those tunnels. Did you ever stop to wonder how I escaped Hell all those centuries ago? I dug those with my bare hands; dug until my fingernails peeled back and my skin was raw. But I did it. I escaped this wretched place. EscapedDeath. If you thought you could give me the slip, you’re an even bigger fool than I thought.”
“Enough of your drivel,” Sonam growls through gritted teeth.
The captain twists his body to the side, snatching up the dagger end of his rope dart to drive it into the Maskmaker’s cheek. The star god flinches back, a massive hole opening in the side of his face as he does. Not a killing blow, but still just as satisfying to witness. Sonam wastes no time and stabs the Maskmaker again, blade sinking into his shoulder with a wetthud, red blooming from his fine clothes like a springtime azalea. The Maskmaker throws him off in a rage.
I snatch a demon up by the throat and shred it to pieces, throwing its limp body aside. “Sooah!” I shout. “Wen! Get him out of here!” They help him to his feet, but Sonam still has fight in him. I come up behind them before turning to face the onslaught. “I’ll hold them off for as long as I can. Don’t forget your promise to me, Wen.”
Together, he and Sooah grab the captain by either arm and drag him toward the gate.
“Wait!” he shouts. “No, we can’t—Yue!”
I look back at Sonam, desperately wishing I could hate him. It would be easier to part that way—if I hated him, I could accept that this is the last time I will ever see him.
“Go,” I urge. “It’s your only chance.”
They drag him, kicking and screaming, out of Hell.
The blood oath we made now stands fulfilled.
41
Although the Maskmaker commanded her to, Yue did not eat the boy that day. Nor the day after, nor the next.
She was simply too fond of the child: The vibrant stories he would share. The assortment of hand-carved toys he would bring to show her. Yue had never met a human quite so energetic, so curious. Sonam was nothing like how the Maskmaker described humans to be, cruel and fearful and bloodthirsty. Creatures who lashed out at the faintest sign of a threat. If he was wrong about this, what else could he be wrong about?
On one fine morning, they spent the hours drawing together beneath the shade of a large ginkgo tree. Yue’s hands were shaky, unused to holding things between her slender human fingers. These tools that humans used—paintbrushes—were very similar to the one the Maskmaker so often used.
“I’m going to send this one to my father,” Sonam proclaimed, holding up his newest creation. A landscape painting, awash with a beautiful array of colors. Though she found the concept of art strange, Yue knew the boy had an undeniable talent.
“Do you not live with your father?” she asked.
The boy shook his head. “He lives far away from here in a palace made of jade.”
She raised her brows. “What’s a palace?”
Sonam laughed, bright and bubbly. “You’re funny. A palace is a really big house. As big as a city, even!”
The fox’s heart skipped a beat. A house as big as a city? She could hardly imagine it.
“I’m going to live with him one day,” Sonam continued. “With my father and all my brothers.”
“Why don’t you live with them now?”
“I haven’t proven myself yet.”
Yue frowned deeply, terribly confused. Was this a common practice among humans? To shun their little ones until, by some arbitrary measure, they were deemed worthy enough to live with the pack?
“I’m sure that day will come,” she said.
Sonam set his painting aside and smiled up at her. “I really hope—”
The fox smelled trouble well before she saw it. The Maskmaker. She spotted him across the clearing, hidden beneath the shadow of a drooping tree. Watching for her to complete her task.
But how could she go through with it? The boy was innocent. He had a long life ahead of him. It didn’t seem right.
