I peer around the cave opening and relief washes over me when I spot Shaw. His chest is still bare, agile and gleaming in the moonlight, and he is alone. I walk toward him when he throws a hand out behind him. He clutches his stomach and crouches over the brush, something obviously wrong.
Alarmed, I step toward him. “Shaw…” I call uncertainly.
He shakes his head rapidly and then relieves his stomach of its contents. Our dinner of roots and berries could only be described as paltry at best, but Shaw heaves violently. I hasten toward him, placing my hand on his shoulder gently, the way I would if I were attempting to soothe a frightened animal. With the way Shaw turns toward me, hollow cheeked and fever eyed, I’m not far off. His face is gaunt, as if all his skin is stretched tighter over his bones than usual, and he snarls at me until I remove my hand.
“Are you okay?”
He straightens and swipes at his mouth with his forearm. “I’m fine,” his voice is rough, but I don’t shy back. Whatever this is, it isn’t about me.
“Are you sure? What if you have internal injuries that didn’t get healed? Or maybe a head injury—"
“I said I’m fine,” he bites out. His face twists into a grin, but it isn’t a handsome one. It’s humorless and aching. “And the only thing wrong with my head is something that can’t be fixed with magic water.”
“What do you—"
He glares at me, his eyes like chips of ice. I almost rear back, but I force myself to stand still. I don’t retreat. Not from him. Not anymore. “What’s wrong with you?” he demands, his words acerbic. “I’m a monster, aren’t I, Mirren?”
My own words, echoed back to me in his voice. But now, they ring false.
“Shouldn’t you be happy if I died of internal injuries after everything I’ve done to you? Why do you even care?”
The question settles in my stomach. “Because of Easton,” I answer uncertainly. If Shaw dies, he can’t help me find my parents and save Easton. But when I ran to him a moment ago, it wasn’t my brother on my mind. Something else drove me to him, something that clutched at my chest.
Shaw laughs mirthlessly. “Well, don’t worry. My body is in fine working condition to accompany you across the Dark World.”
He turns and retches once more. His body convulses, fighting violently against whatever he’s trying to expel. I keep my hand clutched to my side. “Shaw—"
He straightens. His eyes are squeezed tightly shut and his jaw is clenched. And his face is… it is agonized. Like everything that has ever happened in the shadows of the world have come to rest below his skin, tearing at him with their claws. “This just…happens. Sometimes. After a fight,” he says quietly, without opening his eyes. Emotion flickers across his face and though I am Similian, I need no tutorage to know this one well. Shame.
Oh.Oh.
I think back to every time I’ve watched Shaw commit violence, the way he seemed to bask in it as though it were a natural part of him. But I’ve never seen him afterward, when the threat is gone, and the adrenaline has faded. If I wasn’t unconscious, I would have seen the defeated hunch of his shoulders and the lines creasing his face. I would have felt the self-loathing rippling off him in waves.
It’s all so recognizable because I’ve felt it my whole life. Brought by the whispers of my Community and the abandonment of my parents and the restlessness inside me. I have never been able to wash its sticky film from my skin. And here is Shaw—confident, swaggering, infuriating man that he is—drenched in the same acrid feel of it.
When his eyes open, there is no softness in them. “Don’t read my weakness as a strength. You should be happy if I die,” he says furiously. Anger lines his face and I find that I understand it. It’s so much easier to be angry. It swallows the emptiness. “And the next time someone tells you to leave them alone, you should listen. I could have killed you.”
“You can’t kill me,” I tell him softly.
It’s the wrong thing to say. He stalks toward me, fury rippling from him. “Yes,I can,” his voice is low. “The curse doesn’t keep Ferusians from killing each other, Lemming. It only demands a sacrifice in return. And if you are willing to pay it, there’s no limit to the amount of blood you can spill.”
My voice is hollow. “What’s the sacrifice?”
But I already know, somewhere deep down.
“Your soul,” Shaw growls. “Every kill tears a piece from your soul and takes it wherever the dead go, as payment.”
My throat feels dry. “And you have…”
He bares his teeth and I realize he means to scare me. That his shame lies in more than his heart. It is a beast that lashes out at anything that gets too close to him, keeping him safe but forever alone. “I’ve paid it tenfold, Lemming. Over and over again, until I became this.A soulless monster.”
I breathe in deeply, the night air cool in my lungs. “You are not a monster,” I tell him and as the words leave me, I realize its truth. A monster, soulless or otherwise, doesn’t agonize over every wrong he’s committed. I remember the things Shaw has said about himself, behind the aloof curtain and the mask of stone. Somewhere inside of him, there is something that strives to be good. Something he punishes himself with every time he finds himself lacking.
Peace settles within me. I wasn’t being naïve when I thought I saw his humanity. I was simply recognizing what is there, believing in what he can’t seem to believe for himself.
Shaw shakes his head dismissively and makes to storm back to the cave. Before he can, I reach out and brush his hand with mine. He freezes, his gaze coming to mine, wide and pale. His chest moves with heavy breath as he wars with the need to prove me wrong. And the need to prove me right.
But he doesn’t need to prove anything to me. It has already been done. “You are not a monster, Anrai Shaw.”
