“Whatever’s keeping you going,” he said, “Hold onto it.”
“Yeah,” I said.
When the faint sounds of his shuffling progress were drowned out by more distant sprays of water, I glanced around, checking every way for possible trouble, then let my eyes close.
■
Days, weeks, years? No, not years. Months, at most. It was hard to keep track of time.
Green Eyes had been so right. It was all too easy to focus on the now.
I shuffled through the narrow space. The walls pressed in around me, scraping at my shoulders.
There was no way to ensure I had food and water and sleep without staying active, focusing on the moment-to-moment. That came at a cost. There was no way to track the passage of time but the intermittent flashing of lights, spouting of water and my own breathing… it was easy to just let the days slip by. When I was so tired or sick that I didn’t think I could go on, I tapped into anger.
Rose and the others spoke up from time to time. It helped to keep the anger stoked. I couldn’t even remember what exactly had been said. I only remembered the resentment, the self-hatred for feeling resentful, the fury at realizing what Rose had really been up to, the hurt.
A big ball of the most horrendous feelings possible, making it impossible to sit still.
The rules are the same, I thought. The bald man’s advice had reminded me of that. Whatever was down here, the basic rules I’d learned were the same. Goblins didn’t like metal. Faerie, even the sort of Faerie that lurked down here, they didn’t like crude things.
A little bit of ruthlessness, a goblin’s hide to keep myself warm, a bit of glamour to mend injuries…
Well, that made it easier to get the ball rolling.
I reached the corridor that opened up into the Cistern.
I unfurled wings.
They’d been decoration at first. Then, with time, they’d become a part of me. Even a part I could use.
More bat wings than bird wings, which was disappointing, but I had feathers, both real and tattooed, across the flaps. A part of me liked that on a visceral level.
Another part of me felt like it was tainted, a gift for bending to the rules of this place. Becoming a part of the system, cooperating with this small universe in helping to break others down.
Fetid, muggy air rushed over skin, through hair, feather, fur and spines. Here and there, droplets of moisture fell on me, heavy with silt and grime.
I glided more than I flew, and I watched for potential prey. Only the ones that were further gone. Less human. They were more nourishing. If they asked for mercy or drew weapons, I left. If they roared or screeched, I killed and I ate.
Steering myself up until I very nearly stalled, no air under my wings, I hooked clawed toes and fingertips on an outcropping of brick, twisted myself around and leaped off, because it was easier than reorienting myself in mid-flight.
In this area, where the smell of feces was stronger, I knew to avoid certain areas where water could come pouring down without any warning, knocking me out of the air.
No prey.
That was fine. The nice thing about a primarily carnivorous diet was that one didn’t need to eat frequently. One meal could do for several ‘days’, as far as days existed in this damnable place.
I hadn’t given up on getting out.
Not long now.
Before too long, I would try to make my way over the steam vents. I’d lost heart the last time around, gliding for what felt like days and nights without seeing anything, while a great shadow followed, waiting for me to grow tired enough.
Next time.
Then I’d be out.
I steered myself upward. The claws of my feet scratched small chunks out of the ledge as I settled at the mouth of one drain.
My night vision was good enough to reveal the figure emerging from the water.
“Blake,” Green Eyes said.
Most of the others that had known me as Blake were gone now. The ones who were still around would be the targets of my revenge.
Simple, but it was still what drove me.
I had to get my feet wet to draw closer. The bed of the drain here had collected so much silt and grime that it was like walking in the shallowest water on a beach. That same silt and grime had, here and there, worked its way into my skin, coloring it, texturing it. It had done the same with with Green Eyes, I assumed. Her skin was rough, like a cat’s tongue.
She ran one hand along my long neck. I didn’t flinch.
I’d given that part of myself up long ago. I’d needed a more animal comfort before I’d needed to hold on to that. My feelings for her weren’t romantic. I’d just wanted to be warm.
I think I’d known, as I made that choice, what I’d be giving up. Even why and how. It wasn’t long after that that Blake Thorburn had crumbled as a person, leaving room for me to become this.
“Soon?” Green Eyes asked me.
No longer able to speak, I bobbed my head in a nod.
■
I woke up.
I spent far, far too much time staring at my hands, convincing me it had all been a dream.
Except it hadn’t, I realized. It had felt real, as had the weight of memories, dim as they had been for my monstrous self. They faded as quickly as I could reach for them, useful details dancing away.
A portent, then?
A suggestion of what could easily come to pass?
Even as the memories faded, the feelings remained, taunting me.
The act of flying, or gliding, and the feeling of security. Of being one of the bigger threats in this particular area.
The knowledge that, if I were only to agree, to relinquish it, I could be rid of metaphorical demons that had haunted me for years.
If I didn’t want to go to the trouble of eating or sleeping, I just… didn’t have to.
If I didn’t want to feel cold, I could just stop. Flick that switch in my head and stop worrying about it.
Everyone I’d seen to date had chosen some vestiges of human to cling to, but they hadn’t all chosen all vestiges. There was only so much energy and time, so much risk any of us could face before we got ourselves killed for our trouble.
This place wanted us to choose.
But it was a lie. Bait in the trap. I wasn’t sure I could believe I had it in me to become that. Not positive.
I was stiff as I hauled myself up off the ground, resting one hand on the slimy wall for balance, so I wouldn’t slip and simply fall backwards into the endless darkness.
I ventured into darkness, one hand on the wall, plank on the ground in front of me, making a faint sound as I dragged it left and right against the stone floor, feeling for hazards.
The bug bites were stinging. I cursed myself for not thinking to ask about it.