my stummick. Hermes snorts an tosses his head. He’s nervous. That ain’t like him. I press with my heels an he picks up speed. The hoofbeats behind us quicken. I glance back.
The black shape’s keepin pace.
I know the line of that neck. That head. Many times before, when she still drew breath, we’d be ridin an I’d look over my shoulder, jest like now. She’d smile or say somethin to cheer me up.
Epona.
I bring Hermes to a halt. The shadow rider stops too. I stare down at my hands. They tremble on the reins.
Epona, I says. Whaddya want from me?
Silence. Nero flies above. He caw caw caws. Does he see her too?
Breakin my bow warn’t enough. I gotta pay proper fer what I did. She’ll pace me. Stalk me. Haunt my nights an dog my days till I lay myself down, bare my throat an beg her to finish me off. She must be paid in kind fer her lost life.
Why should I be alive when yer dead? I says. That’s it, ain’t it? I know I got no right to be.
The jangle of her horse’s bridle. Hermes sidesteps, his eyes rollin as he tosses his head. I grip the reins harder.
Tell me what to do, I says. Please, Epona. Say somethin.
My whole body’s shakin. I’m cold to the bone. Slow, oh so slowly, I turn to look behind me.
She’s gone.
Epona’s bin ridin with me fer the past two days. An now it ain’t jest her. There’s more of ’em.
One by one, they appeared. But these ones ain’t on horseback, like Epona. They’re on foot. They hide, jest at the edge of my sight. Or I catch a glimpse of somethin – a flash of light, a rush of dark – as they dart behind a rock or a tree. I hear the sound of runnin feet. Laughter. It’s like they’re playin a game.
I cain’t never git a proper look. They move so quick.
I know who they are. It’s Helen. Helen an the rest of ’em from Hopetown. Every girl I ever fought in the Cage. Every girl I beat. An I beat them all.
They call me the Angel of Death. That’s cuz I ain’t never lost a fight.
If you lost three times, you ran the gauntlet. Nobody survived the gauntlet. The frantic hands of the crowd, tearin at you, pullin you down. I used to turn my back so’s I couldn’t see. But I could hear. I heard everythin. It all went in. Every touch an smell an taste an sound. Every girl I fought is part of me now. I’m the terror in her eyes, her hunger to live, the scent of death-so-near on her skin.
An here they are. It’s a relief to see them. At last, I know who the shades are. Who’s bin whisperin on the wind ever since we come to the Waste. They’re waitin fer their moment to git me. To take me. I’m so tired. I cain’t hold ’em off much longer.
They’re bold. Emmi could be ridin beside me, or Lugh or Tommo, an they’ll still git up to their tricks. Earlier today, one of ’em even dashed right in front of Hermes. If I hadn’t of hauled on his reins, he would of trampled her.
I try not to sleep at night. If I don’t sleep, nobody can come an take me. Take me away from Lugh an Emmi an Tommo. Or take them away from me. We’ll all be safe as long as I stay awake.
But sometimes, sheer exhaustion snatches me. Not fer long, but when it does, I dream of Jack. Fevered, shallow dreams or . . . or maybe they’re visions, I dunno. They’re always the same. He’s trapped in the darkness. No, that ain’t right – he’s trapped by the darkness. Down the corridors I run, up the stairs. I open the door. An I search fer him. I search an I call his name, but I never find him.
I can never find my way to Jack.
Dark dreams by night. Dark shadows by day.
The days an nights melt, one into th’other, till it’s hard to tell sleepin from wakin. If the sun didn’t rise an set, I might not know at all.
I’m runnin. I gotta find Jack. I know he’s here.
Down a long, dark corridor. Torches throw ragged shadows across the stone walls. The only sound is me. My footsteps. My breathin. I got the heartstone in my hand. It’s warm. That means Jack’s close
The black shape’s keepin pace.
I know the line of that neck. That head. Many times before, when she still drew breath, we’d be ridin an I’d look over my shoulder, jest like now. She’d smile or say somethin to cheer me up.
Epona.
I bring Hermes to a halt. The shadow rider stops too. I stare down at my hands. They tremble on the reins.
Epona, I says. Whaddya want from me?
Silence. Nero flies above. He caw caw caws. Does he see her too?
Breakin my bow warn’t enough. I gotta pay proper fer what I did. She’ll pace me. Stalk me. Haunt my nights an dog my days till I lay myself down, bare my throat an beg her to finish me off. She must be paid in kind fer her lost life.
Why should I be alive when yer dead? I says. That’s it, ain’t it? I know I got no right to be.
The jangle of her horse’s bridle. Hermes sidesteps, his eyes rollin as he tosses his head. I grip the reins harder.
Tell me what to do, I says. Please, Epona. Say somethin.
My whole body’s shakin. I’m cold to the bone. Slow, oh so slowly, I turn to look behind me.
She’s gone.
Epona’s bin ridin with me fer the past two days. An now it ain’t jest her. There’s more of ’em.
One by one, they appeared. But these ones ain’t on horseback, like Epona. They’re on foot. They hide, jest at the edge of my sight. Or I catch a glimpse of somethin – a flash of light, a rush of dark – as they dart behind a rock or a tree. I hear the sound of runnin feet. Laughter. It’s like they’re playin a game.
I cain’t never git a proper look. They move so quick.
I know who they are. It’s Helen. Helen an the rest of ’em from Hopetown. Every girl I ever fought in the Cage. Every girl I beat. An I beat them all.
They call me the Angel of Death. That’s cuz I ain’t never lost a fight.
If you lost three times, you ran the gauntlet. Nobody survived the gauntlet. The frantic hands of the crowd, tearin at you, pullin you down. I used to turn my back so’s I couldn’t see. But I could hear. I heard everythin. It all went in. Every touch an smell an taste an sound. Every girl I fought is part of me now. I’m the terror in her eyes, her hunger to live, the scent of death-so-near on her skin.
An here they are. It’s a relief to see them. At last, I know who the shades are. Who’s bin whisperin on the wind ever since we come to the Waste. They’re waitin fer their moment to git me. To take me. I’m so tired. I cain’t hold ’em off much longer.
They’re bold. Emmi could be ridin beside me, or Lugh or Tommo, an they’ll still git up to their tricks. Earlier today, one of ’em even dashed right in front of Hermes. If I hadn’t of hauled on his reins, he would of trampled her.
I try not to sleep at night. If I don’t sleep, nobody can come an take me. Take me away from Lugh an Emmi an Tommo. Or take them away from me. We’ll all be safe as long as I stay awake.
But sometimes, sheer exhaustion snatches me. Not fer long, but when it does, I dream of Jack. Fevered, shallow dreams or . . . or maybe they’re visions, I dunno. They’re always the same. He’s trapped in the darkness. No, that ain’t right – he’s trapped by the darkness. Down the corridors I run, up the stairs. I open the door. An I search fer him. I search an I call his name, but I never find him.
I can never find my way to Jack.
Dark dreams by night. Dark shadows by day.
The days an nights melt, one into th’other, till it’s hard to tell sleepin from wakin. If the sun didn’t rise an set, I might not know at all.
I’m runnin. I gotta find Jack. I know he’s here.
Down a long, dark corridor. Torches throw ragged shadows across the stone walls. The only sound is me. My footsteps. My breathin. I got the heartstone in my hand. It’s warm. That means Jack’s close
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