Because You Love to Hate Me(55)
Blood roared in her ears, and she slid back, her long serpent coil whispering against the stone floor. Fear gripped her as those encounters with the god disguised as Hai Xin erupted again, memories she had buried long ago—had forced herself to forget. She trembled, a tremor that vibrated to the tip of her tail. The young man turned his head in her direction, his hand gripping the sword tighter. His black hair was pulled back in a topknot, revealing strong cheekbones and the masculine cut of his jawline. He smelled of metal and sweat, and the bloodlust that had become so familiar to Mei Du over the centuries, emanating from the men who hungered to kill her.
The first time one had found Mei Du in an abandoned dwelling, she had hoped for help, understanding, some sort of salvation. She had hoped he had come to free her from this unfair curse cast by a vengeful goddess. But Mei Du’s hope dwindled with each man who appeared, on purpose or accidental misfortune. It had dwindled with each encounter suffused with their fear and loathing, always screaming, sometimes fumbling for a sharp weapon, until she ended it by meeting their gaze.
A few were so overcome with terror they shut their eyes. Those she sank her fangs into, tasting the bitter venom that filled her mouth. Wild animals would come later to eat the corpse.
She never had to wait very long.
But this would-be hero was different, as the rumors had declared. She could feel it in her bones just as she could taste the bright scent of him in the air. He was god-touched somehow. Perhaps the Goddess of Purity had sent him as a test, or the God of the Sea as an envoy to reclaim what he never should have taken so brutally in the first place. Mei Du didn’t know, but she saw again in her mind’s eye the innocent girl struggling to her feet, legs shaking as she tried to rearrange her torn skirt. Mei Du felt again that girl’s pain and confusion, horror and heartache.
Rage filled her, as hot as the torches that have been thrown over the years, blistering her skin and scorching her scales. She waited for the intruder’s gaze to turn in another direction, and in that instant, slithered across the temple behind another pillar, faster than he could blink. Hissing deep, the sound reverberated through the vast space, and the man stiffened.
Sweat gathered at his brow, and she at last tasted his fear in the air, sharp and sour. She felt a spike of pleasure from the scent. Perhaps she’d take her time, tease him as a snake would her prey. God-touched or not, this man would die like all the others—screaming in agony and regret.
The intruder edged farther into the temple, sword raised, his silver shield lifted at chest height. His movements were assured, powerful, yet he kept his head lowered and his gaze averted.
Mei Du grinned, the act so unnatural it felt as if her face had split, cracking the pustules and thick scales of her cheeks. The man slipped behind a pillar, and she slithered to the lone statue that still stood: the Goddess of Purity. She hissed again and circled the sculpture, taunting the intruder.
She caught a brief glimpse of the angry serpents on her head reflected on his shield.
The man had skulked closer, hiding behind another pillar.
Mei Du screamed, a guttural and primal sound, then thrust her shoulder against the goddess statue. It teetered, groaning as it swayed. She shoved it with both hands, and it crashed uproariously. Good riddance, she thought as dust rose. Knowing the man’s vision would be obscured, she seized the opportunity and slid to where he hid, her heightened sense of smell revealing to her exactly where he cowered.
She slid toward him within a breath but was surprised to see the intruder disappear as swift as the wind behind another pillar, the thick air shrouding him. Mei Du lunged forward, anger and hurt coiled heavy in her chest. She scrabbled on her hands low to the ground, before rising high on her serpent coil to meet her enemy—to look him in the eyes.
The slightest breeze stirred behind her.
She whirled, fangs bared.
A flash of silver, too late, and a thin whistle as the blade fell.
Then darkness veiled her.
BENJAMIN ALDERSON’S VILLAIN CHALLENGE TO CINDY PON:
Medusa. Go!
WITHOUT THE EVIL IN THE WORLD, HOW DO WE SEE THE GOOD?
BY BENJAMIN ALDERSON
For me, villains are extremely important factors in young adult literary fiction. Without them, how do we see the good in a novel? But there are some villains who aren’t all evil, or at least didn’t start out that way.
My yiayia used to read Greek mythology to me as a child. Even when I was that young, Medusa interested me. Her story was different from the others. I never could understand why she was a villain. I bombarded my yiayia with questions, wondering why the goddess Athena blamed Medusa for the actions of Poseidon, the God of the Sea. Was Medusa a villain or a victim?
Cindy Pon puts her own spin on Medusa in “Beautiful Venom.” An advocate for diverse fiction, she completely changed the Medusa character from the one we know from ancient Greek mythology and brought her into the twentieth-first century in a new and unique way.
FAVORITE PART AND LINE:
Okay, Ben, deep breath. This story just loved messing with my emotions, especially the conversation between Master Yang and Lady Jia while Mei Feng is having her portrait painted. The exchange is filled with humor and jests, and it left me clutching my stomach in laughter. That leads to my favorite line from the story. “I am sure she is as fertile as a sow with nine pairs of teats” is laced with sass and sarcasm and is intended to shock Lady Mei. And it worked perfectly. I had a completely laugh-out-loud moment. Hilarious.