The Killing Moon (Dreamblood #1)(102)

Then Ehiru reached for her with arms grown impossibly long, his lips stretching in a ragged smile to reveal teeth sharp as rose thorns. “I bring you peace,” he whispered, his fingers burrowing into her skin like roots.

In the world of flesh and blood, Sunandi went rigid on her horse and began to scream. Twenty-two thousand other throats screamed with her, but that world was meaningless. The dream-world was the Reaper’s domain, the only world that mattered, and in that realm Ehiru dragged Sunandi to the ground, pinning her effortlessly. He crouched over her, still smiling his loving smile, and hunkered down to feed.





40





A Gatherer who refuses the Final Tithe shall be deemed corrupt.

(Law)





Die at last, Nijiri thought fiercely, and if you fall into the shadowlands I do not care.

He kicked Una-une over onto his back and then straddled him, taking hold of his chin and the back of his head.

But he had forgotten a Reaper’s speed. Una-une’s fist struck him under the chin, the force of the blow nearly breaking his neck. Stunned, Nijiri swayed back; Una-une heaved underneath him and flung him to the balcony floor. An instant later Nijiri found their positions reversed, Una-une’s head blotting out the dawn sky above him. Amber streaks of the rising Sun illuminated Una-une’s gaunt face and one eye, which glittered with malevolent glee.

“I remember you,” the Reaper breathed, his thin body trembling with eagerness. His fingers scrabbled over Nijiri’s arms, trying to pin them. “Your soul was sweet.”

Nijiri snarled in response and flung himself upward, driving his forehead into Una-une’s mouth. Una-une uttered a muffled grunt of surprise as Nijiri set his feet against the floor and shoved with all his strength, throwing Una-une off to one side. Freed, Nijiri scrambled to his feet, stumbling back to try and recoup his wits.

Una-une was up as well. Quick as a dust snake he lunged, a skeleton’s grin fixed on his face. Nijiri narrowly ducked a fist; the wind of its passing tickled his scalp. He snarled and shifted his weight for a kick, but before he could deliver it Una-une ducked under his guard and tackled him with a shoulder to the belly.

They were both lucky. Once Una-une had been a large man, shorter but heavier than Ehiru. Now he was skin and bone and shrunken sinew. His weight bore Nijiri back against the metal balcony railing hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs in an involuntary cry, but not hard enough to drive them both over to their deaths. Nijiri scrabbled at Una-une’s shoulders for a moment, nearly panicking as wind soughed up his back and warned him of the danger. Desperately he clasped his hands and slammed them into the back of Una-une’s neck with all his strength.

The blow should have driven Una-une to his knees. But the leather collar around his neck softened the blow, and in the same instant Una-une writhed aside and backed away. He swayed, arms and collar-chain swinging, grinning in blatant mockery.

Playing with me, Nijiri realized with a chill.

He pushed himself away from the railing, falling into a defensive crouch and trying to ignore the throbbing agony in his neck and ribs. His anger was gone now; it had been little more than a cover for his fear. Unbidden came the memory of the Reaper’s cold touch on his flesh and in his soul, and despite the rising warmth of the day he shivered.

But without warning Una-une’s mood shifted.

“Afraid,” he whispered. A faint frown crossed his features; he cocked his head as if that would somehow shake loose his tangled thoughts. “Attendants… should not fear.”

Nijiri frowned as he realized what path the mad creature’s thoughts now traveled. Not the night in the alleyway. The pranje.

In spite of the drumbeat of his heart, Nijiri set his jaw. “You killed the boy who served you.”

“It could have been you.” There was a manic smile on Una-une’s face; Nijiri suspected the creature meant to compliment him. “Lovely boy. For you, I would have fought the madness harder. You love Ehiru, don’t you? As he loved me…” He trailed off, confusion flickering in his face for a moment, and then he lifted his eyes. Nijiri started at the sudden lucidity in them.

“Hananja’s favorite,” Una-une said. He looked away, radiating shame, as Nijiri stared in confusion. “Everything came to his hand like a tame bird. His skill in Gathering, Hananja’s peace, and so many admirers. I loved him as a son… and hated him, too. Do you understand? That was when I knew. No peace left in my heart. Nothing but loneliness and anger. Time to go.”

From the corner of his eye Nijiri saw movement. He dared a glance to the side and saw Ehiru turning away, stiff as an elder as the Prince guided him toward the railing. What were they doing? And why did Ehiru move like a man sleepwalking through some nightmare?

Visions of the Prince throwing Ehiru over the railing rang through his mind. “Ehiru-brother!”

For a moment it seemed as though Ehiru heard him. He stopped and began to turn back, but then the Prince murmured something and raised his other hand. A jungissa? Whatever it was, Ehiru seemed powerless to resist. He faced south again and continued to the railing.

“Even now,” said Una-une. With a chill Nijiri realized he’d forgotten his adversary. But Una-une only watched him, hollow-eyed and radiating such deep despair that Nijiri’s hatred faltered. And that reminded him of his one remaining weapon.