Reign of Shadows (Reign of Shadows, #1)(34)

I knew something was off before I even spotted the dead bats two of them carried, slung over their shoulders as they walked. One girl pulled at her hair, ripping chunks from her scalp. Raw patches, oozing blood, peeked out through the tangled snarls. These people were demented.

My lip curled, and I instantly knew.

Bat fever.

I’d heard of it afflicting those who hunted and ate from the surplus of bats populating the land. The people of Relhok had always been warned against it. In fact, anyone caught hunting bats was instantly banished. It curbed the impulse among the hungriest. No one wanted to leave the safety of the walled city of Relhok. No one but me.

But out here people were desperate and hungry enough. There was no coming back from bat fever. It poisoned the blood and addled the brain. I began to inch back—until the dig of a blade at the back of my neck stopped me.





FIFTEEN


Luna


I WAITED IN the familiar dark, feeling its weight on my pores. The Outside was a pulsing heartbeat. Even when it was quiet, the stillness held its breath, waiting for the inevitable to happen. I expelled a silent breath, emptying my lungs.

Up to this point, my life had been waiting. Waiting to go Outside. Waiting for Perla to grant me whatever small dose of freedom. Waiting for my life to begin.

I believed Fowler when he promised to come back, but what if he couldn’t? What if something happened to him? How long should I wait, hoping he would return, before giving up and accepting that I was on my own out here? As much as I believed I could survive on my own if I had to . . . I didn’t want to.

I was done waiting. I was going after him.

Bending, I picked up the bag he left and draped it over my shoulder. In my other hand, I freed my sword, deciding to have it at the ready.

I started in the direction Fowler took, moving cautiously in the strange terrain, following those distant sounds of people, clenching the hilt of my sword as I wove between trees.

The voices grew louder, overlapping. I was close now, so I stopped and listened, wary of getting any closer to the group. I thought I would have come across Fowler by now. Their foul, putrid odor draped heavily over the already thick air. I covered my mouth with one hand to stifle the impulse to retch.

I itched to distance myself. Fowler had to be nearby. Unless he had circled back and I missed him.

I frowned at the thought that I might have missed him. I concentrated on the angry voices, pinpointing their exact direction, marking each one of them as I hovered impatiently. Sivo taught me the importance of assessing my surroundings and never rushing in. Sometimes we would sit on the balcony and he would have me count the dwellers we heard.

“Thief! You should have found your own bats and not tried to take ours,” one voice rang out with so much venom that I took an automatic step back.

Bats?

“Now you’re going to suffer. Thieves always pay. We will make you pay. Ask the others.”

Someone laughed wildly in the group. “Can’t ask the others ’cause we made them pay! Nasty, nasty thieves! They had to pay! And now so will you.”

“I’m not after your bats.” It was Fowler’s voice.

I started to step forward, ready to call out to him, but then stopped, setting my foot back down slowly.

“Yes, you are! Yes, you are! A nasty, nasty thief who must—”

“Oh, he’s very pretty. Let’s keep him for a bit.”

Feminine laughter followed this, and then several different treads shuffled over the ground. A sharp slap cracked the air. “Keep your hands off him. He’s not your pet; he’s a thief. Aren’t you a thief?” There was a thud and then Fowler grunted. They were hitting him. I jerked at a second thud, my hand opening and closing into a fist at my side. This time there was no grunt. Fowler was holding silent and taking it.

“Everyone wants to take our bats for themselves. You can’t have them!” a shrill female voice accused, heedless of her volume. Another thud, another blow against Fowler. “You hear me?”

I adjusted my weight on my feet uneasily, certain if any dwellers roamed nearby, they could hear her. None of her companions hushed her. Indeed, they all seemed as senseless as she was.

“Why would I want to take yours?” Fowler’s voice was calm, but there was a thread of pain from the abuse he’d endured. “There are more than enough to hunt.”

“Liar! Kill him! Kill the nasty thief!” My heart pounded faster, harder. She meant it. “They’re our kills. We hunted them. We shall have them, not you.”

They ate the bats? One was never supposed to eat bat. Even before they became so monstrous in size, one did not eat bat. Even I knew that.

A beat of silence stretched before a man announced, “Kill him before he tries to steal our bats for himself.”

One person in the group was scratching incessantly at something. Listening, I determined it was the sound of his nails scoring flesh. I inhaled. The scent of blood and rotting meat turned my stomach. I wasn’t certain if the odor emanated from the bat corpses or the mad bat-eaters themselves.

“On your knees!”

There was a sound of struggle before the heavy thud of Fowler hitting dirt.

“Now stay down.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Fowler said, his voice still astonishingly calm.

I was shaking now, my breath coming in quick pants.