Whatever it was hadn't seen me yet, but it would smell me soon enough.
My thoughts left my mouth in a whispering curse, and the thing turned its head, looking right this way; its dark eyes fixing on mine, growing wider inside its head as it hissed, shifting direction quickly, snaking toward me.
“Shit!” I jumped to my feet, leaped for the bars and climbed, hooking my foot in a hold on the second rung. But it slipped, sending my body into a spin, my toes nearly touching the ground again. I quickly glanced back at the child, but it was gone, leaving only a trail where it’d dragged its limp little body through the dirt, toward me—its next meal. My eyes darted across the floor, the world freezing around me when I spotted it, less than an arms-length away.
“No!” I squealed, pulling myself up higher, clutching the bars in a bone-white grip. “Mike! Get up. Please, Mike!” I grabbed the top of the cage, angling my head away from the stone roof, my shoulders hunched against it. When I looked back down, a small hand shot up at me, just missing my foot as I jerked away. The child growled in the back of its throat, the sound coming out through caged teeth, like it was smiling.
“Mike! Please!” I screamed over at him, aiming my voice down, as if mere volume could wake the dead. But my breath stopped short of my lips when several heads lifted from the aura of his body, smearing blood across their mouths. And under the dead silence, as each eye turned to find me, every fear I ever had—every creature under the bed, every man in my closet, became apparent in that one breath.
If I stayed here, my fingers wrapped around the bars, toes edged out into their world, they’d grab me. But if I dropped down—back into the cage, the demon at my feet would own me—rip me apart.
My limbs went tight with tension. I’d never been good at decision-making. But they were closing in—slowly walking toward the cage, while the demon under me fastened its fingers around the bars, pulling itself closer, its legs dangling behind it like dead meat.
“Get off!” I thrust my foot into its head, feeling its hair under my toes.
It went down, its tiny hand shooting up, catching my ankle.
“Please. No.”
“Get back in your cage!” A thunderous voice broke through the darkness, and like a dragon scorching the night sky, hunting for its young, the children shrieked, their entourage breaking apart, forcing the cage door open beside me.
I fell to the floor with a thud so hard my teeth knocked together inside my mouth, and the child’s hand locked around my foot. There was nothing to grab—no time to roll over and crawl away; it pulled me closer as the chaos of bodies moved past us, and opened its mouth, its tongue rolling out over my toes.
But my foot came loose suddenly, sending me, with all my fight, tumbling back on my hands—the keeper’s stick coming down, spearing the demon’s shoulder. It screeched, cupping its neck, scrambling around to find ground with its hands.
I couldn’t watch. I didn't want to see this again; I curled up on the floor, hands over my head, knees tucked to my chest, and cried.
“You foolish little girl.” The keeper grabbed my wrist and dragged me across the dirt—hooking his toes around the cage door to close it as he shoved me into the bloody heap that was my best friend.
“Mike?” I whimpered, rising up on my hands to touch his face. “Mike. Please be okay.”
But he wasn't okay. His chest, his neck, his whole shirt was drenched in the sticky, thick paste of redness they’d drained from his veins. I shook his shoulders, slapping his cheek, listening for breath.
“Do something!” I yelled at the keeper.
“Nuttin’ to be done now, missy. You got what you came ‘ere for.”
“And what’s that?” I spun around to look at him, spite littering my upturned lip.
“A lesson.” He turned away.
I was about to find the nearest rock and ditch it at his head, but Mike grumbled, his hand moving to grasp his neck.
“Mike?” I sat back on my heels, giving him space.
“Argh. You—” he groaned, rolling up. “Never. Listen.”
“I'm so sorry, Mike. Are you okay?”
“Is that a joke?” he said, thumbing a massive gash on his elbow. “I’ve just attended a three-course meal, Ara, and I was the bloody main.”
“I'm so, so sorry.”
I was about to say I should’ve listened to you, but Mike cut in with “No, you’re not” and stumbled to his feet, leaving me on the ground to look up at him. “You’re bloody lucky those Damned were just fed, or I’d be in the regeneration chamber right now.” He winced, wiping his jaw. “That really freakin hurts.”
“So?” The keeper looked down at me, leaning on his metal stick. “Learned any valuable lessons today, Your Royal Pain in the Arse?”
“Hey!” I scoffed. “You can't call me that.”
“I’ll allow it this time,” Mike said, shaking his obviously very irritating sore arm. “After all, he was right about you.”
“Right?”
“Yes, right—that you’d come back down here and let those Damned out,” Mike said.
“Why do you think I left the keys on the hook?” The caretaker pointed to the wall.
“You set me up?”
“Baby, I'm sorry, but you always have to learn the hard way.”
“You mean…?” I clambered to my feet, using the wall to steady myself. “You knew they’d do that?”
“Of course, Ara. Did you think I was stupid?” Mike shook his head and clapped the keeper on the shoulder, like they were best buds. “We had you figured before you even came down here today. The doors were barricaded at the other end so the Damned wouldn’t get out.”
“And, what, you were just gonna let them rip me apart?”
He shrugged, half laughing, half folding over in agony, propping his hands to his knees. “If that’s what it takes.”
“Hu!”
“What? You’d heal.”
“Unless they ate my heart or took my head off!”
He stood up, wiping a hand across his nose. “I was watching for that.”
“What, you mean you were conscious?”
“Yep. Ate onion this morning and everything, just to make my blood less appealing.” He rubbed the gaping wound on his neck. “Had extra blood, too, so I’d heal faster.”
“You ass**le.”
“You’ll thank me one day,” he said smugly and picked up a lantern. “You needed to see that people generally do things for a reason, Ara. Just because you don't agree, doesn't make it wrong.”