Chapter Text
Rai’s hobby was murdering his owners, whereas food poisoning he caused for pragmatic purposes.
How he’d ended up with the Apniss Slaver’s Guild, he did not know. He’d labored for them as long as he could remember, considered unsellable because the locals believed albinos to be bad luck. His bouts of sensory overloads had only further made him look possessed. The Guild was too pragmatic to fear demons and kept Rai alive if his labor equaled the value of the scant food they gave him.
No one knew Rai’s age either. He looked around fourteen years old, was probably actually a few years older because poor food had stunted his growth, and he’d killed ten slavers so far. It was his only joy in life. He would like to kill a few more so he could catch up to his goal of one per year. Rai hated every last slaver in the world but more just kept appearing whenever they died.
The Apniss Slaver’s Guild used this forest outpost to restock on their journey carrying wagons of slaves toward the market in the city. This place contained a stables (currently empty, since it was used to host visiting horses and donkeys), a warehouse of food (locked up so that Rai could have none no matter how his stomach growled), and a cabin. The cabin had a basic kitchen and twenty beds, eleven used by those manning the outpost and nine left empty for guests. Rai always slept on the floor.
Today the sun shone brightly through the tightly packed fir and spruce trees, birds sang, and eleven men squatted over a ditch grunting and groaning as their feces stench filled the air. An herb slipped into lunch had ensured their current food poisoning. Between moans, the slavers had ordered Rai to throw out the entire batch of stew.
Rai slipped deeper into the woods, away from the pained sounds and worse smell. After brushing off a few ants, he sat down on a fallen log. There he enjoyed his cold stew, eating slowly and carefully so that he picked out the green flakes that were causing his owners such great suffering.
Usually Rai was fed trash. Periodically, he poisoned the food so that he could obtain access to a good meal. So far he hadn’t gotten caught for two reasons: food poisoning was common even when he didn’t do anything, and the slavers believed him to be too mentally impaired to trick them.
With each icy bite of slightly rotten potato and carrot, Rai’s body nearly collapsed with relief. He ate until he felt overly full, aware this might be his last good meal for a while
After eating, Rai stopped at the stream to wash the pot, then made his way back carefully. He had trouble seeing objects even as far away as the ground. When he walked, he bent over slightly to watch for tripping hazards. The sunlight slipping through the trees made his red, peeling skin ache. Rai’s extremely pale skin burned under the slightest contact with sun. No one wanted to buy him because he looked diseased and possibly contagious. Pure white hair despite his young age made other people believe him to be cursed. His very light blue eyes sometimes looked red or purple when the light struck them, convincing even more people that he might be possessed by a demon. Rai was lucky the Apniss Slaver’s Guild hadn’t murdered him as a useless product. Or so they told him while he was on his hands and knees cleaning the entire cabin while they sat at the table and played dice.
By the time Rai arrived back at the cabin, pained grunts still came from the ditch but Fulbert had recovered enough to stagger for the door. The giant hairy man had his pants hanging halfway down, revealing a butt crack like a dark chasm. Bloodshot brown eyes glared down as Fulbert demanded, “Whatchya doing?”
Rai held up the pot. “Washed.” He spoke little around the slavers, giving them the impression he was a halfwit. Then they’d be less likely to suspect him in all the random deaths. It was hard for Rai to focus on the scowling man. His eyes darted back and forth, a symptom of his eye condition. It had already started to give him a headache.
“Stop that evil eye!” Fulbert cuffed Rai on the cheek.
Rai grabbed the doorframe as he fell. The pot slipped, landing on his toe. He hopped in pain.
Fulbert had his back turned as he staggered into the house. A dagger hung from his belt. In a moment of blinding rage, Rai considered grabbed the knife and stabbing the giant man in the back.
But his scrawny limbs might not even be able to kill one slaver, much less the other ten. If he did poison them all fatally, then where would he go? He had an A brand on his shoulder marking him as property. His strange hair and eyes would be even harder to hide.
When he’d first concocted his plan, he’d expected the ill men to take their tempers out on him. It had been worth it for his first full belly in weeks.
Late at night, Rai lay on the floor and resisted the urge to throw off his burlap blanket. It was too cold to go without. But itchy textures had always bothered him. He could not get used to them no matter how long. It felt like nails digging under his skin. He clamped his hands over his mouth. If he had a meltdown, it had damn well better be a quiet one. The slavers were in a bad enough mood already.
Something moved on the blanket. It was better not to look to see if it was lice or a flea.
Closing his eyes, Rai sent his mind away into a fantasy. All his life he’d been called cursed and devil spawn, but his albinism did nothing for him except make him sunburn easily and have trouble seeing. If only he’d actually possessed the power to curse people. Then they’d all be sorry.
In Rai’s dream, a black cat emerged from the shadows and taught him how to use dark magic. He’d told himself this story so many times that he had a name for the cat (Supreme Overlord of Maniacal Darkness, Mania for short) and could almost hear the deep, raspy voice. The cat turned into a giant panther to cuddle Rai warm and tell him that he was special. His parents had misplaced him at birth, but actually he was heir to a majestic power and a distant kingdom.
Rai cursed all the slavers with peeling skin and starving bellies. He caused them to shrink down and be chased around by giant fists. When Fulbert faded into the size of a mouse, Mania ate him.
Then Rai rode on Mania’s back up into the night sky, to a floating castle full of talking furniture and delicious food. Rai dressed in a silk doublet and ate ginger cookies off a gold plate. He had never tasted a cookie before but seen other people eat them, and with the brown color he imagined maybe they had a nutty flavor.
As Rai drifted off into slumber, a tear fell from his eye.
No matter how hard he tried to escape from reality, no one was coming to save him.
At the sound of wagon wheels rolling down the dirt road, Rai made busy work for himself scrubbing the kitchen floor. He hated to look at the faces of the slaves. The crying gave him nightmares late at night. He’d never understood how the slavers could remain unaffected by the suffering and misery saturating their existence.
This time, instead of weeping, he heard a deep growl. Then shouts of men, and footsteps raced off.
Rai peeked out the window. At this distance, he could only see a blurry wagon, not who was inside. It appeared the Apniss employees had left the wagon behind, then run off, which was highly unusual behavior. This deep into the forest, everyone always wanted to restock their food. Rai didn’t like unusual. His owners tended to take their stress out on him.
Distantly, Rai heard a sharp snap and a cry of pain. Someone had run into the tree branch he’d carefully manipulated to be neck-level hanging across the road. But the boots kept going. He probably hadn’t managed to kill anyone. Oh, well, the year was still young to fulfil his quota. Rai had nothing to do with his overactive imagination except plot murder.
The outpost residents had been drawn over by the wagon, and they didn’t sound happy about it. With them screaming over each other, it was tough to make out the contents of the argument.
As the voices came closer, Rai ducked down behind the large black cauldron. Threads of conversation drifted to him.
“…can’t be a real werewolf! No one captures a real werewolf. That’s a funny foreign critter.”
“…just a child, maybe it’s possible…”
“…had to pull the wagon by hand because horses wouldn’t…”
“…refuse to be dragged to hell by the devil dogs just because some rich bitch wants a new curiosity…”
“…could kill it…”
“We’d never be able to pay the penalty…”
“…all going to die! Slowly eaten alive! Our souls sent to the bowels of hell!”
Wace’s voice sliced through the chaos. “Anyone who runs into the forest will receive a dozen lashes! All of you mangy lot signed a contract. This is just another job, and it’s not our business to figure out if the pup is a real devil dog. This is the single most expensive product that the Apniss Guild has ever sold, and if we screw it up, they’ll take the gold out of our hides. We do this job solidly as always.” The sound of a few smacks followed. Wace led this motley crew, and their chatter subsided under his orders and his fists.
Rai started making dinner. With everyone in such a bad mood, he needed to provide good, non-poisoned food to survive the night. He hesitated over bringing out the beer. It might appease the men, but some of them were mean drunks. His last meal had long since been digested, but he did not dare steal bites of the food because the kitchen had no door. Everyone was in a bad mood and only looking for an excuse to beat him.
Did werewolves even exist? The slavers talked about much nonsense, such as winged beings who lived up in the clouds and would reward Rai for being a good slave in death but drop him down into flames if he tried to escape. Sometimes the slavers told stories about fairies living under the hill, other times about palaces where people had so much food they threw half their meals out. Rai found idea of throwing out food less plausible than fairies and certainly scarier.
According to the stories of passing slavers, werewolves were hellish creatures who murdered innocent slavers then dragged off all the slaves to eat. The Apniss Guild claimed to be too noble to sell slaves to werewolves, who would surely devour them slowly, limb by limb. Rai didn’t accept anything his owners told him at face value. They would sell him to the most tortuous fate for a mere mug of beer. The werewolves never bargained with slavers, only took by force. In some stories, werewolves could transform humans into their own kind with a bite. But the wagon guards had all witnessed their comrades dying from a werewolf bite. They had been traumatized badly enough that Rai believed them this time. Werewolf bites must be deadly poisonous.
For whatever the reason, the werewolves had a particular taste for attacking slave caravans. Rai considered it a mark in the werewolves’ favor that they killed slavers, but remained wary as long as he did not know what happened to the slaves they carried off into the night. Maybe the werewolves wanted free servants. Would they be kinder or crueler than human masters? Rai might not want to chance it with monsters who could eat him.
On the other hand, some days Rai did not know why he tried so hard to survive.
While the men ate, Rai sat quietly on the floor in case anyone required him to fetch. He got to eat whatever was left over. Today, with the mood tense and the jokes too loud, he did not dare move until everyone left the table. As several people went up for seconds, Rai fidgeted and placed a hand over his growling belly. He dared stand on his tiptoes to peek. There was no food left in the pot. His stomach twisted.
Rai sank back down and eyed the floor under the table, hoping someone would drop a lump of potato or piece of bread. A dark spot under Wace’s seat! Large enough to be a proper mouthful! He darted forward on his hands and knees. His fist closed around…a clod of dirt. He moaned.
Wace looked down. Trembling, Rai stuck up an arm to protect his head. Wace chuckled. “Begging for scraps, huh?” He tossed a fingernail-sized chunk of carrot. It bounced off Rai’s forehead. Wace laughed. “Everyone, look at his face! What a fool!”
Heart pounding, Rai snatched up the tiny morsel and shoved it into his mouth before it could be taken away. Then he pasted on a fake smile and groveled, “Thank you, master.”
“Catch!” Another slaver ripped off bread and threw it over Rai’s head. He raced, trying to grab it before it hit the floor. His fingers narrowly fastened around the bread chunk, then he fumbled and dropped it.
All the slavers brayed with laughter, then they pelted Rai with tiny chunks of food, mostly the moldy bits of bread or bruised spots of vegetables.
For a moment, the entire world seemed to turn white with the force of Rai’s fury. He longed to leap on the slavers and tear their heads off their shoulders, to rip out their still-warm entrails, to smash their laughing mouths in. If rage alone could kill, then every man in this room would be dead.
But Rai’s anger had no power. His arms were weak with starvation, and his stomach empty. He danced around the room, trying to catch the tiny rotten bites of food. When he smacked into a chair, everyone laughed even louder.
Wiping his mustache, Fulbert grumbled, “All of you are too generous to the little freak.”
That night, curled up under his threadbare blanket, Rai bit his nails and hangnails. He stopped when he tasted blood. Several times already, small cuts on his fingers had turned yellow and leaking pus. Each time, he feared he would die, but the redness had always faded. He could not keep risking it, he needed to stop biting his nails. Except when he got upset, his fingers always ended up in his mouth. He laced his fingers together to prevent himself.
Without that outlet, the anger and anxiety took over his entire body. He rocked back and forth. His stomach growled. The small bites of food had been inadequate. He might need to risk another food poisoning, though that would be dangerous only a week after the last one. If only he had enough poison to kill them all!
Rai rocked harder, gulping in air.
Why was the world like this? Why did he make the food only for other people to eat it in front of him? Why did he have to clean when others played dice and drank? Why was he weak when others had muscles to hit him? Why had he been born if every day brought pain? Why had other people declared themselves better than him and turned him into property? Why did cruelty exist? Why did he have nothing? Why was he unloved? Why couldn’t the world be FAIR?
Rai threw off his blanket and crept for the door.
Usually when Rai took his revenges, he moved carefully and only when certain he could avoid blame. Tonight his rage had become blindingly hot and dangerous. He would have walked straight into the hellfire below the earth if only he could drag everyone else in this building down with him.
Wace was the only slaver with his own individual room. His door did not have a lock, but he did not fear anyone in this building, and certainly not his halfwit slave. Snoring came from inside.
Rai pushed open the door slowly. At the first creak, he froze. As the snoring continued, he inched the door the rest of the way, just enough to slip his body in sideways.
The keys all hung on a wall hook. Rai felt along the wooden boards. He had trouble seeing even when it wasn’t nighttime. The slavers would often mock him for holding items close to his face. Wace looked like a distorted lump, moving slightly with each snore. Rai’s fingers found cold metal. He grabbed the wagon key.
On his hands and knees for maximum quiet, he crawled away.
The night air nipped at his face. A nearly full moon cast light between the trees. Pine needles crunched as Rai walked toward the wagon. The hitch hung empty of a horse or a human pulling it. A large iron cage made up the entire space between the floor and roof.
A wolf pup lay flat, belly pushed to the wood by a spear through the back. This one appeared to be a juvenile, older than a baby but not full grown. A dozen more spears pierced the body, tail, and all four limbs. A half-broken sword stabbed through the snout. The pup’s black fur wisped like smoke, straining against the bonds. Rai rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out if his blurred vision had deceived him or if this wolf had a pelt made of living night.
With a steady trickle, blood ran down the wooden floor and through the bars. The creature bled a mixture of red and gold. The coppery scent saturated the air. Rai shuddered in sympathy. He could barely imagine the horrific pain this poor thing must be in. Was the wolf dead?
“Hello?” Rai whispered. Nighttime made the small sound loud.
Golden eyes shot open. The wolf glared with such incandescent rage the entire world stood still. It was beautiful. The molten gold fury glowed bright enough to light up the wagon. Rai’s breath caught. Here was someone who shared all his fiery, futile anger. For the first time in his entire life, Rai felt seen by another person.
The wolf pup sniffed the air, then growled and jerked against the spears. They did not budge. The pup moaned in despair. That golden gaze remained fixed on Rai. He had the sudden sense that the wolf pup felt sad to see him here. Though it could have been his overactive imagination again.
It solidified his resolve to act.
Rai had never been able to help any of the slaves carted through the outpost. The Guild kept them in manacles and leg chains with no key hole. They could only be removed by a blacksmith at the auction site. Merely opening the cage door would not allow anyone to escape. But the wolf had no collar, probably because no one wanted to get close enough to put one on.
If only Rai could yank out the spears, maybe there would be a chance of escape. On the other hand, the horrific injuries gave him doubt if the pup could run. Werewolves were said to be unkillable and swift as lightning. Could a creature of magic make it out of the forest ahead of pursuit?
The slaver guild committed horrific atrocities on slaves caught escaping. The choice had to belong to the person taking the risk.
Rai asked, “If I open the cage and remove the spears, could you run fast enough to escape?”
The wolf inhaled deeply, eyes fixed on him, but did not react to his words. Did they not speak the same language? Or was this creature only as intelligent as an animal?
Rai held up the key and pointed at the padlock on the cage.
The wolf’s ears rose and head jerked up as far as the weapons would allow. The yip sounded affirmative, but soft. The werewolf was smart enough to understand him and be quiet, and clearly wanted to escape.
With shaking hands, Rai unlocked the cage door. Now he had crossed the point of no return, he remembered the consequences. Once freed, the wolf might eat him. If the slavers found out what Rai had done, they would surely kill him. Only death could be enough punishment for losing such a prize. Even if they never found out, they would likely vent their disappointment by beating him. Yet when Rai imagined his owners’ fury, instead of trembling, he smiled. The slavers had been afraid of what would happen if they lost the guild’s prize. Even if he died, he would not regret it if only he could make them all pay.
Nor would he regret freeing such a beautiful creature even if he got eaten afterward. His life wasn’t much worth living anyway.
After all Rai’s dreams about magic, he was finally close enough to touch it. He knelt down for a better look. Even with his nose nearly in the fur, it still looked as if partly made of smoke. The fur tickling his nostrils felt softer than anything he’d touched in his entire life. If healthy, this pup would be an adorable black ball perfect for cuddling.
Golden sparkles seemed to float off the fur. Rai blinked, then they were gone.
The wolf huffed, reminding Rai to return to work. “This will hurt. I’m sorry.” He yanked a spear out of the left paw.
The wolf pup did not make a sound.
“You’re tough. Good, you’ll need to be strong in order to make it out of the forest. I don’t know the way, and you can’t understand me even if I could give you directions.” Rai yanked out the spears as fast as possible, tossing them between the bars. Golden sparks swirled around the wolf. As each spear was removed, the cuts healed instantly. Rai felt like a character in a fairy tale, watching a goose lay golden eggs or straw spin into gold. This was real magic. Smiling to himself, he worked faster. His arms burned.
Finished, he collapsed. Resting his back on the bars, he panted.
On wobbly legs, the wolf pup stood and turned around. Tendrils of darkness raised off the pelt like whips. A jaw opened impossibly wide to reveal teeth as long as daggers. The night seemed ripped in two by this being darker than black. This monster did not belong to this world. The world fought against the otherworldly existence, straining and screaming. The immovable wolf stared at Rai with a hunger as deep as a hole swallowing up the stars.
Rai still found the pup extremely huggable but did not risk it. He gestured at the open door. “Run fast and don’t get caught again. Good luck.”
Viens avec moi, Alain, je te porterai.
Rai clutched his head as the sounds transmitted directly to his brain. Had he eaten something bad that messed with his mind or was this coming from the wolf? He heard “Alain” repeated half a dozen times more times in the nonsense syllables. “Whatever you’re doing, stop. I can’t understand you. There’s no time to waste. You need to run, get as much of a head start as you can before dawn.”
The wolf pounced. Teeth fastened around Rai’s shirt. He squeaked, “No eating me! I helped you! This is against fairy tale rules!” Then he was up in the air, arms pinwheeling. He landed on the wolf’s back.
The pup immediately collapsed under the weight.
That fur felt as soft as the beds in Rai’s daydreams. A humming filled his ears. He could almost hear, almost taste, something beyond this world yet familiar to him as the embrace of the mother he’d never known…
Then Rai realized he was squashing the pup and scrambled up. “Were you trying to carry me? I appreciate the thought, but you’re too small.” He held out his arm, showing how from fingertip to shoulder it was about as long as the pup’s body. “It would never work.”
The wolf nudged Rai’s knees, pushing him toward the wagon door.
“I can’t run as fast as you. If you’re as smart as you seem, you must know that. You can vanish into the forest and follow your nose home. The slavers would easily hunt me down, then they’d kill me.” Rai drew his finger across his throat to get the message across.
The wolf pup moaned again, and the air vibrated as if the world itself shared this grief. The pup leapt into Rai’s lap and licked his face. The angry gold eyes had turned dark grey and tender.
Rai stilled. He could not recall anyone touching him with tenderness before, not in his entire life. It very nearly blanked out his brain…until he remembered to say, “You have to go before someone wakes up. Shoo!” He pushed at the fur. Such soft fur…
The wolf shoved Rai down, pinning his chest with a paw. The snout dug under his shirt. Fangs pierced him right below the armpit.
“Mmph!” Rai clamped both his hands over his mouth to hide his cry of pain. An unnaturally soft tongue lapped the injury.
Then the wolf leapt away, smashing through the bars of the cage. A trail of golden sparks ran to the trees. In seconds, the darkness had wrapped around this unnatural existence and wiped it away. Insects crawled out of their burrows to chirp again.
“You’d better run, you ungrateful beast,” Rai snapped. He’d risked himself to save the creature and it bit him? By fairy tale rules, he ought to have gotten at least a pot of gold if not a kingdom. If he ever caught that mangy dog, he would definitely deliver at least one punch in retaliation!
Was one werewolf bite enough to kill him? A spark of fear penetrated Rai’s anger. He felt with his hand. No blood came from the injury. Had he imagined it?
The werewolf had bent the bars of the cage in his departure, which meant if Rai locked the door, then everyone would believe the werewolf had broken out with supernatural strength. Had the wolf pup done that on purpose to help him? Or had it all been a coincidence from a being apparently incapable of gratitude?
Either way, Rai needed to move fast. He locked the cage door, replaced the key, and returned to his sleeping spot on the floor. Although he could get in trouble for stealing a candle, he was desperately curious enough to light a nub and check his arm.
The bitemark under his right armpit had turned silver, like a very old scar.
Maybe a pup didn’t have enough venom to kill him? Or maybe rumors of the fatal bite had been exaggerated? Had the wolf deliberately placed the mark somewhere hard to see out of consideration? But then why bite Rai at all?
Any other fairy tale hero would have gotten a magic sword or at least a dress made of sunlight. A werewolf’s gratitude was worth nothing except a bite. No wonder everyone called them devil dogs.
Despite his bitterness, it gave Rai pleasure to dream of that eldritch creature flying free.
When rays of light entered through the window, Rai pulled his blanket over his head and remained still. He did not want to be the first person to discover the empty cage.
Not long after, someone went outside to use the ditch for pissing. A furious horrified cry rattled the window shutters. Even knowing the trouble to come, Rai smiled.
Soon everyone was outside, cursing up a storm or moaning. Someone kicked the wagon. Another slaver prayed. Although Rai had inflicted pain before, this was the first time he had ever tasted his owners’ fear. He pressed a hand over his lips to hide his giggles.
The door flung open. Rai could not recognize the blurry figure. “Why are you sleeping in late, freak?” That was Fulbert’s voice.
All along, Rai had known the slavers would find an excuse to take out their anger on him. It wouldn’t be the first beating he’d taken, he could survive as long as they didn’t find out what he’d done. He leapt up and ran for the door, then went limp when Fulbert grabbed the back of his collar. That was the best way to appease Fulbert for the minimum beating—a little resistance but not too much, then surrender. Rai dangled in the air, not trying to dodge as a fist aimed for his stomach.
“Put him down,” Wace growled from the doorway. “Do not damage the merchandise.”
Such was the command in Wace’s voice that Fulbert immediately released his fist. Rai landed in a crouch. Fulbert whined, “You’ve never objected before, boss.”
Wace knelt down before Rai. This close, Rai could make out fine details from Wace’s scruffy beard to the hard calculation in his brown eyes. “We’ve lost the guild’s prize. No horse can match a werewolf’s speed. This boy is currently the only product we have. If we don’t make the sale to Countess Edith, then the guild will expect us to pay back what we lost. Are you a secret long-lost heir, Fulbert?”
“Are you saying we try to sell the freak to nobility? But even a common farmer wouldn’t want him.” Fulbert jabbed Rai’s chest between the protruding ribs. “He’s weak, half-blind, half-witted, and ugly.”
“He’s unusual,” Wace said. “Fortunately the guild didn’t tell the countess what our product would be—weren’t sure if they could pull off their crazy plan to snag a werewolf. Sensible men like us know this thing is trash, but rich people love rarity and have more gold than brains. Have you seen their weird food? They eat snails and think that’s a delicacy. The countess doesn’t want a strong man to work. She wants a unique pet to show off to her friends. Keep this thing out of the sun for a bit and stick him into nice clothing, and we can pass him off as a curiosity.”
“We’ll never get werewolf prices for a pallid brat.”
“With some fast-talking, we’ll get enough to save our skins, then we blame the fools who ran off for not securing the cage properly.” Wace swung an arm around Fulbert. “You’ve seen me sell dying slaves before, trust me.”
Rai did not know how to feel about his changing future. Pets got fed, didn’t they? Currently the horses ate better than him. But he also feared the unknown. He was accustomed to handling these men, he did not know what might provoke a countess to kill him.
What he thought didn’t matter. A slave didn’t get a choice in who owned him. At least his beating had been aborted.
When Rai entered the city for the first time in his life, his arms had been tied behind his back and a burlap sack shoved over his body. The slavers had been very careful not to expose Rai to sunlight ever since their decision to sell him, hoping for his sunburn to heal. They did not care how bored he got or how bad the sack smelled. At least they fed him full meals. Wace said that “starved” did not scream “the guild’s best product.”
What a waste, to enter a new world yet not be able to see it. Squirming, Rai peered through the thinnest part of the fabric.
A mistake. Even that small peak blinded him. He closed his eyes.
As the wagon rattled over a drawbridge, the sounds grew louder. Never before had Rai heard so many people shouting and talking at once. Horse hooves. Dogs barking. A musical instrument in the distance.
Rai struggled to handle too much sensation at once—another reason everyone called him a half-wit. The sound roasted him like a sunburn on his ears. He could feel his brain peeling away into pieces. With his hands bound, he could not even cover his ears. Rocking back and forth, he begged, “Please stop. Please stop. Please stop.”
No one cared. His head exploded with pain.
By the time they reached the guild, Rai’s brain had turned foggy. He could never think straight in the aftermath of his overloads. He barely even noticed being bustled inside. Three women bathed him and scrubbed all over, even under his nails. Under other circumstances he would have enjoyed the warm water, but the world remained hazy as if behind a veil.
Afterward they trimmed his hair, then dressed him in a white silk shirt with matching loose pants. A bit of awareness returned to Rai. Never before had he felt so comfortable in clothing. It was gloriously soft, though it could not compare to werewolf fur.
The makeup he did not like at all. The lipstick felt oily. “Nothing on his cheeks, he should look as pale as possible,” Wace said as he entered the room.
“What do you think?” The closest woman grabbed Rai and spun him around.
Wace looked over slowly. “If I’d known he would clean up this pretty, I’d have sold him to someone who fancies little boys long ago.” He grabbed Rai’s hand, feeling the hangnails. “He may not be up to the countess’ standards, though. If only we had more time.”
“The messenger has already been sent to her,” the woman said. “You’ve made your bed, Wace, now you have to sleep in it.”
Rai did not understand what they were talking about, didn’t people normally make their bed when they woke up not right before they went to sleep? Having everyone stare at him made him antsy. He squirmed.
“Stop moving your eyes back and forth. It’s goddamn unsettling.” Wace grabbed Rai’s chin. “Hmm, when the light hits his eyes at the right angle, they turn purple.” He smiled. “And those white eyebrows and white eyelashes…I can work with this.” He shook Rai. “When you meet the countess, keep your mouth shut and never meet her eyes. Do not speak unless spoken to.”
Rai nodded. He always spoke as little as possible, no one ever wanted to hear what he had to say.
Apparently the Apniss Slaver’s Guild had a person-sized golden birdcage already on hand. Rai sat on a white cushion with his legs crossed. He did not like the feeling of the amethyst pin in his hair, rubbing against his skull. With all his might, he resisted the urge to rock. He sat on his hands so he didn’t bite his nails.
Countess Edith examined him from behind her fan. She had small beady eyes and tight brown ringlets that likely came from a wig, given the wrinkles of her face.
Although it was noon and bright, Wace held up a lantern. The light hit Rai’s eyes, making them water.
“Purple eyes!” The countess gasped. “What else can he do? Does he play any musical instruments or recite poetry?”
Wace’s smile briefly faltered. “This boy is the treasure of our guild because—” He lowered his voice. The countess leaned in. “—he can predict the future.”
Rai jolted. It was all he could do not to scream. Wace would drop his outlandish claims and run off with the money, leaving Rai to suffer punishment for being merely an ordinary human. But Rai didn’t dare deny it. If this sale failed, then he’d pay for it in bruises and blood.
“Fascinating. The occult is quite fashionable these days.” Countess Edith flicked her fan. “Give me a prediction.”
Wace glared. What the hell was Rai supposed to do?
“You’re going to buy me at half the asking price.” Rai tried to sound calm but his voice wobbled at the end.
The countess cackled. “What an interesting test!” She caressed Rai’s cheek with the tip of her fan.
The veins stood out on Wace’s neck. His fists clenched. Rai nearly flinched but held himself steady. Although Rai had no doubt that Wace would have strangled him if they’d been alone, the slaver could not make a move in front of the noblewoman. As Rai had expected, Wace had little choice except to agree to the reduced price.
Wace left in a very bad temper. His day would get even worse after he learned Rai had broken the hitches attaching the wagon to the horses. Hopefully the damaged wood would only give out halfway on his journey.
Even from a birdcage, Rai learned when the Apniss Slaver’s Guild was completely destroyed. People talked of nothing else. Never before had the werewolves been so thorough or vicious, hunting their targets across human territory. Rai would never know exactly how his former owners had died but he felt certain anyone so close to the incident that had enraged the werewolves would be dead. It left him with a cold satisfaction. Cities would throw out anyone associated with the guild for fear of reprisals. The Wolf Hunters had a brief frenzy about who might or might not have been bitten during the invasion.
Life continued, of course. New slaver organizations popped up. Rai fretted over his own bite, but he never sickened or started sprouting fur. The silver mark faded over time. As months turned into years, he stopped fearing.