Page 67 of The Blood of Gods and Monsters

I stare at him. “I didn’t see anything,” I lie, cutting him off. “Are you okay?” Guilt eats at me, but I say the words anyway.

Ralf pauses and then shakes his head. “I don’t know, uh, never mind, I guess.”

Relief spreads through me and I hold out my hand for him to climb back through with me. “I can’t stay for much longer,” I say. “Mom wants to eat breakfast and pack.”

Ralf lets me help him out first and we spend some time talking—reminiscing over the last few months of friendship—as we walk back to the slums of Yette. It isn’t until I get to the end of our street that I realize something is very wrong.

All of the people I’d waved to on our way out are gone. Doors are shut. Window shutters are closed. There’s no sound. Ralf doesn’t seem to notice the sudden silence, but it slides over the back of my neck in warning, drawing me to a standstill.

“Ruen?” Ralf’s voice is distant as I gaze down the street towards the middle shack amongst others. Mine and my mom’s.

There’s a carriage outside it. A big one.

I start running, ignoring my friend’s shout of surprise behind me. My legs fly over the grit and dirt road, faster and faster until I can hear the sound of crying. My mom’s crying. White hot anger like I’ve never felt before gives me the energy and power I need to burst through the front door of our temporary home to find her on her knees before the fireplace with a tall muscular man standing in front of her, sword drawn.

“Get away from my mom!” I scream, diving for the man before it hits me.

The second my little body slams into his legs, not that it does much good—he’s built rock solid, like a mountain unwilling to crumble, the power he’s exuding crushes into my lungs. I fall, my back hitting the dirty floor as all of my breath escapes me. Blackness creeps into my vision at the edges, but I still see the man turn to look at me. Those golden eyes assess my face and then turn back to my mother with a nod.

“Good, we have him then,” the man says. Two figures I hadn’t noticed standing further back in the room come forward.

“No!” Mom screams and reaches for me. “Not him. You cannot take him! He’s mine! He’s my child!”

“And mine, Gabriela,” the man states. “You knew that and that’s why you hid him. Hiding a Mortal God is a crime punishable by death.”

Someone grabs ahold of my arms and drags me to standing. The man lifts his sword and my mom’s eyes swing my way. She opens her mouth and I know what she’s about to say—look away, baby—but I can’t. I’m locked onto her face, watching with horror and helplessness as the man—the monster—brings his sword down and severs her head directly from her body.

Blood squirts and then gushes from her body as both fall lifelessly to the floor. The spray of it rained so far that I can feel wetness on my cheeks. The arms holding me feel light as a feather. My body ascends from the natural plain and I feel nothing but the prickling sense of emptiness.

Hollow. I am hollow.

It isn’t until the man starts talking again as he wipes his sword against a cloth that one of the other men in the room hands him that some emotion returns to me. “Burn the body. She doesn’t deserve a burial for keeping my son from me,” the man says before turning to me.

Confusion fills me. His face is stark and angular with a heavy thick beard. The man bends slightly to look at me, eyes roving with clear intention. “You are well built,” he comments. “Although, a bit underfed.”

I stare at him, unblinking. Then my eyes turn to the small hilt of a weapon on his side. The handle is silver and black leather. A dagger. If I can just get my hands on that, I can cut his throat. I can make him pay for what he just did. I can avenge my mother.

“Do you know who I am?” the man continues to ask, though I haven’t spoken yet. “My name is Azai, I am the God of Strength, and you, boy, are my son.”

No. I shake my head at that. There’s no way I could be this man’s son. I am not. I will never be his son. I’m her son—my mother’s. I am Gabriela’s son.

Blood stains the wood grain beneath my hands and feet. The man—Azai—lifts his head and jerks his chin at the man gripping my shoulders. “Release him and go ready the carriage.” The command is followed without a sound, but all I hear is the booted footsteps of someone leaving the two of us.

My eyes move from the hilt of his dagger to my mom’s apron. I don’t know why I focus on it. Perhaps it’s because I can’t bring myself to look at the horror of her headless neck—the splintered bone jutting out or the unseeing eyes of the head that has rolled against the wooden frame of our hearth.

Whatever the case, my eyes latch on to the dirty no-longer-white color of her apron. Stained with green and brown splotches. Vegetable soup. She made vegetable soup for breakfast. I should get up and eat it. Even if I don’t like it, she always looks happier when I’m eating.

No. Wait. I have to do something first.

“Are you listening to me?” the man snaps, sounding angry.

My head turns as if it’s being pulled on a string until my eyes meet his. His lips part and I don’t hear what he’s going to say next because I’m already moving, jerking forward, hand wrapping around the hilt of his dagger as I draw it free and then twist, slamming it into his gut right past the leather of his tunic.

The man freezes, and for a moment, the two of us are suspended in a single instant in time. Our eyes, together, move down to where the silver blade is embedded into his abdomen. He doesn’t cry out in pain. No, instead, the man backhands me so hard that my hands leave the grip of the dagger. I fly across the room—harder and faster than I ever expected. My side slams into our kitchen table, the piece of weak furniture crumpling under the weight of my body as it kicks out two of its legs.

Bowls crash to the floor around me, the smell of my mom’s vegetable soup spilling over the wooden slats under me. It seeps into the space, filling my nostrils until I swear I’m going to choke on it. Blood coats the inside of my mouth and I turn my head, spitting a harsh wad of it out … along with a tooth.

“You are going to regret that, Son,” Azai says coolly.

---