Page 54 of Cry for Help

Caim was startled as if he hadn’t expected to hear my voice. “Yes. That is his other form.”

“You can all transform into birds?” I guessed, eying Malphas and feeling a bit stupid that I hadn’t put it together before now.

The Flock.

“What’s your other form?” I squinted.

“Thrush.” He mumbled.

“Thrush? Like the yeast infection?”

“I preferred it when you didn’t speak.” Caim’s nose wrinkled. “It’s a small spotted bird, thank you.”

“Is Murmur okay?” I chewed my bottom lip.

Malphas looked up, his fingers tracing the features on the vulture’s right side. “He’s exhausted. I don’t—”

The vulture disappeared before my eyes. His long arms twisted, and his feathers pulled into his body like retractable claws. It was painful to watch, and from the look of Murmur’s face as his beak turned into a nose, it was also painful to experience.

“Stolas.” Murmur panted. “Behem has Stolas. He won’t... He...”

The demon’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he passedout.

Malphas dragged Murmur into the bed, and we let him sleep briefly before we would wake him up for answers later.

Caim tried to cook.

Malphas slapped Caim on the hand with a spatula.

I couldn’t bear it anymore. “We have to go get Stolas.” I declared as I waited at the kitchen island for breakfast. “We can’t just leave him there. Behem is aGluttonydemon.”

“There are rules.” Malphas reminded me, his back turned as he faced the stove. “Eating other demons is against our laws.”

“Like the Purgers ate theTumbi’kas?” I retorted, hoping I didn’t butcher the demonic word. The syllables felt sluggish and brusque on my tongue, designed to be spoken with a thick tongue and tusks.

“Behem wants something.” Caim rubbed his arms as if he were cold. “Unfortunately, we don’t have much to give him.”

“Knowledge?” I countered.

Caim shrugged. “I doubt Behem wants to speak any new languages or learn the lost art of basket weaving. Malphas is not powerful enough to command an army to turn around, not anymore. Besides, if Behem planned on raising an army of Gluttons to take the Red City, it wouldn’t end well. It never does. Gluttony demons get distracted easily, and they don’t follow anyone but their stomachs or genitals.”

“What can Stolas do?” I was almost pleading. “There has to be a reason why he was taken?”

“He sees the future in the stars,” Malphas replied cryptically.

“Astrology?” I was skeptical.

“Put simply? Yes.” Malphas nodded, distracted by his cooking. “Time once was that Stolas would weave the future, as God dictated it. He would paint with the stars and map out their journeys. He could look across the night sky and see if for what it was—he could see the stars as they are. Or as they were.”

I frowned. “As they were? Like millions of years ago?”

Malphas shrugged. “It isn’t a useful skill on a battle field. Lucifer wanted Stolas because he was convinced that Nova had hidden some divine messages in the stars for him to find—and if he did, then the devil could go home. To heaven.”

“Nova?” I echoed.

“God.” Caim clarified.

“While this is very interesting,” I admitted reluctantly. “You don’t seem to care that your friend is missing. You’re having breakfast.”

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