Page 10 of The Last One
I wobble in Johny’s hold. His hands burn my skin, and his touch twists something deeper, something untouchable down in my core. Despite the almost overwhelming stink of this jail, I want to lean against its closest wall just to remain upright. Just to find balance before figuring out my next steps, figuring out a way to escape this monster’s grip.
But Johny won’t let me go, and so I have no place to rest except againsthim.
I grit my jaw.No. Never.I’d rather sink here, right outside this prison, and let all of the crap from every village in this realm ooze over me until I’ve drowned and awakened in the presence of their beloved Supreme.
Far-off thunder rumbles across the hills, and the breeze picks up to become wind, distracting the crowd. Those clouds that followed me to this village at last open, and rain drifts like shredded veils from the sky and softens the hard air. Soon, raindrops pebble on top of the villagers’ amber glow. The water hits me, too, and I feel heavier, weaker.
The crowd gapes at the weeping clouds. Spitter cries, “Hurry! Get the buckets!”
The now-muddied pathways clear as villagers run to houses and return outdoors to set pails on the gravel paths, on the dried grass, and beneath the eaves of every building. Clink-clink-clink.Fading colors darken because of the falling water. Tree leaves swell as the parched earth sucks up raindrops the moment they hit the dirt.
The traveling merchants shift nervously before their carts.A naked wraith and now rain?They find tarps and canvas to cover their wares, then return to gawking at me.
Johny’s grip never loosens around my arm, despite the commotion. Not a single drop of drought-quenching rain distracts him from his job. He whistles, then shouts, “Narder! Got another one for you.”
“You can’t arrest me,” I spit. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
A man with a rusted key tied to his waistcoat clomps through the rain toward us. His thick eyebrows slash down, and his eyes scratch like talons across my skin. His long, pockmarked face needs soap and water. Flies swarm around him like pets.
“Johny!” he booms. “What do we have here?” His voice rattles with phlegm and evil.
“A new plaything for you,” the guard says. “Isn’t she a sight? This one’s goin’ around town, scaring people, and bein’ a real nuisance. We can hold her here in the clink for now.”
“Why are you punishingme?”I point to the bandit and Copperhair, who are now gaping at the wet sky.“She’sthe thief! Arrest her!”
Johny tightens his grip around my arm even more, and I wince.
“This isn’t right,” I protest.
No one backs me up.
My heart drops to my stomach—if I go into this building, I know I’ll never come out again. At least not as the me I’m supposed to be. But there’s nothing more I can do beyond shout, “Let me go!” and thrash against the guard as I try to break out of his hold.
Johny’s hold, though, is too tight and too sure.
Fury and fear surge in my chest once Narder grabs hold of my other arm. My legs sag in strength, and though I’m fighting to hold my ground, my bare feet slip in the new mud. I want to wail out of anger, out of frustration and bewilderment, but I refuse to shed a single tear even as the two men drag me closer to my doom.
“Oh yeah,” Narder the jailer says. “She’s definitely a feisty one.”
“And I’m gonna tear her apart,”he thinks.
“You touch me,” I snap, “and I’ll—”
“And you’ll what?” Johny squeezes my arm until I squeal. To Narder, he says, “She’s mouthy, too. I know you like ’em with a bit of fire.”
Okay, so I’ll slay Johny first, and then I’ll slay Narder, but only after I slay—
“Stop!” a woman shouts.
Only after I slayher.
The thief—Olivia—charges down the muddy path, her expression panicked but petulant. Somehow, she’s quickly changed her clothes and is now wearing a black brocaded cloak and a blue dress with a waist cinched just below her breasts. That isn’t my cloak across her shoulders. What did she do with my vest and pendant? Those black boots on her feet belong to me. And those hot-pink handprints around her pale neck? Those belong to me, too. A stuffed leather satchel hangs off Copperhair’s shoulder. Did they hide my things in that bag?
“This is none of your business, Olivia,” Narder growls.
“I wish to drop the charges.” Olivia’s eyes look wild in the rain, and she’s gained a shitload of composure and authority since we shared space moments ago. Now, with her shoulders back and chin high, she glares at the men standing before her. “Didn’t you hear me? I’d like for you to stand down, please.”
The guard and jailer look at each other, then throw their heads back and laugh.
