Page 87 of Red Demon
“Her name’s Faruhar.” I groaned, holding my head. “I was so wrong, Ash. She killed people in Nunbiren, but I can’t blame her. Crofton too, except maybe Mal. But I’m going to assume—”
“Who’d she kill in Nunbiren?”
I took a deep breath. “Taam, after his demon got in. Atalia, same reason. There was no virus in Nunbiren, just ghosts that made everyone kill each other. All she’s trying to do is make them stop.”
Asher looked toward the ruins, face tight.
“As far as I can tell, the empire is useless.” I gripped the tree beside me. “There were no Chaeten rebels either. Mahakal is just helping cover up the ghost attacks, making up stories that make the empire look good. When he questioned me in quarantine, he was seeing what I knew; seeing if he could still cover it up or if he’d need to kill me and cover that up too. I’d hoped I could buy myself enough time to tell you everything—get you out of here.”
“Fuck,” Asher said, his fingers tight on the back of his head. “Fuck. She killed Taam?”
“Are you even listening?”
“It’s just a lot,” Asher said.
“I got more. So will she, if she remembers anything—”
“Show me the sword. Show me Istaran.” Asher gripped his knees tight.
I blinked, confused.
“Just hold it,” he said, his voice panicked.
I unsheathed the blade at my hip, and it glowed in my hands.
Asher jittered his leg, anxious. “He told me his mods block the magic. But I saw it glow when he put that to your throat. He’s lying. The ancestors just don’t trust him. They still trust you.”
“Why not let me kill him for that alone?”
Asher shook his head, dropping back on his knees beside the stream. “I never liked the guy. Just convinced myself we needed a demon to take out demons.” He shivered. “I don’t really want to work with any of them, Jesse.” He gestured back to the ruins.
“Faruhar saved my ass three times now,” I said. “Havoc tried to kill me, by the way. Your dahn was right. It should be right about her too.”
He shook his head at me and sighed. “She confuses the fuck out of my dahn, to be honest.” The moonlight cast shadows on his features. “It’s like … seeing two people with one face. For a moment or two, what you’re telling me makes sense. She doesn’t want to hurt you. Otherwise it’s like—visual static, and not good. Hurts to look too close.”
“Voids, really?” I looked back at the ruins. “I owe her a life, a couple to spare.” She had so much blood on her armor, that shallow breathing. I got up to go, canteen in hand.
“She probably took twenty lives to buy yours,” Asher called after me. “Good men and women, with families that love them!”
Faruhar sat propped up against the crumbling wall, her blood blending into hints of red fresco; a sewing kit lay on her lap. Her armor lay discarded beside her, with a wide crimson stain blooming down the side of her torn linen shirt.
I knelt beside her, and she took the canteen in shaking hands, her lips pale.
“Hold still. I’ll take a look,” I murmured as I pulled the wet fabric aside. The wound cut deep; a jagged gash of flesh. No signs of healing.
“Couldn’t see to sew it up,” she said, voice hoarse.
“I got you.” I settled in. She poured a little water from her canteen over the wound, then drank again.
Asher’s footsteps rustled behind me. He paused, taking in the scene. “I got a lighter to heat that needle.” He dug around in his cargo pants. “Then I’ll check the woods for some plantain.” Between practice and the forge, this was not the first time we’d mended flesh.
I nodded my thanks to him as the needle glowed red in the flame. I looked back to see the fire reflected in Faruhar’s lidded, exhausted gaze. A shiver wracked her body, tremoring the arm I held steady. I flicked the needle cool as Asher left.
“What were you doing with those soldiers?” she asked, voice cold.
“Finding my brother, like I told you. It took me a while to figure out who Mahakal really is.” Pain twinged my chest. “I’m not smart. I don’t know if you remember, but that’s one of the first things you ever said to me.”
She gave me a weak smile. I threaded the needle.
