I hadn’t had much time to devise a plan, and the one I did come up with was rocky at best: Stand outside Tom’s room just before the Waking begins. Cleanse whatever Manifestation comes to make him “vanish.” Don’t get eaten alive by the house in the process. Magnus had said the servants’ quarters were cleansed, and so I wouldn’t have to worry about any other strokes getting in the way.
At three minutes to ten I put my knife in my pocket, and grabbed the fireplace poker just in case. I had my amulet on, of course, but after the terror of that first Waking I didn’t want to take any chances.
As soon as I opened the door a shadow flew at me. I cried out from shock, but I was used to keeping my head enough to at least swing the poker in the right direction. Now the light of my fireplace allowed me to see Saba standing in front of me, pushing the door shut with one hand … gripping the poker I’d just swung with the other.
That honestly would’ve been stranger if I wasn’t living in a house with hands coming out of the walls.
“I can’t cleanse the Evil Eye from my room,” I said. Saba ignored me, locking the door instead. “Tom might be in danger. I have to get to his room. That requires leaving mine—Saba, stop it!”
I’d pushed past her, but she pushed back harder, and it only took one hand pressing on my stomach. I panicked for a moment—How is she this strong?—but it only took that one moment, that bit of hesitation, for Saba to overpower my momentum and forcefully guide me back to my bed.
I fell onto the bed, glaring up at her. “What are you doing? I have to go out there.”
She shook her head firmly.
“Yes.” I got up and she blocked my path. “Don’t you care about Tom? About Magnus? This is the only way to save them.”
I tried to get around her, but she intercepted me, wrapped her arms around me, holding me close. For a moment I struggled, but she was far too strong. Her body was firm, but not in the same way it would be if she had hardened muscles. It was unnatural.
Even through my sleeves I could feel her cold arms. So cold, and yet she never wore a sweater, as if she couldn’t feel what her arms were feeling.
“Let go?” I asked, and I felt her chin move at my forehead as she shook her head.
I took a deep breath. If I relaxed, if she felt I’d calmed down, she’d let go. Then I’d draw my knife on her. God forgive me, but I’d have to. Just to keep her away long enough so I could get out of the room.
Ten o’clock struck on the great clock downstairs, and the wind immediately began rushing. Screams, moans, knockings, though none as intense as that first night.
I had to get out of this room. Now.
A few more deep breaths and my heart rate was getting close to level. I wrapped my arms around Saba’s waist, leaning the side of my face against her chest, hugging her back. Tricking her was more accurate. I’d never been great at crying on demand, but I could try. Again, God, please ignore any underhanded activity you see here tonight.
It worked sans crying, because after a moment Saba’s hold relaxed slightly, her hug feeling more natural around my neck. The room was quiet except for the moaning spirits and howling wind outside, except for the snap and crack of the fireplace, except for my own heart pounding in my ear. My own heart, I realized … just mine. No counter or synced rhythm from the chest I was leaning against. Still. Nothing.
And suddenly I could no longer relax.
Saba felt me tense and tightened her grip, but I didn’t fight back this time, my brain working through too many thoughts.
She wasn’t acknowledged as a servant by anyone in the house but Magnus … by anyone but the Evil Eye’s host. And she wasn’t affected by the cold. Literally heartless. It all made sense. Well it did, but didn’t.
Saba was, in some way, a result of the Evil Eye. Despite having no traits of a Manifestation, her survival depended on the curse. And so there was no way she was going to let me cleanse it without a fight.
Magnus had told me not to get too attached to her, but I’d never expected this to be the reason.
“Whatever you are,” I said, and felt her jolt, “whatever you had been, please know I feel deep compassion for you. But I have to end this. Too many people have disappeared, and it needs to stop. Let me go, Saba. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Saba’s response was to tighten her grip like an iron clamp.
My stomach turned. I’d fought plenty of times on the street—for food, for my life, for ideal shelter. I had the scars to prove it. But to hurt a friend …
Just do it quick, Andi.
I snatched Saba’s forearm with one hand, digging my fingers in and reaching for my knife with the other just as I kicked her in the shin. Saba stumbled back a few steps, and I heard the shinkt of a breaking plate, a sharp, warm pain rising up my fingers that the rest of the cold house might’ve numbed. But I ignored the pain and focused on my knife, pointing it toward Saba and her missing—
My blood felt cold.
… her missing …
I turned to my shoulder slowly, where I still held Saba’s arm, despite the fact her body was five feet away. Where my sliced fingers had gone through the top of her arm, through the hollow middle, and rested on the bottom, my blood dripping off the end of the shattered appendage.
I looked quickly up to Saba, as she stood still, her right arm missing and hollow at the forearm, making her look like a beautiful, sad porcelain doll.
A distant scream echoed up the stairs. Oh God. Tom.
I shrugged the broken arm off my shoulder, letting it drop to the ground. It immediately started feeling its way back to its body, crawling on all fingers like a giant spider. Saba approached to retrieve it. It was now or never. I rushed forward, stabbing Saba in the knee and twisting, breaking off her leg with a subtle click. She lost her balance, stumbling to the only knee she had left, and I dodged to get around her.
Something grabbed my leg, tripping me. The impact on the ground sent my head spinning and my knife skittering into the shadows. I slammed my foot on the ground, breaking the fingers of the dismembered hand from my ankle, and launched myself at Saba, managing to tackle her to the ground before she could get her leg fully attached to her body again.
In the streets I would’ve punched her, but I couldn’t afford to slice open my right hand, too—my welding hand. So instead I reached over for the metal shovel, having to knock over the entire bin of tools to get to it. Saba grabbed me with her good arm, her strength keeping me from the shovel, even with one hand, and I made the mistake of looking at her. And feeling a twinge of guilt at the fear widening her eyes.
“Then let me go, Saba,” I pleaded, for her welfare and my own conscience. I didn’t want to feel my friend’s body break beneath my force, even if there were no signs that it hurt her.
She shook her head vehemently. Her goal was clearly to protect herself. Part of me respected that. I’d been doing it all my life.
But her intention meant that, for the moment, I could no longer see her as a friend—if ever again, but I’d deal with those emotions another time. For now, my good survival habits were urging me to remove the obstacle blocking me from what I needed.
So be it, then.
I grabbed her arm with both of mine and pinned her. Managed to grab the shovel and broke her arm at the shoulder with the narrow end. Stood, and did the same thing to her last leg. Then swiped them under my bed, so they’d have further to crawl to get to her body.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, barely able to look at her terror-stricken expression. I snatched up my satchel of supplies and raced out of the room.
I ran in the direction the pulse of my amulet led, down the stairs and around the corner, ignoring every other Manifestation I passed—all except for the horde of rats, which ran over and under my feet, making it hard to keep up my speed. I was hot and sweaty from the struggle in my room, so I barely felt the cold. I squeezed my fingers into my sweater to get rid of excess blood, though my heart pounded heavy and painful in my fingertips. I put on my welding goggles, smudging warm blood on my face that quickly turned cold in the air around me.
My amulet pulsed to the point it echoed through my body painfully, and when I turned the corner I saw why.
In the meager light of the dying embers, I saw Tom’s body crumpled on the ground, a dark puddle slowly pooling beneath him, his eyes staring at nothing.
And standing over him, looking straight at me, the reflective green eyes of …
Oh God …
A hyena.
Without a shadow of a doubt, this was no mortal beast, no Manifestation. It was the curse itself. The Evil Eye incarnate.
I only knew that because Jember had cleansed one—the only debtera in the last twenty years, maybe even fifty, to successfully do it. But he’d never taught me how he had cleansed it. All he’d said was if I was ever offered a job to do so, to run in the opposite direction and never look back.
It suddenly occurred to me where Jember’s leg and humanity had gone, and the reality of my imminent fate hit me like a fist to the skull.
“Please, God,” I prayed, grasping my amulet for comfort, but its pulses were so heavy, so painful, they felt like screams of terror.
The hyena stepped over Tom’s body, the tinkle of bells with every step, the mane on its hunched back standing on end.
I took out my silver disk and got to work.
You have no plan, Andi.
The hyena padded closer, its growl mingling with the crackling of the embers.
Did you expect the Evil Eye to just sit still and watch you work?
At least, thank God, my amulet shield reached three feet. I sat down and got to work.
Seven strokes in, I heard the scratching of sharp nails against the hardwood stop in front of me, felt the hot breath cloud my oxygen … heard the growl dangerously close to my face. I glanced up, just to make sure the amulet was doing its job. Three feet really wasn’t much when a bloodthirsty demon hyena was standing by.
And then I jolted up from my work. The hyena’s head was leaning forward at the three-foot mark, and then it backed away and rushed forward, slamming its head on the same spot again. Again. And again. It was making short work of my shield, already a foot closer than when it had started.
My heart raced. Oh God. There was no way I could finish the amulet at this rate.
But what other choice did I have?
I got back to work quickly, ignoring the slams of the hyena’s head against my shield.
But the more the hyena pounded, the worse the rumbling in my amulet became, until I had to pause, nauseated.
Keep going, Andi.
I wasn’t nearly done.
God help me. Give me strength …
I’d paused for too long. By the time I’d flinted my pen I felt the hyena’s hot breath on my face. I pulled my legs in closer. Did I have any shield left at all—?
Something grabbed me, dragging me around the corner, and I screamed and hit at it, dropping my barely half-baked amulet to the hardwood floor. But with one hand sliced open my fighting didn’t do much good. I closed my eyes briefly as my back hit the hallway wall, thankful I didn’t bite my tongue off from the jolt. Two strong hands gripped my arms, pinning them to my sides.
I glared at Saba, now eye level with her. “Let me go.”
She shook her head.
“Don’t make me break you again. I’ll do it if I have to.”
Her grip tightened, and I had to force myself not to wince.
She shifted her body to block me as the hyena padded slowly out of the room we’d just been in. But I barely saw it, barely had time to feel fear or determination before Saba opened the door across the hall from us and threw me inside.
“Saba, stop it! Let me out!” No light came through, save for the meager bit beneath the door. My hand landed on a wall, and I followed it to another wall, to … another wall. All the while the hyena’s presence felt weaker and weaker, less and less, until I could barely sense even one stroke. “Saba!”
The last wall led me to a door, but by then it was too late. Locked. I banged on it with my good hand. “Saba!” I jiggled the knob, kicking the door as I did. I reached in my pocket for my knife, cursing myself for not snatching it off the floor before running out of my room.
I screamed out my frustration, then lowered myself to the ground to search for something to help me. There had to be something I could use to pick the lock. What kind of person had empty closets in their house?
And then I realized, I couldn’t feel the hyena’s presence at all.
I had failed.