Deadtown

Then I heard a sound, one that was unfamiliar yet beautiful. I listened with a sense I didn’t know I had. It was a call. Someone was calling this child. Not with words, but with the heart.

Hearing the strong, constant heart-call, I had no choice but to heed it. We flew south, the setting sun to our right, shadows stretching across the land below us.

28

HARPIES, OF COURSE, ARE SUPERIOR TO OTHER WINGED creatures. We’re larger, we’re fiercer, we’re more beautiful. And we fly faster, because we have access to portals that flesh-and-blood birds do not. Within minutes, I’d locked on to the heart-call that beckoned the child I carried. Following that call, we came to a landscape cluttered with human dwellings, laid out in rows. A good hunting ground for another day. For now, that pure, clarion heart-call guided me like a beacon. It came, clear and bell-like, from a square white dwelling surrounded by grass.

“There!” the child shouted, squirming. “That’s my house!”

We alighted gently, so as not to hurt her. The house’s door flew open, and a woman rushed down the steps. “Mommy!” The child ran to the woman and wrapped herself in her arms. A picture came to mind of a chick enfolded in its mother’s wings.

The picture lasted only briefly. I stood on the grass, tensed and ready to flee. This dwelling was not a place for my kind. The woman, who’d lifted the child from the ground and pressed her face against her, raised her eyes to search the lawn. When she saw me, she gasped. She put down the child and stepped in front of her, protective, then approached me, making shooing motions with her arms. “Get out of here, you damned Harpy! I will not have a revenge demon invade my home!”

I screeched in anger, but I hopped back.

“Mom, no—” The child stepped in front of the woman and grasped her wrists in her small hands. “It’s Aunt Vicky. She brought me home.”

“Vicky? Oh, my God. How did—? You can’t—? A Harpy? That’s impossible.”

“It’s her, Mom. I saw her change. Look, it’s wearing Aunt Vicky’s necklace.”

“Vicky?” the woman said, tentatively putting out her hand.

The name meant nothing to me. I tossed my head, setting the snakes to hissing. I was to be feared, not petted. The female snatched back her hand and held it to her chest. Good.

We stared at each other. But no waves of fear rose from either woman or child. Their eyes held something, some emotion that I didn’t understand. Confusion filled me. The snakes hissed impatiently. There was no prey here—why was I wasting my time? The woman, her eyes bright, said, “Thank you.” I cocked my head. I’d never heard such words before; I did not understand their meaning.

Then, like a jolt through my marrow, I felt something that I did understand, something I knew well. It was a call. Not the heart-call that had compelled me to carry the child to this woman, but the trumpet sound of a call for revenge. Revenge! I stretched my wings; my beauties sang their hissing songs.

This was a call from one of my own kind—not a Harpy’s voice, but a demon’s. It spoke a language I understood. The voice carried power, great power. It called to me, and my heart sped in excitement. Bloodlust, eagerness, a hunger for vengeance, those delicious feelings, all swelled within me. I called out my answer: Yes, yes, I’m coming! Shrieking my excitement, I rose into the air.

“Vicky, where are you going?” yelled the grown female. But I had no thought for these humans or their strange ways. A call had gone out, a call to all demonkind. I must obey. I flapped my powerful wings. With all the speed I could muster, I flew east, into the gathering darkness, toward the city.

THE CALL THUNDERED THROUGH THE NIGHT SKY. ALL around me, other demons flew, clamoring their replies. We were an army, a mighty force of vengeance. I trembled with anticipation, eager to find my target. My prey. I had not fed sufficiently before, and hunger seared my innards. To war!

The city sparkled with lights. Nighttime. Feeding time. Just outside of it, huge, hulking shapes stood—a whole legion of them—shaking their fists and pounding against thin air. Hellions, they were, held back from the city by some kind of magical boundary. They roared their anger, nearly drowning out the call that brought us all here.

Around them, even under their feet, humans walked blindly, oblivious. Out here, cut off from the leader that summoned them, the Hellions were powerless to materialize. The humans saw nothing of the mighty demons that stalked their city. Fools.

Whatever barrier stopped the Hellions, it was nothing to me. A slight tingle as I passed through, a current of cold air raising chill-bumps beneath my feathers. Past the barrier, the Hellions’ noise subsided, and the call came stronger. I laughed and followed it, moving deeper into the heart of the city.

Some kind of procession moved slowly below. Humans marched down a long street, dressed in colorful outfits, some seated on slow-moving platforms. Among them, here and there, were some living corpses. More humans lined the street, cheering and waving. The sights and smells, all that blood coursing just beneath the flesh, all that sweat and a whole buffet of emotions, sharpened my hunger.

But the call. The demon sending it was strong. There was power in that call—power and promise. I followed its summons, as did my sisters all around me. Shouting and singing, we followed it to a street in front of a crumbling building in a deserted part of town, not far from the marchers. More living corpses here, but those bloodless creatures were of no interest. The sky was thick with unmaterialized Harpies. Too many. Surely there wouldn’t be enough prey for us all. I shrieked my hunger, greedy, and targeted a Harpy below me. I grabbed her with my talons and flung her aside. She howled with anger. Good. Let her fight me for this feast. I’d fight them all. Nothing would keep me from prey tonight.

The call boomed out, and I could see its source—a shadowy Hellion invisible to weak human eyes. An impressive Hellion, this one. Powerful. In its full glory, it stood taller than some of the buildings, its skin the bright, eye-hurting shade of daytime skies. I admired its sharp, pointed teeth, so good for tearing. The Hellion spread its arms in welcome, gesturing to all of us: Come, come. We came. Hundreds of Harpies alighted before it. I joined them, ready to do the bidding of this demon that had called us.

We milled around the Hellion’s feet, hundreds of us, like a flock of hungry pigeons pecking for scattered crumbs. I was hungry, ravenous. I didn’t want to share with these others. Too many sisters, too crowded. It was hard to get enough air. A body’s length away, a Harpy stared at me, not at my face but at a spot in the middle of my chest. I squawked at her—go away!—then turned. In a flash, the Harpy lunged at me. I felt a tug, then something snapped, was pulled away from me. The Harpy ran off at a fast waddle, holding something in her beak, but I lifted myself into the air and landed in front of her, blocking her way. I lowered my head, snakes hissing, and spread my wings menacingly. She froze.

From her beak dangled a string with a stone at the end. The stone gave off its own light, like a small sun, but the light wasn’t clear like sunlight; it was the color of the setting sun. And it was mine. I wanted it back. I screamed at the thief and lunged for her feathered breast. She screamed back and dodged, dropping my stone. I grasped it with my talons and flew to the top of a nearby building, away from the flock. Mine.

The roof was spacious, quiet. The air filled my lungs better here. I hopped to the edge and peered at the crowd of Harpies. They strutted about on the ground, cackling, arguing, lunging at each other. The hissing of their snake-hair filled the air like the sound of rustling leaves. A human approached—in a street crowded with demons, he remained blind to our presence. But he stopped suddenly, as if he sensed something, and shivered. He turned up the collar of his coat, moved his head left and right, then chose a different path. Another blind fool. He’d see us clearly enough once we ripped into his flesh to dig out his juicy liver.

But the thought of feeding dulled my hunger. Why? Hunger grows sharper and sharper until a Harpy must feed. That is the way of things. Yet at this moment, in me, the hunger was fading. Not hungry. I barely knew myself without the feeling. Why did the thought of dining upon that human cause me to feel odd, almost ill? He was a paltry human, nothing more than food to satisfy a Harpy’s raging hunger.

A light caught my eye. It was the strange stone. I hopped back to where I’d dropped it and pecked at the thing. Mine. I wanted it. I must have it. I would kill any Harpy that tried to steal it. But I didn’t know why I wanted the thing. I couldn’t eat it. It was too small to use as a weapon. It was merely a shining stone. But it was mine. Mine. For some reason, it was important that I keep it.

Below, the Hellion spoke, claiming my attention. Its many voices rang through the night. “Harpies!” it bellowed. “Into this building. Now! Follow us!” It turned and lurched into a tall building with boards on the windows. Was the prey there? The site of so many eager Harpies piqued my hunger once again. They swarmed in behind the Hellion. I pushed my stone into a hole in the wall, hiding it. Then I followed my sisters.

The building was old, long abandoned by humans. Debris covered the floor. Along one wall, a few remaining windows, some shattered, let in a little light from the street. Torches flamed at one end of the huge room. My sisters gathered near the torch-lit end. Even from the rear of the crowd, I could smell human.

I pushed forward, straining to see. Was this was our prey? It would not be enough. More, we needed more! In the center of the room stood a brown-haired human male, wearing gray. Hungry. But something slapped back my hunger from this one. This was no mere human; this was a master. Power glowed from him like the light from my stone. A small female, puny, cringed beside the master. That one was nothing; I had no interest in her. They stood before a table covered in black cloth; something bulged beneath the covering. At the ends of the table, torches blazed.

The Hellion halted in front of the master—the room was silent, even our snake-tresses quieted their hissing as we awaited the signal to attack. But the Hellion, in stiff, resisting movements, bowed before the master, then fell to its knees. “Master,” it said, “we are yours to command.” The Hellion’s words begged to serve, but their tone oozed with hatred, with a strong desire for revenge. A murmur rippled through the Harpies. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">