Daughter of Gods and Shadows by Jayde Brooks Page B

his screams dulled in his own ears. But each time, she waited until he had sufficiently punished himself, and then she slowly began the equally painful process of weaving his flesh together again.
    He carefully unwrapped his hand, realizing that he hadn’t looked at it in months. Dave peeled back the filthy and foul-smelling material piece by piece until after several minutes his hand was free. He held it up in front of his face, marveling at its unnatural and misshapen form. It was three times the size of his good hand, swollen and infected from bones that had been too long broken and muscle and flesh that had never healed. She was no more than an inch round. And all those years ago, when he closed her in his fist, she claimed him. She burrowed mercilessly into his skin, digging and grinding until she planted herself deep in the palm of his hand, breaking and spreading his bones to make room for herself.
    He had grown used to the pain. His mangled hand and the torture it gave him was as much a part of him now as his eyes, ears, and mouth. It had gotten to the point that he couldn’t remember what it was like anymore, not to have it.
    â€œWhat are you doing? What are you— No! No—please!”
    Those people didn’t see Dave where he was sitting. His nook was too dark. But he saw them. More and more people were changing, doing things that good people shouldn’t do to each other.
    The woman’s cries became muffled as one of them, the man, covered her mouth with his hand. The other woman watched him suffocate the life out of the one he had in his arms. She didn’t even try to stop him. Dave turned his head, disgusted and uncomfortable at what was happening. He wished he were young again. He wished he could help her, to fight them off and save her, but he couldn’t. It was not his place to interfere.
    â€œGo ahead!” the man commanded of the woman next to him. “Do it!”
    â€œI … I don’t think … I can’t!” the woman sobbed. “You do it! I can’t!”
    He hit her with the back of his hand. “You’re starving, Sasha! We both are! If you don’t— I’ll feed on both of you if you don’t do this!”
    She shook her head.
    He bent down to the woman lying on the ground barely moving. Her legs shot out straight and stiff like logs. Her body convulsed, and a terrible gurgling sound escaped from her into the air.
    He jerked up, slinging blood that spilled across the other woman’s face. Dave saw her stick out her tongue and lick what she could from her lips, and then she moaned, raised the other woman’s arm to her face, and bit into her, tearing meat from her the way one would tear meat from a drumstick.
    Dave wasn’t surprised by what they’d done. He’d seen it before. Dave was nearly a hundred years old. He’d traveled from one end of this country to the next and back again, so of course he’d seen change—cars, the way people dressed, the way they spoke, lived, and died. For a while, he truly believed he’d seen it all. But of course no man can see it all, because no man can truly fathom what another man is capable of.
    The man watched the woman feed off of the one lying on the ground and then shifted his gaze over to the dark doorway where Dave huddled. He slowly stood up and stalked cautiously to where Dave was sitting. But Dave wasn’t afraid. He knew better than to be afraid, because she wasn’t finished with him yet. He hadn’t found the one she’d sent him to find, but he was close. He could feel it.
    The man knelt in front of Dave, grabbed Dave by his throat, and started to squeeze. Dave slowly raised his left hand toward the other man’s face. The pain of her power shot down Dave’s arm. Her heat glowed like a fire. The man stared, awed by her at first, but then his eyes bulged as he released his grip on Dave and shuffled away until his back pressed