The entire prologue of my book Splintertown, which is on sale for only $1 all month!
PART 1
DEATH
Prologue
Everybody has secrets. Secrets are a side effect of life. But where some people have tiny earthwormlike secrets-harmless, perhaps even useful things wriggling around in their hearts, some people have massive tapeworm-secrets living inside them. These secrets aren’t good for much, they do almost nothing but steal energy, time, morals and sometimes bits of one’s soul. But they’re worth keeping around because when extracted, they are the perfect bait for big fish.
Big fish such as Judge Nai of the town of Naralaky. Tapeworm-secrets were her business and everyone knew it, even if they didn’t know she was a judge. Her dark brown eyes were often narrowed beneath her furrowed black brows, her thin lips turned often downward. Her lips only really moved upwards in a smile-a true, loving smile-when she was in the presence of her wife, which was only really in the privacy of their shared home. A shame, really, since Judge Nai was a beautiful woman, and her showstopping smile was the final touch that made her look radiant. She was plump, with brown skin and long black hair that she rarely tied back, letting it flow freely down her back, it shone in perfect unison with her jeweled rings and polished red judge robes. Her hands were neat and clean, and it was easy to imagine that she would slice open her prisoners and extract their tapeworm-secrets with terrifying precision and calm, then wash her hands of the mess and call it a day.
There was a time when no one in Naralaky could imagine her doing such a thing, but the times had changed. She was a woman now, a woman with a town to protect.
And protecting the town meant dealing with the prisoners.
Naralaky had enjoyed the safety of a low crime rate for many, many years. But ever since a deeply unfortunate…incident about a year or so back, the crime rate had begun to creep up a little.
Now, Naralaky had a violent prisoner in its jail for the first time in over a decade.
The lone guard posted at the jail door gave her a curt nod as she opened the heavy door for her.
Naralaky’s position nestled among desert mountains meant that buildings of heavy stone like the jail grew to be agonizingly stuffy. As she made her way through the dark hallways, past empty cells, sweat was already gathering a little on her brow. She stupidly wished this place had more windows and fresh air, but if it did, it wouldn’t be a jail at all.
She stopped in front of a cell where a person sat.
In the distance, the guard slammed the door shut with a terrifying thud that reverberated through the whole building, but did nothing to rouse the prisoner slumped against the far wall of the cell.
The judge walked up to the cell bars and cleared her throat.
The prisoner remained as limp as a discarded ragdoll.
She cleared her throat once more.
Still nothing.
“Excuse me, the judge would like to speak with you now.”
The judge leaned closer to inspect the prisoner for any signs of life.
The prisoner was a scrawny woman in stained brown clothes whose age was almost impossible to determine. Her bruised face was wrinkled and her shoulder-length hair was pure gray, but those could’ve been the result of a stressful life spent evading the law.
A tattoo of a coyote stood out boldly against her pale, sweating forearm. Her already white skin had lost an unhealthy amount of color, a result of her ancestry, living in the shadows, and the infected-looking wound on her left leg.
She did not appear to be breathing. The judge couldn’t even make out a twitch in the nostrils of her small narrow nose.
Time for an unfortunate last resort.
The judge walked over to the empty cell across from the one occupied by the prisoner, opened it, picked up the empty waste bucket, walked back up to the prisoner’s cell, and slammed the wooden bucket against the cell bars with a grunt.
The prisoner jolted awake with a yelp.
The judge smirked a little at the stunned look on her face.
“I’ve seen children play dead better than you.” It was a lie, but the anger that flashed across the prisoner’s face was very real, and that made the judge’s smirk grow.
The prisoner sighed and rolled her eyes like an annoyed teenager. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. No, I will not tell you anything. No, I do not know anything about whatever harebrained scheme you think I’m involved with. No, none of my plans involved your weird little town. No, I don’t want to be executed. Happy?”
The judge raised her eyebrows.
“What, you don’t think I haven’t been imprisoned before? I’ve been doing this job longer than you’ve been alive.”
That caught the judge’s attention. “What is your job, precisely?”
“What makes you think I’ll tell you?”
“I’ll tell the guards to withhold your food and water until you tell me.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Am I?” The judge raised an eyebrow.
The prisoner fell silent, scowling. The judge could see how much she had been sweating.
The judge took a step away from the cell and turned, preparing to walk away.
“Wait, wait!” she yelped. “Wait.”
The judge turned around slowly. “Yes?”
“Fine, I’ll talk. I don’t feel like dying of thirst today.” She snarled. Then she took a deep breath and smoothed her features into grim acceptance. “Come here.”
The judge obeyed the command of her prisoner, the first time that had ever happened.
“So, your town’s got a bit of a nasty history, doesn’t it?” The prisoner pointed to the east, indicating the door to the jail and the wider world. “Loads of Nocturnals living in those mountains and caves close by. Where most people would accept the creatures as their neighbors, you try to forcibly isolate yourself from them. Is it true that the citizens of Naralaky themselves forced the local dreameaters to live in the underground caves all those decades ago? No, I doubt that’s true. This town’s too small to have that much influence. But my point still stands.”
“What is your point? What does this have to do with your arrest?”
“I’m getting to it. Sheesh, you young people, so impatient.”
“Anyway, now you’re building a wall around the whole town…? To keep Nocturnals and even other humans out? Strange idea, but who am I to stop you? Uh, anyway, back to what this has to do with my arrest. “
“I’ve been going through a tough time financially. My- my business partner passed a while ago. Natural causes. Ever since then, it’s been really difficult to get consistent customers and keep my business afloat. I used to be able to find consistent work in one area, but recently I’ve had to travel. For work.”
“Looking for work?” The Judge ventured.
“For work.” The prisoner said firmly, not elaborating. “Recently, my line of work led me to passing through Naralaky. Which is how we ended up unfortunately crossing paths.”
“You were arrested for violently attempting to steal a necklace.”
“Violently? All I did was threaten to break the lady’s bones! I’m starting to realize why you want the wall so badly. You people are too fragile to survive in the wider world.”
The judge ignored that. At least I have more information now.
“I will ask you once more: what is your work, and why did it call you to pass through our town?”
The prisoner scowled.
Then she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Her hand moved to the hip of her wounded leg. Then she spoke with the finality of someone testing deep and dangerous waters.
“My job is slitting people’s throats.”
The judge froze.
“Is that so?”
“Why would I tell a lie that would get me an even harsher sentence?”
“So you planned to kill someone in Naralaky?”
“No. I was just passing through. But my last client didn’t pay much, so when I saw that necklace I couldn’t help myself.”
A hint of regret and self-loathing slipped into the prisoner’s tone. She moved her jaw around a little, as if weighing the words in her mouth before she said them.
“If my business partner were here, she’d rightfully be angry with me. She’d be nagging my ear off about this. ‘Letting yourself get caught because of a necklace of all things? Really, Marsamella, really?’ she always said really twice when she was mad.”
“Your name is Marsamella?”
The prisoner froze, her eyes bulging as if she’d suddenly realized she’d swallowed a live bird. “No.”
The lie was so obvious she wanted to laugh. Instead she shook her head.
“Another mistake your business partner would berate you for, it seems.”
“Yeah. She was a real thinker. Thought all the time. I know technically everyone thinks all the time, but she was just one of those people who spends hours thinking her thoughts and doing so in a way that made them seem important. Always made her seem like she’d thought everything through. I never learned from her. Never learned how to think, or how to pretend to think. And now I’m in jail over a necklace.”
A long and peculiar silence stretched out between them, filled with the understanding of grief.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” The judge said, surprised by her own words and how genuinely she meant them.
Marsamella said nothing, looking at the floor. Her jaw was clenched.
Perhaps the grief clouding her judgment led to her arrest. She thought, and just like that, the spell was broken. They were no longer a person grieving and a person trying to comfort, but a judge standing in front of a prisoner.
She cleared her throat. For some reason, Marsamella took this as a cue to keep talking instead of to shut up.
“She didn’t fight Death when Death came for her. I think that’s because she recognized her face. All assassins are warned to look away from the flickers of Death’s face you see, but my business partner didn’t look away as often as she should have. She says she fell in love a little with Death, from what she saw.” She sighed. “It was so sappy. Just like her. She got all the softness in the family. Sucked it all out of our mother. But make no mistake, she could slide that blade right over someone’s throat like nobody’s business. She would sneak up behind you just like Death. Was she trying to emulate and impress her lover? Who knows. Who knows.”
“Did she tell you what Death looked like?” Goosebumps were now prickling over the judge’s skin in spite of the oppressive heat of the building.
“She said Death looks like the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. Her beauty is so intoxicating nobody can look away.” Marsamella chuckled a little. “I fought her a bit on that. You know, cause if nobody can look away from Death’s beautiful face, then how come vampires can be brought back from the dead by another vampire? She never answered my question. And now she never will.”
“Well, you will get to find out for yourself soon enough.”
“You’re going to execute me?” Marsamella didn’t sound that surprised.
“No.”
Then the judge turned around and left.
“Why didn’t you execute her?” Leeva, the judge’s wife asked, surprised.
“Her story of Death reminded me of-of an old childhood tale a friend once told me.” her gaze hardened. “And judging by the state of the wound on her leg, Death will come for her soon enough.”
“Good gods.”
Death did not come soon. Death abstained, taking Her sweet time, allowing Marsamella to struggle upright and begin playing with the lock keeping her cell shut. Death waited, allowing Marsamella to successfully pick the lock with a sneer. Death watched as Marsamella crawled painstakingly slowly out of her cell under the cover of darkness, using her skills honed by years of assassinating to sneak past the snoring guards. Death got a little closer, but still did not touch her, as she snapped the branch off of a scraggly tree and used it as a walking stick to keep weight off of her bad leg as she snuck through the streets of the sleeping town. Death listened to the music of Marsamella’s weakening body: the fierce drumbeats of her pulse and footsteps, the violin-screech of her ragged wheezes, the occasional gurgle from her guts, as she doggedly made her way towards the mountains and hills. Death crept a little closer, becoming more energized, as Marsamella, by some miracle, made her way up a mountain and into the mouth of a cave.
Both Marsamella and Death made their way underground, taking deep breaths of the familiar air. They were both known down here. Marsamella had a handful of friends. Death did not. Death was both reviled and revered in this place. She was seen this way everywhere, but especially in the realm of vampires.
There were not many vampires gathered here now, mostly just dreameaters. Vampires and dreameaters shared an almost symbiotic relationship, a result of their shared nocturnal nature.
Where are the vampires? I need a vampire. Marsamella thought.
But there were none as far as she could see, almost like they were repelled by her. They probably were, wary of her infected stink.
“Are you all right?” A breathy male voice asked. It was a dreameater man. He looked perfectly human, save for his massive eyes, strange and sharp teeth, and the fact that he seemed to be able to walk while hardly making a sound.
“Where can I find a vampire?” She rasped. Her voice sounded hideous, even to her own ears.
He took a step back, alarmed. “Uhhh, try over there?” he pointed to the west, towards a tunnel.
“Thanks.”
“Do you need help?”
“I’m fine.” she grunted.
“Really, it’s kind of far, I can help you-”
“I don’t need help.”
She didn’t hear what he said after that, what he shouted to her back as she walked away. She couldn’t focus on many noises anymore, but she did register the sound of footsteps trailing very closely behind hers. It was odd, given that her limp was forcing her to go so slowly, and yet the person behind her had an even and strong gait. They should have been passing her.
And yet they stayed behind her, following her like a dog.
“How did you get those bruises?” An unfamiliar voice asked. She knew it was the person behind her, because the voice came from behind her. And from her left. And from her right. And from in front of her too.
Man, she needed to find those vampires and their tunnels, or else she was done for.
How long was this godsdamn tunnel?
“How did you get those bruises?” the voice asked again. It was a woman’s voice. For a split second she thought she felt a cold finger grazing the swollen skin of her bruised cheek.
“Leave me alone.”
“Did you get them in a fight? As a killer for hire, you must’ve gotten into a lot of fights.”
“I did.” she said in response to both statements.
“Did you win?”
“Yeah. I sent that wretched, good-for-nothing fool running away screaming.”
“You’re lying.”
Marsamella was lying. She’d been the one to run away screaming from that fight. But she’d left her marks. Oh yes, she’d left her mark. They’d regret crossing her. They’d never forget her, never.
“Of all the people you want to remember you, why them?” The voice asked, as pleasantly curious as if they were inquiring about her favorite foods. The combination of the question and the tone made Marsamella uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t explain.
Or maybe that was because she was beginning to get a pounding headache.
“I want them to remember me ‘cause I hurt them. I want them to think of me and remember pain.”
“A lot of people remember you this way, you know.”
“Good. That’s what we always wanted to do, me and Euliry. That’s my sister.” Marsamella started to feel her sentences falling apart, her thoughts becoming blurry, flickery.
How long was this godsdamned tunnel? She thought again.
“This tunnel is not very long, but you are walking very slowly due to your injuries. It will take some time for you to reach your desired destination. We have plenty of time to talk.” The voice was still calm and pleasant.
Marsamella smiled. “You wanna keep talking to me?”
“Only if you want to keep talking.”
“So polite. Nobody’s ever flirted with me this politely before.”
The voice laughed. A rapid, ragged noise that sounded almost like an imitation of a sob. Huh-hu-huh. It was certainly not a sound someone made in the middle of normal (possibly flirtatious) conversation.
Well, Marsamella had always preferred her partners as weird as she was.
She opened her mouth to speak, but the voice cut her off, continuing in a smooth and calm voice.
“You really are a lot like your sister. She flirted with me all the time.”
The voice was a lot closer now.
Marsamella wiped some sweat out of her eyes, and found her companion was now standing next to her.
Even out of the corner of Marsamella’s eye, she could see that she was beautiful.
“I can see why my sister flirted with you. You’re-you’re-yeah.”
The woman laughed again, more of a giggle this time. Still a strange, rapid, sound.
“I miss her.” Marsamella said, feeling the familiar pain beginning to well up inside her.
“I know. She misses you too.”
“I miss her for all the right reasons and all the wrong ones.”
“The wrong ones?”
“Without her, I can’t do anything. I lost two fights and got arrested since she died. Nobody wants to hire me. When they want to hire The Slitter Sisters to do their killing, they want The Slitter Sisters. They don’t want just one sister, some injured loser named Marsamella. Marsamella! Would you hire a killer named Marsamella?”
“I don’t need to hire anybody. I take all the lives myself.”
Marsamella tried to hide the fact that she swooned a little. Both because of her injuries, and her growing feelings for this woman.
“And,” the other woman continued. “I have found, in my experience, that people tend to vastly underestimate what they perceive to be innocent or weak.” she shook her head. “Some people have such myopic views of the world. Weak, strong, smart, stupid, cruel, caring…it’s all a mix, and forever changing. You are all forever changing.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” Marsamella paused. “Once I was strong, now I am weak. Once I was loved, now I am lonely.”
“I can change that.” the woman said. She took two striding footsteps. Then she was in front of her, leaning close. She was so close she could’ve kissed Marsamella’s lips.
They were the same height, she now realized. Staring into her blue eyes-no. Brown eyes. No, green eyes. Wait, hazel eyes? Whatever. Staring into her opponent’s eyes, she realized-
She realized-
Her knees grew weak.
“Getting nervous, Marsamella? That’s all right. Everyone is nervous their first time.”
She was nervous. Terribly nervous, but at the same time terribly calm.
The woman’s lips were beautiful. Marsamella couldn’t tell you what they looked like, but they were the most beautiful, kissable lips she’d ever seen in her long life. She knew she would never see lips-or a woman this beautiful- ever again.
She closed her eyes.
She leaned forward.
The woman reacted slowly. She placed her hands on Marsamella’s shoulders. Her hands were cold.
“Can I open my eyes?” Marsamella whispered. “Can I see you, just one last time?”
“Of course.”
Marsamella opened her eyes. The woman’s face was mind-meltingly beautiful, even though she didn’t have one anymore.
“My gods.”
“That’s what they all say.”
“I know.”
She understood why Euliry claimed to have fallen in love with Death now. She understood a lot of things now.
“Close your eyes and kiss me, my beautiful Marsamella.”
Marsamella, never one to refuse an invitation from a beautiful woman, obeyed.
The Local Death sighed, exhaling Marsamella’s soul to let her journey to the hereafter. They sighed again, letting Their physical form loosen at the seams. Having a physical form to touch the living with was fun, sometimes, She enjoyed being seen as something the living called androgynous but enjoyed being seen as something called a woman even more. But either way, it couldn’t last.
Which was a bit of a tragedy, seeing as this area was so interesting, especially to a young Death like Herself.
I suppose all Deaths feel that way about their assigned areas. They thought. The world was far too large and ancient for a single embodiment of Death to handle all souls, so every significantly large enough portion of land was given a Death every few centuries. Sometimes two or more Deaths were even given to the same place in the event of extreme tragedies.
While the tragedies that took place here were not as extreme as, say, the giant boulder that fell from the sky and killed all the giant lizards several millennia ago (that had happened before The Local Death had even been conceived, but the event still fascinated them. They sometimes wondered what it was like to be a Death during those times, collecting the souls of those creatures); but they were still tragedies.
They would grow less sensitive towards these tragedies as the decades went on and She became as neutral and uninterested in the living as Their elders. But until that day, They would love to observe the living.
As a Death, They knew all the ways every single living thing in Her area would meet their end, and all the near-death experiences they would have along the way (and the actual-but temporary-deaths they would have, in the case of vampires). The near-death experiences and brushes with death fascinated Them the most. With dying, there was nothing really left but the hereafter. But a near-death experience, or a death that was not permanent? Now that was interesting.
She reached out, probing all the living things in these caves and on the Surface, seeing all the ways They would touch them. An almost fatal fall, old age, an accident caused by a contraption that hasn’t been invented yet, heart attack, falling rock, stroke, infection, and-oh.
There were three of them, no, more, all fated to have an extremely unique brush with death. A vampire (or multiple, She wasn’t sure), had already died and had already set things in motion.
Well. I cannot wait for this to play out.