Page 93 of Starside

Sword and soap in hand, I wade into the stream, toward a pool of water that barely moves.

I can’t use too much, or he’ll notice, I think, as I begin to scrub myself. I get my legs, then stomach, then remember the dirt that crusted my cheeks and rub the soap all over my hair and face.

I pause.

This soap—it’s the best smell I’ve ever encountered. Something in nature … something I can’t place.

I breathe it in deeply and sigh. The demon smells good.

Bastard.

With regret, I throw the soap onto the rocks. I wash the bubbles off my skin and tilt my head back, running my fingers through the knotted strands of my hair.

At some point, I realize I’m waist-deep in water … and I’m not afraid. My pulse isn’t racing. Before, I used to hesitate even being near bathhouses, not that there were many to speak of.

That fear has dimmed. And I hate that it’s because of him. Because he forced me to figure it out instead of carrying me through it, and I did.

I sigh, letting the water melt away my pain and anxiety and anger. It swirls effortlessly, beautifully, massaging my skin. I blink up at the moon, thinking I could learn to love this. I could so easily live here, and be among nature, and learn to swim.

But this is not my life. I’ve spent far too much time in this stream already. I sigh. Straighten.

And pause.

A man in dark armor stands there staring at me. No. Not just a man. Darkness crawls up his throat, across his cheeks. I remember the obsidian blood, from the creature of the night.

He’s a demon. That’s why he hasn’t reached me yet. That’s why he’s been waiting. Though his face doesn’t look as decrepit as the others did. It almost looks normal, with the exception of his black irises, and those veins.

Slowly, he extends his hand toward me. “Come.”

I just blink at him.

Maybe Raker is right. Maybe I am pathetic, and an idiot. Because for some reason I thought it was a good idea to have a bath at night, knowing very well what lurks in the darkness.

The stream was so close. I thought, between the waterfall and the pool, I would be safe. Cocooned between two water sources.

At my silence, the man takes a step forward. I flinch. The tip of his boot stops just short of the water.

He’s only a few feet from me. I back away a few steps, but the bottom slants, and I’m forced to stand my ground.

Raker’s horrible voice is in my head. You can’t even fucking swim.

I should have learned. I should have demanded Stellan teach me. But there were no bodies of water nearby. The springs all dried up decades ago. We lived far from the sea.

“Come. You will join them.”

“Join who?” I demand, water now up to my chin. My skin has erupted in chills. The previously refreshing water now feels ice-cold.

“The stolen brides,” he says simply.

Stolen brides? I start to laugh. The man doesn’t make a single movement. The idea that anyone would want me as their bride … the idea that someone would want a bride badly enough to steal them …

Wait. Is it the God of Death? Does this demon work with him?

Finally, the man’s eyes narrow at me. “I will wait.”

Fuck.

The water is freezing now. It’ll be hours before daylight. I consider my options.