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the wagon. Once out of sight of the village, he whipped the horses into speed. Daylight was
coming.
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Although the roadside shrine they found down a side road looked ancient, as if untended
and unvisited for years, Rashed clearly did not like the tenuous state of their situation. He
raged over the idea of Teesha sleeping somewhere so insecure. When Parko caught up with
them just before sunrise, his face and hands were covered in blood, and he no longer
cackled and smiled as usual.
Rashed was furious at his brother and actually shouted at him. Parko merely backed into
a corner with his pouch of soil, his eyes unblinking as he glared at Rashed. Ratboy
suspected Parko had acted from spite, sick of being restrained and forced to continually
repress his natural drives and instincts. And Ratboy, as well, wondered what it would be
like to let go, to revel in a kill as Parko had done. Parko was still glaring at his brother
when Ratboy finally closed his eyes much later and tried to rest.
Teesha kept her own council where Rashed s brother was concerned, but Ratboy could
feel tension building in the group. He himself felt torn. At times, he did feel Parko was too
wild, but Teesha and Rashed were certainly too tame. Three nights after the inn incident,
Rashed stopped the wagon at midnight near a small village so they could hunt. Teesha sat
in the wagon for a little while, gazing at trails of smoke rising over the trees from the little
huts, her expression wistful.
Rashed, how far is it to the ocean? she asked. I m so tired. Will we find our own home
soon?
Rashed was standing on the ground, strapping on his sword. He quickly climbed back in
the wagon and sat beside her.
We have a long way to travel yet, but we have the maps I took from the keep. Before we
sleep in the morning, I ll show you where we are and where the ocean is. His voice was
concerned and tender.
Suddenly Parko howled in rage.
Home! Ocean! he shouted. His black eyes turned toward Teesha. You! White flesh
seemed stretched over his thin face, and his uncombed hair stood out in several directions.
No home, he said. Hunt!
Pain registered on Rashed s face. And it was not lost on Parko, who turned and ran into
the forest.
Rashed looked at Ratboy. Will you go with him? Make sure he doesn t do anything to
endanger the rest of us?
Their leader rarely asked Ratboy for anything. So, Ratboy nodded and slipped into the
trees after Parko. Actually, it was a relief to be running through the woods after Parko,
leaving Rashed and Teesha in their own private world.
Ratboy reached out with his mind and tried to locate Parko as Rashed had done, but he
could sense nothing. Instead, he resorted to mundane methods of tracking. Parko was in
such a fit he d left a trail that was easy to follow. It wasn t long before Ratboy caught up
with his charge behind a patch of small trees on the far side of the village. He crouched
down beside Parko.
You see something? he asked.
Blood, Parko answered.
Even at this late hour, a small band of teenage boys was sitting outside what appeared to
be a stable. They were laughing and passing a jug among themselves. They had probably
stolen some ale or whiskey and were feeling quite rebellious. The sight of them actually
brought back memories of the life Ratboy had left far behind, long ago. He d done the
same thing in his youth often enough.
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No, Parko, he said. There are too many, and they re out in the open. One of them
would raise an alarm. We ll look elsewhere.
Parko turned to him.
You are not Rashed, he said with surprising clarity. We kill. We hunt. We fear no calls
to alarm. We fear no boys. No men. He looked back at the drinking band of teenagers.
You should not be like Rashed. Drink with me.
Without another word, he darted from the treeline. Startled, Ratboy watched him move
silently and swiftly along the stable s side. Uncertain, Ratboy followed him, until they
stopped at the corner.
The boys were almost close enough to touch now. Ratboy could hear every word they
were saying, mainly complaints about their fathers, interspersed with laughter and gulps
of liquid. He could smell the contents of the jug whiskey.
In a flash, Parko was gone, and then Ratboy heard laughter silenced as it turned to
screams.
Hungry, excited, Ratboy stepped out from the corner of the stable to see three boys lying
dead on the ground, their necks broken, and Parko drinking from the throat of a boy with
dirty-blond hair. The boy was still alive and flailing his arms in terror.
A short, slightly pudgy boy with dark hair stood screaming. Why didn t he run? Ratboy
felt free. He wasn t like Rashed. He was like Parko, and he grabbed the screaming boy and
drove both fangs straight into his neck, closing his teeth over the plump throat until the
boy was choked into silence. Fear and blood from his victim seeped into him in equal
measures, and he felt euphoric, so alive.
Shouts from deeper voices began sounding down the street. Ratboy drank his fill and
then dropped the body to the ground with a thud. He knew he should run. Common sense
told him he should run, but he didn t.
Parko finished with the blond boy and laughed.
Instead of dropping the carcass, he began dancing, capering with it. Covered in blood, his
black eyes wide, he looked completely mad, but Ratboy didn t care. He laughed as well.
Two grown men with wooden pitchforks came around the corner and halted in shock,
then one jabbed his pronged tool at Ratboy. The man looked more frightened than fierce.
Ratboy simply feinted around the pitchfork, and tore the man s throat open with his
fingernails.
He watched with pleasure as realization, and then horror, dawned on the mortal s face
and the pitchfork tumbled from the man s hand as he clutched his gaping wound. Ratboy
heard a crack behind him and turned to see Parko dropping the second man s body to the
ground.
Parko seemed to be in the mood for breaking necks.
Ratboy wanted to laugh aloud again. They were invincible, free. Why had they ever feared
discovery from these mortals?
Then movement caught his eye. Rashed was standing one arm s length away in absolute
disbelief. His mouth was even opened slightly.
Euphoria faded. Five dead boys and two men lay on the ground around them. Other
villagers must be aware but hiding.
Rashed seemed to search for words. What have you done?
By way of answer, Parko hissed at him like an animal. Rashed closed the distance
between them in two steps and swung hard with his fist.
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Ratboy had never seen Rashed hit his brother. He didn t think Rashed capable. As the fist
connected with his jaw, Parko crumpled and dropped. Parko tried to rise up, and Rashed
struck him again, so hard that his brother flew backward and smashed through the outer
railing of the stable. Parko lay still and silent in straw and mud.
Rashed grabbed his brother s limp body by the leg, and jerked him out onto the road.
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