Page 3 of Caught in the Devil’s Hand

“Wipe your dirty feet on the towel here. Goodness, Shumei, will you never improve your appearance with a simple pair of shoes?” he asked with a smile. She hoped the sting of his jibe didn’t show on her face, and couldn’t help curling her shoulders inward, as if that would make the insults bounce off her. She would gladly garb herself better if she were paid properly for her and her mother’s hard work, but the village would never pay them any better than they did now. She would never be able to “improve her poor appearance.”

As it was, her feet were covered with thick calluses and caked with mud that only temporarily came off when she scrubbed them with sand from the riverbed when bathing. Her wavy hair, without the luxury of anything but the harshest soap, was rough and impossible to comb when the only tool she had was missing half its teeth.

Kimen knew she was too underpaid to afford shoes, yet he still insulted her. With no way to talk back, however, she silently and obediently wiped her mud-encrusted feet on a damp towel pulled taunt over a block of wood to the right of the door.

“Where is the mistress?” she asked, fighting to keep calm. “I have her medicine.”

“Ah, then you should know that today’s weather is particularly harsh on my dear wife. She’s still in bed but will join us soon, child. Let us have some tea while we wait on her.” He gestured her forward.

The smooth wooden floor Kimen stood upon was a small step up into their home from the entryway, and she could smell the sweet fragrance of a previously prepared pot of tea. They had such a lovely house, with small but pretty paintings and modest but comfortable furnishings. She hated how much she wished for something similar.

“As you’ve surely heard, Leader Kimen, my family has the Burning. I beg you to take the medicine now and let me leave with the fee so I can buy meat for them and help them survive this critical stage.”

“Oh, a few minutes won’t hurt, dear child. And we’ve things to discuss. Come in, have some tea, and I may let you go unscathed.” His choice of words was not lost on her. She shuddered, an irrepressible flush of anger rising to her face. He would try it again today. She prayed his wife was hurrying her morning routine to interfere. Unfortunately, though, she may not even know Shumei had arrived.

Reluctantly, Shumei stepped into the leader’s home and followed him to the warm parlor by the entrance. A small ceramic pot, steaming with hot tea, already sat next to three small cups on a low table in the middle of the room. He had been waiting for her. The thick, woven rug felt blissful beneath her calloused feet. Kimen bade her to sit, and she gratefully knelt to sit upon her heels. Kimen sat diagonal from her on a cushion.

“How is your mother, Shumei?” he asked, a bit of hope lighting his eyes. She knew it was not hope for her mother’s recovery.

“Unfortunately, the disease has progressed with her. I shall try my utmost to keep her alive today, once I have finished delivering medicine,” she explained slowly, hoping her urgent need to return home would penetrate his thick skull.

He frowned insincerely and tsked. “Her chances are slim, my dear. I’m sorry for the loss you’re about to experience, and I would implore you to consider your next step after she passes. Akki and I know of a small handful of—well, somewhat reluctant men who are willing to take you to wife. You should consider their offers.”

Shumei made the vulgar gesture with her right hand again, clenching her jaw. When her mother had first become ill, Shumei had known Mama’s chance of survival was about one in five. She was nothing if not realistic. While her mother battled the disease, she had been preparing herself for the worst, if only to be brave in front of her fellow villagers, who were undoubtedly cackling with delight to hear a crow might die. She believed herself ready to accept what the leader predicted, but never would she give up hope.

“My mother may still recover,” she bit out despite herself. “And even if she passed, I still wouldn’t be ready for marriage.” Realizing the level of her anger, she ducked her head to hide her face, and briefly closed her eyes to chide herself. Even if Kimen had been rude, as he always was, she couldn’t let herself take his bait. She surmised that worry over her family had made her flippant.

The leader didn’t respond at first. She didn’t want to look up at him, for that would make matters worse, and hoped he didn’t start lecturing her on her lack of humility.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he purred, putting her on her guard. She lifted her head a degree and stiffened as Kimen sidled toward her. “You’re aware of how greatly I desire you.” He spoke in a greedy whisper, leaning close to place his lips near her ear. She darted a glance at his wrinkly hand on her thigh and clutched her medicine bag to her chest.

“I-If I am to remain fit for marriage, I cannot accept your…advances. Besides, you are married, sir,” she reminded him.

He pressed closer, pushing his pelvis against her hip. She suppressed a gasp, fearing the hardness against her backside. His tongue flicked out to leave a glob of his disgusting saliva in her ear, and she jerked her head away from his touch. Her hopes for his wife to appear snowballed until all she desired to hear was Akki stomping down the hall.

“Akki wouldn’t know. I’d even compensate you for your time. You would like to eat more meat, wouldn’t you?” She tried to lean away from him, but he pulled her body closer between his spindly thighs. “And I’d be more than willing, for you, to spill my purifying seed into your evil little pussy. Shumei, I could save your soul if you let me fuck you,” he said, horrifying her with his confusing declarations. She knew of a physical act between married people, but he was using words she’d never heard before.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, nor do I care to find out.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that. You know exactly what I’m talking about, don’t you, Shumei?” He began grinding against her. “Like this, right? I pump my cock, and you moan like the wanton little witch you are.”

“Stop it,” she whispered vehemently, doing her best to put space between them. She tried to pull away, keeping her pouch close to her chest.

Heavy footfalls sounded from the opposite side of the house. Shumei gave a loud sigh of relief, never so glad for Akki’s impending presence. Kimen was quick to put himself on the other side of the table. In record time, he straightened his robes and reverted to looking as innocent as possible.

“This discussion isn’t over yet,” he softly promised, catching her gaze for a fleeting second before Akki walked into the room.

“Why didn’t you tell me my medicine was here?” she shrieked at her husband.

“My dear, I wanted to let you rest a bit longer,” he cajoled, coming to a stand with a hastiness that was damning. Shumei could sense Akki’s deadly glare. She could feel little pricks of suspicion and hate upon her bowed head.

“I’ll rest better when I’ve had my medicine,” Akki scathingly replied, stomping forward. She reached down and jabbed two fingers into Shumei’s shoulder, her cue to bring out the medicine. Shumei quickly dug through her pouch to retrieve a larger cloth bag with seven small packets inside. “Pour the tea, you lazy bag of lard.”

Kimen was quick to comply, and Akki yelped in pain as she struggled to kneel upon the cushion he’d vacated.

“Shall I add the medicine, Madam Akki?” Shumei asked only as loud as the huffing woman needed to hear her.

“With my hands the way they are, you stupid child, of course I want you to put the medicine in,” she spat.