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“Them? They’re Lonan’s. He draws from us as much as we draw from him. Blood, pain, death, destruction, anything that destroys feeds Lonan. Anyone stupid enough to try and take one of them would bring down the whole city.”
“Well, that sounds like a fucking brilliant plan,” Jack said. “Let’s activate the auto destruct sequence on the way out. No need for any of the soldier boys to get involved.”
“You don’t understand. Lonan is kept satisfied by what we bring him. You let him out of his cage, he’ll eat the world. This world, yours, all worlds. There is no stopping him. He is the destroyer. You’d be responsible for the massacre of all living things,” Sylvan said.
“Well, fuck.”
“We stick to the plan,” Finn said. “Jules, have something to eat. Yeah, I know you’re not feeling it, but it's been a few days of sparse meals and little sleep. Just eat and rest, for me. Adam said we need to start prepping the evening meal, so that’ll keep us busy here and away from what’s happening out there. No one goes out alone, y’hear me? No one. You go for a piss, there’s someone coming with you to hold your dick.”
“Ooh,” Jack said, giving Hawk a wink. “I like this plan, though I am wondering who’ll be holding your dick, Prince Perfect?”
“I trust any of my mates wi
th anything of mine, including my dick,” Finn shot back. “And considering I’ve seen quite a few of them in various states, including inside my other mates, the time for coyness is over.”
“Oh, OK.”
“I spoke to Adam and we’ll be going down to the cells for the evening meals. It’s when the men are returned from the breeding pens. We’ll take a look, but we might need to make a break for it tonight. We shouldn’t have come for the Longest Night. Adam talked about the festival, about what’s planned for the next few days. What’s happening in the banquet hall will only get more and more debauched in deference to the Black Wolf.”
I grabbed at the bucket, feeling my guts lurch at the memories of what had gone down in the banquet hall, but there was nothing left to come out.
Everyone’s eyes strayed to where Sylvan sat against the wall.
“What?” he snapped, meeting the gaze of each one of them, one by one. “You think I wanted to be here? I’m the conduit for that fucking thing downstairs, so I feel all the things those bastards do. I thought I had this all planned out, that I’d never have to feel that shit again, unless I was asleep. To go through Longest Night again…”
The seer’s eyes closed, and he rested his head back against the wall, his eyes quickly tightening.
“I’ve been the one caught between those wolves’ jaws on the main dais,” he said. “Each one of those fucks used me to unload into, over and over and over, until I wanted to be dead. And I’ve been the one doing the unloading. This place is fucked up beyond all recognition. I’ll get you and yours out, and then I’m gone from here. None of this is turning out the way I thought. Fuck the visions, fuck this place, and fuck Lonan most of all.” The ground rumbled underneath us, sending us leaping for something to grab onto. “I just want out.”
The rest of the day was quiet and monotonous. Basting, turning, resting, rinse and repeat. For a while, I rested my head against the wall and tried to snooze, and Brandon moved in to provide a softer surface to lie on. I let his arms encircle me despite the heat, needing that comfort. With the rhythmic grind of the spits turning and the peace, it didn’t take long for me to drop off.
I floated, soft and weightless on a big fluffy cloud, the breeze gentle as it washed over me, keeping me the perfect temperature. The cloud was soft, so soft, which was interesting for a big mass of water vapour. I snuggled down into it, burrowing my face in the plush surface, willing my mind to go still and quiet. Instead, it spoke up.
Watch.
I opened my eyes in protest, pretty sure no dream was worth whatever my subconscious wanted to show me. I just wanted long, featureless nothing for a bit.
Watch, it insisted, so I pulled myself over to the edge and looked down.
Leifgart spread like a poisonous stain across the land below, the bright green surrounding it almost struggling to retain its vibrancy against the sullen blackness of the city. People moved like ants, scurrying around it, too small to be able to tell what exactly they were doing. As if in response to that thought, we zoomed in.
I was glad I was hovering above it all.
The description Finn had given was nothing compared to watching whatever the hell Longest Night was. There was no religious festival, no carrying of effigies or laying offerings at the feet of their gods—or rather there was, in a particularly Volken way.
They boiled out of the building the banquet had been held in like a swarm of angry ants. Initially just as small, as we got closer and closer, we saw it. Torches that had been brought out purposefully were lit, some put to the closest building, the ornately carved wood catching fire fairly quickly. Others were tossed into windows and doorways, the subsequent conflagration taking a little longer to start.
But start it did. Volken dragged out possessions, theirs or others, and started dumping it in piles, then setting that alight as well. Some protested, clinging to this thing or that, but their brothers soon showed them the error of their ways. Crystals flared red as fists were driven into their faces or limbs were pinned to sides, turning those abused men into meat, just like the rest of the charnel house.
Servants who’d scurried around to clean and cook and sew and fix for the Volken were rudely ripped from their tasks. Whatever tools or products they’d been working on were tossed away. They were not valued for their labour anymore. In a society that routinely took what it had built and razed it to the ground, creators were no longer of use.
Creators and destroyers, I thought, remembering Finn’s words back at Slade’s mating party. No matter which camp you sorted the members of my pack into, they had nothing on these guys.
Wicked knives, swords, bows and arrows, and guns all tore through the screaming, crying servant class. Sometimes to strip them bare so a more intimate destruction could be wreaked on their bodies. Others carved their menials up like one would slaughter an animal, slicing their throats and, as their hands went to the gaping wounds, stabbing them through their hearts. Limbs were hacked off for no other reason than the wild grins on the Volken’s face, then tossed on the now burning piles of Leifgart detritus.
Living in the country, I was all too aware of dogs gone bad. Prompted by instincts gone haywire or just pure thrill killing, I’d seen those dogs that tore through a paddock of sheep, ripping the throats out of the poor bleating animals, over and over. Not for food, not because they were a threat, but for the simple, brutal pleasure of it. I watched the horde spread out beyond the wall that ringed Leifgart, which was beginning to crumble under the onslaught, and into the farms and homes beyond.
I scanned the fields, sure that this would be the point it would stop. No food, no Volken, and they sure as hell wouldn’t be the ones to work the land. But god, I was wrong.
