It made him different from them, which was easier for her eyes to digest.
Perhaps it was because he was covered in lizard scales and obviously had a tail like one, but she’d expected him to be cold. Instead, his body was so hot that he’d begun to warm her wet cloth as she’d been wiping him.
She didn’t like his voice, though.
There was something about it. Something that vibrated bass through her flesh and sunk all the way down to her bones. It sounded monstrous, inhuman, and had made the little hairs on her body stand on end. It was as though it was split between three deep tones, one that always had an underline of threat and became frightful when he somehow made it boom.
It hadn’t been enough to stop her from trying to help him in some small way.
It was probably pointless. He likely thought she was a heartless cow like the woman in front of her, but that couldn’t be any further from the truth.
She cared. Even more so when Wren looked up from her letter and rolled her eyes once Emerie was done telling her of what she’d learned.
Wren slid back her chair with a grating, skin-crawling scrape and stood, acquiring a book from a shelf behind her. She threw it on the table in front of Emerie.
“Open it to June twenty-third, two thousand and eighteen,” she demanded as she sat back down to continue her letter.
Doing as she was told, Emerie opened the journal to the date, and silently read it. There were careless ink blots on the page, and the writing was messy, as though the person had been shaky or intoxicated when writing.
I lost a quarter of my members today. Good men and women. All because I allowed a Demon to enter my stronghold.
Emerie quickly flicked back to the beginning of the book to note that it was a copy of the diary belonging to the Head Elder from the western sector.
It was living among us for a year. Apprentice Charles looked like a human. His fucking face looked human, but we’d never seen him without his uniform on. It was only once we killed him and removed his clothing to clean him for the funeral pyre that we noticed the Demon void patches of skin. It must have been him. Charles was the one who opened the gates to allow through a team of Demons.
I can’t believe I sat and ate with him in the hall. That I didn’t question why most of his teams would die, but not him. I just thought he was an excellent soldier, ready to move through the ranks.
They’re beginning to look and act so much like us that we can’t even trust our fellow members.
They’re growing intelligent.
They’re learning.
Soon enough, humanity will be dead.
From this day forward, we’ll be doing a physical examination of all applicants, and a yearly one, to ensure they haven’t tricked us.
So many died because of my carelessness. Never again.
Emerie turned her eyes away from the diary to find Wren watching her. Her elbows were pressed against the table, while her clasped hands hid her lips.
“They can’t be trusted,” Wren stated, her dark-blue eyes flicking between Emerie’s. “Whatever that Duskwalker told you, it’s probably a lie.”
Emerie placed the book on the table. “We’ve always known that Demons and Duskwalkers are different.”
“And yet they both eat and hunt humans,” Wren countered. “They could be working on the same side. He could be lying so he can be freed.”
“What if he’s not?”
“Say we do decide to aid him,” Wren started, leaning back in her chair and placing her clasped hands on the table. “Can you wear the burden if we call the entire eastern sector army into the Veil, only to find out that it’s an ambush? The Demons outnumber us. When there are a few of them, we can handle it, but if this is nothing more than a trick, the entire eastern side of Austrális could face being overrun because you have decided to trust a monster.”
It was hard to deny how valid Wren’s point of view was.
Emerie scratched at the back of her head through her Demonslayer hood in annoyance.
“I’m not saying we should follow him to the Veil.” Emerie sighed, shaking her head. “But what if he’s telling the truth? We would be torturing a creature that sought aid. Does that not feel wrong to you?”
“No,” Wren retorted. “I don’t care what his reasons for coming here were, whether they were noble or despicable. We are the first sector to ever capture a Duskwalker. This may be humankind’s only chance to learn about them, and how to kill them.”
“So, you’re justifying this because of morbid curiosity and justice?” Emerie gave a dark laugh, as spite and hatred boiled in her chest. Before too long, those emotions would bubble over and spill.
“I’m justifying this for the greater good of humankind. The Duskwalkers are just as much our enemy as the Demons, and even though there are far fewer of them, they are ten times stronger. They can, and have, decimated entire towns on their own. If we learn how they work, how to kill them, it might be the key to unlocking a way to save hundreds, if not thousands, of people.”
“You’ve already opened him up!” Emerie shouted, slamming her fist against the table. “What more can you possibly learn beyond that? Keeping him locked up in that dungeon–”
Wren’s cheeks twitched with dark humour at Emerie’s outrage, while a fierce glint sparked in her eyes. “It’s exactly what we’d do to bandits, murderers, rapists, and thieves.”
“We wouldn’t hurt them in the process,” Emerie argued back, turning her head to the side.
“No, instead they either succumb to madness in their cells, or we hang them. The only thing stopping the Duskwalker from achieving freedom is his desire to live. I had hoped to question him, but he won’t give answers. I’d rather him dead, to be honest. It brings me no joy to watch his suffering.”
Emerie’s jaw muscles ticked.
Even if she understood Wren’s point of view, even if it made sense, even if it was the right thing to do for humankind, she couldn’t accept it. It went against something deep down inside her.
She was, by no means, a saint, but even she thought there should be limitations to achieving answers. If they couldn’t be done… humanely, then they shouldn’t be done at all.
“If you know how I feel about it, then why are you forcing me to wash his cell?”
It was a question that had been nagging at her since the first moment they’d placed the mop and bucket in her hands.
“Because it’ll make you used to it. He’ll eventually show you his true colours.” Her lips twitched as she leant forward. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already tried to scare you. The guard did mention you squealed at one point.”
“The floor was so slippery I almost fell arse over head,” Emerie said, unsure why she was lying for the Duskwalker.
Wren’s lips curling downwards revealed she didn’t believe her. She tsked.
“Your goal was to kill Demons, was it not?” Wren tilted her head, making her long hair wave to the side. “What if us doing this is the reason you finally find the Demon you’ve been searching for?”
Emerie’s right hand enclosed into a fist. There was a face that haunted her nightmares. Until she was the one to destroy it herself, she knew she’d never sleep peacefully.