Dart opened her eyes in time to see an arc of blood spout from the man’s groin, fountaining up like a stream of piss.
But the man no longer had anything with which to piss.
Nothing lay between the man’s legs.
The same was not true of Dart. Still numb, unable to move her legs, she watched Pupp crawl out of her belly, rising up between her thighs, covered in her own blood. The small creature spat out a limp chunk of flesh: the man’s prick and sack. Pupp had bitten it all off from inside.
“Pupp…” she moaned. Feeling returned to her, agony flaring, as her friend climbed free of her.
Only then did she notice Willet’s eyes grow wide with horror. He was staring at Pupp, seeing her monstrous friend for the first time.
It was the last thing he ever saw.
Pupp leaped at the cowering man, becoming a blur of blade, spike, and razored teeth. He drove into the man’s belly, burrowing straight through. But Pupp was no longer a ghost. Flesh sizzled and burned with the touch of his molten skin. Curved spikes tore through flesh and bone.
A horrible howl accompanied the slaughter.
On hands and knees, Dart fled to the far side of the room. She had worked in the kitchens. She had seen meat ground into sausages, metal churning organ to pulp.
This was the same.
In moments, butchered to scrap, nothing remained of the man.
Pupp crawled free of the pile, shaking blood and bits of gore from his spiked mane, coughing up gouts of scorched meat. With a final shudder, his body blazed into brightness, a burning ember blown to life.
In that moment, Pupp shone with a terrible and fierce beauty. An intelligence beyond her friend stared into this world as a keening wail filled the chamber.
Shadows thickened and billowed outward from his form, sweeping through the room. Ravens, silent sentinels until this moment, shattered from their perches in a panic of wings and feathers. As a flock, they dove out the windows and were gone.
Alone now, Dart cowered, trapped between horror and panic.
But no further harm came to her.
The shadows fell under their weight, sinking to the floor and vanishing away. The piercing wail vanished with them.
Pupp remained in the center of the room, his blaze doused to its usual ruddy hue. He was now clean, unsoiled-as was the rest of the rookery.
Numb, Dart watched Pupp cross the spotless floor, trotting to her side as he had done all her life. He sat at her feet and groomed himself with a flaming tongue.
Dart reached a trembling hand out to her friend. But her fingers passed through him. He had gone ghostly again. How?
She took a step away, suddenly fearful. But as she moved, her legs shuddered, her knees jellied. An ache throbbed throughout her belly. She felt a fresh trickle of blood flow down her thighs. Sobbing, she fell to her hands. The room spun. She vomited boiled cabbage all over the floor.
Pupp was there, nosing her, concerned.
It was all too much. She fell on her side and curled herself on the floor, crying, sobbing, and shaking. She stared across the chamber. There was no sign of Master Willet, not even a stain of blood. All had vanished into the darkness.
Had it happened? Had it all happened?
A fist lay curled between her thighs, holding back the ache. She tugged her hand free. Her fingers were covered with blood.
Pupp belly crawled to her bosom. She reached to him again. Her bloody hand found warm flesh to touch. Pupp pushed into her, rubbing into her stained palm. She could feel him! He was hard and warm, like an agate stone of a fire god, freshly blessed in blood.
The answer was clear.
“Blood,” she whispered.
The effect was brief. As the heat dried the dampness from her palm, her fingers fell through Pupp’s form. He was gone again.
Allowing the mystery to distract her, she sat on the floor and pulled her knees up to her chin. With her arms wrapped around her shins, she shivered and shuddered, rocking slightly. Occasional sobs broke through, but she focused on merely breathing. In and out. The Litany of Nine Graces echoed in her mind: blood to open the way, seed or menses to bless, sweat to imbue, tears to swell, saliva to ebb..
But she kept coming back to the first.
“Blood to open the way…” She stared at Pupp, now curled at her side, and wondered the meaning of it all.
A bell rang out sharply, rising from the courtyards below, announcing the ending of lessons.
Only now did she notice the brightness of the western windows as the sun settled toward the horizon. She had been lost to the world for most of the day.
One last sob shook through her. The reality of where she was and her situation could not be ignored. She carefully stretched her legs, rolling slowly to her feet with a groan. She stood for another long spell, dazed, at a loss in which direction to move.
Who could she tell? What could she say? How could she explain?
As these impossible questions and a thousand others rattled through her skull, her feet took over. She found herself at the bucket she had filled in another life. She bent and picked up the scrub brush. She stared down at it, knowing her body had already settled on an answer.
She was no longer pure. No one would believe the truth here. All that would be understood was that she was now spoiled, fouled for any god, unfit to walk these halls. She would surely be cast out.
But not this night.
After what happened here, she could not survive banishment.
Not this night.
Dart knew what she must do.
She shed her clothes and used the cold water and brush to clean her body. At first, she worked in a half panic, fearing being caught. Her hands trembled. But slowly her fingers gripped the brush more securely. She concentrated on the simple act of bathing, falling back on ritual. The cool water helped calm her.
Once clean, she dried herself with rags. She still bled, so she padded herself with her ripped undergarments and climbed back into her outers. She carefully inspected her skirts and rubbed dust and dried guano over any bloody spots, hiding all evidence.
She washed her hands in the pail and stared at her shattered reflection in the rocking waters. The girl who had climbed these steps was gone, vanished into the darkness as surely as Master Willet’s butchered form.
She stared at the spot on the floor. She would never return here.
Her eyes settled next on Pupp, sitting diligently, patiently. Like her, he had been transformed in this room, becoming a deeper mystery. She understood less about him, only that he had stood by her, protected her.
For now, that was enough.
Though an ache still lay buried deep inside her, where no scrub brush could ever reach, Dart put away her bucket and broom and broke open a bale of fresh hay. The smell of summer and pasture filled the room as she kicked a fresh layer around the chamber. She spread it thick to fully cover the floor.
By the time she was done, the windows to the east had gone dark and the sun was but a weak glow to the west. She could no longer hide up here.
She crossed to the door and pulled it open. The torchlight was blinding. As she blinked away the glare, laughter echoed up from far below, bright and cheerful.
It sounded brittle and brought an ache to her head.
Supper was already being served. No one seemed to remember the little girl up in the tower. No one missed Dart.
She headed down the stairs. Each step hurt, reminding her of something she hadn’t wanted to face.
Someone had known she was up here. Someone had let Master Willet pass up the stairs, had let him know a girl was alone in the rookery.
Something darker than anger filled her. Whoever it was, they would pay. The dartweed that grew in the courtyard, her namesake, developed woody thorns as it aged… thorns that were seldom seen until they pierced the flesh.
“To me, Pupp,” she said quietly. “To me.”