House of Vultures, Maggie Claire [fun to read .txt] 📗

No such kiss comes. When I peekthrough a slit in my eyelids, I see that Wolf frowns at me, hisnose almost brushing my own. “Try not to look like a martyr.” Heturns his head sideways, studying my mask. “I wasn’t finished withmy conditions, Mynah. I will not seek payment just yet. Instead, Ithink I will claim that kiss another day when you remove your maskfor me.”

A gasp escapes my lips, and I findmyself wishing he’d just collected his earnings right there. “Icannot do that, Wolf! You know it is illegal, punishableby—”

Wolf breathes softly against my faceas he interrupts me with a whisper. “You will do it one day for me,Mynah. When your opinion of me has changed. I am not an enemy; Ihope you will see that soon.” Then he disappears into the forest,the food he had carried for me waiting at my feet.

It is a struggle to get it all back tothe House alone. My legs groan so loudly that I could swear I hearmy knee caps rattle as I trudge up to the front steps. The House ofVultures is a rickety two-story home with peeling flecks of whitepaint exposing the grey boards underneath it. Most of the windowsare cracked or broken completely. The steps up to the second floorhave loose boards that will trip anyone who does not know exactlywhere to place their feet. It is a hovel, a decaying, rotten,condemned building, but it is home.

“She’s back!” Warblermeets me at the door, eyes wide under her bright yellow mask as shelooks over my parcels. I always wonder what she used to dye hermask that garish color, but never have I asked. I’m afraid it wouldhurt her feelings if she thought I didn’t like it, and she’s theone creature in this house that I actually attempt to keep happy.“You went to Omphalos?” She looks fit to faint. Although whetherher reaction is because I had been to the city or the vast amountof food I am dragging inside, I am not sure.

“We’ll salt and smoke someof the meats for hard times,” I instruct, handing her the rabbits.“See if you can keep their skins intact. I will make some winterboots for us if you can.” She holds the strings as far from her aspossible in her left hand, her right one holding her nose. I hoistup the turkey and pheasants for her to see. “Keep the feathers forarrow fletching, okay?”

“I have never cookedpheasant,” Warbler whispers, and I try not to groan in frustration.Warbler is the youngest among us, the least experienced of theHouse of Vultures. Somehow, she’s managed to maintain her pureheart despite all the evils surrounding us. I have caught hersinging while she cooks, smiling to herself as she stirs the stew.She is charming and sweet and good. Yet she is also untrained whenit comes to cooking many game meats. That means experimental,sometimes inedible meals for us. And food is a luxury that wecannot afford to waste.

“Leave them for last;maybe Grouse or Bittern can help,” I suggest as I stand on thedoorstep, uncertainty pausing my entrance. Wolf will keep his word,I am sure of this. Will the boy survivehis injuries? DidI make the right choice? A small part ofme even wonders if I should allow myself to care at all.

“Mynah? Aren’t you cominginside?” Warbler reaches a hand toward me, her feet never leavingthe doorstep. When is the last time youactually stepped outside, Warbler?I wonder as I examine her pale hands.When is the last time the sunlight caressed yourskin? Oh, how Iwish I could change this life for you!

“We have been taking betson whether or not you would show up,” Condor calls as he rounds thecorner. He takes inventory of my haul with a scowl. “And you wentinto Omphalos without permission.” He sidles up to the door,leaning heavily against the rotten wood. I can smell the homebrewed liquor on his breath. “Stealing from the houses withoutfirst consulting me? Bad girl! I am afraid it’s going to costyou.”

He reaches for me clumsily, and Ipress a gold coin into his hand. “That should cover part of mypunishment, and I will take the morning shifts in the woods for thenext eight weeks.” I pray that will be enough time to get thestranger out of danger.

Condor watches me coldly, obviouslynot having forgotten my first refusal of his advances this morning.“Falcon!” He shouts as the battle hardened young woman appearsbehind him, her mask peppered with gray dye and dried blood. Hereyes are hungry as she watches her master. She loves Condor dearly,in as much of a brutal, cruel, jealous way as she can. I think theonly way she knows to love is to cause pain. Condor, on the otherhand, always acts ignorant of her devotion. “Looks like it is justyou and me tonight.” He sways as he paws at her waist, pushing herup the stairs. She clings to his side, greedy for histouch.

What does she see in thatbastard? I wonder, my sharp eyes noticinghow he drops his hands from her side as soon as he thinks no one iswatching. However, my mind is already racing on to more importantmatters. Did Condor agree to my terms ofpunishment? CouldI be that lucky? I am not sure if I amsafe or if I will wake up to a house-public beating in the morning.It has happened before. All I know is that I need some food to calmmy haywire nerves.

Warbler and I drag the meats into thekitchen. “Please, Bittern, help me clean the rabbits? Grouse, takethe turkey?” Warbler pleads as she passes the living room where theother two girls lounge on the broken-down couch.

“Why should we?” Bitternscowls at the furry bodies Warbler holds out toward her. Thehateful woman’s mouth is set in a terminally pinched expression,her eyes crinkled in a squint. If I ever catch her in a good mood,I will probably die of shock.

“You’ll help her becauseit is your food too, stupid!” Grouse stands up and shoves Bitternoff the couch with a sneer. Prodding her protesting companiontoward the kitchen, they drape