The Prince Who Fell From the Sky (12 page)

The sun sank over the buildings, turning the sky crimson-pink. Casseomae looked over the car’s hood but didn’t spy Pang. Rabbits were hopping slowly among the weeds, their eyes and ears cautious for approaching voras, but they clearly couldn’t smell her. That was good.

She paced around behind the wall of cars while the child sat nearby, poking a tire with the wide end of his metal stick. As usual, Dumpster had crawled under something to nap.

A bark erupted. Casseomae peered over the hood and spied Pang’s copper-red coat flashing down the trail.

Ahead of him were several deer—a buck with wide antlers, a few does, and a fawn—leaping this way and that, wide-eyed with fear and searching for some way to escape through the maze of cars. The does stayed close to the fawn, protectively. The buck’s gaze fell on the wall of cars blocking his path. He snorted something back at the does in his tribe’s tongue.

He was about to leap over the wall when Casseomae
rose up on a car. The buck froze, throwing his head side to side. There was nowhere left to go but into the neighboring building. Casseomae hoped Pang had made sure there weren’t any escape holes back in the dark corners.

With Pang snapping at their tails, the does and the fawn dashed past the buck into the building. The buck snorted before following.

“We’ve got them!” Pang barked.

Casseomae dug her claws into the car’s rusty metal and bounded to the other side. The shadows of the building had deepened, and it took her a moment to find the deer frozen in a cluster at the far end, heads snapped up, snorting and stamping with fear.

Pang and Casseomae spread out, blocking the way back out. The buck stepped forward to defend the herd. It lowered its antlers at Pang.

“He might try to go for you,” Casseomae warned.

The dog curled his lips. He snapped savagely. The buck stepped back, tipping and raising his antlers in warning.

Casseomae slowly approached. Which one should she take? Not the fawn. She wasn’t above eating a fawn. She had done it plenty. It was the way of the Forest. But a fawn might not be good enough for the Auspectres. She needed a doe.

Pang edged around to cut the buck off from the others. He snapped at his legs, and the buck drove him
back with a stab of his antlers, nearly spearing Pang’s side.

A cry came behind them. Casseomae turned to see the cub. He had climbed over the cars, his teeth bared like the dog’s. He jabbed the stick and cried out again in a little roar.

A blur of brown swished around Casseomae, the does and the fawn using the moment to get past her. Casseomae raced after them, but knew she was too late. They rounded the corner of the building, white tails flashing, and escaped back down the trail from where they had come.

Pang was ferociously barking, and as Casseomae spun around once more, she saw the buck getting away. He couldn’t follow the other deer—Casseomae had his path blocked. There was only one way to go. Over the wall of cars.

And standing between the buck and his escape was her cub.

T
he child panicked as the buck raced toward him. He stumbled backward, banging into the car and shrinking down.

The buck’s hooves clattered on the concrete, and he dipped his antlers. The cub pointed the stick at the buck and turned his head away. Casseomae roared as the deer leaped, taking flight.

A thunderclap of noise erupted, and a lightning streak of fire flashed from the front of the stick. The buck fell, toppling to the top of the car just above the child’s head. The boom echoed away through the trees.

The cub stared down wide-eyed at the smoking stick in his hand. He staggered to his feet and looked at the deer lying on the car. The buck was dead. Blood ran
down the rusted metal from beneath his body. The child threw down the stick, whimpering.

“What just happened?” Casseomae growled.

Pang circled around the dropped stick, sniffing at it anxiously. “It … it came from that! How did he do that?”

Dumpster scuttled from under the car and approached the stick. He looked from it to the deer and then at the child. “Did the cub scratchin’ kill it?”

“Yes, but how—?” Casseomae began.

“It’s a gun,” the rat squeaked. “It has to be. I’ve heard of these Old Devil weapons.”

“Didn’t you recognize it when he was carrying it?” she asked.

“He’s picked up so many things,” the rat said. “And these guns, I knew of them and I’ve seen a few, but they were huge and mounted to vehicles. I’ve never seen one this small.”

The child stared in shock at the deer. Water trickled from his eyes and he began shaking uncontrollably.

“It’s all right, pup,” Pang said, licking his trembling fingers. He turned excitedly to Casseomae. “He’s a real vora! The pup … he’s a hunter now. Can you believe it? He can—” But then he stopped as a fierce note of disapproval rose from Casseomae’s throat.

She nudged the child with her wet nose. “It’s safe, cub.” The child threw his arms around her neck and buried his face. She licked his ears, trying to calm him.

“We should go,” Dumpster said. “The smell of the carcass will draw attention. Not to mention that ear-shattering noise.”

Casseomae eased away from the cub and loped over to take the buck’s throat in a firm grip. She pulled him from the car. The child wiped the wetness from his face, still trembling. He followed Casseomae as she dragged the heavy animal.

Pang looked back at the gun and barked, “He should take it. We might need a weapon like that.”

Dumpster gave Casseomae a disconcerted look. The child hurried away from Pang and the weapon lying in the road. “Come on, cub,” she grunted through her teeth, which were locked on the deer.

Pang lingered a moment by the gun and gave a whine before trotting ahead of the others to lead the way.

T
he Forest had fewer trees, just spindly pines jabbing up through the scrub and concrete. Pang sniffed noisily as they went. Casseomae had smelled no territory markings, smelled no signs of any vora, which seemed odd.

“Who rules this domain?” she asked through teeth clenched on the deer.

“The Auspectres,” the dog said. “Well, they don’t exactly rule it. It’s more that no one else wants to live near them. You’ll see why. And don’t let down your guard. Voras still pass through these hills.”

Casseomae brushed her side against the cub, reminding him to stay close. He stroked her fur gently.

The land rose steeply. Dusk became night. Casseomae grew tired of dragging the heavy buck across the rocky
terrain. As they reached the crest of a hill, Pang stopped. “There!”

Silhouetted against the bone-white moon and the misty horizon was what appeared to Casseomae to be an enormous tree rising from the next hill. But it couldn’t be a tree. It was too massive, too angular and evenly shaped.

“Is that an electricity tower?” Dumpster asked. “I can’t believe it’s still standing.”

Pang lifted his ear. “What’s a lick-trick city tower?”

“Electricity,” the rat answered. “Like what’s in lightning. It’s how the Old Devils made their devices work. They built these towers to steal electricity from storms. But I thought for sure these towers all fell.”

“Is that where we’ll find the Auspectres?” Casseomae asked.

“Don’t you see them?” asked Pang.

Casseomae looked again. She realized that what she first took to be foliage covering the tree were in fact vultures, moving and shifting in place. She’d never seen so many in one place.

Although she hadn’t heard of vultures attacking voras, their sheer number put her on edge. If for some reason they did attack, they would be overwhelmed.

Casseomae dropped the deer. “Maybe you all should stay here,” she said.

“Good idea,” Dumpster said before slipping under some brush.

Pang woofed at the cub, “Stay with me.”

The child looked questioningly at Casseomae. She nuzzled him with her snout and snorted, “It’s safe, cub.”

He let out a noise she had never heard before, something between a bark and a whine. It startled her.

“It almost sounded like Vorago, didn’t it?” Dumpster said. “Almost like ‘don’t go.’ ”

Pang also had a look of disbelief on his face, his lone ear stuck straight up. Then he shook his coat and butted against the child. “She’ll be back,” Pang assured him with a lick.

Casseomae carried the deer toward the tower. As she made her way up the slope, she passed carcasses littering the ground. They were mostly bones, occasionally emerging from stiff peeled-back hides. Most were viands—turkeys, squirrels, woodchucks, and deer, although none as large as Casseomae’s buck. But there were voras, too. Curs mainly, but also coyotes, bobcats, and foxes. And one carcass Casseomae felt certain was a wolf. She could hardly imagine what creature other than another wolf would have brought this offering.

Swarms of flies rose in the air, their droning filling her ears. The sweet odor of rot was overwhelming. Coming from the base of the tower was a stronger smell, something acidic that she knew to be mounds of droppings. The smells stung her senses and made her feel dizzy and vulnerable.

She glanced up to see, one by one, vultures taking flight. They circled on long black wings and slowly descended. Casseomae let go of the deer and backed away in case a battle broke out over the carcass.

But as the vultures landed, they kept their distance from Casseomae and her offering. More and more of the birds swept down, until they surrounded her in a flapping mass of oily black. Their heads and necks were featherless, their cinder-colored skin deeply wrinkled. They cast their heads side to side, peering at Casseomae with blood-brown eyes.

She had always thought vultures had no speech, since she’d never heard them call with the melodic songs that other birds used. But low hisses began, terrible threatening-sounding gasps that rose and fell. Soon words emerged from the hisses, although Casseomae could not tell which of the black witches was speaking.

“A good offering,” they hissed in Vorago. “A good offering, yes, for our sisters. She has come seeking an answer, hasn’t she? Yes, she has a need. She desires our guidance. We will ask the dead. Yes, they know. They always know.”

The words swirled around Casseomae, whispers blown past her ears. The vultures were a black fog of feathers and hooked beaks and scarred heads. Casseomae found them gruesome and wanted nothing more than to be away from the filthy carrion eaters.

“The Forest lives off of death,” they hissed as if sensing her thoughts. “Without death there would be no life. She finds us hideous! Frightening. But the Forest would not survive without us. We draw life from the dead. And for you, yes, for you, bear, we will draw answers from the dead. He will tell us what is to come. So what is it you want to know?”

Casseomae turned, looking for which vulture to address. “My cub,” she said before circling to the ones behind her. “My cub is being hunted. By the wolves. I fear the Ogeema is coming for him. I need to know where I can take him that will be safe.”

The vultures grunted and hissed as they looked around at each other. “A bear’s cub? Why would the Ogeema spare a step following a bear’s little cub? It makes no sense, does it, sisters?”

“You must believe me,” Casseomae said. “I’ve brought you this buck. You’ve said it’s a good offering. Tell me where my cub will be safe.”

The circle of vultures grew more animated, pecking and beating their wings against one another. “Where is your cub now?”

“Nearby,” she said. “Hiding.”

“Bring the cub to us,” they hissed.

“No! Something else,” Casseomae growled. “I am willing to give you a sacrifice. You can take my ear, but you can’t have the cub.”

“We don’t want your cub, mother bear. But in order to know where your cub will be safe, we need to see him.”

Casseomae paced nervously. She had no idea how the vultures felt about the Skinless Ones. Had their kind been subject to cruelties before the Turning?

“All right,” she said. “I’ll bring him to you. But you promise you won’t harm him?”

“We bring life, mother bear. We do not take it. Your cub will be safe from us.”

The vultures parted to allow Casseomae through. She loped down the hill feeling anxious.

Pang sat up from the grass when she reached them. “What is it?” the dog asked. “Did they tell you?”

“No. They want to see the cub.”

Dumpster emerged from the shadows. “You’re not going to show him to those witches?”

“What else can I do?” she snorted fearfully. “They’ll not answer the question otherwise. What do you think, dog? Can I trust the Auspectres?”

Pang’s remaining ear flicked several times. “Yes, I believe you can trust them.”

She grunted at the cub. “Come.”

He sprang to his feet and ran to her side. As she turned to lumber back up the hill, the cub held a hand to her shoulder. “It will be fine, cub. You’ll be safe with me. Stay close.”

As they neared the vultures, the huge birds reared their wings, spitting and hissing and sputtering. Casseomae slowed, pacing forward cautiously until she and the child were in the center of them.

The hisses grew into words, swirling out from their hooked beaks. “You did not tell us. You lied! This is not your cub. This is not yours.”

“Yes, he is,” Casseomae growled.

The child shrank down, trembling against Casseomae with his hands over his face.

“He is my cub,” she said, licking him. “And I will do anything to protect him from the wolves.”

The hisses quieted until only the buzz of flies filled the night air. It disturbed Casseomae to see so many tall creatures around her and for them to be so silent. They held their crooked wings aloft and swayed their wrinkled black heads.

“I know it is different now,” Casseomae said. “Now that you see what my cub is. Now you understand why the wolves want him. If the buck is not enough, if you need something else, some other offering to help find the answer …”

“No,” a vulture whispered.

Casseomae snapped her head toward the vulture who had spoken. But it was another who answered. “You need make no other sacrifice, mother bear. This cub, he will pay us—”