Her piercing emerald eyes gazed at Samuel.
“We’ve captured a demon, cleric,” the mayor’s voice bellowed. “And I require your assistance.”
Samuel shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose, swallowing hard. The girl remained still and silent, her eyes shifting to nothing in particular.
“This is deershit,” the sheriff grumbled to himself.
“Demon,” the mayor repeated as he added fresh tobacco to his pipe. He struck a match and lit the ingredients inside. “Fiend. Devil. A creature of darkness.”
His father clung to the leather-bound scriptures, moving slowly as he went to the bars. “I apologize, mayor. But I’m not sure I understand.”
“You’re supposed to be a man of faith, cleric.”
“Demons work against Azhuel,” his father said hesitantly. “Their darkness can consume men’s hearts with all manner of impurities. If permitted, they can burn away the roots connecting our souls to our creator. But this child—”
“Will be dead by the day’s end if there’s any damn justice in this world,” the sheriff said, stroking his revolver. “Demon.” He chortled, licking his mustache. “That’s really funny.”
“Don’t insult me,” the mayor said curtly, gnawing his pipe. “I’m an educated man. Education, Eugene. Something you would know very little about.”
Samuel stepped closer to his father, wondering if the mayor had gone mad. Only the most puritanical clerics believed in the physical manifestation of demons, and such talk from a politician was more than abnormal. Politicians were well learned, well read, and ruled with the common people’s welfare at heart. It was the politicians’ responsibility to govern with logic and justice, and the clergy’s responsibility to appeal to the more primitive natures of man. These were the primary principles of the Laevis Creed. He had heard the mayor say something like that at his wife’s funeral.
Samuel squinted. The cell was dark, illuminated only by the sunlight able to seep through the barred window. But he still only saw a one-armed girl.
The mayor blew more smoke. The cloud dissipated as it came above Samuel’s head. “I’m sure you’ve heard rumors about the thief. From my own estate, no less. How can I be a ruling mayor if I cannot protect my own property?” He paced in circles, the pipe in his mouth wriggling. “So, in an effort to apprehend the culprit, I had the sheriff set traps in the western woods. This,” the mayor pointed to the girl, “is what I caught. When they found it, it was tearing at its own leg like a rabid wolf.” He bent his fingers. “Bare fingers ripping through the leg. Would’ve gotten loose if we hadn’t found it when we did.”
The sheriff snorted. “Not all we found, is it? Little sadistic—”
“Eugene, please.” The mayor removed the pipe. “Cleric, this demon child had the strength to murder a patrolman. We found … the parts of him. Innards in its lap, blood all over the snow. Took three men to restrain the creature. The sheriff here managed to knock it unconscious barely long enough to pull the snare back and put the shackles on.”
His father nodded, scratching his beard. Samuel stood silently. His father was devoutly religious, but surely he didn’t blindly believe the mayor’s talk about the girl being a demon.
Samuel looked to his feet, somehow mustering the courage to speak.
“If I may, how do you know? Sir. How do you know it was her?”
The mayor grinned, seemingly unbothered. “Good question, boy. Let me further explain. A steel trap was nearly halfway through its leg, and it was scraping at the wound like it was an itch. And it never once made a sound. Not a word, a groan, a whimper as it did that or when we fought to subdue it. Nothing. Its speed is uncanny to say the least. Just look at the child’s hand. Those are more like claws than fingernails. Fox-like, if you ask me. Go near it and feel the instinctual terror that grips your heart. Its blood is not red. No, not at all.” He pointed at the whites in his own eyes. “But really, it’s most obvious in these. Irises like diamonds, pupils slit like a reptile. Not human.” He twirled his hand freely. “Now. I know what the two of you must be thinking. And no, I am no closet believer in religion. What kind of mayor would I be if I prayed to the tree god? But I do realize that, although our primitive ancestors were quite fantastical in their approach to morality and the afterlife, it is very possible that their archaic vocabulary limited their ability to explain unusual things. Perhaps the writings do hold some merit. Are the apocalyptical ramblings and nonsensical prophecies glimpses into ancient wars and spectacular technologies?” He paused. “I believe with the right methodology, we can uncover the real truth.”
Samuel nodded, but he didn’t understand.
The mayor straightened his shoulders, his belly jiggling.
“Cleric. As your mayor, I order to you speak with this creature. Apply your doctrine, faulty as it is, and I will analyze its interactions with you. Do whatever prayer or cutting you must.” He leaned in. “If you get it to listen, to respond, then I will reward you greatly.”
“Are you serious?” the sheriff interjected as he pulled out his gun from its holster, spinning its cylinder. It was as if he could no longer remain silent. “You plan on keeping this … thing around? In my jailhouse!”
The mayor dug his heel into the ground, obviously perturbed.
“My jailhouse, Eugene. I own this town.”
Samuel didn’t know what the mayor was getting out of this. His father closed his eyes, muttering a quick prayer to himself before speaking. “I could never accept a reward for my duties, good mayor,” he said, rubbing his nose. “I serve for the honor of Azhuel. For the roots. If you will open the bars, I will pray for this child.”
“Converse, pray, do whatever you need. I’ve said before, the demon child hasn’t spoken.” He chuckled. “Maybe it’ll talk for a holy man. Wouldn’t that be something?”
Samuel’s ribs burned as he pried the scriptures from his father. His father gave a stern look, but he ignored it. He knew his father would never correct him in front of the mayor.
The sheriff rose, his lip curling.
“You can’t let them in there.”
He aimed the revolver at the girl, cocking back the hammer.
The girl, oblivious of the danger in front of her, traced her index fingernail across the dirt ground. Her motion was slow yet fluid. It was as if she were in no danger at all.
“How many dead bodies are we gonna have in this town?” the sheriff asked, nearly shrieking. “Tell me that, Thompson! I knew Landon back when he was sucking on his mother’s tits, and now I’ve got to go and tell that old woman her only living son is dead. Me, Thompson. Not you, the mayor. And for what? Some stubby-armed psychotic child … thing you want to keep around? Like a pet? And now you’re trying to venture off into some religious quest?” His arms shook. “Are you mad?”
The mayor’s cheeks went flush. “Know your place, sheriff. Put the gun away and open the gate. Do your job, or I’ll find someone who will.”