was blinking rapidly.
“Oh, Rhage… it's okay. Don't be—”
“I thought if you knew what it looked like,” he said hoarsely, “you wouldn't be able to see me anymore. All you'd remember is some horrible monster.”
She kissed him and wiped a tear off his face. “It's a part of you, not all of you or all of what you are. And I love you. With it or without it.”
He gathered her close and tucked her head into his neck. When he let out a deep sigh, she said, “Were you born with it?”
“No. It's a punishment.”
“For what?”
“I killed a bird.”
Mary glanced at him, thinking that seemed a little extreme.
Rhage smoothed her hair back. “I did a lot more than that, but killing a bird was what finally tipped the scales.”
“Will you tell me?”
He paused for a long while. "When I was young, right after my transition, I was… uncontrollable. I had all this energy and strength and I was stupid with how I used it. Not mean, just… dumb. Showing off. Picking fights. And I, ah, I slept with a lot of females, females who I shouldn't have taken because they were the shellans of other males. I never did it to piss off their hellrens, but I took what they offered. I took… everything I was offered. I drank, I smoked opium, fell into laudanum… I'm glad you didn't know me then.
“That went on for twenty, thirty years. I was a disaster waiting for a coastline, and sure enough I met a female. I wanted her, but she was coy, and the more she teased me, the more I was determined to have her. It wasn't until I was inducted into the Brotherhood that she came around. Weapons turned her on. Warriors turned her on. She only wanted to be with brothers. One night I took her out into the forest and showed her my daggers and my guns. She was playing with my rifle. God, I can remember the look of it in her hands, it was one of those flintlock ones they were making in the early eighteen hundreds.”
1800s? Good God, how old was he? Mary wondered.
“Anyway, it went off in her hand and I heard something hit the ground. It was a barn owl. One of those lovely white barn owls. I can still see the red stain as its blood seeped onto its feathers. When I picked up the bird and felt its light weight in my hands, I realized that carelessness was a form of cruelty. See, I'd always told myself that because I meant no harm, anything that happened wasn't my fault. At that moment, though, I knew I was wrong. If I hadn't given the female my gun, the bird wouldn't have been shot. I was responsible even though I didn't pull the trigger.”
He cleared his throat. “The owl was such an innocent thing. So fragile and small compared to me as it bled and died. I felt… wretched, and I was thinking about where to bury it, when the Scribe Virgin came to me. She was livid. Livid. She loves birds to begin with, and the barn owl is her sacred symbol, but of course the death was only part of it. She took the body from my palms and breathed life back into the bird, sending it off into the night sky. The relief when that bird flew away was tremendous. I felt as if the slate had been wiped clean. I was free, cleansed. But then the Scribe Virgin turned on me. She cursed me, and since then, anytime I get out of control, the beast comes out. In a way, it's really the perfect punishment. It's taught me to regulate my energy, my moods. It's taught me to respect the consequences of all my actions. Helped me understand the power in my body in a way I never would have otherwise.”
He laughed a little. “The Scribe Virgin hates me, but she did me one hell of a favor. Anyway… that's the awful why of it. I killed a bird and got the beast. Simple and complicated by turns, right?”
Rhage's chest expanded as he took in a great breath. She could feel his remorse as clearly as if it were her own.
“By turns. Indeed,” she murmured, stroking his shoulder.
“The good news is that in another ninety-one years or so, it's over.” He frowned, as if considering the prospect, “The beast will be gone.”
Funny, he looked a little worried.
“You'll miss it, won't