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Welcome to stories from among the stars. You're listening to the book eaters by sun yi dean. Narrated by katie ehrich.
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Chapter 20 House of Saints Present Day Though I find the Collector story to be wholly absurd, I struggle to conjure a better theory. Aside from the teeth, Eaters do look identical to humans, yet they cannot interbreed with us and have strange organs, extreme strength, and dark vision. They also consume either books or minds, processing that information in ways that defy all known biology and and they decompose in a manner suggestive of, dare I say, magic. In truth, to the naked eye, they are profoundly a magical species, and if I must choose between believing in the Collector or believing in magic, then I am reluctantly inclined to go with the former Amarinder Patel. Paper and A Secret History Their little grey car crested the heather hills of Scotland and began needling its way through winding paths to the valley town of Inner Leven. Below Devon, looking out the window, was mesmerised. Moors undulated for miles toward the north. Snags of cloud tumbled low across a silver blue sky. Twisted trees populated gnarly slopes, snow blanketing the small stone houses, wide banks by a sweeping river dotted with optimistic fishes. Even in this weather, we're in waders. Picture perfect, like one of those charity shop postcards done to capture British nostalgia. She rested her head against the cool glass. Do the residents of this town know? Know what? About the family who moved into a derelict old mansion a couple of years ago, did it up a bit, and now have a locally run artisan brewery. Sure they know. Working in the open. Interesting tactic. Don't know what you mean, hester said. We're law abiding citizens. Aside from a bit of tax dodging and some illicit drug production. But that's nothing compared to the Winterfields and their dodgy law firm. Or the Easterbrooks and their human trafficking. I can't argue with that. They drove through a juncture, past a sign that suggested turning left to find St. Rowan's Primary School. Hester steered straight through town, heading for its south end. Will I have friends someday? Kai said, eyes on the receding school sign. If I have enough redemption to live without hunger. Devon looked at him in surprise. This small, intense figure, so precociously intelligent and aware for his years. The idea of managing his friendships, helping him to navigate those social situations, seemed overwhelming. More so than killing knights or luring humans home. Come to think of it, Devon herself had never made friends, just played with her siblings and cousins. How did one make friends, let alone keep them mysterious. Then the unbidden thought maybe she'd find out with Hester stupid that she wasn't planning to stay. I hope you will have friends wherever you end up, hester said. You will always have to guard against your hunger, but you seem safe enough with your mother. I'm confident you can learn to be around others without risk. Oh, ok. How long are we staying? Kai said, sitting up a little straighter. If Kilnuk likes us and we like him, can we live here forever? Let's take this one step at a time, devon said. Make sure Kilnak does like us. She already knew she wouldn't like him. A combination of gut instinct and lifelong experience of family patriarchs. The centre of Inner Leithen peeled away slushed and salted roads melding back into rolling snow slung forests. They crossed the River Tweed over a long, low bridge. Devon could not help but scan its waters for evidence of riverine islands. As Jarrow had specified. Her view wasn't good enough from the car to pick out any such land masses. A mile or so past the bridge, they approached a vintage style sign reading Traquair House with a white arrow pointed down a smaller road. We're here, safe and sound, hester said. She followed the sign, turning off the main road and onto the grounds of what was presumably Traquair itself. They drove slowly down a long driveway sculpted with green lawns and shadowed by ancient trees. Off to one side were a collection of smaller buildings, mostly wooden, and what looked like a rather elegant garden of extraordinary size. Directly ahead sprawled a white building as big as any family manor and more fortified, she thought. Iron gates, concrete posts, small windows. A house that had seen conflict. There was a long history of fighting between Scotland and England. You don't have much security, devon observed. Don't you worry the families'll find you? The families are barely looking for us. If anything, I think they were relieved when we disappeared. Solves a lot of problems for them. Hester cruised through a pair of iron gates, slowing the ford to a crawl. As for the knights, even if they came calling, a few locks on the gates wouldn't help. Not being found is our first and best line of defence. I guess so. Devon thought about Hester in the train station, the accuracy of her gun. If the rest of the Raven's cars were similarly fierce, then the knights would have a fight on their hands. Everything with your clan seems to be complicated. Including you and your place in it. You have no idea. Hester parked up on the gravel, yanking the handbrake. I'M going to introduce you to Killick today. When we first heard you were looking for us, it was his idea to bring you in and offer sanctuary. However, you will have to convince him you're safe, trustable, and genuine. Are you willing to answer his questions? There are gaps in your story that we're curious about. If he wants to know how I escaped the Easterbrooks, then I am willing enough to share, devon said, watching dusk skip through slanted sunbeams. I'm not ready to talk about my daughter with strangers, though that's all in the past anyway. I'm sure that'll be fine. Hester unclipped her seatbelt, took a breath. Listen, when we go inside, you're going to find out things about me that I've concealed. Please understand that I have never hidden the truth out of maliciousness. I've lied about myself only because Killick asked me to be circumspect. I'm sorry. I know that doesn't make any sense right now, but it will very soon. The back of Devon's neck was prickling from alarm. I'm not liking the sound of this. We should hurry. They'll know we're here and will be expecting us. Hester got out of the car and walked across the driveway toward the heavy doors. Devon exchanged a long and troubled look with Kai, who shrugged. They both got out and followed Hester. No going back now. Entering to Quare house felt strangely familiar to Devon, as if she'd been there already and seen it all before. In one sense, she effectively had. The Ravens cars had wrangled their way into an ancient estate home, blending British tradition with Etoneds the the whole setup was very family. Whatever the beef with their deceased father, ingrained custom lingered. The house itself bore a legacy of violence. Iron studs covered a solid oak door, which Devon recognised as a form of reinforcement against invading English soldiers. It was old and strong enough to withstand a solid axe blow or two. The hallway surprised her. Narrow, low ceilinged, built of whitewashed stone. Not regal or royal, just built for war. A series of servant bells hung above one of the beams, in different sizes and tones. Someone had set up a small nativity scene on the entry table, a faded Mary kneeling over the wooden infant in his tiny manger. Carved animals clustered around wise men loomed awkwardly in the corner, and Joseph stood with blanked face reserved to one side, his face so worn the features were flat. A tightness formed in Devon's throat. The story had a resonance that drew her in, that of an outcast Mother taking shelter in unlikely places. Devon was no virgin. Hester was no Joseph, and Kai was hardly the next Messiah. Still, the spirit of it spoke to her all the same. Hess thought. I heard you returning. A man emerged from the furthest room, shuffling out to meet them. He was in his 60s and of Asian Indian descent, thick glasses perched on his nose and a solid walking cane in one hand. We were starting to worry when you still hadn't come in. Saw you all over the news this morning. Always wanted to be famous, hester said with a wry smile. Is Locke around? Devon's attention was wholly captured by the man with glasses. Something about him was overwhelmingly familiar, memories clawing at her urgently. Killack is up in the drawing room with the others. The newcomer glanced at Devon, and she saw the same recognition in his expression without any of her confusion. Is this her? The Fairweather woman? It is, but she can't stay to chat, Hester said. Im sorry, Manny, but I really need to see Killock first. Manny? Short for Amarinda Patel, who wrote stories for the telly? Devon blurted out. You're the journalist who came to Fairweather Manor. Who? Kai said, confused, while Hester started in shock. So I am. Marnie seemed unruffled by her outburst, a far cry from the nervy journalist Devon had met as a child, when there was talk of bringing in Devon Fairweather to this house. I did wonder if it would be the same girl I'd met all those years ago. And here you are. Fate is a funny old mistress. Devon's mouth was open. She shut it. More than twenty years had passed, and yet she could see in the aging lines of his features a glimpse of the younger reporter he'd once been. How do you know each other? Hester said, bewildered. Her family are the reason why I came to your family, manny said, gaze not leaving Devon's face. I stumbled into Fairweather property many years ago while investigating a news story. Got myself caught by a rather younger Devon, then sent up to Ravenscar Manor, and here I am still. He offered a bleak smile. Im so sorry, devon said, awash with mortification. I had no idea what my uncle was like back then. Or what he'd do to you. You were only a child. I don't carry a grudge. If not you, someone else would have found me. Marnie's face was impassive, and she could not tell if he truly meant what he said. At any rate, I am here now among these. He trailed off, adjusted his glasses and peered at them both. Does she know? Hester? Have you told her what you are told me what? Devon said, while Hester answered simultaneously. No, not yet. Kilnick's request to hold back the details. What is everyone talking about? Kai complained. Hmm. Manny took off his glasses, cleaned them on his shirt, and put them back on. Best we all go up to the drawing room, I think. I agree. That would be best, hester said, sounding strained. My brother will explain everything clearly. Do follow me if you like. Manny turned and began making his way up the stairs. Devon bit back a frustrated retort and followed after. Manny led them up a curving stone staircase, the hewn steps slick from centuries of use, then along another hall and toward a set of ornate doors from which laughter and conversation leaked out. From this angle, it was impossible to see into the room this way. Manny shuffled through the door without waiting to see if they followed. Hester put a hand on Devon's arm. Be careful of Killick. Watch your step around him. She withdrew her hand and strode after Manny into the room. Wait, devon said, darting after her. Why? To a needle. She stumbled to a halt just inside. Kai crashed into her from behind. A kaleidoscope of luxury greeted them. Red carpets, painted crossbeams and lavish furniture. Tables scattered with books, paintings on every wall of long dead human nobility, marble mantles above a roaring fire. A harpsichord nestled demurely in its own nook, inked all over with flourishes and Latin phrases along its wooden body, while a man whose face she couldn't see played an elegant classical piece across its keys. In the far corner, a granddaughter clock marked the loss of time. A dozen or so people were gathered in here. All of them were chatting and joking, attention taken up with conversation and board games. Presents, drinks, and party favours littered one of the tables, along with paper Christmas crowns and playing cards. Scented candles burned out the smell of berries and frosted evergreens. Everyone was eating. They browsed tables of books, peeling away tough covers to eat the softer paper within like diners shelling out lobster, a meal for those who would consume paper but also had no book teeth and the tongues. She could hear them in the soft lisping of their conversation, so reminiscent of Kai, could see them glimpsing the coils of flesh in their mouths as they chewed and spoke. Mind eaters, Devon said, dumbfounded. You're all mind eaters. Conversation dropped as the entire room turned in Devon's direction. Kai went rigid. Personally, said the man at the harpsichord, his voice loud in the silence. I have always detested the term mind eater. It's rather crude and outdated. Devon narrowed her eyes what term do you prefer then? But it was Hester who answered. People. We're all just people. We, she'd said as if she were one of them, not they. And Devon realised with a jolt that she'd never seen Hester eat a book during their journey. Not one single time. My sister says people where I would say saints. The man behind the harpsichord stood up at last, no longer hidden behind its varnished frame. Tall but slender, with dark reddish hair and a tight ponytail. Grey slacks, Grey turtleneck. Grey eyes too. Welcome back, Hess. Devon was still reeling. Too many shocks in a row. Every surviving member of the Ravenscar household was a Mind Eater, Hester included. But how and why were there so many families didn't keep their Mind Eater children? This was, after all, the entire purpose of the Knights. To prevent Mind Eaters living free and unchecked with nothing but their own willpower keeping the hunger at bay. She was conscious of Kai clutching her hand tightly and squeezed back. Perhaps the Raven Scars had somehow hidden their Mind Eater children away, rather than sending them to the Knights like every other family. Yet that raised its own questions. Where were the Bookeaters, for instance? Why didn't they have any Book Eaters at all among their number? Merry Christmas, Locke, Hesser said, giving a deferential curtsy. Aside from a difference of hair colour, she and the other Ravenscars shared a strong resemblance. The same lines of jaw, the same broad collarbones, the same long fingered hands and slightly snubbed noses. We've had a difficult journey and I'm absolutely ravenous. But I've brought mother and child in safely. And Devon, watching her, was struck by another uncomfortable thought. If Hester was a Mind Eater, where was her tongue? How had she hidden it? So I see. Killick Ravenscar swept Devon with his gaze from top to toe. A fair weather princess in the flesh. Come to join us in lonely exile here, he muttered under his breath, inexplicably, in sing song until the Son of God appears. With enormous mental effort, Devon pushed aside the shock she felt and pulled herself together. She stood before that scalpel gaze, acutely conscious of her bare, filthy feet, her torn jeans with the mud dragged edges, her crumpled blouse that reeked of three days worth of sweat and probably alcohol, a long way from the manicured girl who had once stepped from a chalky limousine in a spotless Romanian dress. But that wasn't a bad thing. She was stronger and wiser than her younger self, and strange men no longer frightened her. If you're going to tell me that I'm Tall, devon said. Then just don't. I'm aware. Manny made a choking sound. Hester drew a sharp breath, but Killock only laughed and held out his hand. Ms. Fairweather. May I call you Devon? Titles are so formal. Please allow me to welcome you to Taquer without any comments about your height. Cheers. I appreciate it. She shook his hand, warm and dry like his sister's. My son needs to eat before we go anywhere. I came here because I was told he could have redemption. I never need to feed off humans again. Yes, your son. Killock shifted his gaze downward. Hello, young man. What's your name? Kai Devinson. He remained half hidden behind Devon's back. I don't get a family surname because I'm a Mind Eater, so Devon made one for me. Interesting choice. Kai is a knight's name. Did you know that? Ser Kay, from Arthurian legend, though we pronounce it differently these days. Kilik stooped to his level. Pleased to meet you. Real knight who is not a family knight. You look like your mother, if you don't mind me saying. Kai clutched his Gameboy. I don't mind. Kilik reached into a pocket, unscrewed a small plastic bottle, and handed him a chewable pill. The gift of redemption from my own supply. Thank you. Kai's face lit up as he snatched the pill from the older man's palm. He hesitated, then said, is it true? Are you really a house of. Of a house of Saints? Killick said, again with the strange choice of word. Saints was not a term Devon would have thought to reach for. She might love her son, but she didn't revere him as holy. Hester, meanwhile, stood pensive, hands on hips and gaze on the floor. The warning she'd given earlier to watch your step was going off in Devon's head like a siren. Kiluk was smooth, polite, even charming, and yet every time he spoke, it made the back of her neck itch. There was a hidden edge to everything he said or did, a kind of intensity that unbalanced her. Kiluk straightened his spine. Having welcomed you here, I will admit I remain unconvinced that you can be trusted. My experiences with the families have not been good. We have escaped here to live our own lives, and I cannot allow anything to threaten that. My experiences with other people, full stop, haven't been good. Devon thought he sounded very much like a traditional patriarch, that lofty turn of phrase, evocative of some Victorian nobleman. We share a common need and a common enemy. Does that carry any weight for you? It does. He sketched a bow that she found slightly ridiculous. I will admit I am curious to hear about the demise of your husband. Aside from you and me, I have never met another exile from the families. If it will put your mind at ease, I'm willing to explain how Matley Easterbrook died and how I escaped. How he died? Killick said, suddenly shrewd. Not how you killed him. Hester tilted her head. Yes, how he died. Be still, be calm, be focused, Devon told herself. It's a long explanation. My only request is that Kai remain elsewhere. He doesn't need to hear this. The Ravenscar siblings exchange glances. Hester said, are you all right with being separated from your son? If I don't answer your question, I'll have far bigger problems, devon said. And the things I will talk about may cause him serious distress. He already knows a lot of this and does not need to hear it repeated. I don't want to listen, kai said, holding up the Game Boy. I want to play Mario while you talk. I don't mind waiting. I wait all the time. Kilik's features settled into contemplative stillness. As you like. We will find someone to sit with your son. In the meantime, let's adjourn to the library. Chapter 21 Monster 5 years ago There is love in me, the likes of which you've never seen. There is rage in me the likes of which should never escape. If I am not satisfied in the one, I will indulge the other. Mary Shelley. Frankenstein the physical damage cleared up in a couple of weeks, but the psychological damage lingered on. The sight of hands, any hands, made Devon's throat tightening a strange and highly inconvenient trigger that she couldn't seem to shake. As Jarrow had promised, ants came by every day to assist her with the newborn. Devon tapped out terse messages, grateful for the communication he'd given her while the tendons of her throat slowly healed. A few weeks later, after she was able to speak, one of the ants came to inform Devon that Matley wished to see her. He knows where my room is, devon said, soothing her fussy baby. Why do I need to go anywhere? The aunt just shook her head. He wishes to see you in the games room. A chill ran through her. When? Right now? Naturally. Naturally, Devon thought sourly. She wrapped the baby in a sling, wondering all the while what Matley wanted with Jarrow's private refuge, and followed the aunt to the other side of the house, to the games room. Except it wasn't the games room anymore. A new brass plate was fixed to the wall, etched with the words Control room. The door stood open, lights flickering within. Devon stepped inside. The stench of cabling, dust and chrome filled her nose. The air tasted of static. Someone had boarded up the windows. The couch that had been her home across pregnancy and childbirth was missing, as were the shelves, consoles, game boxes, controllers, everything. A series of 30 odd television screens had replaced the entertainment centre, everything trailing dark wires and jacked into a large console. Each screen displayed a different grainy image of various locations around the estate. Fields, orchards, driveway, dining room, libraries, the hallway outside Devon's room on the centre most screen, but not her actual quarters. She was swept with a sense of waste for Vic's lovely games collection chucked out like trash. She'd never get to know the ending of Final Fantasy now. Strange how it bothered her to think about at least the Game Boy had been saved. That was secure in her room, hidden under her bed. The baby began to fuss in his sling, breaking Devon out of her stupor. She shushed the boy, jigging him up and down. There you are. Tardy as ever. Devon turned around to find Mattley Easterbrook emerging from what had once been the little kitchenette that too had been converted, the table stripped out and the cupboards overflowing with spare electrical gear. No more maps, no more detailed escape plans. What is all this? Devon said, whimpering, baby held close against her chest. Why am I here? Natley folded his arms, flickering screens casting patterns across his face. I suppose you know that your child is destined for the nights. How well she knew. What of it? I asked if they'd take the boy earlier, he said with a disgruntled snort. But they don't want him too young to live off anything but milk. And apparently it is difficult to dose infants with redemption. They'd prefer you to nurse as long as you can. Why do they have to take him at all? She said, desperation making her bold. Maybe I can work to pay for his redemption costs. My uncle might be willing to it's not about the cost, he snapped. Mind eaters cannot be allowed to live freely without anyone keeping them in check. They revert to their nasty feeding otherwise. A slight shudder ran through him. Devon knew that, had already known it was pointless to ask. It still hurt to hear the answers spoken again. If you'll let me finish, he went on, I consider you a risky guest. Given your history, one liable to spend the next 36 months plotting hotly to run away. Matley pushed past her, coming to stand at the console with its many screens. I want to preempt any such idiocy on your part by informing you that I've upgraded the security for this manor. Substantially upgraded. He pressed a series of keys, the screens compiled into one single video footage display across their conjoined surfaces. The control room itself, with Devon standing stiffly in the heart of it. It's a state of the art electronic in house security system. I have given you privacy in your room, but most of the house is wide and watched, as are the gates to this estate. And I'm the only one who knows the access number to this console. Good luck climbing out of this tower, princess. Kind of you to think of me. Sarcasm kept her grounded against shock. I'm flattered to be worth the time. This isn't just for you. You're not that special, he retorted with his usual pettiness and dropped into a swivel chair. I was going to upgrade the security anyway. Typical Matley, she thought. Every scrap of satisfaction had to belong to him. If you don't need me for anything and there is nothing to do here, then I'm going for a walk. She needed to think, to process One last thing, he said and held up a thimble. Her thimble. The one Jaro had given her to communicate with. Still need this? That's mine. Jaro gave it to me to communicate with, which you can now do without it. He crushed the thimble flat between forefinger and thumb and set it down pointedly on the table. Devon stared at the misshapen disc that had been Jarrow's gift and squeezed her son tight to her chest. You're free to go, by the way, matley said. Be aware you'll have an escort every time you leave the house for the next three years. Think of him as a replacement Jarrow, eh? He snorted. Try not to act too suspicious on your walks. He's authorised to neutralise you if need be. His words left her cold, as prophesied. An unfamiliar man was waiting in the hallway as Devon left the control room. He was short but brawny and sported an enormous plastic earplug, chewing hard on nicotine gum. A human, and therefore surely less strong than her. But he was also armed with taser, blackjack and walkie talkie. Likely other weapons too, that she couldn't see. She remembered all too well how tasers felt. Going for a walk, are we? Earplug snapped his chewing gum loudly. No, devon said and retreated to her room. Earplug followed her all the way to the door, but did not come inside nor object when she drew the bolts. Thank heavens for that, at least in the privacy of her own quarters, Devon curled up on the window seat to nurse her ever hungry son, trying to think. The manor had hardly been a playground before. The Easterbrooks, with their servants and seedy illicit businesses, were fond of security. Mattley's upgrades only made that worse and tied everything to him personally, the codes stored in his mind because he could not write them even if he wished to. He could do this because, like Ike, he was patriarch, a role he'd won through a complex system of votes in which women could not participate. There was also nothing she could do to change her situation. The system was too big, too vast, everything out of her reach and all obstacles impossible to overcome. If she left, they'd hunt her. If she escaped, her son would starve without redemption. If she fed him sans drugs, that meant finding human folk for him to eat and then watching him go insane. And all of that was predicated on the assumption she could escape at all, much less survive in human society with a hostile family on the prowl. Devon looked at her sleepy, squashed, faced little boy, cold winged at her back, and decided that she would enjoy every single day she had with him until those days ran out. And when they finally came for him these nights, these men of the families, wrapped in their own arrogance and wielding cruelty like weapons, she would fight. It'd be the death of her. But perhaps death was the only ending she had a right to claim. After all her years of cowardice and subservience, time ran away with itself. For the next two years, Devon breathed in days and breathed out nights, suffused in the moment. Long orchard walks blended with even longer afternoons spent reading or eating books, all with a baby at her side. She moved through her minutes in a daze because her life was irrevocably different. Yet nothing had changed. She took her son on the walks, carrying him in a woven shawl like Romanian women had done in the past, partly because the Easterbrooks were reluctant to give her even small conveniences like a baby carriage, and partly because she found a rat more convenient. Earplug trailed wherever she went, or sometimes it was another armed human man who she thought of as Tall Boy as she rambled, always accompanied but perpetually lonely. Devon took her time to think of a name because it bothered her to keep calling her son the baby she'd never named anyone before. Traditionally, the families gave their children first names that were always drawn from locations in Britain, a practice that subtly set them apart from human culture while also not requiring any of the creativity that their species often lacked. But since Matley didn't want him and she no longer liked the families much, Devon decided to dispense with that custom. She would make the effort to use her imagination, such as it was. She wavered back and forth on whether her choice ought to have great meaning or significance of some kind. In the end, though, she couldn't be bothered with any pretentiousness and just picked Kai because it sounded nice. It was also short, easy to remember, and wasn't a location good enough. Then she cobbled together a matronym for his surname. Kai Devinson. Why not? It would do. Sleep, Kai, she'd whisper, rocking him to sleep at nights after her escorts had gone to bed and the electronic alarm systems were engaged. Sleep, little one, will you dream of me when I'm gone. Weeks stretched into months. Spring flourished into summer before fading into autumn. Kai grew like a tumour, and by his second birthday Devon had begun to fear her son. Not that she didn't love him. She did. There were endless things she loved about him, like the nautilus whorls of his obsidian hair and his bright axonite eyes and the warm tint of his skin, a few shades richer and darker than her own. Next to him, she looked almost ashen. She loved the way he tilted his head sideways at every new object or toy, and the fierce way he laughed, especially when doing something dangerous like jumping from high places. Her fear came from other things, the way he could cross a room before she'd hardly noticed, even though her own reflexes were superhuman. He spoke early and his first word was hungry. She found that sweet until he started saying it while looking at her head. Sometimes, while she was tidying their quarters or eating a book or having a bath, Kai would creep up on her with soft steps and nuzzle at her ear. He liked to flick his tongue clumsily, like a snake. Don't do that, she said, a little chilled, hungry. Kai pouted at her. A baby. Still, though he wouldn't always be. The craving was already in him. She decided it was time to ask for redemption, and Matley reluctantly arranged to have it ordered from the Ravens cars at eye water in cost. She tried to ignore his seething resentment. When the first delivery arrived, Devon sat on the edge of her bed and inspected the tiny chewable pills in their glass jar. Unstamped, unmarked, somewhat crudely made, they crumbled a little too easily when handled, leaving a powdery residue on her skin. They smelled of iron. There were no alternative options, though the secret of how the ravens cars had made their magic cure, or what process had led them to such a discovery was tightly kept. Different families had tried to find their own cure but had no success with it. Most didn't know where to start. As ever, the Book Eater's limited imaginations did not help them here, even with redemption. Devon couldn't help but wonder whether her son would snack on other people if she let him. Whether in fact she might wake one night to find his face closing in on hers, tongue gunning for her ear. But he cried when she left him to sleep on his own in the cot and seemed so deeply unhappy in the cage like crib that she eventually let him stay in her bed. What else could she do? He was only little. She took to lying awake long after he'd fallen asleep, body tensed in readiness. Season rolled into season. So little time. She tried to enjoy every moment. They went for more walks, playing outdoors when possible. Matley grudgingly provided more redemption as Kai weaned himself off milk. Once or twice he came in to check on them in person. The first time he said nothing, merely eyed Kai for a while before leaving. The second time he said unexpectedly, does that thing love you or does it just want to eat you? If Kai ever decides to feed on me, you'll be the first to know, she said sweetly, which was enough to have him backpedaling out of her room. Even for adult Book Eaters, revulsion of dragons lingered strong. They did not see Matley again for months after that. Another wan and lonely spring passed by. Devon spent it singing and humming as she trudged after her wandering toddler, ever amused to hear earplug huffing behind them. Other children avoided Kai. Other adults avoided Devon. That suited her. She found it hard to hide her contempt of them in person. Her life shrank and narrowed to a succession of lonely, windy days spent under orchard trees or in Easterbrook Gardens, out and about in all weathers. Kai's birthday went unremarked by everyone except Devin, who sang him Happy birthday and made him an animal menagerie to play with by folding papers she tore out of books. He laughed with delight and she almost cried, thinking of Salem's lavish parties. Salem was a prisoner, but a well treated one. Her birthdays, as welcome and celebrated as Kai's, were not. Winter thickened into the holiday season. Christmas Eve passed, a big party with presents and lights and laughter. Devon was not invited, nor Kai, which made him sad. He watched from the hallway with a wobbling lip, old enough to understand that their world had shut him out. Well, do a proper Christmas when you're older, she promised, leading him away from the rooms where they'd been excluded. An empty promise, but she couldn't bear to see him cry. Hungry, he said unhappily, and sniffled at her. Hungry was something he said a lot, even when he'd had plenty of redemption. But Devon knew he did not mean food in this instance, nor even the unnatural craving of a mind eater. He hungered for something less tangible, yet just as crucial, an antidote to loneliness. He craved, even then, the company and acceptance of other people. Unfortunately, Devon didn't have any pills for that. Christmas morning woke her with the sound of hail crashing against the house and a car engine revving in the drive. She stumbled out of bed and stood at the window. Matley's car was pulling up. He got out, arguing indistinctly into a mobile phone, and then he looked up straight from the courtyard below, pointing at her window. Devon took a step back, alarmed. For no reason she could pinpoint, something in his expression had carried fury in addition to his more usual loathing. Was today the day they'd come for her son? Kai sat up in bed and said, quite calmly, mummy, I'm very hungry. She looked at him, tearing her gaze from the window. I know, love, but we're out of redemption, so you'll have to wait a little bit. Won't be long, matley said. There'd surely be a shipment today. Frustratingly, the most recent order of Redemption had been inexplicably delayed by a fortnight, and the last pill from her previous order had been used up yesterday. Hungry now. Those Axonite eyes gleamed dark, her skin paler than normal. The proboscis tongue unfurled slowly from his mouth, then rolled back up. Devon swallowed. She'd never found her child revolting, not in the slightest until that moment. A hint of what other Book eaters saw in him, and her own reaction shamed her. Be patient, she told him, and hoped she sounded cheery. Anytime now. And Mat Lee will bring you something to eat. She'd never called the man your father, ever. Kai stared at her with far more intensity than any three year old should have. His irises darkened to black, pupils and white seeming to shrink. Devon began to dress, tossing aside her night shift for a long linen dress, struggling with the laces as she always did. She had just finished braiding up her hair when someone banged on the door, probably someone bringing the much needed Redemption delivery. Just a minute. She went to let them in. On the other side stood Matley Easterbrook, flanked by Earplug and Tallboy. All three of them carried Blackjacks. I came to say Merry Christmas, Princess. Her husband strode in, followed closely by the two men. Or maybe I should say goodbye, since this is your last day here, kai said, pouting and sulky. Snack. Snack. Now what? She backed away from the three men, keeping her son behind her. The nights aren't due till the New Year. There's been a change of plan. Matley surged to water the Ravens cars are gone. Kaput. Finished. No more redemption, Snack, Kai repeated with increased grumpiness. Mummy, Mummy, I'm hungry, He sulked Atley, who ignored him. Where's Snack? Gone, she said, incredulous. How the hell can an entire family manor just disappear? What happened to them? Tallboy laughed. Earplugs smirked. Mattley glared at them till they fell silent, then turned back to her. Look, it doesn't matter, right? Not women's business. You wouldn't understand, he added, and she realised from the sharp, embarrassed tone that Mattley himself didn't know. The point is, there won't be any redemption coming ever again. No more redemption, she echoed, horrified. But shut up and listen, he said. The Knights are in chaos, probably disbanding. Nobody needs or wants your brat anymore, and I sure as hell can't feed him. So it's over. Go quietly back to Fairweather Manor and I won't make you watch while I put this thing down. Put this thing down. A lovely, laughing, lonely boy. Like a sick dog. He wouldn't even get to be a dragon. That last tiny, horrific scrap of but at least he'll be alive and cared for, and they couldn't let her have even that. Stay away from him. Fury drowned out her fear. If you won't take care of him, then I will. But I will not let you kill him. Matley hit her with the blackjack. Devon staggered sideways. He hit her again and she knocked back against the fireplace, catching a granite corner against the side of her head. White heat shot through her skull. The other two men walked over and all three of them formed a tight triangle, peering down at her sprawled form and bleeding head. Devon tried to roll over. Earplugs stepped on her shoulder, pinning her flat to the floor. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Kai sounded on the verge of a tantrum. Tiny hands curled into tiny fists. Stop messing about and tie her up already. Matley bent and picked up a startled Kai by the nape of the neck. I'll deal with the dragon. Wrong. They were wrong. These men called her son a dragon, but she was the only dragon in this room. The fire from her injured skull was nothing compared to the heat that ignited in her chest. Kai wailed and she breathed rage. Don't move. A earplug leaned in close. You. Devon unsheathed her book teeth and lunged for his throat. Blood bathed her tongue, sickly and bitter, not sweet like ink. His flesh was a wet, soft living thing, not the warm dryness of leather or paper. The bones of his neck rolled like marbles in her mouth. 26 years worth of boiling anger was singing in her veins and jaw locked tight. Devon wrenched Earplug's oesophagus tore free. So did half the skin on his face. He gurgled and collapsed like a stringless puppet. Blood sprayed her chest in a hot, sticky baptism. Holy. Natlie said, gasping, his grip on Kai slackening. Tallboy stood at his side, petrified and stunned. Hungry. Kai twisted in his father's grasp and clamped his mouth on Matley's ear. Matley snarled a torrent of curse words, but Kai clung on, preternaturally strong for a child of his age. Devon couldn't see it happen, but she could hear it. A faint snicking as the proboscis tongue shot forward, piercing through Mattley's eardrum and into his brain. The blackjack dropped from rigid fingers rolling across the floor to bump against Tallboy's feet. Tallboy screamed and did nothing except clasp his blackjack statified with horror. Ugh. Matley crumpled to the ground as if all the tendons in his legs had been simultaneously cut, hands pawing reflexively at the little boy who still clung to his neck. Kai curled around his father's head, eyes half lidded like a milk drunk infant. The pouring hands slowed, then stopped, then dropped to the side. Matley tipped over to slump in the spreading pool of earplugs. Blood too much for Tallboy. He shrieked and bolted for the door. She couldn't let him get away. Devon sprang like a cat. A six foot, blood soaked, half dressed cat. She tackled him with a sideways lunge and they landed together, him sprawled face up and her atop his chest. Monster. He howled, his fists raining uselessly against her. Fucking monster. Yes, devon said, and shredded his throat like a cheap paperback novel.
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That's all for now. Thank you for listening. Make sure to follow Stories from Among the Stars on your preferred podcast app to get the next episode. Or if you just can't wait, you can buy the Book Eaters wherever books or audiobooks are sold.