to…should I…"
"Pull the spear out, first," she said, her voice somewhat softer now, letting a groan mix with it. "Then, use its tip to start prying loose the nails."
"If I take it out, will you bleed to death?"
"I can take a lot of pain, and a lot of bleeding. And I’ll heal. Not as fast as you can, and I can’t grow back severed parts like you can, but I’ll live."
"But you can die." I looked more directly at her.
She looked directly back. "Yes. I can die. So. Are you going to kill me after all?"
"No. I said…I’m not like you Demons."
"Yes, I know. You’re better, more advanced, blah blah. But who’s the prisoner here?"
"Who indeed?"
She smiled once again. "Come on. Be chivalrous, my fine little human. Prove your humanity. Take the thorn from my paw."
I reached out my hands, curled them around the rough shaft of the heavy iron lance. I squeezed my fists tighter around it, hesitating. I was afraid to hurt her.
And when I gave a sudden tug, she screamed. My eardrums were nearly rent by that wail, which was like the one that Caroline and I had heard initially.
It took more than one pull. On the last one, I fell back and nearly lost my footing. I saw fresh blood running out of the punctured belly button as if it were a bullet wound. Black blood ribboned around her thighs as it flowed out the inevitable wound in her lower back.
And when I lifted my eyes to her face, I saw tears gliding freely down her cheeks. Her face was no longer smug, but a mask of anguish. Her lashes were black, and around her eyes was a subtle grayness of the flesh, these heightening their striking effect. Sometimes I think women are more beautiful when they’re not happy than when they are. Maybe that’s why men mistreat them. All I knew then was that this unearthly being was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, and I wondered if maybe Caroline was right about my motivations for freeing her, all loftiness and morality aside.
As she had suggested, I started using the point of the rod to pry out the spikes, starting with one in her wing. I couldn’t bear to start on her hands or feet, not after the pain I had already caused her. She was moaning, gasping the occasional outright sob. I couldn’t look at her face again.
I worked out the first of the nails, moved to the next.
"My wings are probably ruined," she muttered thickly.
"Will you still be able to fly?"
"Fly?" She raised her heavy head. "Who said I could fly?"
I had never seen the flying monkey devils fly, but I had always assumed they could if they wanted to. I told her as much.
"They can’t fly either. Some Demons levitate, but not my kind."
"So why develop the wings?"
"Develop? Don’t you mean to say evolve? Nothing evolves. See…it’s that kind of thinking that put you here in the first place." She paused to grunt as I levered out another nail. "There are birds with wings that don’t fly, aren’t there? Penguins and ostriches? The Creator gave my kind wings like He gave the peacock a beautiful tail. Because it pleases His eye."
Yes, why give her wings, except out of sheer whim? Why give her that remarkable face? It was like the mantis I had found at the university. A mysterious beauty for its own sake.
After a lot of straining effort on my part, my palms blistering and my fingers slick with her blood, I removed the last of the nails in her wings. They drooped, shuddered convulsively, stirred as if to circulate their blood. Even after she calmed them the best she could they still visibly trembled. Up close to them, I could see that the bigger veins near the point where the wings rooted into her back pulsed with the flow of their blood.
I moved to her hands next.
I freed one. Her groans made my own guts churn. I felt like I was a Demon myself, torturing one of the Damned. Roles reversed. The people who had overpowered her and pinioned her here must have found pleasure in that reversal. From the pose they’d left her in, I wondered if they had raped
"Pull the spear out, first," she said, her voice somewhat softer now, letting a groan mix with it. "Then, use its tip to start prying loose the nails."
"If I take it out, will you bleed to death?"
"I can take a lot of pain, and a lot of bleeding. And I’ll heal. Not as fast as you can, and I can’t grow back severed parts like you can, but I’ll live."
"But you can die." I looked more directly at her.
She looked directly back. "Yes. I can die. So. Are you going to kill me after all?"
"No. I said…I’m not like you Demons."
"Yes, I know. You’re better, more advanced, blah blah. But who’s the prisoner here?"
"Who indeed?"
She smiled once again. "Come on. Be chivalrous, my fine little human. Prove your humanity. Take the thorn from my paw."
I reached out my hands, curled them around the rough shaft of the heavy iron lance. I squeezed my fists tighter around it, hesitating. I was afraid to hurt her.
And when I gave a sudden tug, she screamed. My eardrums were nearly rent by that wail, which was like the one that Caroline and I had heard initially.
It took more than one pull. On the last one, I fell back and nearly lost my footing. I saw fresh blood running out of the punctured belly button as if it were a bullet wound. Black blood ribboned around her thighs as it flowed out the inevitable wound in her lower back.
And when I lifted my eyes to her face, I saw tears gliding freely down her cheeks. Her face was no longer smug, but a mask of anguish. Her lashes were black, and around her eyes was a subtle grayness of the flesh, these heightening their striking effect. Sometimes I think women are more beautiful when they’re not happy than when they are. Maybe that’s why men mistreat them. All I knew then was that this unearthly being was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, and I wondered if maybe Caroline was right about my motivations for freeing her, all loftiness and morality aside.
As she had suggested, I started using the point of the rod to pry out the spikes, starting with one in her wing. I couldn’t bear to start on her hands or feet, not after the pain I had already caused her. She was moaning, gasping the occasional outright sob. I couldn’t look at her face again.
I worked out the first of the nails, moved to the next.
"My wings are probably ruined," she muttered thickly.
"Will you still be able to fly?"
"Fly?" She raised her heavy head. "Who said I could fly?"
I had never seen the flying monkey devils fly, but I had always assumed they could if they wanted to. I told her as much.
"They can’t fly either. Some Demons levitate, but not my kind."
"So why develop the wings?"
"Develop? Don’t you mean to say evolve? Nothing evolves. See…it’s that kind of thinking that put you here in the first place." She paused to grunt as I levered out another nail. "There are birds with wings that don’t fly, aren’t there? Penguins and ostriches? The Creator gave my kind wings like He gave the peacock a beautiful tail. Because it pleases His eye."
Yes, why give her wings, except out of sheer whim? Why give her that remarkable face? It was like the mantis I had found at the university. A mysterious beauty for its own sake.
After a lot of straining effort on my part, my palms blistering and my fingers slick with her blood, I removed the last of the nails in her wings. They drooped, shuddered convulsively, stirred as if to circulate their blood. Even after she calmed them the best she could they still visibly trembled. Up close to them, I could see that the bigger veins near the point where the wings rooted into her back pulsed with the flow of their blood.
I moved to her hands next.
I freed one. Her groans made my own guts churn. I felt like I was a Demon myself, torturing one of the Damned. Roles reversed. The people who had overpowered her and pinioned her here must have found pleasure in that reversal. From the pose they’d left her in, I wondered if they had raped
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