Chapter 61 - Nyal's Story part 10

She awoke in pain, expecting to find herself in the Ghost World, but when she opened her eyes she saw blue sky and clouds. She saw grass and mountains… and Gon.

But how can that be? she thought. Unless Gon lives in both worlds, the world of the living and the world of the dead.

It was a possibility. How could she know? It was that or else she lived. Judging by her pain, she decided she lived. Surely, there would not be so much pain if she had died. The bones of her back and ribs felt as if they'd been crushed, and her lungs burned like someone had shoved hot coals down her throat.

Gon was standing at a little distance, gazing at her with a worried expression, elbows in his hands. He seemed more alive than he had before. His flesh was ruddier, not quite so pale, and there was a fullness to it, a plumpness, where before his skin had looked like it was stretched taut across the bone. But for the strange, glinting texture of his flesh, and eyes weeping gummy black tears upon his cheeks, he was every bit the man she remembered from her youth.

She tried to rise and yelped at the bolt of pain that shot up her spine.

"Lie still," Gon said, stepping toward her a little. He put out one hand to stop her. "I'm afraid I injured your back when I caught you. I heard bones crack. I'm not sure how severe your injuries are."

She had never tolerated being told what to do, even when she was injured. Nyal struggled to a sit up, groaning at the agony the movement inspired. She caught her breath, waited for the pain to abate, then took stock of her surroundings.

She was lying on the grassy slope at the base of the mountain, Gilad's still body sprawled beside her. His blood had dried on the rocks he'd struck when he fell, but the bleeding appeared to have stopped, and his chest continued to rise and fall. He still lived, and she thought maybe he'd moved his limbs. They weren't in the same position they'd been when she left him.

"Why were you climbing my mountain, Nyala? Don't you know how dangerous that is?"

"Of course I know how dangerous it is! I was standing right here when our grandson fell off. You think I wanted to climb up there after he fell? I was frightened out of my wits!"

"Then why did you do it? Why did you put this boy in harm's way? Tell me why you've sought me out!"

"Because your people have need of you, Gon!" Nyal shouted, infuriated by his questioning. "How dare you speak to me like this! Like I'm some senile old fool! Do you think I would have done this if our need were not so great? Gilad is your grandson, and he has fallen and dashed his head on the rocks. He may die, and you won't even come near him!"

"I can't!" Gon said roughly, glancing at the boy with a horrified expression. "I can barely resist the smell of his blood."

"Resist…?" Nyal echoed, looking from Gon to her grandson in confusion. "What do you mean 'resist'?"

"It is my curse!" Gon blurted, retreating further from his injured grandson. "I no longer feed as living men feed. I have been made into some monstrous leech. I must subsist on blood now. It is all that I can eat, and my craving for it is nearly irresistible."

"Blood?" Nyal said, shocked by his confession. "Only blood?"

"I have tried to eat other things, the flesh of animals, vegetables and fruit, but my body rejects it violently. I must have blood!"

As if he'd dimly heard his grandfather's words, Gilad stirred, moaning softly. Nyal ogled the lad in surprise, then crawled hurriedly toward him. "Gilad! Gilad, can you hear me?" she shouted. She coughed convulsively, and was surprised to see blood smeared across her hand when she wiped her mouth.

Gon, seeing the blood, retreated another two steps. His eyes were wide, his nostrils flaring.

"Grandmother?" Gilad muttered.

"Yes, Gilad, it is I! Grandmother is here! Are you in pain? Can you move your legs?"

"My head hurts," he admitted.

"That is because you fell on it, silly boy," Nyal said, her voice rough with emotion. He tried to sit up. Couldn't quite make it. Nyal took his arm and tugged him upright. She crawled behind him to examine his head, went through his hair like a monkey picking fleas. "You should praise your Fat Hand ancestors, Grandson," she said finally, letting his hair drop. "They've granted you a skull made out of stone."

"I'm dizzy—" Gilad started to say, then he saw Gon standing nearby and his jaw dropped. "You've found him!" he gasped.

"Yes, we found him," Nyal said.

Satisfied the young man would live, Nyal struggled to her feet.

"But tell me why you've come!" Gon demanded. He looked ready to flee from them, from the smell of all their blood.

"The Foul Ones raided the village yesterday," Nyal said, clutching her side. "We killed four of them, but there were many more than that. They made off with several children. Two of them were ours. Our granddaughters Korte-Anthe and Ganni. Breyya's little girls. That's why I came to find you. You have to save our granddaughters, Gon!"

Gon was nodding before she'd even finished speaking. He gazed toward the north, the muscles around his eyes tensing. His fingers curled and uncurled. In his mind, she could tell, he was already ripping them to pieces.

That pleased her.

Would that she had the strength to do such a thing herself!

"Can you see them?" Nyal asked. "I know you can see far. How else would you know that our mates had both passed on? Can you see where the Foul Ones have taken our babies?"

"No," Gon answered. "But I will find them. I will hunt them down and kill them. And if they've harmed our children, I will do it slowly. I will make it last for days."

"And you will take me with you."

Gon turned to her, a smile touching the corner of his mouth. "I'm not taking you with me," he said. "You are…"

"Old? Yes, I know I'm old! But all the same, you are taking me with you. I will not be refused!" She leaned toward him, a sudden, vicious grin making her face vulture-like and cruel. "I want to watch you tear them apart."