City of Demons Read Online Free

had buried it between the outhouse and the manure pile. Looking down on it in its grave, he was again struck by its appearance. He could not call it an animal, for what mere animal could have paralyzed a man like his father. Hilly claimed to have fought against the dragons in the North. His sons might have thought it a lie, but their mother had quietly confirmed it. She had met Hilly when he was a member of the brigades, men who climbed the sharp cliffs above the northern sea and hunted dragons among the rocks. Two years before, he had set three arrows in a charging hill bear that had been after the pigs and laughed as it collapsed and died a few feet from him. And yet this huge, violent man, who was three times the size of this gangly creature, had sat frozen while its claws reached for his eyes.
    Not an animal then , Garet thought, and not really human either . There were vague similarities. It had two arms and two legs. The spindly hands had four fingers and a thumb, although each was tipped with a sickle claw. Its general shape, although exaggerated, was similar to his own. Indeed, when stretched out in the cold moonlight, its torso and limbs were a deformed mockery of a young child. But all such resemblance ended with the head. The long, flattened skull was curved at the back, hanging over the spine like a round stone. Starting at the brows, the face narrowed into that cruel beak. Steeling himself, Garet had pried open its mouth with the shovel and seen that the thing’s tongue, swollen in death, was neatly split at the tip to give it a forked, snake-like look. Its many teeth fit together as closely as the blades of a pair of shears. He was glad enough to cover the corpse with a layer of concealing dirt; for even in death, he still felt a wrenching fear of it.
    The need for a second burial quickly became apparent. Only Garet could bear to come near the thing’s grave, though even passing near the spot made his stomach flip. This made its resting place beside the privy an urgent problem. Hilly and the twins had bolted from the cabin as soon as Garet had dragged the corpse outside. They did not return until the next evening, stinking of the rotgut liquor that Pranix, the owner of the Three Roads tavern, sold to the unsophisticated hill farmers and any ignorant traveller. Hilly was a friend of the tavern keeper; though hardly close enough to beg a free drink. Garet wondered where he had got the money. Upon their return, they had made a beeline for the outhouse, jostling and cursing each other. But a good five yards away, they had all shuddered to a stop and stood weaving and belching a moment before stumbling down to the bushes behind the chicken coop. On hearing that the demon was buried near the privy, Hilly clouted Garet’s ear, much harder than usual, and demanded he move the body before breakfast. There was a new look in his father’s eyes. The contempt was gone and had been replaced by something else—hatred?
    He had wrapped the stiffened corpse in an old, ragged sheepskin and dragged it to the far edge of the sheep pasture. The fear of being near it came on him again and he sweated from more than the effort it took to get the corpse up the hill. The new grave was shallower, due to the rocky soil, and Garet rolled several large stones on top of it to keep the animals away. He needn’t have bothered. When he brought the sheep up after breakfast to continue grazing off the last of the summer grass, none of the ewes would go within fifty feet of the pile of boulders. If I could bury a dozen of those things around this field , Garet thought ruefully, I’d never have to throw another stone.
    For the next two weeks, life seemed both better and worse for Garet. It was now easier to avoid his father and brothers. Indeed, it seemed that they were intent on avoiding him. Not a word was yelled at him during meals. No sting-bugs or other practical jokes tested his finely-developed sense of caution. His