Free Eden's Creatures by Valerie Zambito Page B

defined, yet still feminine. Her walk now sleek and predatory with the feral grace of a warrior.
    He tore his eyes away to study the woods around them. Although Stassi told him the Fallen would not directly attack, he still felt uneasy.
    “Stassi, how many Faedin are there?”
    “Around five hundred,” she said, gesturing for the bow.
    He handed it to her. “And the Fallen?”
    “Three times that number.”
    “When you hunt them, how do you find them?”
    “We hear them.”
    “How so?”
    “They are crying.” She removed an arrow from the quiver, fitted it to her bow and started away.
    “Wait! Why would they be crying?”
    “Because they are prisoners in their own bodies, compelled by the serpent. From what we can tell, the curse strips most of their intellect, but they know,” she said sadly. “They know.”
    “Yet Julius indicated that they appear to be more aggressive lately.”
    She shrugged. “I have seen no evidence of that, but I have not been a warrior either.”
    Cal retreated deep into thought about all she had said as he walked beside her. That was why her sudden scream scared him so. “Get down!”
    He threw himself to the ground and heard the thrum of her bowstring above him followed by great wrenching sobs and then a loud thud .
    He glanced up.
    A man lay in the middle of the trail with Stassi’s arrow sticking out of his back.
    Cal gasped in shock and scrambled to his feet. “What did you do?”
    Stassi walked over and pulled the arrow from the man’s back. She bent down to wipe the blood off on his shirt before notching it to her bow once again, her eyes cautiously sweeping the area.
    “You killed a man!” Cal accused angrily.
    “Keep your voice down,” she hissed and flipped the body over. “Not a man, a Fallen.”
    Cal walked over to look down at the corpse and recoiled from the all-white eyes staring up in silent death. “What happened to his eyes?”
    “All of the Fallen have them.”
    “He doesn’t have any wings. I thought you said the Fallen were Faedin who had been cursed.”
    “They are. All Faedin who are cursed lose their wings, just as they do when they die.”
    “Faedin lose their wings when they die?”
    “Yes.”
    “I never asked. How does a Faedin become cursed in the first place?”
    “One bite of a Fallen is all it takes.”
    “A bite?”
    “Yes,” she said and pointed to the jugular vein at her neck. “Their bite passes their tainted blood through their fangs to others.”
    “And they never go after the villagers?”
    “Why would they?”
    “I don’t know. To make more Fallen?”
    “They do not think with logic. They only bite if they are attacked first. Like a cornered animal.”
    “How did this all start?”
    “With Zakiel,” she said with a growl.
    He remembered that name from yesterday.
    “He doomed us all by being the first to succumb to the serpent’s charms. His deliberate walk into the pit centuries ago is the only reason we have Fallen to begin with. Every warrior dreams of killing him.”
    “He’s still alive?” Cal asked in disbelief.
    “Yes. Unless we kill them, the Fallen do not die. They suffer day after day, unable to escape their torment for the Wonder. But, according to legend, Zakiel is different.”
    A chill of foreboding danced along Cal’s spine. The trees suddenly seemed to inch closer. The overhead sky turned darker. “How so?”
    “The few who have seen him and lived to tell the tale claim he is at least seven feet tall,” she answered, oblivious to the effect her words were having on him. “And, unlike the others, he seems to have developed a thirst for Faedin blood.”
    Stassi knelt in the middle of the trail and let loose an arrow.
    Cal crouched, preparing to see another Fallen drop out of the sky, but Stassi simply ran off into the woods and returned carrying a dead rabbit.
    “Nice!” Cal said, impressed. His mouth watered at the prospect of filling his stomach despite the horror lying just a few feet away.