Blood & Fur

Chapter Seven: Mother of Bones

The Lord of the Underworld granted me an audience at the foot of the mountain they called his chin.

Unlike the emperors above, Mictlantecuhtli kept no court. No swarm of servants gathered around his skull to sing his praises. In fact, the lively music that echoed in his city turned to silence within a league of the head that oversaw it all. Not a single drop of rain would fall on the god’s ancient bones. I stood in an empty plaza of ashes and dust on which no wind blew, with only a quiet queen for company. The sound of my steps was smothered into nothingness as I knelt; and when I opened my mouth to plead, no words would come out of it.

Mictlantecuhtli was death, and noise was life.

The two stars in the god’s empty eyes burned with an ethereal glow. The hundred eyes of my predecessors looked no brighter than candles in comparison. Their ethereal radiance dimmed even the pale sunlight falling on Mictlantecuhtli’s obsidian crown. You could burn a hill of firewood inside them.

The weight of Mictlantecuhtli’s gaze crushed me. A pressure many times greater than the one his wife used to manipulate my body fell onto my shoulders with a slow, deliberate push. Was this how ants felt when a man looked down upon them?

As I felt the god’s presence in my bones, in my mind, and in my very soul, I finally understood why I could never fully believe the Nightlords were goddesses. A true god did not have power. They were power, as omnipresent as the wind and as eternal as the dirt beneath mortal feet.

“I hear your heartbeat, little bird. A rare sound in my gray city.” His words were a whisper in my skull, spoken out in a rasping echo of my voice; the voice I would have on death’s door. “Are you a dream of mine?”

Mictlantecuhtli uttered no threat, but I instantly knew a single misstep would mean my utter ruin. His queen had threatened to snap me in half with a wave of her hand. Her husband could ruin me with a thought.

I knelt before the gods, and I sensed a force giving me permission to say words. “No, oh great Lord of the Underworld,” I said. “I am not dead, but I am dreaming as we speak.”

I pondered each word I could speak aloud. Should I flatter him? Speak my mind? Xolotl did warn me that Mictlantecuhtli was bitter and cruel…

“You wonder whether you should lie to me.” Mictlantecuhtli’s eyes flickered for a second, as if amused by my unease. “Bitter truths and sweet lies taste the same to he who has no tongue left. Neither will save you now.”

Many said that to better disguise their vanity. Still, I did not come here to deceive Mictlantecuhtli, and discovery might mean my destruction. “With all due respect, Lord Mictlantecuhtli,” I replied candidly. “I would rather delay my death as long as possible.”

“Those who marked you will not show this mercy. I pity you and the others, trapped in a nightmare between life and death. Know that if I could welcome you all into my gray city, I would.”

“I… thank you, Lord Mictlantecuhtli.” I lowered my head. “My predecessors and I seek only to do so in due time. I have to plead for your help in their terrible task.”

“You presume too much of me.” Though Mictlantecuhtli’s tone did not change, I could sense a touch of disdain in his voice. “I was put here at the dawn of life, like the night follows the dawn, to rule the house of the dead. A king has no sway over a kingdom that is not his own, no more than a flame can become wet. I cannot break your curse, nor will I destroy your enemies for you.”

I guessed as much. “I understand, Lord Mictlantecuhtli. Forgive my insolence. I came for guidance in how to deal with the leeches above that prevent so many from passing on.”

“Learn patience,” Mictlantecuhtli replied calmly. “Everything dies in time, even worlds. Those who hold your soul captive will eventually pass like all the others, and then you will earn your rest.”

He was never alive in the first place, so he does not value life at all, I realized. The righteousness of my cause did not matter to him, because the cause itself felt insignificant to a creature so old and powerful. Mictlantecuhtli had witnessed the first dawn and would survive the last. A few centuries of suffering would be horrendous to me and my predecessors, but they would pass in the blink of an eye for him.

Once again I remembered my encounters with the Nightlords; the false gods who were all too human in their cruelty. They bickered, followed their whims, and punished defiance with violence. There was nothing human about a true god like Mictlantecuhtli. He was a force of nature, a fundamental pillar of the universe. Why would the wind care about human wars and sorrows? It would keep blowing until the world’s final night.

Xolotl had been mistaken. It wasn’t that Mictlantecuhtli was cold and cruel. He was something far worse.

Uncaring.

His queen, however, cared enough to speak in my favor. “You speak true, my king, as always,” she said with a gentle voice. “However, can a child be expected to learn without making mistakes first? It would be kind to let him burn his hand, so that he learns to fear fire.”

The god’s eyes flickered once more. “On what pyre does this bird wish to burn?”

Since Mictecacihuatl did not answer her husband, I guessed she gave me an opportunity to plead my case. “The sun that shines above your head, oh great and powerful master of death,” I said. “And the three others below your realm.”

“Then you are mad, little bird.” A terrible cloud of black smoke erupted from Mictlantecuhtli before dissipating into nothingness. A god had just snorted at me. “I created this place from my own bones so that the dead could find rest. I hold sway over the souls that trickle down from above, but the things that haunt the stillborn worlds beneath us answer to no one. If you wander into the depths, you will face fates far worse than centuries waiting on a threshold. Nothingness would be a mercy.”

To hear these words from Mictlantecuhtli shook me to my core. It was one thing to hear warnings from the Parliament of Skulls, and another from a god older than time. Mictlantecuhtli had witnessed all deaths since the beginning of life. If he said that what awaited in the depths could prove worse than centuries trapped in a reliquary, then he meant it.

“But would I find the power I seek?” I asked. “The power to destroy the Nightlords and free my people?”

“You might,” the god conceded. “Many have descended into the Land of the Dead Suns searching for knowledge, treasures, and sorcery. Few returned, and fewer with what they were looking for.”

“But some did,” I pointed out.

“Yes.”

The risks were great, but so were the rewards. If it had only been my death and suffering on the line, perhaps I would have heeded Mictlantecuhtli’s warnings. But after seeing what happened to Eztli, my predecessors, and so many others… I would fight on. Even if the Nightlords might eventually face justice, they could also haunt the world until its final days. I would not wait so long.

The sacrifices, the wars, the cruelties, they all had to stop. I was not the first emperor, but I would do everything in my power to be the last.

“Your words are not wasted on me, Lord Mictlantecuhtli.” I lowered my head to show respect. “But still, I ask your permission to carry on with my quest. I beg you to let me feed on the embers of the four suns that came before, so that I might free my people from harm.”

“Compassion is not the heavens’ currency.” Mictlantecuhtli’s silence stretched on for over a minute; an eternity for me, and an instant for the god. “We only accept three coins: pleasure, knowledge, and power. If you wish to claim Chalchiuhtlicue’s embers and access to the lower depths through my Gate of Tears, then you must pay a toll.”

Here came the hard part. “What is thy price, Lord Mictlantecuhtli?”

The chalky hills that made up Mictlantecuhtli’s teeth slowly started to look like a ghastly smile. “I want your sun.”

The word hung into the air like a curse for a minute before I dared to look up at the god. “My sun?” I repeated, dumbfounded. “The sun that shines on the living?”

“You seek to feast on a dead sun’s embers like a jackal, when there are living stars in the living world above. Only life can pay for death.” The ground shook beneath my feet. Mictlantecuhtli’s chuckles shook the city enough to start faint quakes. “A sun for a sun would make for a fair trade.”

When I recoiled at the impossible task, Queen Mictecacihuatl came to my rescue. “My king, must I remind you that the last time two suns coexisted in the sky, the land burned to cinders? A second sun would torment us all should that mortal succeed.”

“True.” Mictlantecuhtli pondered her words in silence before coming up with an ‘easier’ alternative. “Then I shall ask for an ocean of blood to add some color outside. Chalchiuhtlicue has shed enough purple tears.”

I thought it was a joke at my expense for a second, until I realized I heard no cruelty nor mockery in the god’s voice. He asked the same price as the Nightlords for his favor, but not out of hunger or viciousness, but out of cold detachment.

Mictlantecuhtli truly believed that trading an ocean of death for a sun’s embers was a fair trade, the same way a merchant would sell a pottery for a coin.

“Your generosity knows no bounds, my king,” Queen Mictecacihuatl replied with a short bow. “I shall show this child the way around the city.”

When I tried to open my mouth to protest, I felt a slight, gentle pressure snapping my jaw shut; not the overwhelming power of Mictlantecuhtli, but the gentler scolding of his wife. I understood the message quite clearly: do not tempt fate.

“Yes, do so,” Mictlantecuhtli replied. If he noticed his wife’s action, he did not comment on it. “The bird is too quick for my taste. Let him return when he can pay his tribute.”

Queen Mictecacihuatl released her hold on my jaw and allowed me to pay my homage one last time. “I thank you for your generosity, Lord Mictlantecuhtli,” I said with a deep bow, though I struggled not to argue over the price he demanded. “If I may, though, I would like to receive your wisdom on one last matter.”

“One question I shall answer,” the god replied. “No more.”

“Your great queen mentioned that the vampire curse originated from a god of pain and hunger that crawled out of the Underworld,” I said. “Do you know more?”

“Were my words wasted on you?” Mictlantecuhtli snorted once again, his breath an eruption. “Many wandered into the depths in search of power… and a few returned with it.”

A chill traveled down my spine as the full implications of Mictlantecuhtli’s words dawned on me.

The Land of the Dead Suns held many secrets. Including that of godhood.

I thanked Mictlantecuhtli one last time and let his queen guide me away. We walked down a road of fossilized bone and amber that led into the city proper. The further we walked away from Mictlantecuhtli, the louder our steps became.

At no point did the god ever ask for my name.

To Mictlantecuhtli, I was nothing but another ant in an endless line. Even a Tlacatecolotl was barely worthy of remembrance.

“You handled my king well,” Queen Mictecacihuatl said. “He is usually stricter with the living.”

Was she joking? This whole deal was a farce! “Where am I supposed to find an ocean of blood, let alone transport it into the Underworld?”

“You will find a way,” Mictecacihuatl reassured me with a kind, gentle tone. “My king believes those who do not struggle to earn their reward will fail to appreciate it. He has put many harsh ordeals before those who sought entrance to the depths, but the gods made humans clever and we are bound by our word. Remember that.”

Though I wanted to argue further, I shut my mouth and meditated on the goddess’ words. Many had petitioned Mictlantecuhtli for access to the lower depths of the Underworld. Many were granted passage, although he probably asked the impossible of them too.

The gods are bound by their word and can be tricked, I thought, remembering the old tales. When the god-in-spirit Quetzalcoatl descended into the Underworld, Mictlantecuhtli asked him to play a song on a shell instrument. Quetzalcoatl realized the instrument given had no holes in it, so he had worms dig a few and played a tune.

Even if I had been willing to kill all life on earth, there was no way I could gather an ocean's worth of blood in a year’s time. There had to be a clever way to fulfill the letter of Mictlantecuhtli’s request. I just needed to find it.

“You are free to wander Mictlan as you wish, though you would be wise not to come back to my king without payment,” Queen Mictecacihuatl said. “You must, however, follow our rules. The word of Mictlantecuhtli is law, as is mine. Do not enter a home uninvited. Do not bring violence to the dead. Do not take anything that is not offered, and do not impede our servants.”

I memorized each law. They sounded quite fair. Respect the city’s rulers, do not steal, do not intrude, do not harm, and do not cause trouble. “I shall not disturb Mictlan’s peace, oh great queen.”

“I hope not, for your punishment would be swift.” Queen Mictecacihuatl stopped in front of me, her hands joined together. “You wish to discuss a trade with me.”

She knew mortals all too well. “Oh great lady of the dead, you know my quest is righteous,” I said. “I please beseech thee to teach me the Doll spell, so that I might use its power against the Nightlords who would enslave my soul."

“The Doll spell?” The queen of the dead stroked her skeletal chin. "It is true that I have taught a few sorcerers this discipline in the past, for I invented it. But do you understand what you are asking?”

I shook my head. “My predecessors told me you could teach me this magic, nothing more.”

“You would open a door without knowing where it led?” Mictecacihuatl waved a hand at me. Immediately the power of her mind moved my left arm against my will until I imitated her movements perfectly. “See for yourself.”

“So this is it…” I muttered. “The spell grants control over another’s body.”

“Indeed,” the queen confirmed before releasing my arm. “The Doll spell allows one to manipulate the bones and flesh of another. Such knowledge is not bestowed lightly. My last student won my kindness with sweet promises, and when she had no more use for me she turned my own gift against my subjects.”

Mictecacihuatl lowered her head to better look into my eyes. “Why should I bestow it on you, Iztac?"

We had entered the negotiations phase. “I will swear an oath not to use that knowledge for evil, if I must.”

"There is no good nor evil, Iztac, only that which mortals believe in,” Mictecacihuatl replied with a kind tone, as if talking to a child in need of guidance. "The chains binding your life-fire are proof enough of your torment. You have my sympathy, but sympathy cannot purchase power. Especially power fraught with the potential for abuse."

"I understand that to receive, I must give,” I repeated. “Your husband asked for a tribute in exchange for his favor. I am willing to trade another for yours.”

Mictecacihuatl nodded. "You have returned two lost souls to my halls where they belong, and in return I bestowed you a boon. You received the audience you sought and a way forward. This is the way of the gods. I will not ask for an ocean of blood in return for my magic, if that worries you, but I must request a service in return."

"Do you want me to scour the Underworld for the lost dead then?" I proposed. Rescuing people in need was a task I could accomplish with pride. "How many would you require?"

"You are sweet, Iztac, but any of my servants can accomplish such a task. There is a thing I want that only a Tlacatecolotl can deliver, however." Mictecacihuatl wistfully glanced at the purple sky, as if she could peer through the Underworld’s ceiling. "Whereas my husband was born dead and cold, I was once alive and warm. My time above was short, but I remember it vividly; like a pleasant dream full of laughs and light.”

“I’ve heard stories that you were born human,” I recounted. “That you were sacrificed as an infant and raised in the Underworld.”

“I was the first woman to ever die before her time, that much is true,” the queen replied. “In spite of my power and position, I would give away a great many things to feel alive again. So would many of my subjects."

"Do you want a taste of life?" I raised an arm, the one Xolotl hadn’t bitten. “I offered your servant my blood and flesh. I can do the same with you.”

"I want far more than a taste, Iztac. Those who came before you already offered that much and more. Scraps of life no longer satisfy me." A black tongue slithered between Mictecacihuatl’s teeth, licking lips that no longer existed. "I want a feast."

“A… a feast?”

"A feast upstairs, among the living,” Mictecacihuatl explained calmly. “A night of life that will let me satisfy my cravings."

“You wish to enter the waking world?” Both she and her husband explicitly told me they had no sway over the realm of the living. “Is that even possible?”

"Yes, with a Tlacatecolotl’s assistance and the proper rites." Queen Mictecacihuatl whistled to herself, suddenly enthusiastic. “There is a day of the year when those who are gone can walk the world of the living. The Day of the Dead.”

“The Day of the Dead?” I repeated. “I’ve never heard of it, Your Majesty.”

“The Nightlords suppressed knowledge of this festival because they fear my power,” Queen Mictecacihuatl explained, her voice brimming with disdain. “And because they feared what the dead had to say.”

My fists clenched in anger. The Nightlords silenced the ghosts of their victims so they couldn’t tell their victims what happened on the other side… that their so-called goddesses were false.

“Your captors do more than steal blood from the living, Iztac. They steal faith from the true gods too.” Queen Mictecacihuatl waved a hand at her city. “Each newcomer knows less about the world than those who came before them. In time, they will ensure that even my husband’s name is forgotten.”

“There will come a time when the Nightlords will be the world’s only gods,” I guessed. It would take them centuries to crush all nations and erase the truth from the living’s memories, but what were centuries to immortal parasites? “How can I ensure this does not come to pass?”

“The Day of the Dead rite lets me possess a priestess for a night and gives temporary substance to the guests I bring from the Underworld,” the goddess explained. “The dead will be able to partake in the pleasures lost to them until dawn rises.”

“Can these reborn dead make war?” I asked, immediately seeing an opportunity. The Nightlords had killed so many, the Underworld had to abound with their vengeful victims.

“You wish to raise an army of ghosts and to sweep over the Nightlords.” To my annoyance, Queen Mictecacihuatl shook her head and denied my request. “I must refuse, Iztac. The Day of the Dead is meant to bring joy to the dead and let them reconnect with the living, not satisfy old grudges.”

“What greater pleasure is there than taking vengeance on one’s enemies?” I asked in frustration.

“Reconnecting with one’s family,” Queen Mictecacihuatl replied calmly. “Dancing under the moonlight, gorging oneself on sweet food, kissing a loved one… vengeance does not bring joy, it only soothes the pain.”

I disagreed from the bottom of my heart, but the goddess would not budge. “Then will you be able to assist me in my battle, Your Majesty? If you can personally manifest upstairs in your full glory…”

“If only, Iztac.” Queen Mictecacihuatl let out a sorrowful sigh. “Unfortunately, my power is tied to the Underworld. This rite is only possible because I was mortal once. All I can do is run the festival until its conclusion.”

Why were the few kind souls willing to help me powerless to do so? Because justice did not spin the wheel of fate, I suppose.

Queen Mictecacihuatl noticed my disappointment and kindly reassured me. “I will try to help you in any way I can,” she promised. “Vampires deny my beloved humans their rest. My king does not care much, but I do.”

At least she offered me her assistance. I couldn’t spit on her mercy. “When must I hold the festival, Your Majesty?”

“Thirty days before the winter solstice.”

“In eleven months then,” I counted. “I would rather practice the spell before that deadline if possible, Your Majesty.”

“We shall make a pact then,” the queen proposed. “I will let you use the Doll spell so long as you vow to organize this festival. If you fail to make progress, or do not deliver on your promise, I shall take the power away from you. If you successfully organize the feast though, the magic shall be yours for another year until the next Day of the Dead, and so on.”

The offer sounded fair enough. It would let me use her magic for the year until the festival; after which completion meant I would keep it for the winter solstice, when the Nightlords intended to sacrifice me. Failure to deliver would leave me toothless on that date, however.

“You said you need a living host.” The wording bothered me. “How would that work? Do you require a tribute?”

“A living woman must willingly swear their soul to me, allowing me to possess her until the night ends,” Queen Mictecacihuatl explained with eerie calmness, as if we discussed her wardrobe. “Worry not, she will remain unharmed and I shall return her life to her once dawn rises.”

“But it has to be a woman, and she has to accept out of her own volition,” I pointed out.

“Indeed. I also require a healthy host.” The goddess chuckled melodiously. “I intend to amuse myself too.”

I guessed I would too, if I was only allowed to have flesh once a year. Still, it meant I had eleven months to find someone willing to become a death goddess’ vessel for a night and keep it secret from the Nightlords. A difficult task, but not as hard as gathering an ocean of blood.

“Very well, oh great queen of the dead,” I said. “I agree to your terms, and I swear I shall not use your knowledge to bring harm upon your subjects. I will organize your festival.”

“Wonderful.” Mictecacihuatl raised a hand and bit into her skinless flesh. “Now, expose your Teyolia to me.”

I revealed my bare chest and the flames between my ribs. Like Xolotl before her, Mictecacihuatl let a drop of her divine, blackened blood fall through the cracks. The purple fire within me devoured it utterly.

As it did so, a strange warmth coursed through my bones. A gentle caress that reminded me of the times when my father cared for me in my childhood.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I said. “I shall not disappoint you.”

“I believe you,” the queen replied with enthusiasm. “Our pact is sealed. Before we begin, was there anything else you sought to accomplish in my city?”

I nodded in confirmation. “My predecessors suggested I find the sorcerer Huehuecoyotl to learn the Veil spell.”

“That scoundrel?” Queen Mictecacihuatl scoffed in disdain. Clearly, she didn’t like him. “You might be able to find him causing mischief in the Market of Years… However, I doubt you will have the time to haggle with him. The sun will soon rise in the waking world.”

I bristled at her words, though I expected as much. The journey to Mictlan had taken a long time. Xolotl himself doubted I could make the journey in a single night. “My predecessors said I could return to your kingdom the next night, skipping the journey.”

“You should, yes.” Queen Mictecacihuatl nodded in confirmation. “Let us use what little time you have left for a lesson in magic.”

I bowed before the goddess, as I did before teachers at school. “I am ready to learn.”

“So diligent.” The queen’s exposed teeth morphed into a smile. “The Doll discipline requires the use of your Tonalli, Iztac. You must send it out of your body to possess a target, living or dead.”

“Like spiritual manifestation?” I asked with a frown. “Wouldn’t that cause me to fall over unconscious?”

“Not necessarily. Possessing another will require far less power than physically manifesting your Tonalli outside your body.” The queen chuckled lightly. “You are your own Tonalli in the Underworld, but you do not see me entering your flesh, do you? Focus on my hand.”

The goddess raised a finger at my face. I squinted as I noticed simmering, near-tendrils extended from her bones and coiling around my hand like a black serpent.

“Mayhaps I should put it like this: you must sink your Tonalli’s talons into a prey and catch it.” Once the tendril seized my hand the queen pulled her finger, and my limb with it. “You temporarily and spiritually dominate your target, asserting ownership over their body if you triumph in a battle of will.”

“Why can I see it this time?” I muttered in amazement.

“Because I wish you to, Iztac,” Queen Mictecacihuatl answered. “Good sorcerers use the Veil spell, which creates illusions, to hide the strings from other magical beings.”

“Wait, you know how to cast the Veil?” I beat myself. Of course a goddess would know more than one spell. “Can you teach me?”

“I must confess that for all his faults, Huehuecoyotl’s mastery of illusions surpasses mine,” the queen replied. “I can teach you the basics for a price, but if you truly wish to learn from the best… I would go to him.”

I admit, I did not expect such humility from a goddess. Huehuecoyotl’s craft must truly be great to earn such praise.

“Manipulating a target’s limbs is but the basest application of the Doll spell. Empty corpses have no soul to fight you with, so you can learn to control them easily enough… even more than one.” Mictecacihuatl chuckled to herself. “I remember one sorcerer who used the Doll spell to raise an army of corpses to defend his city from invaders a long, long time ago.”

The idea of besieging the Blood Pyramid with an army made of undead sacrifices appealed to me. The more I learned about this Doll spell, the more excited I became. “So…” I raised a hand too. “I must only manifest part of my Tonalli?”

“Yes. Instead of expelling it from your body, you must create a link between the target’s and your own. Do not give it substance. Keep it ethereal.”

I focused on my finger and summoned the flow of magic coursing through my veins. The same power that allowed me to transform into a giant owl activated. It became a struggle against the instinct to fully manifest it. My magic instinctively either desired to remain in my body or escape it; keeping it in an intermediary state required far more concentration than the previous two options.

But I was studious and determined. After three attempts, I finally managed to manifest a puppet string of my own: a shadowy, clawed wisp flowing out of my finger.

A talon of darkness.

I woke up midway through the lesson.

The Doll spell proved less mentally taxing than Spiritual Manifestation, and awfully more delicate. Whereas fully summoning my Tonalli demanded great spiritual power, manipulating limbs demanded razor-sharp focus and concentration. Finesse over strength. Queen Mictecacihuatl was a kind, patient teacher, so I knew I would make steady progress over time.

However, since magical creatures like the Nightlords could detect undisguised use of magic, I couldn’t afford to practice in the living world. I needed to learn how to cast the Veil spell as soon as possible.

I woke up with heavy eyelids. The dawn hadn’t fully risen yet, and the obsidian windows dimmed its light anyway. My royal chambers were trapped in an eternal twilight at the best of times.

I opened my eyes to find Eztli gone from my bed and staring at the window. She stood in front of the obsidian, her back turned on me, the filtered sunlight reflecting on her pale skin and perfect curves. If she heard me wake up, she did not show it. Instead, she stared at the obscured sun with intensity.

“Eztli?” I called out to her.

She peeked over her shoulder with a look of immense sadness.

It only lasted a fleeting instant, but I knew I would remember that face forever. Those hollow, lifeless eyes; that somber scowl of deep unhappiness; her skin turned pallid by despair. If despair had taken physical form, then its avatar stood before me.

That single sight unsettled me more than all of the Underworld’s trials combined.

Eztli quickly put on a smile and a mask of happiness. “Did you have a nightmare, Iztac?” she asked me. “I watched you sleep. It didn’t look so peaceful to me.”

My hand instinctively covered the eye that the spider-monster took from me in the swamps. Though the goddess healed me, I spent most of the night without one. Eztli would have noticed its absence, but she did not. Which meant that the wounds of the soul did not translate to the body. “Do you still dream, Eztli?”

Eztli’s smile faltered. “No. I can only see darkness when I close my eyes.”

And from her tone, it frightened her. “Eztli… are you well?”

“I’m fine.” Eztli rejoined me in bed. “The dark makes me appreciate my waking moments all the more.”

“But–”

“I’m fine.”

A lie, but she didn’t want to speak of her sorrow. I wasn’t the only one mourning her loss of humanity.

Eztli leaned against me, and though she felt like a corpse to the touch it did not occur to me to turn her away. I held her in my arms and let her rest her head against my chest. She closed her eyes, her ear against my ribs. She was listening to my heart, since her own no longer beat.

It finally hit me.

We were married.

Our wedding involved human sacrifices and our honeymoon a murder, but Eztli was my wife now. We had made love, and only our promised death would separate us. This would have been a dream come true once.

Why did it feel so bittersweet then? Because we paid a heavy price for it. Eztli remained Yoloxochitl’s slave the same way I belonged to the four Nightlords. Although I knew we would make the most of it, we had been forced into this relationship; and it would end along with our lives when our so-called ‘masters’ demanded it.

We were married, but not free.

For now.

“Something changed while you slept,” Eztli whispered. “Your heartbeat is stronger than before.”

I would have loved to tell her how I triumphed over a monster and earned a goddess’ favor. She had been my truest confidant once, the only one I could spill my secrets to. Instead, I held my tongue. The Parliament of Skulls warned me sternly enough. So long as Yoloxochitl haunted the world, Eztli would remain bound to her will.

I hated to keep things from her, but I had to. Once I killed Yoloxochitl, I could let these walls between us fall.

“You did make a man out of me,” I said, deflecting.

“That was just the start.” Eztli looked at me with an enigmatic smile. “I have so many ideas.”

Eztli leaned into my ear to whisper in it. However, instead of promising pleasure, she offered a warning. “I’ve looked around,” she said. “There are holes in the walls for spies to listen in.”

It didn’t even surprise me. Still, the thought of some pervert vampire spawn listening while Eztli and I made love filled me with disgust.

“But they can’t hear us whisper in the bed.” Eztli gently stroked my hair. “The gardens and the menagerie should be safe too. There’s no holes for rats to crawl into, trees for walls, and the open sky for a ceiling.”

That was good to know. I approached my lips to her ear as if to kiss her. “Can you search for secret passages?” I whispered, so low I doubted anyone could hear us. “Find other hideouts?”

“See? You have a mischievous side to yourself, Iztac.” Eztli lightly kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll find a place to dump the bodies too.”

Her joking tone could not hide her bloodlust. To hear such words from a woman who had once been so gentle sent a shiver down my spine. Eztli was still in there, but she had changed for the worse nonetheless. I doubted Mictecacihuatl would accept her as a host for the Day of the Dead either.

I had so many ideas to subvert the Nightlords’ rule, so many plans to destroy them… and I couldn’t share a single one with her. And she understood it too.

“I know you can’t tell me anything,” Eztli whispered. “If Yoloxochitl interrogates me, I will have to answer. I can feel it in my bones.”

I held my tongue and nodded.

“But she’s mad, and desperate to be loved.” Eztli stroked my hair. “I can handle her, at least for a time. I’ll play the perfect daughter. If I find her weakness, I’ll tell you. Things will be simpler when she’s gone. The others can’t compel me the way she can.”

At least we thought along the same lines. “You’ll have to be subtler from now on,” I whispered. “We’re walking on eggshells. A single mistake will spell our demise.”

“I understand. I just wanted you to know I’m on your side, Iztac. No matter what comes.” Her lips briefly brushed against mine. The kiss was cold, but comforting nonetheless. “No need to tell me anything sensitive from now on. Ask me anything and I will deliver.”

“Thank you.” I embraced her tightly. “The same goes for me.”

My stomach growled. The night made me hungry.

“We might be better off eating separately,” Eztli said with a chuckle. “I need to work on my table manners.”

My stomach soured. “Eztli… where does the blood you drink come from?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “The old bats’ servants preserve that sweet nectar in jugs spiced with herbs. I’ll investigate during the day.”

The red-eyed priests sacrificed tens of thousands on the eve of the Scarlet Moon. I figured they stocked the blood they harvested for the year to feed the vampiric nobility.

In the end, neither of us had to leave the bed at all. A single servant entered the royal bedchambers to bring us breakfast: a half-naked woman with a foul scowl all over her face and carrying a platter full of food.

Necahual.

I almost didn’t recognize her until I met her hateful glare. For a start, she was naked from the waist up, with a single maguey fiber skirt and rope to cover her lady parts. A choker necklace of colorful fabric coiled around her throat. Servants applied avocado oil to give her long black hair a shiny look, and a watery, herbal preparation to soften her skin and remove her wrinkles. Her full breasts lay exposed for the world to see, alongside her mature curves and hips. I’d occasionally seen her naked when she bathed in the river, but imperial skincare seemed to have given her back five years of life.

So many emotions flashed on Necahual’s face. Shame at being reduced to such a state; relief at seeing her daughter again; rage at seeing me naked and in bed with her; sorrow; and most of all, abject fear.

I was slightly ashamed to admit it, but after suffering so many insults and abuse at her hand, seeing that wicked woman forced to serve me filled me with indescribable pleasure. The glare she sent only warmed my heart further. Her cheeks reddened in humiliation when my eyes lingered on her breasts and hips. It was quite a pleasant show.

But then my eyes focused on the choker around her neck, and all that it symbolized.

She was a slave. My slave. My property. My concubine. I could rape her, beat her, torture her, kill her, and no one would bat an eyelash. She was a toy the emperor could dispose of at will. The Nightlords murdered her husband and then put her in my bed as a final humiliation.

And no matter how much I disliked Necahual, that just wasn’t right.

Eztli’s lips stretched in a warm, oh-so-familiar smile. “Mother.”

“Eztli.” In spite of her fear, Necahual greeted her daughter kindly. Her joy, however, faded away when it came to greeting me. “Cur–my emperor.”

Even after saving her from a fate worse than death, she almost insulted me on the spot. I supposed old habits die hard, but her utter ungratefulness did her no credit. “You have come to bring us food, I see,” I taunted her. “Enjoying yourself?”

Necahual’s scowl deepened, her hands shaking as they gripped the platter. “Do you want me to put it on the table or… elsewhere?”

I knew it was petty and that I should try to win her favor, but I simply couldn’t resist tormenting her. For the first time since I put on the crown, I relished playing emperor. “What do you think, Eztli?” I asked while putting a loving hand around my wife’s waist, making sure Necahual would see everything. “Should she feed us in bed?”

I would have sold my hands and feet for a painting of Necahual’s face at that very moment.

“Iztac,” Eztli scolded me. “I know the two of you don’t get along, but you should try to make up.” She turned to her mother with a grin. “Put the platter aside and join us, Mom.”

“Join us?” I asked with a frown.

“In the bed.” Eztli chuckled. “Have you seen how large it is? Besides, it’s comfortable.”

Necahual appeared no more eager at the thought than I was, but the chance of talking to her daughter again proved too much for her. After a brief moment of hesitation, Eztli’s smile convinced her to try. My mother-in-law put down the platter of food—which included a goblet full of herb-spiced blood—and warily sat on the bed. Necahual stayed as far away from me as she could, and as close to her daughter as decency would allow. She locked eyes with Eztli, chewing her lip, yet failed to utter a single word.

“What’s wrong, Mother?” Eztli smiled warmly. “It’s just me.”

Necahual clearly wanted to believe it too, but she had seen Eztli consume her father to death. “Are…” she cleared her throat and struggled to find her words. “Are they… are they treating you well?”

She’s afraid of mentioning what happened that night, I guessed. Necahual couldn’t entirely hide the dread in her eyes. Does she think she’s next on the menu if she answers incorrectly?

“I like it here,” Eztli replied with a chuckle. “I have my own apartment and servants.”

“They…” Necahual gulped. “I have a room too. One bigger than the house.”

A poor trade-off for her enslavement and widowing.

“Oh? I will visit you shortly then.” Eztli charmingly stroked Necahual’s hair. “Is that avocado? You smell wonderful, Mother. Do you remember all the times I pestered you to take better care of yourself?”

Necahual’s fear vanished ever so slightly. “I remember.”

“You should see the hot baths they put in my room.” Eztli chuckled. “They put perfumed salts in the water, which I find relaxing.”

I said nothing and watched Eztli work her magic. That girl could charm her way out of anything. She managed to draw a reassured smile from her mother, even after she watched her drink Guatemoc to death.

“I should go now.” Eztli soundlessly leaped out of the bed and grabbed the dress she left on the floor yesterday. “I’ll let the two of you enjoy your breakfast and catch up.”

Conspire away, she meant. The less I know of your plans, the better.

Necahual’s jaws clenched into a scowl. “You’re leaving me with him?”

I could trust Necahual to make the word sound like an insult. Eztli simply shrugged. “I’m exhausted after last night’s performance, but Iztac still has energy to spend,” she said. “He’ll take good care of you.”

I could have sworn that my heart and Necahual’s both stopped at the exact same moment. Eztli exploded in good-natured laughter; one that sounded all the more unsettling in its innocence. “Don’t tell me you’ve never considered it?”

No, I did not. “Eztli,” I rasped, struggling to hide my disgust. “I think you’re imagining things.”

“My, you would make both your lives so much easier if you could simply bury the hatchet and enjoy each other’s company.” Eztli rolled her eyes as if we were the mad ones and put on her clothes. “Besides, you will have to do it eventually for Mother’s safety. The quicker the better.”

Necahual paled like a ghost, while I clenched my fists. “What do you mean, the quicker the better?” I asked, trying to stay vague in case anyone listened in.

Eztli’s playful gaze hardened into a serious expression. “The Nightlords only let Mother live on the condition she would have your child. If Mother fails to conceive, they will kill her.”

A tense silence fell upon the royal bedchambers, which Eztli swiftly broke.

“No pressure though,” she said as she swiped the goblet of blood from the food platter. “Take it slow, if you feel overwhelmed… we’re family after all. We should learn to get along.”

Eztli exited the room afterward, leaving me alone with her mother.

Drops of a warm liquid fell on the bed.

I looked up at Necahual, and found her holding back tears. She looked at me not with hatred, but something deeper, more primal. The same terror we both experienced on that terrible night.

I saved her life from Yoloxochitl’s claws by adding her to my harem. I never intended to do anything about it, but… neither the Nightlord nor Necahual knew that. My mother-in-law believed me to be a monster and a witch’s son, who hated her as much as she hated me. She walked into this room expecting the worst.

A small part of my soul still wanted revenge for all that she had done… but the rest of me felt pity for all that she had gone through. I tried to come up with comforting words and failed.

Instead, I hugged her.

Necahual was as surprised as I was when my arms coiled around her back. I held her against my chest, not in a lover’s embrace, but a gentler one. The kind Eztli used to give me back when we were kids. The kind that said I did not expect anything in return. Necahual froze a few seconds, unsure how to respond. So I reassured her.

“It’s alright,” I whispered, gently stroking her hair. “It’s alright. You’re safe.”

Necahual started sobbing on my shoulder.

Her arms coiled around my back too, the way a drowning sailor would desperately grab a piece of drifting wood. She almost squeezed the air out of my lungs. Her heart pounded in her chest like a war drum. I let her cry in peace without another word. I simply held her. In that moment, I briefly forgot all the insults, all the stoning, all the wrongs she inflicted upon me.

Eztli meant well when she left us alone, but she was too broken inside to fully comprehend the situation. She was correct on one point, however. As fellow victims of the Nightlords, Necahual and I should learn to get along.

Once she calmed down slightly, I approached my lips to her ear and whispered into it. “Do you want revenge?”

Necahual held her breath. Her arms tightened further around my back.

“Against the Nightlords?” I asked as lowly as I could. “Tlacaelel? The red-eyes? Do you hate them for what they did to you? Do you want them to suffer like I do?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Necahual glanced at the door which her daughter walked through not so long ago. “Yes,” she whispered back, wiping away her tears with a hand. “Yes… I do.”

The word dripped with so much venom that I had no trouble believing her. The only things stronger than fear were love and hate.

My mother-in-law wasn’t stupid either. Since she whispered her answer instead of saying it out loud, it meant she understood others listened in.

“Can you brew poison with the right herbs? The kind that won’t be detected easily?” I muttered in her ear. Necahual raised her chin in response, which I took for a yes. “Good.”

I pushed her back slightly. Necahual’s eyes were almost as red as her daughter’s from all the tears, but she had regained some of her composure.

“There is a garden outside, full of medicinal herbs,” I said out loud. Too much whispering might appear suspicious. “You remember the slumber draught you used to brew for me when I couldn’t sleep?”

Necahual scowled, her eyes squinting dangerously. She had caught on to my plan. “Would you like me to make more for you?”

“Yes, I’ve been struggling with nightmares lately.” In my case, a better quality of sleep could mean the difference between life and death down the line. “How about we spend the afternoon in the garden, once my meetings have concluded?”

“I…” Necahual cleared her throat. “I would love to… my emperor.”

The pact was sealed.

I had recruited my first conspirators.