WALL MEN: A Haunted House (The Wall Men 1)

“We had a pack of bare asses trailing us,” Tiago says, taking another big bite.

I catch a glimpse of human feet going into his mouth. “Did he just eat a person?” I swallow hard.

“Do not worry,” says Alwar. “No one you know.”

“I thought you said you don’t eat people.”

“They’re only human from the waist down. The top tastes the best, more like Flier meat.” Tiago swallows and licks his lips.

He’s eating a masterbeast.

“Save any for me?” asks Alwar.

“At least ten,” Tiago replies. “But they fled toward the Blood Lands. I can chase after them and grab a few.”

“No,” says Alwar. “We don’t have time for that.”

“What about Lake? She looks like she needs food,” says Gabrio.

I’d rather die of starvation. “I don’t eat masterbeast.”

“Masterbeast?” Alwar asks. “Like your dog?”

“No. I mean that half-wolf thing. They’re beasts that like to mast…” My voice fades with the thought of explaining it to these three giants. “Never mind. I’ll wait until we can find something less human looking.”

“We will find baby food along the way.” Alwar turns and begins marching, holding Master and me in his hands.

I don’t know what baby food is, but it can’t be any worse than Flier meat.

Tiago takes the lead, thrashing trees out of our way with his fists. Gabrio passes us to help but doesn’t look at me in my hand-carriage. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk to me. Is he ashamed that I was taken under his watch?

I just hope he’s all right. I can only imagine how upset Alwar was when he found out his prizefighter, me, was kidnapped.

Cold, wet, and hungry, I curl against Master, who seems perfectly at ease being carried by two large hands.

I wrap my arms around him for warmth. “I missed you, boy.” I close my eyes, unsure if I’m in safe hands—literally—but anything is better than being trapped in a pit, waiting to be eaten by a pack of devils.

When I wake, it’s to the crackle of a campfire. A really enormous one comprised of several large trees. I’m lying on a pile of dry leaves with a familiar furry dog to my back.

Alwar, Tiago, and Gabrio are seated on boulders, roasting what looks like two headed lime green pigs skewered on branches.

“You are lucky, Alwar,” says Gabrio in a quiet voice, tearing off a bite from his supersized kabob. “Lake does not look well. One more day and she would have been dead.”

“I know,” Alwar says. “But it could not be helped. Benicio concealed her whereabouts well. Hiding her at his palace was a bold move.”

“I still do not understand how he avoided his servants seeing her,” says Gabrio. “There must be a thousand slaves waiting on him hand and foot.”

Is that why the palace seemed like a ghost town? I wonder, half in, half out of consciousness. Benicio wanted to keep me hidden. He sent everyone away.

“But now what will you do?” Tiago tears off a pig leg and crunches the entire thing.

“She must go home, where she will be safe to heal,” says Gabrio.

“She is too weak to travel. Crossing the bridge will kill her.” Alwar rotates his charring meat in the fire. “We must buy her time to regain enough strength for the trip.”

“And then what?” Gabrio asks.

“And then we pray to the gods we can hold the wall until she’s ready to fight,” Alwar says.

“She is hopeless as a warrior,” Tiago snarls, picking his teeth with his fingernail. “We should wait until she has offspring.”

“She survived the Blood King and traveled alone through the Blood Lands. She is strong enough,” Alwar says. “But we have wasted too much time hoping for more Norfolks. We are out of time. For them and for us.”

“And if she dies?” Gabrio pulls his flaming meat from the fire and blows on it before biting off one of the heads.

Nasty.

“She will not die,” Alwar says. “She will win. I can feel it in my bones. And when she does, she will spare Benicio’s proxy. She will demand new vows are taken by all the kingdoms as compensation for her victory. They will have to honor the victor’s wish. It is one of the oldest vows, sworn to by all kingdoms in the time of my father.”

Is this their plan? I’m not a wimp or wallflower. I took a self-defense class in college—keys to the eye, knee to the groin, slap to the eardrum—but a fight to near death, where I debilitate my opponent? They’re giant morons if they think I can pull that off. Especially if the other proxy is a man. What if he’s Bard’s size?

“It won’t work,” I grumble.

The three giants stop chewing and turn their heads toward me.

“You are awake,” says Alwar.

“Yes. And your plan is lame,” I mumble. “I’ve never killed a thing in my life.”