Page 7 of Caught in the Devil’s Hand

Shumei beat a fast pace to her next stop. Embarrassment heated her cheeks. Her nipples tingled. Majo had never done or said anything like that before. And to think Shumei had been trying to give Majo the benefit of the doubt.

The next four deliveries went by quickly and without a problem. However, her last stop of the day still loomed before her—a man who regularly bought medicine for his hangovers. Where he got his drink, or with what money, was a mystery, but her mother suspected he used part of his crop to distill whatever could get him drunk despite how little surplus their village could produce.

His son was the infamous Akiji, who had been pursuing her since she was thirteen. At first, Akiji’s overtures had been sweet, even thoughtful. But as everything else in her life, his attention had become something wrong and uncomfortable. That she had thus far escaped any serious incident with him was a miracle, for she was never surprised to see a new bruise on his face. He was always getting into fights, though she had never seen this herself, and his tendency toward violence seriously worried her, especially if she were forced to marry him.

She frowned when Akiji’s home came into view and looked around for any signs of him or his pockmarked father. All was quiet. She lightly rapped on the door, medicine packet in hand, and waited. Almost a minute passed before she heard noise inside, but she knew she had to be patient with this delivery. Knocking more than once earned far more ire than it was worth. When the rickety wooden door was abruptly whipped open, she was rather glad it was Akiji’s father, and not Akiji himself.

The man clearly had yet another hangover and had been sleeping until a moment ago. Where his wife was at this hour, Shumei didn’t know, but she could guess the woman was filling in for her husband in the fields until he could pull himself out of his drunken stupor long enough to go do his own work.

“What do you want?” he grumbled. He wasn’t in a good mood, so she meekly held out the cloth bag.

“Your medicines, sir.”

He thought for a brief moment, rubbing his bumpy face, and then told her to wait a minute. He disappeared inside his dark home and came stumbling back with her fee. After slapping the two rectangular pieces into her palm, he grabbed his medicine. She brought her hand back just as he slammed the door in her face.

Sighing, she placed the money into the only other bag in her medicine pouch, which now held the day’s earnings of exactly fifty kols. About half would go toward meals for her family this week, and another fifteen kols would go toward firewood because they had neither an ax nor the time to chop their own. That left ten kols, eight of which were from Majo’s tip, for Shumei’s use. She decided to take the witch’s advice and use them for a pair of shoes. That assumed, of course, that a traveling merchant would come through their village again anytime soon.

The week’s deliveries done, Shumei turned in the direction of the village huntsman, and she jumped in surprise to find Akiji standing between her and the path, arms folded and shoulder propped against the wall of his house. His smile was possessive, and a fresh bruise colored his left eye.

“Lovely to see you this fine morning,” he greeted despite how obviously poor the weather was.

“Did you get into another fight?” she asked without inflection, having recovered from her shock. She made to walk past him, but he caught her arm in a firm grip.

“You always misunderstand me,” he said, low and far too intimate. Compared to his father and most of the men in the village, Akiji was quite handsome. Straight teeth, light brown eyes, a strong jaw, and a fine figure. His sandy-brown hair was cut short and curled a bit.

But what value was there in good looks when she held absolutely no feelings for him, except perhaps pity and no small amount of fear? According to others’ opinions of his temper and her own experiences with his bullying nature, she had the strong feeling his future wife would have her own share of bruises.

“I misunderstand nothing. Please let go of me,” she said, attempting to jerk her arm out of his grasp. His grip only tightened. “My family is sick, and I cannot waste time here with you.”

“I merely wish to know if the leader and his wife told you of my marital intentions.”

“They did. Now let me go.” She tried to break free once more, but he only pulled her a step closer.

“But what of your answer? Will you be my wife?”

“I… I didn’t finish talking with them this morning due to my urgent business at home, so I won’t have an answer until that discussion is over,” she stalled, not wanting to say outright that marriage to him had no chance of happening.

“That you know of my intentions is enough of a discussion. I love you and want to marry you,” he declared, though his voice nearly broke on the word marry. He briefly touched his bruised eye and winced as if it still greatly pained him. “We’d both be better off, don’t you see?”

“But I don’t love you,” Shumei said, having given him a similar answer countless times over the years. She hoped this time he would let it go.

But he hardened his jaw and then clamped her against his wide chest, crushing her against him. “You’ll come to love me, Shumei. I know it,” he whispered. She turned her face when his mouth came dangerously close. “When you feel our first child growing inside you, you’ll realize how much we love each other.” She wedged her arm between them and wrenched free of his grasp. Stumbling back, she clutched her medicine pouch to her chest like a shield.

“Why is everyone after me today?” she panted. When he didn’t advance on her and only looked at her with confusion, she straightened from her defensive posture. “My family needs me.” Without bidding him any sort of farewell, she turned and walked away. He let her go this time, though she did hear him quietly call her name.

As her feet carried her toward the huntsman, Shumei’s mind whirred with dread and confusion. Why hadn’t her mother warned her turning twenty would be such a rocky experience? Leader Kimen, who had already propositioned her before, was stepping up his efforts. Then there was Majo, who had been like an older sister to her, albeit an intimidating one. Now she was also taking liberties and offering “much more.” Lastly, there was Akiji, who had always pursued her as he had today, but now he wanted her hand in marriage rather than a kiss, a few of which he had successfully stolen over the years, much to Shumei’s dismay.

Though her twentieth birthday was still a couple months away, it now loomed in her future like a storm on the horizon. The only question remaining was how much damage that storm would do.

Chapter Two

Oka would not live through the night if his fever wasn’t brought down. With her hand on his forehead, Shumei looked at her mother and shook her head. Mama lay on her side. She was awake, but her breathing had become labored. Next to her, their cooking pot simmered over a small fire, steeping the last of the fuki they had at the hut. Shumei only hoped the herbs were still fresh. When she had dumped them in, the normally pungent, earthy scent was far too musty for her liking.

“Hot,” Oka moaned. She patted his shoulder and blinked back her tears.

“Hush now. Let your body fix itself,” she quietly ordered, brushing the hair from his forehead.

“I think it’s…ready, baby,” her mother weakly called. Shumei padded over to the pot and lifted the lid. The fetid stench that greeted her nose said it all.