We came to the elevator and the Oni demon attendant stepped aside to let us pass. Once inside, Echidna pressed a button marked “Sub-Basement.” Then she inserted a key and the Oni demon inserted a key as well. Then the elevator car began to descend silently and smoothly to the ground floor. It passed the ground floor though, and we kept descending for about another minute.
“Uh, where are we going?” Garfunkel asked casually. “All the way to China?”
Simon shook his head. “It is a common myth that one can dig all the way to China. The earth is 7,917.5 miles across but the deepest human-made hole is 7.169 miles deep …”
The elevator came to an easy halt and the doors slid open whisper-quiet.
Immediately I recognized the dark rocky ceiling above us in the wide-open room before us. We were in the circular room beneath the Arena!
It was a section in the back nestled among some pipes and generators, curtained off from the part Orion and I had been in. Wow. And to think that Typhon had made his home directly above his evil underground empire.
I glanced around the room lit by soft fluorescent lighting. My first impression was that I was standing in a veterinarian clinic. The usual tools of the trade sat on stainless-steel benches, among them tiny probes and dental picks and mirrors. A couple of white-clad doctors stood around with impassive faces. Metal cabinets lined the back wall along with refrigerators holding test tubes and glass jars filled with various-colored fluids with objects suspended in them. What caught my eye the most were seven amber-colored uniform jars resting in a separate mini-fridge, its door secured by a heavy lock.
Off to the side, Typhon stood behind a dark paneled podium with a microphone projecting from it. He caught my eye as Echidna led me toward a group of wealthy businessmen and women of all ages and ethnicities. Also present were numerous Others dressed in business attire. Many of the spectators had eager faces and notepads in their hands.
Typhon waved to his wife and me before smiling and facing the businesspeople arrayed before him. “As I was saying, life is a game, a game none of us can win …” he raised his hand, “… if we play by life’s rules.”
Typhon clasped his hands behind his back. “Life is simple. We live. We die. We ‘maybe used to’ get reincarnated.” He paused for some chuckles from the crowd. Typhon resumed. “At the end of each and every one of our lives, we die. No longer any heaven or hell. We just die. It’s only a matter of time. Is it not?” He paused, coolly, conspiratorially. “Let me show you something.”
A female scientist in a lab coat rolled a gurney in. A white sheet covered it, draped over an inhuman form.
No one said anything as the gurney squeaked to a stop in front of the gathered businessmen. Typhon left the podium and stood beside the cart and scientist.
“Be prepared,” he began. “What you are about to see may be a bit … unsightly. But bear with me.” He nodded to the scientist. She pulled the sheet off the gurney.
On the table lay a goblin, most definitely deceased. No one gasped or uttered a protest but an ogre in a business suit licked his lips.
“I can’t watch!” Simon said, covering his eyes.
The scientist looked at Typhon. He nodded. She lifted a scalpel off the cart and made an incision along the belly, inserted a pair of tweezers, and using the scalpel again, extracted one of the creature’s internal organs.
“Many of you probably don’t know,” Typhon continued, “but Goblin spleen contains a unique enzyme that can help restore damaged pancreases in humans. This will cure diabetes in all humans.”
No one said anything.
Typhon nodded and another gurney was rolled out. The female scientist drew back the sheet covering it, revealing a deceased jackalope. The scientist donned a pair of clear plastic goggles and picked up an electric hand saw. She sawed off the horn.
Typhon cleared his throat, dabbing at his mouth with a white handkerchief. “Horn of jackalope. When ground to a powder, it can reverse hair loss. And leprechaun teeth can lessen the effects of ADHD in children.”
“This is sickening,” Garfunkel said, pointing to the gurneys. “That could be us.”
Simon wrapped himself in my hair and started sobbing.
“I won’t let it happen,” I whispered. If Echidna heard me, she didn’t show it. Why did Typhon want me to see this? There was no way I was going to let his scientists cut up my familiars.
Typhon continued his spiel. “Each mythical being living on this earth contains some organ, some tissue, some vital component that if consumed by another being, bestows a certain, you could say “magical” property. Think of the typical witch’s pantry: eye of newt, hair of tarantula, puppy dog tail.”
He bowed to the scientist before turning to the investors. “Now you may be thinking that we’re ‘too inhumane.’ We aren’t.” He indicated the ceiling. “Most of the combatants in my Arena are willing. And when they die, they are only dead for a short amount of time. See, I give these creatures new life after they die.”
Some of the investors gave each other quizzical glances. “New life?” someone whispered.
Re-Life, I thought.
Typhon raised his arms. “Why have I gathered you here? Why should you invest in my operation? Please follow me.”
“Death Takes A Holiday”
Typhon turned on his heel and pulled aside an opening in the sheet curtaining off the rest of the room. The investors, Echidna and I followed.
We came to the part of the room Orion and I had been in a few days ago. Spotlights placed strategically throughout the wide room illuminated the wide circular vats filled with greenish liquid. Three of the glass vats contained massive creatures: a crab, a scorpion, a lion. Bubbles streamed up from their mouths as the creatures themselves floated in the liquid, their bodies connected to tiny wires via patches over their bodies.
Typhon stopped and placed a palm against the glass vat of the giant lion suspended in the green liquid. The convexity of the glass magnified the beast’s snout and open mouth and teeth. Nemo AKA Leo the constellation. He, along with Scorpio and Cancer appeared sleepy, their eyes shuttered, their bodies pristine, undamaged, whole.
Typhon raised both arms in a grand gesture. “Do you know how many health uses we’ve found within the body of this majestic lion? One hundred twenty-four, and counting. That’s a fairly good way to serve humankind and Otherkind alike, don’t you think? This beast’s life—and death—meant something.” He paused. “But wait, … there’s more.”
Typhon knocked on the glass a few times with his knuckles and the king of the jungle’s magnified face twitched. First its nose rumpled. Then one eye and then the other blinked, opened wide, glossy, but healthy.
Now I hadn’t seen Leo and Scorpio actually die in the Arena but the last I saw before I disappeared into the crowd, they didn’t stand much of a chance against all of Typhon’s beast tamers pouring in to exterminate them.
But here they were, perfectly nursed back to health … only a few days later. It may have been disturbing, but it was incredible. And disgusting.
“After these magical Others died heroic deaths on the Arena floor,” Typhon continued. “They were then transferred—in a respectable manner—down the central elevator and immediately to the operating tables where the majority of their internal—and some external—organs and tissues and bone were removed …”
Simon shuddered on my right shoulder and I turned to see Garfunkel placing an arm around Simon’s shoulder as he sobbed. Garfunkel turned his eyes to mine. “Typhon can’t keep doing that to our siblings. We’ve got to stop him …”
“… These majestic creatures were then transferred into the holding tanks to begin their regeneration. It works for 95% of all beings who perish on the resurrection-stone floor of the Arena.”
An investor raised his hand, a middle-aged white man with a bald spot on his head. He kind of resembled a younger Chevy Chase. “What about the 5% that don’t make it?”
Typhon sighed. “That’s not
the main point here. These creatures are brought back to life again and again and again. Nearly unlimited harvesting for the majority—”
“But 5% … that is one-in-twenty,” the investor observed. “You let these giant one-of-a-kind beasts fight when there is such a chance?”
The start of a scowl creeped across Typhon’s face but a moment later, he had his emotions in check. “We have the big one-of-a-kind Others fight less frequently. Usually only two of them, on the weekend to mitigate the chance of loss.”
“Now …” Typhon turned suddenly and coughed into his sleeve. He shook himself and regained his composure, making it seem as if nothing had even happened. “Onto the main reveal. We are currently finishing up work on a third project, one I am proud to announce to you all before I tell the rest of the world.”
Typhon beamed, his face aglow like a vibrant child’s as he met Echidna’s eyes. She looked equally as proud. She placed a cold hand upon my shoulder in anticipation.
“We are within hours of completing a prototype cure for, well, not just diabetes or hair loss—although those are quite nice—but death itself.”
Some of the investors gasped. A draugr groaned in delight.
“That sounds too good to be true,” Garfunkel said skeptically.
Simon stared forward with horrified eyes. “It is! The world would face overpopulation. The balance would be upset!”
“But still, we wouldn’t have to die,” Garfunkel said. “I don’t want to die.”
Typhon raised his hands for quiet. “We are working on acquiring the final ingredient but if all goes according to plan, I shall have it by tonight. Further testing is required though, and that is where your gracious funding comes into play.”
A bunny-ish Other gnawed anxiously at her pencil like a carrot and raised a pawed hand. Typhon called on her. “What makes you think you can cure death when pharmaceutical companies have been trying for ages?”
Typhon grinned. “Because they use only science. I employ science and magic.” He turned to some scientists who rolled out the locked mini-fridge I’d seen earlier. “In exchange for some services I rendered to the Seven Deadly Sins, I received self-populating jars of each of their essences.”
“The Seven Deadly Sins?” Simon blurted out. “Pride, Greed, Wrath, Envy, Lust, Gluttony and Sloth! And he made a deal with them? Not good!”
Typhon continued. “The magic binding that, in the proper doses, forms the backbones of our cures—”
The Chevy Chase-looking investor cleared his throat. “Aren’t you worried your competitors are going to steal your idea?”
Typhon turned and stared at the man like he was a piece of meatloaf. “No. I am not. They don’t have the proprietary formulas that I have. And I am the only being on this GoneGod earth the Sins have entrusted their essences to. Now as I was saying—”
“Do you even have a patent in the works?” the investor said.
Silence. Typhon drew in a deep breath and leaned his forearms on top of the podium. He closed his eyes and softly counted to ten before opening his eyes and glancing out at his wife who nodded to him. Addressing the investor in a polite but curt manner, he said, “No. Now—”
The investor scratched his chin. “I’ll admit, I take a dose of scorpion venom every morning to bolster my immune system. But the Seven Deadly Sins? Am I the only one sensing this is a bit dangerous?”
The bunny-ish Other raised her paw. “Most pharmaceuticals have side effects. Do you anticipate any?”
“We’ll know after I take it.” Typhon laughed. “I am this project’s official guinea pig.” Laughter followed, except from a gerbil-looking Other. “No offense to you sir,” Typhon said gently and the gerbil-Other relented and chuckled.
The Chevy Chase-looking man didn’t bother to raise his hand. “This wonder drug have a name yet?”
“Not yet,” Typhon admitted, biting his tongue. “The ‘Death Cure’ and ‘Eternity Formula’ don’t have the best ring to it. But both are appropriate working titles for it.”
An ogre glanced down at his notepad. “How much will it cost?”
Typhon’s eyes went wide in exhilaration. “I’m so glad you asked. Why, it will be free!”
“Free?” someone gasped.
Typhon raised a hand. “For anyone pledging allegiance to me, they may receive my gift of immortality.”
A pudgy man in an ill-fitting suit said, “Define immortality.”
“You won’t die a natural death,” Typhon said. “Get hit by a bus … I can’t help you.”
Amused laughter.
“It sounds an awfully lot like you’re wanting to make yourself a god,” I blurted out.
Typhon shrugged. “We can all be gods.”
The Chevy Chase lookalike shook his head. “I just can’t get behind a cure for immortality created with the help of the Seven Deadly Sins.” He must not have been paying attention to Typhon’s grim demeanor as he stepped off the stage in his direction because he continued talking. “It sounds downright dangerous and not healthy in the slightest …”
Typhon stopped just inches away from the investor, towering over the man by almost a foot. He very calmly and very slowly rolled up the sleeve of his arm. “I’m beginning to think you don’t appreciate my gift. No matter.” With a strike quicker than I could imagine, Typhon rounded on the investor like a serpent, his fingers forming into claws, his claws punching through the man’s chest. The investor grunted.
I shuddered.
Typhon withdrew his hand from the chest cavity with a disgusting liquidy sound, blood staining his bare arm halfway up to his elbow. As I watched, Typhon’s claws morphed back into bloody fingers. The investor crumpled.
With a great sigh and the rolling back of his shoulders, Typhon turned to the rest of his investors, his eyes yellowish, reptilian. “Any more questions?”
“Deal or No Deal”
“I said it once, I’ll say it again,” Simon said. “Theo, let’s get out of here!”
Typhon joined Echidna and me at the back of the room after scrubbing his arm clean in a sink. He coughed and rubbed at his throat.
Echidna stepped forth. “Dear, that was … great!”
“You don’t think I went a bit overboard there at the end?”
Echidna shook her head. “Some people just don’t understand. I thought you handled yourself quite well.” She handed her husband the juice bottle. “Here’s your vitamin tonic. Freshly juiced.”
“Thanks, Sweet-ums.” Typhon tore off the bottle’s cap and chugged the frothy green liquid. Then he wiped his mouth and handed it back to his wife. Already his face looked a little better. He looked at me.
“Theo, are you ready to discuss our little deal?”
Echidna gave me a weak smile.
I didn’t say anything at first. There was no way in hell I was handing over my familiars. I could, however, learn a little bit more about Typhon’s plan. Such as, was this magic formula the “hidden power” the Zeus gang was referring to? “The immortality cure,” I said. “Was that a bluff?”
“No, it’s completely real.”
I paused. “And you can really cure my mother? The doctors have tried everything. I’ve even sought magical help.”
Typhon nodded grimly and I noticed a fleck of blood on his arm he’d missed.
“And the final ingredient is my familiars?”
Typhon folded his arms impatiently in front of him. “Unfortunately yes.”
“Why them? If your scientists haven’t already cut into them to peek at their guts, how are you so convinced they’re the key?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Typhon said. “I’m dealing with the Seven Deadly Sins. What better way to temper their influences than with the innards of Libra, the constellation and embodiment of Universal Balance?”
“Well …” Uh, crap, I thought. Simon and Garfunkel were the embodiment of Universal Balance? That would explain why they were so careful with the use of their powers. If things went according to plan, t
hey wouldn’t have to use them today.
“If you’re worried about the discomfort of death, my scientists can give them a painless injection on the Arena floor. They won’t feel a thing. And they will not remember the time in between when they are dead and alive. After the harvesting and the rejuvenation, you can have them back again. We’ll part ways, and we don’t even have to see each other again.”
Garfunkel laughed at the absurdity of it all.
The easy way he talked, you might have thought Typhon was explaining the procedure for some minor surgery instead of murdering and organ harvesting my familiars.
I’m sure Typhon thought he had me on his hook, that all he had to do was give a few more tugs and I’d be his. “Think of all the people you can help. I mean, you’d literally be helping to cure all known diseases on this earth. Theo, you can be a hero, a savior. You can be the mother of the Eternity Cure. How’s that sound?”
I pretended to mull it over.
Typhon gestured around us. “And after the rejuvenation, your familiars will be even better than new, depending on how well they’ve been taking care of their now-mortal bodies.”
Garfunkel stopped laughing and I thought briefly of all the Pop-Tarts and maple syrup my familiars ate—all the sugar. At the rate they were going, they wouldn’t live forever …
Typhon must have seen me thinking. “It’s like they’ll have never died,” he said reasonably. “Any questions?”
“Yeah,” Garfunkel said. “Ask him if there’s a moneyback guarantee.”
I tried not to laugh. Barely succeeded. “What if their death is one of the 5%? What then?” I asked.
Typhon chuckled. “Oh that? Just an arbitrary number to keep the combatants on their toes.” He paused and slipped an object from his pocket, a crystal pendant with a raised bump like the arm of a sundial or an egg timer. “There are three pieces of the puzzle that ensure Others get resurrected when they die in the Arena. Sisyphus’s stone that comprises the Arena floor, Prometheus’s blood and this pendant. Look, I won’t let Libra die. As soon as my scientists have extracted what they need from them, your familiars will be rejuvenated and you’ll get them back. I promise.”
Axes and Angels: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Novel (Better Demons Series Book 1) Page 38
