by Jon Skovron
“The Keeper knows about everybody,” said Mozart. “That’s more or less his job. To keep records of any monster who ever existed.”
“And even a few who do not!” said the Keeper, then chuckled quietly to himself.
“We heard everyone from New York is either here or on their way,” said Mozart.
“Yes, of course, you’ll want to see them right away!” The Keeper nodded his head. “Follow me.”
He led us through a few rooms of the museum. One had a bunch of infants and toddlers with various deformities preserved in some way, plaster statues or actual mummified corpses. And then we came to a room that was just jar upon jar of deformed fetuses floating in liquid. Some had minor deformities, like hands that looked like crab claws or eyes in the middle of their head. Others had more severe deformities, like missing limbs. There were even a few pairs of conjoined twins, each fused in a different place. And some you could barely even call human.
“Oh, god,” said Sophie. “I hope there’s not much more of this or I might be sick.”
“You’ve seen all kinds of monsters with way weirder shapes,” I said.
“I don’t know why this bothers me so much. I guess because monsters are supposed to look like monsters. But these are just . . . wrong humans.”
“Interesting!” The Keeper stopped for a moment and turned back to us. “And how do you know that these humans are wrong and monsters are right? Are they truly different species or is it merely a difference of degree? Perhaps something can become so wrong that it circles back around to become right again?”
“I . . . don’t know?” said Sophie.
“That is the beauty of it!” The Keeper held up his hands, spread wide. “None of us knows! I think if you study the development of living things you will ultimately find there is no wrong or right. Some things may be helpful or harmful, certainly. But even then, one must ask: to whom and to what extent!”
As he talked, he led us through the fetus jar room to what looked like a dead end. Then he took a small key from his pocket, knelt down, and inserted it into a hole in one of the tiles. He twisted the key and there was a faint click. Then he pulled and a hatch opened up in the floor.
“There we are,” said the Keeper. “Excellent timing you have. I believe they’re just about to start the meeting.”
“Meeting?” asked Mozart.
“No sense asking me. You’ll see for yourself in a moment,” said the Keeper.
“Fair enough.” Mozart patted his shoulder. “I got to catch up with you sometime soon.”
The Keeper winked. “About you and Maria getting back together, you old dog? Good for you!”
Mozart laughed. “Of course you already knew.”
The Keeper turned to Sophie and me. “You two have given me a number of interesting entries so far! I expect many more to come. And that goes for Claire, too! Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“Wonderful. Now . . .” He swooped his hand down dramatically. “Off you go!”
Sophie and I followed Mozart down a rope ladder into the darkness below. The ladder swayed a little. I reached out my hand, but I couldn’t feel any walls. It was like the rope ladder just descended into emptiness.
“Boy?” Sophie’s voice sounded pinched with tension.
“Yeah.”
“When all this is over and everything’s back to normal?”
“Uh . . . yeah?” That sounded a little overly optimistic to me, but I had a feeling she didn’t need to hear that right then.
“Let’s go on a vacation.”
“Sure . . . Where do you want to go?”
“The Bahamas, maybe. Somewhere warm and gentle and bright.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
We continued our slow climb down the ladder for another couple of minutes. Finally, I heard Mozart’s boot soles slap something hard and smooth like tile.
“We’re there,” he said.
The room was dark, but by the sound of the echoes it was big. Off to one side I could just make out a hallway. And at the end of the hallway, a light.
“This way.” Mozart turned and headed for the light.
We walked in silence for a little while. The only sounds were our footsteps, which changed slightly when we entered the long hallway. But as we got closer, I could hear voices up ahead. Too muddled and echoing to understand what was being said, but I was pretty sure I recognized Ruthven’s deep timbre.
A little farther down and I could make out what he was saying.
“I have no more love for the humans than you do. But I tell you, joining Moreau is not the answer.”
Finally, we reached the lit room. It was as big as one of my college lecture halls in Geneva. Except instead of all the seats being focused toward one point, they circled the whole room, all facing center. Monsters of all kinds were sitting there. I saw a couple of the dryads, a few trowe, an ogress, some fauns and harpies. Off to one side I saw Laurellen and the Siren. And in the center stood Ruthven.
“Well, there’s some good news,” he said, relief seeping through his usually cool expression. “I’m glad you’re all alive. We had no idea what had become of you.”
“Likewise,” said Mozart.
The two roughly embraced.
“Boy!” My mom’s voice rang through the room. I turned and saw her coming up from the back of the room, followed by Liel. As they got closer, I noticed that Liel had a lot of intricate patterns and designs cut into her face, shoulders, and arms that looked like her mom’s ritual scarring, except freshly made.
“It’s good to see you guys,” I said, although the last part was a bit muffled because by then my mom had grabbed me and mashed my face into her shoulder.
She squeezed me like that for a few moments. Then she held me out at arm’s length and gave me the once-over. But instead of remarking about the fact that I’d let my stitches fray or that I’d lost weight, she just sighed and pulled me to her again. It took another minute before she let me go.
“What happened, Mom?” I asked. “Where’s Dad?”
“Boy . . .” Her voice sounded broken. Her face vibrated with so much tension, it looked like it actually hurt. Then tears welled up in her eyes. “They took him! They took him away!”
“What?” I said. “How is that even possible? Who took him?”
“Government agents,” said Ruthven. “It was a raid of some kind. Judging by the uniforms and weaponry, my guess is they thought they’d tracked down a terrorist cell.” He smiled slightly, but there was no warmth or humor in his eyes. “Weren’t they surprised?”
“Wait,” said Mozart. “So you’re telling me that U.S. agents took the Monster into custody?”
“He surrendered,” said Liel, her voice flat. “Said he didn’t want any more death that night and he would come peacefully if they stopped shooting. Gave the rest of us some time to slip down into the tunnels.”
“He’s okay, though, right?” I asked. “I mean, he’s not dead or anything, is he?”
“Not as far as we know,” said Ruthven.
“What will they do with him?”
“We don’t know.”
“So the U.S. government officially knows about our existence now?” asked Mozart.
“It would seem,” said Ruthven.
“Have they told the general public?”
“Given the lack of panic in the streets, I doubt it.”
Mozart scratched his beard. “Still, this changes things.”
“It does indeed,” said Ruthven.
“And the Fates didn’t see this coming?”
“One of the limitations of the Fates,” said Laurellen. “They couldn’t see the events leading up to their own deaths.”
“So . . . they’re gone?”
asked Mozart. “All three are dead?”
“We lost a lot of good monsters that night,” said Ruthven.
“Really good ones,” said Liel, her lips pulled back in a snarl that showed her fangs. I looked around, but didn’t see her girlfriend.
“Liel . . .” I said. “Is Bakru—”
“Gone.” Her voice was dull, almost lifeless. “And my mom, Cordeav, Charon, the goblin twins, and many others. If the humans want war, I say we give it to them.”
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.
“We overheard you on our way in,” said Mozart. “You already know about Moreau?”
“A package arrived this morning,” said Ruthven. “It contained a laptop and a note from Moreau. He expressed his condolences for our losses and told us that he would like to talk to us about his plans for a monster liberation. He will be contacting us tonight at midnight on the laptop for a video discussion. He said you and Boy would be able to get us up to speed.”
“He knew we’d be here?” I asked. “At this time?”
“Either he just assumed this was where we’d end up,” said Mozart, “or else he’s been monitoring us somehow.”
“So you did meet him?” asked Laurellen.
“Oh, yeah. He already gave us the ‘join me or die’ spiel. He also made sure to give us a good look at his army.”
“So he does have one?” asked Liel.
“Yeah. Mostly anthropomorphized animal mixtures. Elephant men, lizard men, that sort of thing. Made them himself. He’s got a few thousand of them and they look disciplined. Well trained.”
“Who trained them, I wonder,” said Ruthven. “Moreau may be a brilliant tactician, but he’s no fighter.”
“He has Stephen Hyde for that,” said Mozart.
“Oh.” Ruthven’s thin black eyebrow rose. “I see.”
“Yeah. Anyway, Moreau claims that he wants to create a sovereign monster nation.”
“Did he give you a clue as to where?”
Mozart shook his head. “He’s too smart to give much to people who haven’t committed to his cause yet. But I’d say Peru or Ecuador are the most likely targets. They’re the closest geographically and they’re a little smaller. Plus, I got the feeling he has a bit of animosity toward the Perricholi order.”
“So he’s going to ask us to join his noble cause to invade Peru?”
“Exactly,” said Mozart.
“Sounds good to me,” said Liel.
“You don’t know Moreau like I do,” said Ruthven. “He is utterly ruthless and will do anything to further his cause. For all we know, he was the one who tipped off the Feds to our location, just to get us lathered up and ready to kill some humans.”
“Then it worked,” said Liel. “Because I’m ready.”
There was more muttering from the group, louder this time. Hostile almost. I was surprised to see so many monsters blatantly disagreeing with Ruthven. At The Show, his authority had been absolute. But now when I looked at him, he didn’t seem any more important than any other monster. It was like his power died along with The Show.
It was Mozart who held up his hands to calm things down. “Okay, everybody. Let’s just settle down and wait until we hear what Moreau has to say.”
SO WE WAITED. Mozart went over to talk quietly to Ruthven for a moment, then sat down with Laurellen and the Siren.
Sophie turned to Liel. “I’m really sorry to hear about Bakru and your mum.”
“Yeah,” said Liel, her diamond eyes unreadable.
“Sophie and Claire just found out their mom is dead, too,” I said.
“Fucking humans,” said Liel. “And they call us the dangerous ones.”
“She killed herself, actually,” said Sophie, her face flushing slightly.
“And why’d she do that?” asked Liel.
“S-s-sorry?” said Sophie.
“Why’d she kill herself, do you think?” Liel almost spat out the words. “You think maybe it’s because human society just pushed her and pushed her until she cracked?”
“She—she was in an institution,” said Sophie.
“Yeah, of course. The humans even lock up the pretty ones. Can you imagine what they’d do to me?” She turned her hard diamond eyes on me. “To your dad?” She shook her head. “They won’t even treat us as people. They’ll treat us like they treat their animals. Lock us in zoos, make us into pets, use us for experiments, or just flat out commit genocide. You’ll see. There’s no going back.”
She turned to go, then stopped. Her diamond eyes flashed back at me.
“Wasn’t your little computer-virus pet supposed to be watching for FBI or something? Wasn’t that the whole reason Ruthven agreed to let you make her again? Good fucking job with that.”
Then she stalked off back to her trowe. I realized that’s what the new scars meant. With her mother dead, Liel was the den leader now.
Sophie put her arm around my waist and I held her close. There didn’t seem to be anything else we could do.
“How did Charon die?” I asked Mom.
“Explosion,” she said. “The first thing they did when they came through the doors was blow up the box office. Charon and the goblin twins were inside and died instantly.”
“Poor old Charon,” said Sophie. “He was always such a sweet old grump.”
“And the twins,” I said. “They were still just kids.”
I looked around the room at all the monsters around us. It no longer felt like a company. There was no feeling of a proud theatrical monster community. Now it just felt like a loose group of frightened creatures clinging to one another because they didn’t know what else to do.
“Have you met Moreau?” Sophie asked my mom.
“Yes. He was arrogant and cruel.”
“Well, that part hasn’t changed,” I said. “Ruthven said he was a brilliant tactician?”
“He was clever. Very . . . tricky.”
“I feel like Ruthven’s right. That he’s got some other game he’s playing.”
“Like what?” asked Sophie.
“I don’t know. He’s been manipulating us from the beginning. He used Robert to lure us down to Lima. But why?”
“He said he wanted to recruit us.”
“He didn’t really push it, though. He let us go. And now he’s got this whole group to recruit and he knows we’re a part of it. So why bother bringing us down there at all?”
“It could be he wanted some of us to have actually met him in person,” said Sophie. “To see him, what he’s become. And to see his army firsthand. That way there’s no doubt when he makes his offer here. He even mentioned you and Mozart specifically as people to talk to. People who have been trusted members of the company for a long time.”
“That could be it,” I said. “Still, for all we know, he’s already left Noble’s Isle with his army. I wish I could dig a little deeper. . . .” Then I realized that he was pretty much giving me the opportunity tonight. When his laptop connected at midnight, Vi could trace back his IP address, possibly even get a geolocation. And once we had him, it would be really hard for him to hide from us.
I pulled out the phone and unlocked it, but nothing happened.
“Vi?”
“Liel is right,” her voice said faintly. “It’s my fault.”
“What?”
The screen suddenly flashed bright red. “It was my job to monitor FBI and CIA communications for potential connections to The Show. I could have caught it. I should have caught it. But I was so obsessed with stupid Henri that I let everything else slide. Now I’m the stupid one! Me!”
“Vi, I get why you’re upset with yourself. And I agree it was a mistake to let that slide. A really bad mistake. But it wasn’t like you did it on purpose. You didn’t make it happen.”
“But . . .”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Sorry to butt in,” said Sophie. “But blimey, Vi, you’re only six months old! Nobody expects you to be perfect or super mature. Trust me, there’s no chance you were the only person that stood between The Show and what happened.”
“I still feel bad.”
“That’s okay. You can feel bad,” I said. “Now let’s try to make it right.”
“How?”
“First, have you been able to trace that database wipe from the police records?”
“It’s almost done, but we already know who did it now.”
“We know generally. But if we get some specifics, we might be able to pinpoint where my dad is. There has to be some trail somewhere. What if Ruthven was right? Maybe Moreau was the one to tip the Feds off in the first place, just to make us more open to recruitment. If you find the trail, see if you can also find out where they got their intel.”
Vi’s avatar popped back onto the screen and she saluted. “I will find out!”
“Great. Moreau is going to contact us in a little bit on that laptop. When he does, I need you to trace his connection back to the source and find out as much as you can. Location, any local files on his drive that might give us some clue about his plans. Anything, really.”
“And what will we do with this data?” she asked, her expression quizzical.
“It depends on what we find,” I said.
I had to scrounge around until we found someone with a compatible smartphone-to-USB cable. Vi could probably hack in from the phone, but it would take longer. If Moreau was prepared enough to send this laptop, he probably would also be connecting through an encrypted tunnel. That would slow her down. I also didn’t know how long he’d stay connected. If he was only on for a few minutes, it was possible that Vi wouldn’t be able to do a full trace and download the contents of his drive in time. She needed a more direct connection and a faster processor. So we were going to put her on the laptop. But that wasn’t all.
“I’m taking off your training wheels,” I said.
“Are you sure?” Her purple eyes bugged out and a big drop of nervous sweat rolled down her forehead. “I thought you said for my first birthday.”
