This Broken Wondrous World

by Jon Skovron

  Vi’s avatar face flashed on the phone a moment, and she winked at me. “You’re on in three . . . two . . . one. . . .”

  The tiny light next to the phone’s camera lens blinked on.

  “Uh, hello, world,” I said. “Okay, I know this is a lot to process, but if everybody can just chill out a second, I think I can help. So, yeah, I’m a monster. My name is Boy, and I’m the son of Frankenstein’s Monster and the Bride. Yep, exactly the ones you’re thinking of. And I just want to tell you that we’re not all like Moreau. And we’re definitely not all with him. I may be a little weird looking, with the stitches and everything. But I’m not a bad guy, you know? And neither are my friends. I think, I hope, that once you get to know us, you won’t be so scared of us.”

  I turned the camera to show Sophie.

  “Oh, god, I can’t believe you really did that.” She gave a pained smile, and waved. “Hiya, world.”

  “This is Sophie Jekyll and she’s a monster,” I said. “Does she look scary to you?”

  “My hair might.” She brushed at her tangled, dirty hair. “Honestly, I’m usually more put together than this.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “You look beautiful.”

  She blushed. “That’s my boyfriend. He’s hardly objective, right?”

  “Hey, Soph, can you, uh, let Claire say hi?”

  “She’s feeling a bit shy right now. Can’t imagine why.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I just . . . it’s really important for the humans to meet both of you.”

  She sighed. “You owe us both big-time for this.” Then she closed her eyes and slowly, in front of the entire world, shifted into Claire.

  “And this is Claire Hyde,” I said.

  “Yeah, hey.” Claire gave a dismissive wave. “Look at me. Sweet and helpless maiden.”

  “Two women sharing the same life, just like their grandfathers Jekyll and Hyde.” I turned the camera back to me. “They didn’t ask to be like this, any more than I asked to be a massive pile of stitched-together dead body parts. But here we are, a part of your world. And we always have been.”

  “This is Laurellen.” I turned the camera to him. “He’s a faerie.”

  “Well,” said Laurellen, “I actually prefer the term f—”

  “Let’s not complicate things,” I said.

  I turned the camera on Ruthven. “And here is—wait does your image actually show up?”

  “Yes, that’s a myth,” he said wearily.

  “Right, here’s Ruthven and he’s a vampire. As you can see, sunlight being deadly is also a myth.”

  “Although not overly pleasant,” said Ruthven, squinting his red eyes.

  “I’m just trying to prove a point that humans shouldn’t assume everything they read or see in movies is true.”

  “Carry on,” said Ruthven. “It’s your show, Boy.”

  I turned the camera to La Perricholi. She was busy cleaning one of her pistols.

  “Here’s La Perricholi. She’s actually a human. But she’s, like, a national treasure of Peru and a total badass, so I just thought you’d want to meet her, too. And next to her is Maria. She’s a human, too. The man she loved was a werewolf, and a few hours ago he was murdered by one of Moreau’s thugs.”

  I turned the camera back to me. “Okay, everybody. The next one I’m about to show you . . . well, she’s really cool, so don’t freak out. Okay?”

  I turned the camera to the Dragon Lady. “The Dragon Lady. Isn’t she magnificent? Seriously?”

  She stretched out her neck and wings, letting her scales gleam in the rising sun.

  “She’s showing off a little, but why not, right? She’s awesome.”

  I let her splay her wings out in a few different angles for a second. She was obviously enjoying this.

  Then I turned the camera back to me. “And then of course there’s the one I’m most proud of because . . . well, not to brag, but I made her. She’s a purely digital creature and she’s the one who’s able to make it so you can all see us. Vi, can you wave or something?”

  Vi’s avatar popped up, cutting off the camera for a moment. She gave her best anime peace sign/wink combo, then disappeared again.

  “We’re not all like Moreau,” I said. “And I swear to you, we are going to work with the U.S. government to take him down.” I put my face up real close to the camera. “And Moreau, if you’re watching this. We’re coming for you. This is Boy Frankenstein, out.”

  IT TURNED OUT La Perricholi did have a cool vehicle with gadgets after all. Claire and I rode down to the embassy with her in a bright red Hummer with silver chrome and oversized tires. I was pretty sure it could roll over a line of cars, monster-truck style, if necessary. On the inside, it had all the latest GPS and media hookups, and lots of other unlabeled buttons on the dash that I was really tempted to push.

  “What’s that one do?” I asked as I pointed to a big red one under a clear plastic covering. The kind you have to flip up because you don’t want to press the button underneath accidentally.

  “Surface-to-air missiles,” she said as she maneuvered the massive vehicle through the narrow streets.

  “That’s so Batman,” I said.

  “Why don’t you use this one more often?” asked Claire.

  “It gets terrible gas mileage. We’ll probably burn up fifty dollars just getting to the embassy.”

  “So why are we using it at all?” I asked.

  “After your little international debut, anything less would be a letdown,” she said, shifting gears. Then she grinned. “Besides, every once in a while, even I like to show off a little.”

  Ruthven and the Dragon Lady had headed back to the States to get my mom, the dryads, and anyone else they could find. Ruthven was hopeful that my video had appealed to the “younger crowd” and we might have some additional recruits. Laurellen had taken Maria and the surviving rabbit people back to La Perricholi’s house. He also promised he’d check on Henri later.

  Once we pulled up in front of the U.S. embassy, I felt for a moment like we were in a movie, the three of us climbing out of the ridiculously massive vehicle, walking side by side up the steps to the entrance as people stopped and stared, whispering to each other.

  “If you’ve made us into bloody celebrities, I’ll never forgive you,” said Claire.

  When we entered the main office, we found a woman in a dark suit standing in the lobby.

  “Hey, I’m Boy Frankenstein,” I said. “Agent Holmes sent us.”

  She just stared at me.

  “You know, to uh . . . help the U.S. government,” I said.

  But she still stared at me. I wondered if maybe she hadn’t seen my broadcast. Or worse, what if she did, and she didn’t like it. What if nobody liked it? What if I’d actually made things worse?

  “Oi!” Claire snapped her fingers in the woman’s face. “Wakey wakey, cupcake.”

  The woman blinked rapidly. “Sorry . . . I . . . it’s just . . .” She took a breath, then smiled. “I’m Ambassador Lanchester. I wanted to be the first person to greet you. I’ve been briefed, and I saw you on TV, but you’re so much . . . bigger in real life. It’s . . . you’re amazing.”

  “Oh, well, uh—” I said.

  “Yeah, yeah, shock and awe. Let’s move it along,” said Claire.

  “Sorry, yes, of course, Ms. Hyde, you’re right,” said the ambassador. “We have a jet fueled and ready at the airstrip. Agent Holmes is waiting for you in Houston.”

  “Is . . .” I hesitated. “Is my dad there?”

  She looked genuinely sorry. “I’m afraid I can’t disclose that information.”

  “Then I’m afraid we can’t get on that plane,” said La Perricholi.

  “Excuse me?” said the ambassador.

  “What?” I said at about the same time.

  “T
he U.S. government currently holds Boy’s father as a criminal, which could easily be viewed as a hostile action,” said La Perricholi. “Boy’s cooperation is conditional on his father’s release. So far, all he has is a verbal promise. Some show of good faith is, I believe, in order.”

  The ambassador’s mouth pressed down into a line. “I’m afraid I have not had the pleasure of meeting you, Perricholi, although I have heard a great deal about you.”

  “It is all true,” La Perricholi said.

  They stared each other down for a moment, then the ambassador gave a curt nod. “Please wait here. I will need to clear this with Agent Holmes.” She turned without waiting for a reply and walked back to an office.

  “Are you sure that was a good idea?” I asked. “We don’t want to upset people.”

  “A bit of melodramatic flattery and she had you practically eating out of her hand,” said La Perricholi. “Don’t forget that they are military allies, not friends.”

  “She’s right,” said Claire. “I know how tempting it is to take this all at face value, but like you said before, there are no good guys here. They will take advantage of us as much as they can.”

  “Yeah, okay, you’re probably right,” I said.

  “Of course we are,” said La Perricholi. “Your problem, Boy, is that you assume everyone else is as sincere as you are. Claire and I know better.”

  The ambassador returned to the lobby, a smile back on her face. Of course, now I wondered how honest it was.

  “Wonderful news, Boy,” she said. “Agent Holmes assures me that your father will be waiting for you in Houston, along with another monster who was apprehended during the raid.”

  “That’s awesome!” I said. “And he’s okay? He’s not hurt?”

  “He is perfectly fine,” she said.

  “Who is this other monster?” asked La Perricholi.

  “Agent Holmes did not share that with me,” said the ambassador.

  “Maybe it’s old Kemp,” said Claire. “Maybe he’s been in custody this whole time, and here we’ve been thinking he went over to Moreau.”

  “That would also be very good news,” said La Perricholi.

  “YOU TOTALLY NEED a plane,” I said to La Perricholi as we settled into the soft leather seats in the small, private jet that the FBI had chartered to get us to Houston.

  “Helicopters are better,” she said. “Planes are too difficult to land in tight spaces and rugged terrain.” Her dark eyes scanned the interior appreciatively. “It is a nice plane, though. I think I’ll go have a peek at the cockpit.”

  Once La Perricholi was gone, Claire and I sat there in silence for a moment.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  She shrugged.

  “What happened back during the fight with Stephen? Between you and Sophie.”

  She sighed. “I knew you were going to ask that.”

  “So then just tell me.”

  “She got it into her fuzzy little head that she was going to be all noble and self-sacrificing. She more or less tried to force her life energy on me.”

  “That would have weakened her like Robert?”

  “And it would have made me as strong as Stephen so that I could beat him. But like I told her, I may be a Hyde, but I’m not bloody Stephen. I’d sooner die than take advantage of her like that.”

  “You nearly did die,” I said.

  She reached out and placed her hand on my cheek. “Nah. I knew you’d stop him.” She gave me a light slap. “You owe me a few, anyway. ’Bout time you started paying back.”

  “But I didn’t. The Dragon Lady did.” I sat there for a moment, staring out the window at the puffy white cloud line below us. “Stephen said he could beat me because I’m not a killer. But I’m not sure he was right.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Remember back in New York when Henri got kidnapped by the maenads?”

  Claire shuddered. “Not likely to forget that.”

  “I was so angry. I think . . . I would have killed them. If Sophie hadn’t stopped me.”

  “She didn’t stop you,” said Claire. “She just reminded you of who you are. And when you remembered that, you stopped yourself.”

  “Still, the fact that I could even be capable of—”

  “We’re all capable of terrible things,” she said. “Even the weakest little human. Trust me, I know. What separates us from Stephen and Moreau is that we choose not to do those things.”

  “Integrity,” I said.

  “If you like.”

  “I told Henri that integrity is the one thing nobody can take away from you. You have to choose to give it up.”

  She slid into the seat next to me and put her arm around my waist. “And we’ll show them we don’t need to give it up, eh? We’re better than that. We’ll beat ’em without sinking to their level.”

  “Yeah,” I said. And I really hoped she was right.

  20

  Where the Wild Things Are

  HOUSTON STRETCHED OUT below us, flat and sprawling in all directions like one big suburb. We landed at a private airstrip, where a black SUV with black-tinted windows waited for us.

  “They don’t want us to be seen by the locals,” said La Perricholi as we walked down the steps from the plane to the runway. Then she smiled. “I imagine they are not pleased with your rather public pledge of support. Well done. It’s good to keep them on their toes.”

  “You think they wanted me as a secret consultant or something?”

  “Probably.”

  “But then everyone would have thought all the monsters were joining up with Moreau,” I said as we climbed into the back of the SUV.

  “You think they care?” asked Claire. “That’s why we’ve got to look out for ourselves. Be careful we don’t get too cozy with these people.”

  “I think it’s likely they can hear us right now,” said La Perricholi, nodding toward the man in the suit up in the driver’s seat.

  “You think I care?” asked Claire.

  We didn’t get to see much of Houston. The driver took us down a street that seemed to have nothing but car dealerships on it. Then he turned onto a side road that crossed a wide stretch of plain to a massive concrete building surrounded by fences and barbed wire.

  “Looks like a prison,” said Claire.

  “I don’t know whether that’s a commentary on our status or theirs,” I said.

  The inside of the building didn’t look much better. The driver led us through a maze of hallways with plain white walls and drab green linoleum floors. The few people we passed pretended not to notice us, but I turned behind us once and caught a guy looking back at me. When our eyes met, he looked away hurriedly. They’d probably been told not to stare.

  Finally, the driver led us into a big, open room. It looked sort of like a waiting room. The walls were lined with metal folding chairs and there was another door on the far end of the room.

  “Please be seated,” said the driver. “They’ll be with you shortly.” He turned toward the door, then hesitated. He looked back at Claire. “For what it’s worth, ma’am, personally, I do care. Thanks for coming.” And then he quietly left.

  I scanned the room. “Couple of cameras,” I said quietly.

  “Of course,” said La Perricholi.

  “What, exactly, are we waiting for?” asked Claire.

  “Me,” came a deep, familiar voice behind us.

  I turned and looked up at the towering form that had just come through the door.

  “Dad!” I didn’t care about cameras or looking tough in front of the Feds. I was over there in two steps and hugged him as hard as I could.

  “Boy,” he said quietly, and hugged me back just as hard. He tilted his head to one side and rested his cheek on the top of my head. After a few moments, I felt something wet in m
y hair. I gently pulled back a little and looked at my father, the most famous monster in the world. And he was crying.

  “I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely as he pushed away the tears with his hands and took in a huge, shaky breath.

  “Don’t be,” I said.

  “Aw, look at you, ya big softie,” said Claire as she came over. “Now I know where he gets it from. Make room, I want some of that.”

  “Claire,” said my father. He hugged her tightly and kissed her on the top of her head as tears began to fall again.

  After a few more moments, my father turned to La Perricholi. “You must be the new Perricholi.”

  “It is an honor, Señor el Monstruo,” she said as she shook his hand, which completely covered her slim brown one.

  “Is it true?” he asked. “About—”

  “Mozart?” she asked. “Yes. He was murdered by Stephen Hyde last night.”

  He looked at her a moment, then nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that. He was a good friend to me, and a good mentor to my son.” He turned back to me. “How is your mother?”

  “Worried about you,” I said.

  “She hasn’t killed anyone, I hope?”

  “She almost joined Moreau,” I admitted. “But he didn’t really have any better plan to free you than Ruthven.”

  He smiled softly. “Her impatience was a blessing this time.” He turned back toward the hallway and called, “Come in. There’s no reason to be shy here.”

  A female trowe with glittering sapphire eyes stepped into the room. She had a bandage wrapped around her head, and one foot was in a support boot. She had a crutch under one arm.

  “I didn’t want to get in the way of the reunion,” she said.

  “Bakru, you’re alive!” I said, grabbing her by the shoulders.

  “Ow.” She winced, her hand going to her side. “Yes. Alive. Let’s keep it that way.”

  “We have to tell Liel,” I said. “We have to get word to her somehow. Maybe she’ll come back if she knows you’re still alive.”

  Bakru’s eyes narrowed. “Back? From where?”

  “We all thought you were dead,” said Claire.