I got odd looks too, but that’s not necessarily out of the ordinary. Some of the people I got them from were a bit different though.
All this shit and I ain’t even had me some bacon yet. Even by Asylum standards, news didn’t spread this fast without a little help to push it along. Especially with the classes being confined to their rooms. I couldn’t help but brood over the fact that the Three Queens and the Blackjacks had free reign yesterday as student-advisors. Free reign to tell the other classes whatever version of events they’d manufactured.
Kill a guy. Give evidence against him. Fan the flames of public opinion.
Getting some alone time with Catherine, Mary, and Teresa was high on my To Do List for the day, class of History to teach or not, supposed to go back to normal and spend half my day with Plutarch or not. Pappy wants my attention that bad, he can come find me like the last time I bailed on him.
Waiting in line for breakfast was extra awkward. ’08 and ’07 were already seated. No sign of Tri or Quad classes of course, since they already ate before we did. Single and Bi were the bottom floor and had also already finished anyway. Usually I liked it. Only time I didn’t feel even a little guilt about being an Ultra. Space for days. Sit where you will. Mingle. Hour and a half to enjoy your morning.
Two or three cups of coffee with some bacon, eggs, and pepper-loaded hash-browns every single morning.
Feels good, man.
Except . . .
Didn’t feel too hot that Monday morning.
Felt like two rival nations at their borders with bayonets bare to the shining sun. All the while a third nation sat on the sidelines, cackling with joy that World War Mancy might be starting up before their eyes.
Three Queens always liked to choose benches directly in the middle of the Cafeteria floor. Don’t know if it’s just a dominance claim, if they like being seen by all who pass by, or what, but no one has ever argued about it. We like having the Queens where we can see them. Also like the wall being at our backs.
Only they weren’t the rival nation this morning.
Class ’08 was.
We played each other twice in the Winter War and even then I never saw some of the looks they sent Welf’s direction. Not just Welf, either, Hope, Jason, me; some of their more aggressive number even threw their suspicion and scowls at my entire class. Even Sabine was among their number, her tanned face not locked in a scowl, but a mask of silent fury.
Between us, the Three Queens preened or giggled or smirked like the bunch of rotten twats they are. Not at either class, nothing to give our rival angers a secondary outlet, but the joy over all that misfortune was unmistakable, especially from Catherine. Just want to go over there and pound faces until they can’t laugh through the blood.
But that would be . . . bad.
Land me in the Holding Room.
Outsmarted her at the beginning of the year, not a single fist thrown. I just need to do it again.
Cuz that’s not hard at all.
Outsmarting Catherine Hayes: easy.
No problem.
So how you gonna do it?
No fucking clue.
Did decide to at least try doing what Root wanted me to: keep my foul mouth shut. Bacon, I like bacon. Nothing in the world except this bacon. Rest of my class, not so much. Breakfast that morning might as well have been an impromptu class meeting. Didn’t sleep in the same room any more, but we did get together at least once every couple weeks to share notes. Was mostly just an excuse to party with old friends.
Except it don’t feel very festive at the moment.
Felt like Survivor tribal council, with everyone wanting to hear why Welf shouldn’t be thrown out of the school. After a smattering of whispers and rumors and only the sporadic forkful of food finding a mouth, Welf finally cleared his throat to silence it all.
Bacon! I love bacon!
“I know there has been a certain amount of unwarranted gossiping,” he started before stopping himself and resetting his posture so he sat taller. Always the patrician, even under trial by his peers. “I cannot pretend to understand why Leonardo thought I was the one who hurt him, but I assure all of you that before I arrived in time to attempt to save him, I had not seen him for many, many hours. The day before we did have a passing argument about personal matters, but nothing like what . . . I did not threaten him in any way. Furthermore, I did not assault him in any fashion and, above all, I did not kill him.”
No one said anything. Not even me. Bacon! Some bought it, some didn’t. He had the Old Mancy kids at his back, even if Jessica and Quinn were a little shaky about the prospect of coming conflict. Val, me, Pocket, and Jesus too. Estefan seemed to be nodding and so did Debra. Having heard my version of events or not, Miranda frowned at Welf and so did others. Curt’s group and the United Nations weren’t sure if that was enough of an explanation. Isabel as well, who had chosen a very tall, short haired blond super model look for the week. Knowing she’s crazy or not, knowing she don’t really look like that or not, hard to face the obvious disapproval of someone who looked so breathtakingly beautiful. Instinctually you just want to please them. Breed with me, please, please! some primal part screams out, don’t hate me, have my babies!
Not even if you paid me, Soto Crazy.
I’d cut Prince Henry off and hide him in a drawer first.
Throw him some beef jerky, a bottle of Jack, and a stack of old Playboys, wish him luck living alone for the next week.
Hang in there, little fella.
Well, I mean . . . six inches. Not big, but not little either, is it?
.
.
.
Hey, what’s that on my plate?
Bacon!
“After the wedding, I went to bed . . . with Hope,” Welf continued even as he blushed crimson over admitting any amount of sexual private life in the open air of the public square. “I was in my room all night . . . with her. As we have both informed Mr. Root. We woke early that morning and she left, only to be accosted by the Foul Mouth in the hallway. I checked on her and he claimed to have heard screaming outside his window, so the both of us went to see what the commotion was . . . there we found Leo and I took charge. Sadly, we failed to save him.”
“Did he really point at you?” Naomi asked, all up in this gossipalooza. Got to say, one of the worst parts of our break-up—if you can call the catastrophe we went through a break-up—is that it’s impossible for me to hit her up for any gossip. Plus, ya know . . . not being able to motorboat those sweet ta-tas any longer.
Sweet memories.
For the sweet mammaries.
.
.
.
Only one slice left . . . what am I going to do?
“Yes, that is true,” Welf cautiously admitted. “He did point at me.”
“I heard they have a tape of you pushing him,” Asa Kayode accused. Outside of spending time with Nizhoni and Eva, Asa hung with her fellow discipline more than anyone in our class. Her discipline happened to include Sabine, both of them working with Miss Strange in the Infirmary during their free hours. Both of them failing at saving Leo yesterday too.
“That is a lie,” Welf said stiffly. “There are no cameras in our rooms or pointed at the balcony, only out at the school grounds.”
Cuz I checked before I killed Leo, I almost wanted to add for him, seeing a few of my classmates have the same thought. Fuck me, Welf, you’re even a huge douchebag when I’m on your side.
“I don’t know what happened, but everything Heinrich’s told you is true,” Hope stuck up for her man.
Just like everyone is expecting her to . . . shit, she was genetically engineered to want him and to be his perfect mate, of course she’s on his side. Probably a good thing no one else in the class but me knows about that. Probably a bad thing that Boris Hunting told me about it, since one day I’m gonna have to tell Hope about it. Cuz, ya know, that’s the right thing to do . . . break her frozen, scientifically perfected heart and
all that.
“You’re not an unbiased alibi,” Miranda pointed out.
I watched as the stick up Hope’s ass visibly quivered. “Neither are you unbiased concerning the entire situation, Daniels, so just shut your mouth before giving another opinion. All teary eyed over Leo and do you even know how he talked about you behind your back? He said—”
Anima snapped out of me before it could snap out of Miranda.
I broke Hope’s ceramic bowl into four equal pieces.
Shot across the bow.
Preferable to the other outcome, cuz Miranda would’ve cut a bitch.
Hope gaped at me even as the rest of the table pulled back like they were preparing for one of our annual class brawls, unsure if it would be with fists or food this time around.
Even bacon can only last for so long, can’t it? “Shouldn’t you maybe be trying to win people over right now instead of throwing your usual insults?” I asked the ice queen.
Hope seethed in my direction, milk and cereal spreading across the table directly in front of her. “You just love this, don’t you? You’re the only one who can prove Heinrich is innocent and you love it. I bet this is your fault even. I bet you lied to Root about what happened! I bet you gave him that horrible toothy grin of yours and told him all about how Leo screamed it was Heinrich, but you never mentioned you were the one who took Heinrich to the balcony in the first place! You! King Henry! Foul Mouth! Asshole! Always there to ruin a special moment! Always there to make life worse! Maybe you did it! Maybe you’re finally getting your revenge! That’s it, isn’t it!?!?”
When she was done screaming, no one said anything.
I did recognize Mary O’Connell’s giggle from a few benches over.
“We haven’t slept,” Welf whispered to our class. “She’s just . . . we are both . . . we don’t understand what has happened. How it is happening. I don’t even remember grabbing Leo when we argued, but Mr. Root had a picture and . . . I didn’t do it. You all must believe me. I know I have made comments about some of you, I know I have been . . . but not this. If you don’t believe me, then who will?”
Val stood up first, just like she usually did when you needed someone to do the right thing. “I believe Heinrich,” she said with conviction. “So do you, Miranda. You’ve had a day to imagine how much easier it would be if he was the one responsible, but now it’s time to admit the truth.”
Miranda nodded reluctantly, sniffling. “I know. I know he wouldn’t. I just . . . I want to know what happened and King Henry’s stupid theory is even crazier than Heinrich accidentally pushing Leo.”
“Oh Mancy,” Estefan beseeched the heavens, “Foul Mouth has a stupid theory.”
I shrugged, not an I-don’t-give-a-crap. This time, I very much gave a crap. “Ain’t Welf, but it’s someone pinning it on Welf. Makes the killer obvious . . . just don’t know how they did it yet.”
“You think they did this?” Eva asked.
“I won’t hear of it,” Isabel declared immediately. “This is stupid. You all should’ve listened to me and tried to be nice to them at the start of the year, instead you’ve spent months being paranoid. They aren’t that mean and they haven’t done anything to anyone all year. They’ve been nicer to me than some of you have in fact . . .”
We all stared at her.
“I’m not crazy,” she hissed before anyone could utter it.
“They did kill before, or at least drove that girl to suicide,” Debra admitted. “We might have tarnished their reputation over getting the other girls expelled, but the one did die. We even called her parents to check, remember?”
“So what, they made Leo jump? They aren’t mentimancers,” Quinn Walden said—always one for pointing out what someone was and wasn’t. “Also, the girl who killed herself was totally crazy before they even started in on her. It’s hard to even give them credit for it.”
“I’m not crazy,” Isabel repeated to the purple elephants floating around her head.
“Could a mentimancer even do that, make someone jump?” Valentine asked our resident mentimancer sitting next to Isabel.
Athir looked very uncomfortable, just like always when talking about what his discipline could or couldn’t do. Being so regulated, mentimancers had learned to be careful with how they presented themselves. The idea of a mentimancer killer must have sent his warning bells ringing, because he almost turned green. Greener than me when I puked on him.
“Tell them,” Isabel prompted him urgently, “tell them the Three Queens couldn’t have done this. We have to admit the truth! Heinrich pushed Leo! He might not have wanted to kill him, but it could’ve been an accident! It could’ve just gone too far! We all make mistakes . . .”
“Shut up, you crazy nutjob!” Hope snapped at her.
“He could’ve snuck out while you were asleep! Admit it!” Isabel accused. “You think he did it too! You just don’t want to be the girlfriend of a murderer!”
“I HAD HIM TIED TO THE BED!” Hope shrieked.
Silence.
Mostly.
Val started elbowing Pocket in the ribs to try to get him to stop laughing.
Athir, always with the social grace of a mosquito, finally worked out how to tell us if he could kill a person. “My answer is yes. There are conditions, however. One, if you gave me eight to ten weeks. Two, if you had research on the target’s fears. Three, assuming I could create memories specific to that fear in my present position as a student. Four, if the target was a heavy sleeper. Assuming all of this, I could erase positive memories, obfuscate critical memories, and plant false nightmares and terrors that might drive a person into committing suicide as an end result.”
“Peachy,” Estefan spoke for all of us.
“As I expected, now you fear me hurting you,” Athir complained with a sigh. “Yet if it was your desire, many of you could kill me in the blink of an eye.”
“But we would know Boomworm’s fireball was an actual fireball,” Jesus pointed out why the contradiction made sense. “There would be a body, evidence. Ask El Rey to show you the burn scar on his ass sometime.”
“Why you looking, goatfucker?” I teased him.
“It’s so hairy! Reminds me of Rosaria and her little hooves!” Jesus groaned like the giant pervert he was.
Everyone laughed, tension diffused somewhat. Only Isabel seemed really doubtful. She looks pissed. If she had a tail, it would be thudding on the ground . . . and I don’t put growing a tail past her one of these days.
“There would be evidence if I killed one of you too,” Athir rocketed the tension right on back up into the ceiling. “Long before you killed yourself, there would be signs. Your friends and family would notice. The teachers would likely force therapy on you, perhaps even medication. Menti-memories also are not permanent. The brain fights back. It is also possible that being subjected to the Holding Room might decay them quickly and bring the victim back to normal before they harmed themselves.”
“Ain’t talking suicide anyway. Just one memory right before he died,” I pointed out a less complex barrier to scale. “Could’ve been Catherine or a Blackjack or the Lady herself done the deed killed Leo, all they’d need to do is cover it right as Leo fell, make him think it was Welf doing the pushing.”
“Did you present this theory to Mr. Root?” Athir asked a question of his own instead of following my lead.
“He seemed sure that he’d know if Leo had been manipulated with menti-anima,” I had to admit. “Don’t think he likes you Mindmasters much.”
“Nor we the Bonegrinders,” Athir snorted in derision.
“Heard a rumor that Root was gonna do a séance last night, talk to Leo,” Estefan brought up.
“It has no legal standing,” Welf whispered to clear up some of the facts about his own discipline. “If Leo’s necro-shade exonerated me it would mean nothing compared to what he did while alive. If it again accuses me . . . Mr. Root will only weigh the legal evidence against me higher.”
“We
ll, he hasn’t arrested you yet,” Val tried to cheer him up, “maybe that’s a good sign.”
Welf rarely smiles and he didn’t now. Not even for Valentine Ward. He spoke to me instead, “The Queens?”
I nodded, sure of it despite a massive lack of evidence. “The Queens,” I told him.
Looking back on it, it’s easy to see the mistake. Wasn’t completely wrong after all, but easy to see my own faults. Root has no gut . . . that’s a problem. Sometimes I’m all gut . . . that’s a problem too. Shit, don’t think Plutarch’s making me do these tapes just so I learn something about myself, do ya, kiddies?
Learn I’m obsessive. Learn I get locked on one track and forget all the other possibilities. Yeah, I hear ya, Pappy. If only knowing made it easier to change. If only knowing gave you a second chance fix one of your mistakes.
Like the mistake of focusing in on Catherine Hayes.
Let me reach on through time and tell that eighteen-year-old-me to . . . wouldn’t have saved Leo, might have saved the other two.
Splat.
Yank.
Crush.
“Do they really hate me so much to kill an innocent person?” Welf asked, mostly to himself or of some higher power.
Higher power couldn’t say why, but I could. Didn’t though. Short of Catherine pulling an Old Boy for revenge, think it’s better if Welf is blissful on this one. Don’t like secrets much, but when it’s someone else’s secret, it’s easier for me to keep it. Ain’t just about Catherine Hayes or Frederick Welf or even Moira Welf. It’s about Ceinwyn and the Lady too.
Ceinwyn and the Lady.
Fuck the crazy old bat, but I really wanted to talk with Ceinwyn.
Auntie Badass would hear me out.
“Even if they did off him,” Jason Jackson said, “proving that ain’t the same as proving Heinrich didn’t do this shit. You still haven’t said one way or the other if you screwed my boy or not, Foul Mouth. So what you say to Root? You back him up or you leave Heinrich to rot?”
The Pit of No Return (The King Henry Tapes Book 6) Page 21
