by Sumida, Amy
“Ah, there you are,” a man came walking around one of the trees, brushing by the corpse that hung there and setting it swinging. “I've been waiting for you to wake up.”
“And you are?” I tried to focus on him instead of the acres of leafless trees that stretched around me and the corpses which hung from every single one of them.
“Iktomi, God of the Web,” he bowed, his long, sleek, black hair falling around him like a shining cloak.
He stood up and smiled at me, his black eyes alive with merriment in a striking, if not handsome, face. As he walked closer I realized what kept his face from being handsome. The proportions were off, just a little. He was too wide at the cheek line, too narrow at the forehead, and his irises were too large but these were minor differences that made him look a little otherworldly, not ugly.
“I take it, you know who I am.”
“Of course,” he smiled, even white teeth, shining out of his darkly tanned face. “Who doesn't know the Godhunter?” He laughed. “Did you truly think I wouldn't know you were in my territory? I knew the moment you stepped foot on my property.”
“What happened to you,” I decided to try for reasoning, since I couldn't exactly kick his ass at the moment, “to make you like this? The things your company does to people, it's reprehensible.”
“What happened to me?” He looked thoughtful. “I just got tired of being everyone's whipping boy. None of the gods took me seriously. I was always just a joke to them, a trickster. Well look who's laughing now,” he spread his hands out to include the dead forest. “The sacrifices just keep coming, the power just keeps rolling in. Nothing can stop me. I'm not just a god, I'm the God of gods!”
“All of these people,” I swallowed hard and looked over the nearby corpses, “they were sacrificed to you?”
“Either by their own hand or by another,” he nodded. “The only reason why you still live, is you once did me a kindness.”
“I did?”
“Yes,” his face twisted into another grin. “Don't you remember? Your wolf wanted to kill me and you stopped him. You picked me up and carried me gently to the door, releasing me into your land.”
“The spider,” I whispered.
“Indeed,” he sauntered closer and touched my cheek gently. “For that, I won't kill you. I'll just play with you a bit. Anyone who treats spiders with respect is alright in my book but,” his hand ran down my neck, where he squeezed until my air was cut off and I started to choke. Then he released me gently and stroked the bruised skin before letting his hand drop. “I can't let your attempt to harm my company go unpunished. You understand.”
“You,” I coughed and took another breath. “You were watching us?”
“No,” he smiled. “I was watching you, the Godhunter. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about and I thought it might be fun to play a little game with you. So I gave you a little push.”
“Lucian's girlfriend,” I sighed.
“Yes,” he gave my legs a little push then, sending my body gently swaying. “She'll probably be joining you here soon.”
“Where is here?” I looked around and noticed once more the strange feel of the place. “This isn't the God Realm, is it?”
“Yes and no,” he laughed. “We are in my territory of the God Realm but also in the Internet. Don't worry though, we won't be interrupted by anyone trying to save you. I disconnected the router before I brought you in.”
“If you disconnected the router, how can we be in the Internet?”
“Sweet little girl,” he gave me a patronizing look, “I am the Internet. The humans may have created it but I am its God. I can create a new one wherever I am.”
“Then why use a router at all?”
“To connect with the human Internet of course,” he sighed. “That is a steady thing but this,” he waved his hand around, “is my own creation, a separate entity, my personal virtual reality.”
“Virtual reality,” I frowned at the trees. “When I traveled the Inter Realm, it was laid over reality but this is different, isn't it?”
“Very good,” he nodded approvingly. “The Inter Realm, I like the name and yes, this is different. This landscape doesn't exist anywhere but here. It's my own private wonderland, where I come to admire the harvest I've reaped. My own Hanging Gardens.”
“Hanging Gardens?” I looked around and swallowed back the bile. A virtual world where he could admire the corpses of his victims forever. No rot, no smell, no limits. It was a psychopath's wet dream. “Nice name.”
“I like it,” he looked over the forest of corpses, trees and bodies for as far as the eye could see. Corpses swinging gently in the breeze, the creak of rope against wood, everything so real and yet not. “But it does get boring sometimes,” he looked me over with interest. “I admit it will be fun to have a live body to play with.”
“You're a sick fuck.”
“Says the Faerie Queen,” he smiled. “Oh yes, I know about that too. Your husband delights in torture as much as I do and yet you call me sick?”
“He had his reasons,” I ground my teeth.
“As do I,” his face suddenly got serious. “Don't worry, Queen Vervain. This may hurt but your body is safe here. This isn't real,” he leaned in and whispered in my ear, “it's all in your head.”
My stomach began to itch, then bulge. I was being torn apart from the inside, something clawing and scraping at my viscera, in an attempt to break through my skin. When the first of the spiders broke free and scuttled out of my stomach, I couldn't hold back my screams any longer.
A black, shining wave of them erupted out of me, scurrying over my body as blood poured from my belly like a fountain. I closed my eyes to the horror of it, telling myself that it wasn't real, it wasn't real, and feeling my mind bend under the pressure. Even with lids firmly shut, I couldn't block it out though. I could still feel thousands of tiny legs tapping against my skin, still feel blood soaking my jeans, and the burning pain of the terrible wound that wasn't closing as it should have.
I opened my eyes with the horrifying realization that there in the Inter Realm, even though my body was not being hurt, I wouldn't heal either. Everything was under the control of the psychopath standing in front of me, enjoying the show.
More spiders appeared beneath my skin, burrowing through my limbs in burning rivers of pain until finally bursting out like a woman out of a giant cake. Surprise! Blow out the candles and make a wish, Vervain. Oh, I'd be wishing for something alright but Iktomi had already said he wouldn't kill me.
It's all in my head. I bit my cheek to hold a scream back as more spiders burst from my chest, but then they were crawling up my throat, flying out of my mouth with the scream I'd been trying to deny. Finally the exodus stopped and I couldn't feel anymore insects inside me. I whimpered in relief but they continued to climb over me, around me, and I looked down to see them weaving their silken threads around my legs. I tried to kick out and tear the web apart but an invisible hand held me tight while Iktomi's laughter rang out.
“This is just the beginning, Godhunter,” Iktomi waved a hand at the rapidly growing cocoon, turning quickly red from the wash of my blood. “Just wait till they begin to feed.”
I screamed as the web covered my face, blocking out my surroundings with a soft, white haze.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Something brushed my cheek and I woke with a scream as the cocoon was torn away from my face.
“Hush, Godhunter,” it was Torrent, the man who tried to help me at Iktomica. “Be calm and be quiet please.”
I took a shuddering breath and relaxed as much as I could. He reached up and I felt the bonds at my wrists give way. He caught me as I fell and laid me on the hard earth. His knife sliced at the thick webbing and it fell away, revealing my withered remains. I started to whimper.
“It's not real,” he stroked my cheek. “Close your eyes and remember what you look like.”
“The spiders,” I whispered.
They h
ad bit me through the cocoon, injecting me with a burning liquid that had melted my insides, and then they'd drank me like an afternoon cocktail. I'd felt it all, my flesh liquefying, the tiny pulls on skin as the spiders drank, my body withering away to bare skin and bones.
“They don't exist,” his cool hand was on my forehead, another at my lips, holding a cup to my mouth. “Drink this.”
I drank. I didn't care what it was, it could have been poison and I would have gulped it down, my throat was so dry. I felt my body plumping, my organs reforming, and my wounds healing. A sigh of relief and I opened my eyes to look into his clear irises.
“Thank you.”
“It's nothing,” he shrugged and sat back. “It's not even water really, just a program to fix your broken body image.”
“My what?”
“Iktomi broke your image of yourself. That's all you are here, a projection of what you think you are or what you want to be. He made you believe that something horrible happened to you. I simply showed you that it did not.”
“Does he know you're here?”
“Of course,” another shrug. “This is his world. He knows all. He sent me here to revive you.”
“So he could torture me again.”
“Yes.”
“I don't suppose you'd like to help me break out of here?”
“I can't, I'm his creation as much as this world is.”
“He made you?” I sat up slowly, scooting back so I could lean against the tree.
“Yes, formed me in the Internet and gave me life.”
“Like spells are created in the Aether,” I whispered and looked away from Torrent's piercing gaze to consider.
“Yes, indeed,” he smiled a little.
“And that gives him the power to control you?”
“Well, yes,” he frowned. “He's my father. One must respect one's parents.”
“I suppose he told you that?”
“Of course.”
“Yet you tried to help me,” I looked him over thoughtfully. “You warned me.”
“I,” he moved his gaze to the packed dirt beneath him, tapping at it with one, long finger. “I did.”
“So he doesn't control you.”
“I've watched him stalk you and something in my chest tightened,” he looked up at me. “You protect your people, you love wildly, you laugh, and paint, and cry. I thought you were wonderful and that it must be why Iktomi was watching you.”
“But that wasn't the reason,” I prompted softly.
“No,” he swallowed hard, his pale throat working. “He wanted to hurt you, like he hurts everyone else. Then you touched him, you carried him to safety, and he became confused. He declared that he couldn't kill a woman who was kind to spiders. He would only have a little fun but Iktomi's fun is not fun in my eyes.”
“Nor mine,” I huffed a laugh. “The power has driven him insane, Torrent. Is this really the kind of god you want to serve?”
“I have no choice,” he shrugged. “He made me.”
“But you're a living being,” I reasoned. “You're not a piece of property. He doesn't own you.”
“I'm not the same as you. I'm not as real as you are.”
“Says who?”
“Iktomi, for one,” Torrent frowned. “I am a thing, not a person. I'm made of power and energy, a thoughtform, more real in the Internet than in your reality.”
“Do you have your own thoughts?”
“My own?”
“As opposed to those given to you by Iktomi.”
“Oh, yes,” his eyes started to soften but they remained focused on me. “I guess I do.”
“And you have emotions, feelings. You felt something when you watched Iktomi hunt me. You feel what's right and what's wrong, don't you?”
“I think I do but sometimes what I think is right, Iktomi tells me is wrong. I don't like what he does most of the time.”
“Because you're a separate person from your maker.”
“No, not a person,” he sighed.
“Do you know the story of the gods?”
“About where they came from?” Torrent's head cocked to the side in a strange way. “How they destroyed Atlantis and then roamed the Earth, finding people to claim as their own, taking sacrifice from them, and using that energy to make themselves gods?”
“That's the one,” I smiled. “The gods accepted power from mankind and in exchange, were altered to suit man's perception of them. Rules were created, laws that if broken would be avenged by the gods. Every culture was different, so every pantheon was different but one thing stayed the same, no matter what region or culture. Morality.”
“Morality?”
“Everyone is born with an innate sense of right and wrong,” my stomach was clenching with the desire to flee but I needed to do this right, I had to get Torrent to believe that he could leave Iktomi. “Human or God, we all know that it's wrong to kill, to steal, or destroy what's not ours. Any child can tell you that love is better than hate, we feel it inside. And so do you, Torrent.”
“I admit, I feel these things,” his eyes were so hopeful. Pinocchio asking the fairy to make him real.
“The way we're made has little to do with what we decide to make of ourselves,” I took his hand and turned it over, holding mine next to it. His had very little lines on the palm, just creases at the juncture of fingers and where it was necessary to bend. “You look different, you may be different beneath that perfect skin, but does that make you any less real than myself? Do you feel less pain? Does the process of cell division that created me make me more real than the process that created you? What makes us real?” I let go of his hand and laid my palm against his chest. “This does. The piece of you that tells you something is right or wrong, that whispers to you that there should be more, that life is not about death. Listen to this,” I tapped him. “You're real and you belong to no one but yourself.”
“No,” he stood up abruptly. “You're trying to trick me, to make me release you. I can't help you, Godhunter. I'm sorry.”
“Torrent, wait,” but he was already gone. “Fuck!” I pounded the ground in frustration.
Chapter Thirty
“The matrix has me,” I whispered and giggled hysterically. I'd been walking through the Forest of the Dead(I had to give it a better name than Hanging Gardens) all day, or at least long enough that my legs gave out and I had to sit down in an open patch of land. I couldn't bring myself to lean against an occupied tree. “This isn't real.”
I picked up a small stone. It looked real enough. It felt real. Hell, it even tasted real(yes, I licked it and it was kind of salty). It wasn't real though(so what did it matter if I licked it?). None of it was real. There were no trees. There were no bodies. There was no spoon.
“Fuck, I'm losing my damned mind.”
“Yes, it's all part of the process,” Iktomi was suddenly standing before me.
“Oh great,” I groaned, not even bothering to get up. “You again.”
“Yes,” he grinned from ear to ear. “Me again. Did you miss me? I heard how you tried to make Torrent believe he was real. Very sweet. Real indeed, I created him in the Internet from my very thoughts, from the need I had for a companion who wouldn't fail me like Mica has,” he rolled his eyes, “over and over. Torrent is mine. He's a part of me but he's not like us. He's not human or god or even fey. He's a thing, a creation.”
“He's alive,” I growled. “He has feelings of his own, thoughts beyond what you created him with. Just because he's made of you, it doesn't make him yours. He's not a thing.”
“Such passionate arguments for a thing who tossed aside your bid for freedom,” Iktomi peered down at me in confusion. “You know he's not here right now, he can't hear you. Nothing you say will make him betray me.”
“This isn't about betrayal, it's about life and the right to live it. You can't own a person.”
“Sure you can,” he scoffed. “They're called slaves.”
“But it's not true o
wnership,” I shook my head. “Saying you own someone doesn't make them yours. Holding them by force of arms or will, doesn't make them yours.”
“Then what does?” He smirked down at me. “Love? Are you telling me it's okay to bind someone to you out of love but not with the force of your will? How's your relationship with the Wolf Prince any different from mine with Torrent?”
“I don't own Trevor, never said I did,” I huffed. “Trevor is a free man, as he's shown numerous times in arguments and absence.”
“Ah, but he always comes back, doesn't he?”
“That doesn't make him a slave.”
“He's bound to you. If you die, he dies. That's more than I require of Torrent.”
“It's different and you know it.”
“Yes but the iron chain and the silken cord are both equal bonds.”
“What did you just say to me?” I sat up straight. I'd said that very thing to Anubis once.
“You're thoughts are mine here,” he smiled serenely. “You argue so vehemently against slavery. Is it perhaps because you know it so intimately?”
“You're are horrible bastard,” I growled. “Get the fuck out of my head!”
“My, my,” he paced closer. “I think you're more upset over this than you were over the spiders erupting from your belly. Fascinating. I had no intention of violating you sexually, frankly you hold no interest for me,” he looked me over critically, “but maybe Anubis had the right of it. He broke you quickly, didn't he?”
“I also broke him,” I shot to my feet and faced off with Iktomi.
“Yes,” his eyes were filled with glee. “You made him your slave, correct? Turned the god backwards and made him into your dog. How did it feel?”
“It wasn't done out of spite,” I backed away, my anger deflated.
“Oh, of course not,” he said reasonably, “because you're not evil like me, right? You're good, fighting for your people, while fucking multiple gods and binding a whole pride of lions to your side. Oh yes, you're so much better than I.”
