by E. B. Huffer
"What's so special about the girl?"
Spider Beast didn't answer.
Torquere didn't know why Spider Beast was so desperate to save the girl, but he knew from experience that if Spider Beast was interested in something there had to be a good reason.
"And what if I want to keep the girl too?" he asked coolly.
Spider Beast reared up his front legs and hissed. "You won't succeed."
Torquere laughed again, louder this time, throwing back his head as he did so. Suddenly he stopped. Snapped his head back down. His eyes were wide. Angry. "Enough of this nonsense," he screeched, saliva spraying everywhere. "Take this tiresome creature out of my sight. Do it now, NOW or ..." Torquere lowered his chin and glared at Spider Beast menacingly. "... or I'll do it myself!"
The room remained still. Silent. No one moved or made a sound for the longest time.
The Dog Beasts were waiting for an instruction from Spider Beast following Torquere's threat, but he remained steadfast and silent until:
"Try it," he said.
Ferocimus stepped forward protectively. "Sire," he murmured, "it's a dangerous game you play."
But Torquere didn't need to be asked twice. Filled with rage at Ferocimus' treachery, he sprang at Spider Beast and, with every ounce of energy, smashed his foot down on the small mechanical creature, instantly flattening him.
Spider Beast stood no chance. In the following moments Torquere stamped, kicked and smashed Spider Beast into a mangled pulp. Nothing remained of him except a jumble of twisted metal and wires.
"Enough!" screamed Margie hysterically from the far side of the chamber. "Enough!"
It was enough to snap Torquere out of his frenzied attack. He stood up, stretching his back and neck to release the tension, then kicked the remains of Spider Beast to one side with his foot.
"Who," hissed Torquere, his attention now drawn to the army of Dog Beasts that surrounded him, "is responsible for this?"
Again, they remained silent. Built by Auguste decades before, they had been programmed to obey Torquere. But something had changed. Their allegiance had been swiftly altered and was now with Spider Beast. Or at least, they would have been had Spider Beast not just been obliterated. This was not supposed to happen. This was not part of the plan.
Sensing their confusion, Torquere charged towards one of the Dog Beasts and gave its face a hefty kick. The Dog Beast growled but lowered its head respectfully. A few other Dog Beasts surged forward, growled softly then moved back to their former positions.
Torquere would have tortured his army of canine soldiers for their disloyalty with the cruellest of punishments, but despite his anger, he had more important (and exciting) things to take care of. Today was a special day. A day of great celebration.
After months of great effort, he finally had Margie in his possession ... and more importantly The Big Invisible. He was just minutes away from having, in the palm of his hand, the ultimate power; the power to make people disappear from existence, to obliterate them from time and space. Lock, stock and barrel.
He wasn't going to let this little upset ruin his happiness. It was, he thought, a mere blip on an otherwise perfect day.
Across the other side of the chamber, a terrified Margie was already strapped into the Avellotractus machine.
Next to the Avellotractus machine (and in stark contrast to the machine's beauty) was its power source: a huge ugly wooden treadmill powered by Torquere's long suffering slave, Bufo. Poor Bufo was condemned to walk for hours on end, generating the energy that enabled Torquere to steal what he wanted from the bodies and souls of his victims; a beautiful smile, an ear for music, a mathematical brain ... It was labour of the most arduous and most servile kind.
Moments earlier, however, the wheel had ground to a slow halt as Bufo jumped off to watch the unfolding drama. He didn't know if Torquere would require his services. Not that he could really have done very much to help. He couldn't fight very well. Probably not at all. Years of being in Torquere's service had left him physically broken. He, himself, had endured the Avellotractus machine, having been one of the very first guinea pigs. He had no recollection of what it was that had been taken. He liked to think it was something nice. Something he could have been proud of. Good looks, an artistic gift or maybe even just a loving heart. Torquere would only tell him that it was something worthless, like him.
Now that Spider Beast had been destroyed, he hurriedly resumed his gruelling routine. Almost instantly a blue glow enveloped the Avellotractus machine and Margie's hair (at least the hair that was visible beneath the helmet) began to rise, as though filled with static electricity.
For a moment Margie struggled against her shackles. Her emotions had soared when Spider Beast re-entered the room; she thought he really had come to save her. And now he was gone. Just like that. What hope was there for her now. She closed her eyes and began to accept her fate, whatever it might be.
As Torquere made his way towards Margie, his head filled with grand notions of omnipotence, he heard a commotion behind him. Some of the Dog Beasts were cowering and trembling, others were growling and snapping at something unseen in front of them.
Torquere roared and scratched furiously at his forehead, enraged by yet another tiresome interruption. He spun around quickly and what he saw was unlike anything he had ever seen before. All the broken, mangled pieces of Spider Beast were sliding towards each other before snapping together like powerful magnets. Slowly the mangled metal unfurled and reformed. But this time there was to be no Spider Beast. The metal fragments were slowly taking on the form of a human skeleton, rising slowly from the feet upwards. Over this jagged frame grew skin and nails and hair. Clothes appeared as if by magic, growing from within the skeletal substructure.
It didn't take long for Torquere to realise exactly who was standing before him.
"Auguste!"
"Torquere!"
The two stared at each other for the longest time.
"How interesting of you to visit," hissed Torquere eventually, the words almost drying up in his throat.
"How interesting of you to say so," replied Auguste, scanning the room. "It's so nice to be back in human form. It was getting a little cramped in there." Placing his hands behind his back, he tilted his pelvis forward and stretched his spine until it gave an almighty crack. "Arachnids are somewhat overrated if you ask me."
"What do you want, Auguste?"
Auguste's eyes flashed in a way that made Torquere take a step back. "You know what I want."
"Ah yes, Margie May Langley, like I told your eight-legged alter ego, finders keepers."
"You didn't find her. I found her. The day she arrived in Limbuss."
Torquere sighed dramatically. "This is all so stupid. You want the girl. I want the gift she has to make people vanish from existence. Surely we can come to some kind of arrangement."
Auguste smiled politely and pulled his giant fob watch out of his pocket. "You know, I would have said yes an hour ago. Before you stamped on me. That hurt, you know. But it seems almost pointless now, since I'm going to destroy you anyway. Well I'm not," he casually corrected. "The Dogs are."
Ferocimus stepped forward and for the first time, Torquere looked nervous. "Now wait," he said, " You can take the girl." He turned to the Avellotractus machine and shouted for Bufo to release the girl. "Quick smart!" he bellowed.
Auguste shook his head. "No. Keep the girl in that machine of yours."
Both Ferocimus and Torquere looked at Auguste wide eyed.
Ferocimus bowed his head. "You are correct, Auguste. It is in her best interest for The Big Invisible to be removed. But Sire," he continued reverently, "the machine is not without its dangers."
"Listen Dog Beast," said Auguste, "your job is to follow orders, not to advise me on things that don't concern you."
"But the girl ..."
Auguste ignored Ferocimus and turned towards the Avellotractus machine. "The girl means nothing to me. Why do you think
I packed her off to the Darkest of All Places? Do you really think they would have removed The Big Invisible and sent her back? She was never supposed to come back. I was this close to figuring out a way to transform the stories into energy and then I would have been the most powerful person in Limbuss! But YOU ... RUINED ... EVERYTHING by bringing her back!"
Torquere stared at Margie quizzically.
"You have no idea who she is, do you!" asked Auguste. "You've no idea how powerful that girl is; how much you'd give to be her. To collect the stories that power this universe. To create. Destroy."
Torquere's eyes widened. "The Collector?"
"I nearly had her. All those years ago. She was collecting a story from some stupid old stroke victim but she saw me and jumped. Hijacked the soul of a newly conceived human and, unbeknown to that person lived like a parasite within her. He looked across at Margie. "It was just a matter of time until she returned to Limbuss and I could destroy her once and for all before the others reached her."
"The others?"
"It's not just me who's been waiting for her return. Others have been searching for her and all the stories which have gone uncollected in the meantime."
"So, why didn't you just destroy her when she returned?"
"Because of The Big Invisible. Only the Darkest of All Things has the power to destroy that. I could have taken her to the Darkest of All Places myself, but I had work to do in the Emporium. Stories don't just get taken and processed by themselves. Lucky for me she had no memory when she arrived in Limbuss so I could feed her a story. It would have worked perfectly too; The Collector and her monster would have been lost in the Darkest of All Places and (he drew his hand across his throat) if you hadn't interfered!"
"Look. You can take her. You can have her. I have no need for her."
"Luckily for you, Torquere, there is one redeeming factor in this whole sorry saga. And that's your magnificent extraction contraption. You see, The Big Invisible that's extracted from Margie is exactly what will be used to obliterate her from time and space. No one will ever know she existed. No one. For all intent and purpose I will become The Collector."
"A genius plan," said Torquere, gesturing to Bufo to speed things up with the Avellotractus. "You will have your extraction in next to no time."
"I don't know why I didn't think of it before," said Auguste. "Such a simple solution really. And for that I have you to thank." With that he turned to Ferocimus. "Finish him off."
Torquere stumbled backwards. "Ferocimus, no ..."
Growling and baring his razor sharp fangs, Ferocimus inched towards Torquere.
"Don't be an idiot," he whispered hysterically. "Please, don't do this!" But nothing could prevent the inevitable. Ferocimus launched his attack. With a great snap of his monstrous jaws he lunged at the hapless despot and threw him to the ground. Ferocimus tore at his clothes, hair and skin, ripping them from his bones ... until only a bloody pulp remained. Breathing heavily he stepped back and scrutinized his handiwork.
On the other side of the chamber, the wheel had stopped turning and the blue glow which had surrounded the Avellotractus could no longer be seen.
With the Avellotractus no longer generating the current, Margie slowly started to re-focus. Her face was pale with pain and shock, but she quickly found some energy from somewhere when she saw Auguste. She blinked a couple of times. She simply could not believe what her eyes were telling her.
"Auguste?" she whispered, barely audible to even a spy-fly which sat inches from her face. Was this really Auguste? The man who had saved her life? Had lovingly tended to her when she arrived in Limbuss. The man who was supposed to be dead. She desperately wanted to call out to him but, unaware of Torquere's demise, was hesitant. She looked for Bufo, but sensing the danger he had already melted into the gloom.
Seizing the moment, Margie cried out. "Auguste! Auguste!"
It didn't occur to her to wonder how he came to be not-dead. She was simply overjoyed to see his face. To be in the same room as him. She loved him and felt only a sense of hope and happiness at the sight of him.
"Auguste, it's me: it's Margie!"
Auguste moved towards Margie in a silent gliding motion. His legs didn't move, nor did his expression. When he reached Margie he tilted his head to one side. "I bet you didn't think you'd see me again."
Margie managed a smile. "Auguste. I thought you were dead. I missed you."
"You didn't succeed in the Darkest of All Places."
A small tear rolled down her cheek. "Are you angry with me?"
Auguste frowned disapprovingly and turned his face away, almost repulsed by the emotion being shown.
Margie quickly realised, even through her haze, that something was wrong. This wasn't Auguste. He'd been possessed. Or maybe he'd just forgotten her? But still she hoped, beyond hope, that he had found the bag.
As though reading her thoughts, Auguste spun around to face Margie and without a flicker of emotion screamed: "SHUT! UP!"
There was an anger in his eyes that seemed unfathomable to Margie. They were cold, uncaring. Was this really her beloved Auguste? It couldn't be. How could this gentle friend of hers be so angry?
Suddenly Auguste's face began to disintegrate. The skin dried up and fell away like ash revealing a grotesque skull-like visage with a long pointed nose, hollow eyes and a wide mouth filled with irregular, fang-like teeth. As quickly as the vision appeared, it disappeared.
Margie blinked hard. She was still feeling groggy from the Avellotractus.
Auguste spoke. "I don't believe that you don't know."
"Don't know what?" asked Margie.
"That you are the Collector. Only the Collector would carry something as powerful and final as The Big Invisible. If you were a mortal you would be crushed by the weight of its negative matter."
"I am, Auguste, I am! I know I am! Whatever you want from me, take it."
Margie didn't know why anyone would want The Big Invisible. To her it was a sickness; something contagious and deadly.
"Please help me," she whispered.
"Help you?" hissed Auguste. "I will be the last person you see before you are consumed by this monster you carry. I've waited a long time for this ... now where's the toad that powers this machine?"
Slowly Bufo crept out of the darkness, his deformed and twisted body contorted all the more through fear.
"The machine ..." barked Auguste. "I want The Big Invisible as quickly as possible." Once again, Auguste's face momentarily flashed from the handsome dark haired young man to a terrifying shadowy vision. "Be quick, or you'll be fed to the dogs."
Panic surged through Margie. The reality of what she was hearing was beginning to dawn on her and as the machine booted up, she felt a searing pain like a thump to the chest followed by nothing.
Auguste moved closer to the Avellotractus machine, unable to believe that finally, finally he would be back on track. "Hurry," he growled to Bufo, "you're moving too slowly."
Bufo threw a nervous glance at Auguste and tried again. Another surge pulsed through the machine and Margie's body. And another and another. But it was no use. Whatever the machine was supposed to be doing didn't seem to be working.
Bufo crept towards Auguste so low to the floor that he was almost on his belly. "There is no Big Invisible. Nothing, nada, zilch. It's gone," he said in a strangled whisper. And then he told Auguste something that sent him into a furious demonic rage.
"There is no Big Invisible and there is no Collector. She is just a common or garden mortal."
Deliverance
Grandma Doyle and Black Adam continued to wander aimlessly through the vast Emporium, the reward notification having given no further details as to where the reward could be collected. It was becoming more and more obvious that they were looking for a needle in a haystack.
"Is this really worth it?" moaned Grandma Doyle after scaling one particularly tall mountain of old leather shoes. "We've been at it for days now and there's been no sign of nothi
ng. It's a lost cause. We might as well just give it up as a bad job."
Black Adam sighed and plonked himself down on a pile of old books, his elbows on his knees, and thought a while.
"You know," he said after a few minutes, "I'm beginning to think we should just give it up as a bad job."
Grandma Doyle rolled her eyes.
"Well, I'm glad we're in agreement," she tutted hurrying down the shoe mountain in a most unladylike fashion. "But I do think we need to find out whether the Spy Fly was telling the truth. We owe it to that girl. If she's in trouble then we have to help her."
"We owe the girl nothing," replied Black Adam. He meant it too.
"That's fine by me," said Grandma Doyle fiercely. "Show me the way out of here and you're on your own."
Black Adam snorted through his nose and shrugged lazily. "You know as much as I do, old lady."
Grandma Doyle had landed at the bottom of the shoe-mountain on her back. "I don't know why I bother with you, I really don't," she grumbled, her arms flailing frantically. She was clearly stuck. "I suppose it's too much to ask for you to help an old lady?"
Black Adam glanced over in Grandma Doyle's direction. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"
"Not funny," snapped Grandma Doyle, holding her arm out for assistance.
Reluctantly, Black Adam lifted himself off the pile of books and took a step in Grandma Doyle's direction. As he leaned forwards he came to an abrupt halt and put his forefinger to his lips. "What was that?" he whispered.
"Very funny," she muttered, waiting for the inevitable smell that followed one of Black Adam's lethal farts.
Black Adam shook his head vigorously then scanned the ground for something that could be used as a weapon. Grandma Doyle quickly realised he wasn't joking.
"I don't hear anything," she replied in a half-whisper.
Black Adam remained statue-like convinced of something that Grandma Doyle wasn't privy to. But that changed abruptly when a loud crashing sound came from a nearby room. The commotion was quickly followed by a rage-filled scream: "Where has she gone? You must have known!" The voice was something unlike either of them had ever heard before; like a thousand tortured souls, all bound together in one diabolical Katzenklavier.
