This Fond Madness

by Melissa Marr

A Note on Corpse Eaters

  The core of “Corpse Eaters” was a question: what if the end of the world was because—contrary to Nietzsche’s grand claim—the god is not dead at all? Or the god we were expecting?

  Personally, I’m intrigued by the power of faith. Faith literally makes a particular church stronger. Typically, this is because of practical things (public opinion, influence, riches from tithing, et al), but what if it physically strengthens the god too?

  In “Corpse Eaters,” the characters have to believe because the god, Nidhogg (from Norse myth), is alive and in their world. To live in this reality, one would be not only trying to overcome the god, but also simultaneously strengthening its very being by the power of belief.

  I am terribly intrigued by the intersection of doubt and faith.

  So, if I step back, I see faith, folklore, and combat/conflict… of course, I also see a little bit of sex and love because I think that’s what makes the desire to survive all the more pressing in our lives. When we fight, we often do so for faith, love, or vengeance. In “Corpse Eaters,” it’s a bit of all three.

  ***

  The Strength Inside

  When Chastity bought the only house on the cul-de-sac with several acres between her and the nearest neighbor, it wasn’t an accident. Privacy was a priority. At the time, her plan seemed sound. At the time, she hadn’t yet met the Homeowners’ Association or their subcommittee, the Architectural Review Board.

  “Well?” Alison prompted when Chastity walked into the kitchen with the mail. Unlike Chastity, her sister was in comfortable jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. The dirt on her cheek—and the muddy footprints on the floor—told Chastity that her sister been gardening again.

  “Another form.” Chastity clutched the latest ARB letter in her hand. By now she could recite the first paragraph:

  The River Glades Community prides itself on high community standards. Therefore any and all exterior architectural alterations must receive approval of the Architectural Review Board. Please submit the attached form to JUSTINE sixty days prior to the date upon which you would like to begin any alteration, addition, removal, or other visible change.

  Chastity forced herself to release her grip. She laid the paper on the kitchen counter and smoothed it out. “Every damn form includes the same paragraph. It’s like it’s their letterhead.”

  “What do they want this time?” Alison unbraided her hair, finger-combed it, and twisted it up into a loose ponytail while Chastity read—and then reread.

  Chastity made a growling noise before saying, “Sufficient neighbor signatures from... any house with direct line of sight with or without foliage.”

  “Umm.” Alison walked to the door, opened it, and pointedly glanced to the left and right. “They do know we are the last house, right?”

  “I’m sure they do.” Chastity kicked off the ridiculous low heels that she wore to work. Her skills were more about focus, so office work made sense. If it didn’t include such uncomfortable clothes, she’d be far happier. Alison floated from job to job when Chastity said they needed more money, but she couldn’t hold a job that involved too much time indoors. Chastity, for better or worse, was content in closer spaces.

  Which is why we need both a house and a big yard.

  For a moment, the sisters stood face-to-face in their kitchen. It was a lovely space. Beautiful granite countertops, sleek stainless steel appliances, and black tile with black grout. Greenery hung from the ceiling, lined windowsills, and clustered along all of the walls. Like much of the house, the kitchen was as close to an exterior space as possible—but without too many wild creatures or insects. Through the open door, Chastity could see the yard that was Alison’s passion. It was well on its way to resembling a formal garden that had been allowed to grow wild. Alison had the admirable ability to persuade most every plant, shrub, or tree to thrive even when they weren’t native. The result was a fabulous space filled with wildlife and ample places to hide.

  “It’s worth fighting for,” Alison reminded her. “I could persuade the woman if you say the word.”

  Chastity pushed away the mental image of the conversation her sister would have—or she herself would like to have—with the ARB chair; the process was made easier by the fact that she’d not yet met Justine. She shook her head. “I can do this.” She paused for a moment, scanned the form again, and looked at her sister. “How many signatures are ‘sufficient’? How do I know that?”

  “You could always go to the committee meeting and ask.” Alison widened her eyes in faux innocence. “Take a covered dish, perhaps?”

  Chastity flipped her little sister off. “We’re trying to get along here, Ali, not encourage the neighbors to show up with pitchforks and torches.”

  Alison shrugged and stepped away from the still-open door. Given her way, she wouldn’t ever close the doors. “So, go fill out your paperwork. I’m going to read.”

  “Don’t let the littles con you into treats because of fake hunger pains while I’m out,” Chastity reminded Alison. “They need to learn to schedule their meals.”

  After a derisive snort, Alison wandered farther into the house. Somewhere in the plant-filled rooms, their siblings hid in dark shadows, but she pretended—for their amusement and hers—that she was unaware that they stalked her. In human years, and to the casual observer, the children appeared to be young teens, but as Bori they were the equivalent of toddlers—precocious toddlers, lethal toddlers, but toddlers all the same.

  Like some mammals, a Bori’s physical growth meant they had strength far beyond their emotional growth. If the littles were left in the wild, they’d be mistaken for feral children—such nestless young were the source of the human stories about children raised by wild animals—but Chastity and Alison weren’t going to let such a fate befall their siblings. A very long time ago, the sisters had struggled as parentless Bori; they’d lived in the old ways.

  Which is exactly why we won’t fail the littles now.

  Despite their considerable longevity, few Bori were left in the world. Too often over the centuries humans declared them demons and murdered them, caged them as freaks in carnival sideshows, or destroyed their habitats. Protecting young Bori from such horrible fates was daunting. Chastity whispered a silent Thank youto whichever deity had granted her Alison as a sister. She could’ve handled the littles without extra help, but having Alison there made it far more manageable. Alison was maternal in a way that made her playmate as much as authority. Chastity, on the other hand, wasn’t fun. It simply wasn’t part of her skill set. There were plenty of things that Chastity considered asskills she possessed: she was a hard worker, kept her promises, killed easily, and generally could get along with just about anyone. She might not genuinely like seven out of ten of the people she smiled at, but now that blending was important for survival, faking friendly was essential.

  Faux smile in place, Chastity took the papers in hand and went out to start knocking on doors.

  ***

  “Can I help you?” The older woman stood in the open doorway, not inviting Chastity in but not refusing to answer the door like the people at the first house.

  “I’m Chastity. My sister and I bought the house at the end of Eden Street.” Alison held up the paper. “I’m trying to get approval for a fence for my younger siblings.”

  “And Miss High and Mighty said no, did she?” The old woman lifted the glasses from her chest, where they dangled like a necklace. “You know, she tried to tell me I couldn’t have azaleas up front. Azaleas! Who ever heard of azaleas being an issue?”

  “I think they’re lovely.”

  “Well, of course they are.” The woman took the pen and paper from Chastity’s outstretched hand. “I had to hire a gardener in order to get approval. That woman needs a job, or a hobby, or something.”

  Chastity smothered a laugh while the woman signedMrs. Corrine A. Kostler on the form and held it out.

  “You might as well skip the Hinkeys.” Mrs. Kostler
pointed toward a red brick colonial that sat kitty-corner from her house. “They do whatever Justine says. Edward files complaints on me right regularly. You just wait until he wants me to sign a form. Ha!”

  Wisely, Chastity made a mental note to never anger Mrs. Kostler—and to invite her to tea. Maybe even a human meal. The food humans ate was peculiar, but there were things that Chastity could stomach. The littles would have to eat early, but we could work it out.

  “Did you want something else?” Mrs. Kostler prompted.

  “No, ma’am.”

  The old woman took her glasses off, smiled, and announced, “You’re not half as weird as Justine said you were, girl. I should’ve known. Go talk to the others. Not the Hinkeys, mind, but the Valdezes and the Johanssons are decent enough.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Chastity nodded. She paused. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t step in the grass this time. I have a sidewalk for a reason.” Mrs. Kostler scowled. “Bring those children for cookies some afternoon.”

  Then she closed the door before Chastity could reply.

  Like Mrs. Kostler, the rest of the neighbors seemed friendly. They looked at the signatures on the form, made a few comments—mostly polite small talk, but more than a couple bitter remarks about Justine—and signed. After the fourth house, Chastity figured she might as well keep knocking. More signatures couldn’t hurt her case.

  ***

  When Alison arrived at the builder’s office the next day, she was reassured. She had been discreet in her inquiries. Chastity isn’t the only one with a plan.Once she’d narrowed in on the builders in the area with the sort of specialization skills they required, the choice was immediately clear. Damek Vaduva had achieved an odd, almost cultish following for his designs, but he also provided the more traditional building skill she needed. Unfortunately, his reputation for design made it near impossible to get a meeting, so Alison had to persuade the receptionist that she had, in fact, made an appointment, but the poor dear had forgotten to enter it into the book.

  What Chastity doesn’t know won’t hurt me.

  Alison shook her head. “I can reschedule.”

  “No, no. It’s my mistake, and Mr. Vaduva had a cancellation earlier, so he’s in. Maybe I told him, but didn’t add it in my book. I’ll go in and tell him,” the young woman murmured. Then she nodded to herself, apparently pleased that she’d resolved the dilemma satisfactorily.

  “It’s not a problem if he’s busy, I can reschedule—”

  “No, of course not!” The woman stood. “We were having such a lovely chat when you called that I must have forgotten.”

  Alison didn’t know how much she could reorder the woman’s mind and Damek’s, so she glanced at the nameplate:Darlene. Names helped.

  “Since you’ve already told Mr. Vaduva I’m here, I will just wait out here for our appointment.” Alison motioned to the overstuffed burgundy leather chair in the corner. “You go on to your lunch, Darlene.”

  The receptionist frowned briefly as her mind tried to assimilate the revision of reality that Alison was forcing on her. Then, she nodded, picked up her purse, and came around the front of the desk. “That does make sense, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s always lovely to talk to you, Darlene... Goodness, it feels funny to call you that whole name after the things we’ve discussed.” Alison leaned close enough that Darlene’s little human heart pitter-pattered like a bunny on speed. “You will tell me if you decide to be more than, well, curious. Won’t you, Dar?”

  For a moment, Alison wondered if she’d overtaxed the poor human girl. Judging how much reality alteration they could take was always tricky, and some biases were a bit more deeply seated than others.

  Then Darlene tore a piece of paper, scribbled a number on it, and pressed it into Alison’s hand. “Oh, yes! It feels so liberating to even admit it.”

  Alison almost laughed in joy. Humans could be so unexpected. A relationship might be a fun way to mainstream. Being a Bori meant that one had a regular need to be needed; most of that need was satisfied by adopting and raising a pair of young Bori the way the sisters had, but there was something very satisfying about being needed in other ways.

  She reached out one hand as if to touch Darlene’s cheek. She held it there until the bunny heartbeat went from bunny-on-speed to bunny-on-speed-with-a-crack-chaser. Once Darlene seemed ready to burst with tension, Alison brushed her knuckles over the girl’s face. “Sweetie, you haven’t even started feeling liberated.”

  Darlene blinked, but said nothing.

  “Go on with you, Dar. I have work to do.” Alison shooed her out the door, admiring the way the girl added an extra sway of her hips.

  Definitely worth pondering a relationship.

  Once the door was closed, Alison walked over, flicked the lock, and took a moment to herself. Keeping the appearance of a human while exerting influence could be a tricky thing. Utilizing influence made a Bori’s eyes revert to their natural oblong shape which, sadly, tended to attract attention. It also had the strange result of making far too many humans unsettled even when they couldn’t see the Bori’s shifted appearance. For a young Bori, exerting influence precipitated a form shift. Typically, for most older Bori, only the eyes changed, but there was always the chance of a more complete shift—and explaining why there is a wolf or an enormous bird where a human just stood could be awkward. Alison hadn’t slipped in years, but she did try to adhere to Chastity’s insistence on mainstreaming, enough so that these little sessions were all the more exhilarating for their rarity.

  Unnecessary if we just moved home where we belong.

  However, the unfortunate truth was that Chastity was right: the littles were growing up in a world where global awareness had changed everything. So few places were truly sequestered, and by the time the littles were on their own, Alison couldn’t imagine how the world would’ve changed.

  A century from now, they’ll need to be able to assimilate far more than they would be able to if we stayed away from the humans.

  When the sisters were hatched centuries ago, it wasn’t so unpleasantly difficult to nestle away in a village or mountain. By the time they were ready to take mates and have young of their own, the telephone had changed things, but it was the Internet that really was ruining things. Her youngest nestmates would need all the tools she could provide if they were to survive in the future that loomed.

  Alison rolled her shoulders, cracked her neck, and concentrated on making her features both human and attractive. Her eyes hadn’t recolored, but they tingled as they tended to when the shape of her eyes started reverting to her natural oblong pupils. It would be easier if she could force her eyes to hold a human shape, but unlike Chastity, Alison could master that trick for only a short time. Alison resorted to contacts, which felt unpleasantly tight as her pupils reshaped.

  She slipped her cell from her side pocket as it buzzed. A text from the littles read: “Need kibbles.” It was immediately followed by a second text message: “Rave lies. Caught yellow birds at Chassys feeder. No kibble.”

  Alison smiled as she texted back: “Bury evidence. Do NOT eat all Chastity’s finches.”

  Not all technology is bad.

  The littles had responded well to the terseness of texting. They didn’t yet like to use words if they didn’t need them, but they did so when they needed to communicate with either of their elder sisters—or in cases where they wanted to talk to only one sister, typically when they needed to talk to Alison without Chastity knowing.

  The next text read: “Three bird? Chassy sleeps now.”

  Alison grimaced at the thought of the littles eating too many of Chastity’s finches and replied, “Only what you caught so far.”

  And that’s why we live in this area. If they lived in the city where the littles had to steal housepets or try to find disease-free rodents, their diets would be a mess.

  Resolved, Alison opened the door between the waiting area and the builder’s office. The man at the des
k didn’t look up. He was darling for a male human: muscular, sun-darkened skin, a few pleasant scars on his exposed forearms, and old enough to be skilled at sex. Perhaps a relationship for Chastity would be wise too.

  Alison tapped her long, lacquered nails on his desk as she assessed him. He still didn’t lift his gaze, so she murmured, “Mr. Vaduva? Mr. Damek Vaduva?”

  “I am Damek.” The man looked around with the gaze of one who was not expecting anyone to be in the room. When his gaze settled on her, he frowned. “Well, your sort don’t usually come to the office.” He pushed his chair back from the desk and folded his hands together. “Darlene is safe?”

  “She is.” Alison sank into the cozy chair in front of Damek’s heavily carved desk.

  She opened her handbag and pulled out a cloth. She didn’t hesitate, despite the difficulty of coming to terms with what was wrapped inside it. She laid it on the desk. “I have a job for you.”

  To his credit, Damek did not unwrap the bundle in front of him. “Tell me.”

  Alison weighed her words are with the same care she used in selecting the right stones from the earth. “I need my home made stronger. I can provide the materials.”

  “Everything I need will be there?”

  “Yes,” Alison agreed. “Everything.”

  Damek leaned back. “Then I will come next week.”

  ***

  Several days passed calmly, and then another form arrived. That night, Chastity tore open the mail with a scream that might’ve caused concern if not for the sound-dampening spell they’d had the foresight to get for the house.

  “Good day at work?” Alison called from the kitchen.

  “I hate Justine with an unhealthy degree of enthusiasm.” Chastity didn’t bother trying to hide her irritation. Outside, she had to be sweet, normal, all of those pesky mainstreamer things, but in the house, she dropped the façade. “If she had any idea what happened to the last woman who—” Chastity stopped herself as Alison came to the doorway and gave her a bemused smile.

  “We could move somewhere remote,” Alison suggested.