Second Hand Curses

by Drew Hayes

  Hopping down from the stool he’d been perched atop, Father walked over to the front, into his creation’s line of sight. Dark, clotted blood coated his gloved hands as he examined his monster with a critical eye. “Don’t be silly, Igor. I would never so callously toss aside a life I helped bring into this world. No, this is a simple fix, really. If the issue is one of degradation then we simply need fresher parts.”

  He moved closer, looking in the lone eye that still functioned. “And for the brain, perhaps we should use something younger, with bits more able to cope with the trauma of suddenly being relocated out of their original skull. If we only replace the pieces that are failing, I think the system as a whole will be able to absorb the shock of new components. Even if it fails, we’ll get valuable data. But if it succeeds…I imagine my boy here will be capable of great and wondrous things.”

  * * *

  Not surprisingly, an enterprise built around tricking, kidnapping, and then cursing children wasn’t one that operated openly. Pinocchio, despite having spent months there, couldn’t recall anything more about The Land of Toys other than it was on a pier, surrounded by water, and even that he only knew because he swam off during his escape. More useful than the description of the place was how he’d managed to get there: by getting a ride from a mysterious fellow who went by the name Coachman. As leads went, it wasn’t much, and it had taken all of Jack’s willpower not to point out that maybe the fact that their driver used a blatant code name should have tipped Pinocchio off that all wasn’t right. There was no point in shaming a child for naivety though, so they took the meager lead and did the best they could with it.

  There had been, briefly, discussion of trying to pass one of them off as a child. The idea fell apart in moments, as the only way to pull it off would be through magical means, all of which would be ludicrously expensive if they could even locate such an option. Instead, it was decided that their best bet would be to try to find the mysterious carriage, then trail it until it arrived at The Land of Toys. That, of course, led them to the dilemma of how to find a carriage that only stopped to pick up wayward children.

  Here, however, Jack proved to be an invaluable resource. For some reason, which both Frank and Marie could easily guess, Jack seemed to have an intimate knowledge of the sorts of things young troublemakers would get up to. They kept watch on sweet shops, especially ones where the owners were known to have poor eyesight or slow reflexes, as well as any area with lots of thing that could be easily smashed. It was at one such location, the site of a cottage whose construction had been abandoned halfway through, that they got lucky. Not only were there at least a dozen children hanging around, occasionally breaking what little was left whole, but Jack even caught sight of a few comparing baubles they’d stolen from the townsfolk. If ever there was a crop ripe for the picking, this would be it.

  Together, they began to watch the site, noting that the children showed up around when they should go to school and stayed until they’d be expected home. There was, of course, the strong possibility that they might never see the Coachman. They had no idea how often he came through to recruit more children. Despite the odds being against them, they did all have hope it would work. Rescuing kidnapped children was an errand to which the Narrative might very well lend its support, which greatly increased their chances of having the right timing. It was decided that they’d give a week to this method, and if that failed then they’d simply try to hunt down The Land of Toys another way. Giving up wasn’t an option, not with a message from the Blue Fairy on the line, it was just a matter of how they’d find a way to succeed.

  Luck, or perhaps the Narrative, was with them. On day six of their watch, a dark coach pulled up just as evening was beginning to settle across the land, an hour at most before the children would be expected home from a day of school and play. The trio watched as the driver hailed the children, freely tossing out toys and trinkets.

  “What’s he saying?” Jack whispered. While he was more consistently aware of noises around him, none of them could match Marie’s hearing.

  “He’s far away, it’s hard to make out.” She craned her neck forward, verging on the edge of slipping into the Coachman’s view. “It sounds as like he’s promising to take them somewhere with endless toys and playing. If this isn’t our man, we should probably stop him anyway. There’s no chance this ends well for those children.”

  “Looks as though they like whatever he’s selling,” Frank noted. His stomach churned as he watched the children climb into the carriage, poor innocent souls being led to their doom. Frank’s right eye grew cloudy, but he blinked away the tears. Much as he felt for them, if Frank went charging in now he’d only be condemning more children to be cursed and sold. He would help these children, all of them. It just required being a little patient first.

  Once the last child was inside, the Coachman shut the door, showing a darkly gleeful smile to what he thought was the empty evening. One quick snap of his reins and the donkeys pulling his cart rushed forward, pulling these innocents off to their doom.

  “Marie, you’ve got their scents, right?” Jack asked. They’d spent the better part of their nights finding items that the children had left behind, making sure Marie could familiarize herself with as many of their odors as possible.

  “I still smell them, so I don’t think the carriage is enchanted to hide their scents. We should stay close for a while until I’m sure.” She rose from her perch, heading down the path to where they’d stashed their horses. It would be close, but if they hurried they’d be able to trail the Coachman to Collodi’s main road out of town. Once they knew for sure Marie could follow the children’s smell, it would be safe to fall back.

  “They just went right with him, didn’t they?” Jack pushed himself up to follow Marie. “I’ll admit I swallowed some dumb stories as a child, but I can’t imagine even I would have gotten into a stranger’s carriage like that.”

  “They’re children.” Frank moved as quickly as the others, if not more so, mounting his horse so speedily that it nearly tried to toss him off. “Children are inexperienced and naïve. They inherently trust people. Even when they really, really shouldn’t.”

  * * *

  Make a friend. It seemed such a simple task, yet back then Frank barely had enough cognitive function to understand the simplest instructions that Father gave him. He didn’t grasp the true reason behind the task, just as he didn’t understand what friendship actually was, or why the task was assigned to him, rather than Igor or Father. To be fair, he didn’t yet know what crimes were, or trials, so he certainly couldn’t fathom anything as complex as the need for an alibi.

  Wandering the forest for several hours, he came across many potential friends. Squirrels, birds, wolves, and all manner of creature populated the area. Dimly, he recognized them from the multitude of books Father made him read, trying in vain to expand his mental horizons. None of them would work, however, both because they all fled at the sight of him, and because Father had given him very specific instructions for his new friend. They had to be human. They had to be young. They had to come play at the castle, even if they were hesitant to do so. They would be scared of him, everything was, but Father assured him that once they were back at the castle and there was time to explain the situation properly, he would have a friend. He didn’t know what that would entail, and it didn’t matter. Father had made a demand of him, and Father was the giver of life. As his monster, it was a privilege to carry out even the slightest of Father’s whims.

  The sound of splashing caught his attention, and he lumbered through the trees until he came to a stream. In the middle of it, gasping for air, was a female human child. His muscles moved on their own, plunging into the flowing water without hesitation. Swimming was new, an experience he’d only read about, but some part of his mind recognized the motions and fell into a rhythm. Slow though he was, he was also strong, and in moments he’d shoved his way through the water to reach the girl’s side. With
one arm, he scooped her up and carried her to the shore as she coughed and clung to him for dear life. They reached the other side without incident, and he deposited her carefully onto the soft grass of the bank.

  “You…safe?” Forming words was a struggle. He could process them, both the audible and written type, yet creating his own took significantly more effort. The thick rasp of his voice drew the girl’s attention, and for the first time she got a good look at her savior. As her eyes met his, he braced for the shiver of revulsion that would run through her. It happened every time someone looked at him too closely; even Father couldn’t completely mask his disgust at the sight. Yet when this small girl turned her piercing blue eyes upon him, there was no fear or repulsion. Her face shone with joy as she tottered forward and wrapped her arms around his torso as best she could manage.

  “I’m safe. Thank you, mister. You saved me.”

  He didn’t know what a hug was. Father’s scientific texts had never mentioned such a curious gesture and there certainly weren’t any to be had in the castle. Yet the moment he received one, he knew they were special. Something flickered in his heart, a sensation of joy. Although he hadn’t given any thought to saving this girl, all of it had been reactionary, he still found himself impossibly glad that he’d done it. Saving people, helping them, it felt good. He wanted to do more.

  “You…lost?” They were in the middle of the forest, and he hadn’t passed a single house in some while, so the answer seemed obvious.

  She released her grip on his chest and looked around, seemingly aware of her surroundings for the first time. Those bright blue eyes filled with fear at the unfamiliar setting, and he began to regret his words that had caused this child pain. “I think so. I was playing on the bridge even though Mama said not to. I fell, and the water was fast, and I swam until my arms got tired but I kept moving and…I don’t know where I am.” Sniffles filled the air as she grew frantic, her familiar world gone and replaced by one she didn’t know in the slightest.

  “No cry. I take…you home. Father…help…new friend.” Father would see the girl back to her family; he knew the local area well. And this would complete his task in the process. He would be able to help the girl as well as make Father happy. This was a great stroke of luck indeed.

  “You live close?” The girl was still scanning the area, searching for a house.

  “Far. Can…carry.” He pointed past the tree line, to the hillside where the manor was half visible against the night sky. “Home.”

  Her eyes widened, but she nodded. “I trust you. Let’s go before it gets too late. I don’t want Mama to worry.” Slowly, she reached out and took hold of his hand, her tiny fingers barely getting around a few of his own. “My name is Shelley. What’s yours?”

  “No name. Just…monster.”

  Her giggling was unexpected, and she craned her neck to look up at him. “That’s silly. You’re not a monster. You’re nice. You saved me.”

  There were many moments in his life that Frank dreamed of and woke up stifling screams. But this memory was one of the few from which he would wake to find himself weeping. Or weeping as well as was possible when one had only a lone eye that cried.

  * * *

  Whether it was bravado, stupidity, or a simple lack of resources for the task, it turned out the carriage had not been enchanted to seal the scents of the children it had taken. And really, from a logistical standpoint it made a certain amount of sense. These were delinquent children, so it would be some time before anyone noticed they were actually missing and not just off having some unsanctioned adventure. By the time somebody realized the problem, it would be far too late to try to trail a few rogue smells across kingdom roads. Even Marie had trouble doing it, and they were following barely a mile behind the carriage, sometimes further when it hit long, uninterrupted stretches of land where they might be spotted. Blocking the children’s scents would be very expensive and had low chances of paying off. It was the sort of thing only someone like Jack would do, and Jack was mad as a hatter. That was, in fact, part of what made him so dangerously effective.

  At last, they saw the pier Pinocchio has described come into view. It was certainly a massive structure, more akin to a floating town than a simple place for boats to dock. Brightly colored tents dotted the landscape, and even from a long distance they could catch a few snippets of calliope music drifting on the wind. However, all of that existed on a giant platform at the end of the pier. To get there, a rider had to cross nearly a half-mile of narrow wooden planks with multiple gates stationed at regular intervals. As they watched, the Coachman’s carriage was halted at each one, its driver talking to the guards who then swung open their respective gates and allowed the procession to move forward.

  “They really don’t want strangers getting in,” Marie noted.

  “That, and they probably also don’t want the children getting out,” Jack added. “Once a few of them see friends turn into donkeys, I’m sure they make a break for it. This explains why Pinocchio took the seaward route rather than escaping onto land. Maybe we should do the same. Swim over, climb up from the rear and catch them off guard.”

  “We can’t.” Frank’s left eye was focused on the waves crashing beneath the pier. It had excellent vision, and that was certainly useful, but it had also belonged to a predator. That meant it was an eye meant for seeing potential prey, as well as other predators, and there was ample danger to make out below. “This pier stopped being used as one for a reason. There are sharp rocks and reefs that would crash any boat we used, and the whole area is teeming with sharks and other sea monsters. The only reason Pinocchio was able to swim through there is because he was made of wood. Anything with flesh is going to start a feeding frenzy.”

  “Hmm.” Jack took the news well, merely shifting his gaze slightly as he assessed the area. “I suppose that means we can’t just burn it all down either, not without killing the children. I was hoping we could make enough chaos to give them a chance to break for the water. So we can’t go around the back, and the front is heavily fortified. This message had better be worth the trouble.”

  “It doesn’t matter if it’s a dirty limerick. The Blue Fairy left it for us, so we need to hear it.” Despite her flippant words, Frank noticed a shine of yellow in Marie’s eyes. She was angry, about their situation and about what was being done to these innocents. If she did make it inside, Frank imagined many of the workers there would have just enough time to regret the choices that brought them there, albeit barely.

  Jack chuckled at the idea of getting little more than a limerick for all their trouble, yet his eyes never left the pier as he mulled over their situation. “No one this careful is going to believe it if we stroll up and pretend to be in the market for donkeys. If we waited and ambushed the Coachman when he leaves again we could try to force him to get us in, but if he tipped off even one guard the whole thing would be sunk. Anything we could do to make the staff panic puts the children at risk, and I don’t think Pinocchio is old enough to understand collateral damage. There’s also the danger that if anyone there realizes they’re under attack they might kill all the children to be rid of the evidence. Hmm. This is a good one.”

  “I have a thought.” Frank wasn’t sure where Jack planned to land on this one, but he wanted to make sure they took a path that emphasized stealth above all else. “Remember when we were trying to recover stolen artifacts from that miser king’s vault? It was in the deepest dungeon of a castle on a mountain top, guarded on all sides by a veritable army. What did you say to me?”

  The grin on Jack’s face threatened to split his head as he recalled the moment. “If you can’t go around or through, try under and over. That enchanted pickaxe cost us a fair chunk of gold, but it was worth it to break into the vault without having to deal with so much as a single guard. I think I see what you’re driving at.”

  “Good. Then you know we need to take a rest. The only way we can do this is at night, and we’ll need our strength at it
s peak. One slip-up, and any of us could be dead.” Frank wasn’t usually one to push for riskier plans, but his friends knew what they were doing. They’d each chosen this life, and the risks that came with it. One couldn’t say the same about the children on that pier, innocents who’d been lured to their doom by a seemingly friendly face.

  * * *

  It took the creature some time to understand what had happened. To be fair, even with his newly improved brain he was still little more than a child. So he didn’t question it when Father assured him that Shelley had gotten home safe, or wonder at the fact that he wasn’t permitted to go see her. It made sense, he’d witnessed how Father and Igor reacted to his appearance, and they had made him. The people in the village might very well break into a panic at the barest sight of him, and he didn’t want to cause trouble for Shelley. He did wish that she would visit, but he trusted Father’s assurances that she would come on the next holiday, when she and her family would have time to make the trip.

  Besides, he was busier than he had been before. With a brain that operated at full capacity, he’d discovered a thirst for knowledge. Every book Father owned, and there were quite a few of them in the library, had been read multiple times, even though he could recall them almost perfectly after the first perusal. When Father couldn’t get more fast enough, the two of them would have lessons. Father was a brilliant man, and he knew more about the human body than anyone else in the world, or at least anyone else that his creation had met, even if that number was admittedly limited. Sometimes they would get out the cadavers that hadn’t been fresh enough to use for parts and practice medical procedures, a vocation that both Father and his creation were adept at. Before long, he could look at the stitched-together pieces of his own body and see them for what they were: a tapestry of flesh artfully woven by the hands of a master. Yet the more he learned, the more he couldn’t stop thinking that there was room for improvement, small alterations here and there that would permit him to operate more efficiently.