A Monk's Tail

by Kyle Spencer

Good blood never lies.

  - Ko’mori proverb

  The war room is pitch black, as was requested. All my advisers had been dismissed save Hew, who sits to my immediate right. Behind me is a large open window leading out into a moonless night. My paws sit comfortably in my lap and as close to my sgian-dubh as I’ll allow myself. In this darkness - in this silence - my heartbeat is a drum against my temples. I can smell my own sweat and Hew’s familiar odor of old cat piss. And their smell. They smell like violence. Pure, bestial violence.

  There’s shuffling across the room, followed by the sound of a dagger being dragged across the stone floor. Closer and closer until it stops across the table from me. The smell is stronger now, a metallic tang that clings to the nostrils and throat and draws forth a warrior’s battlelust; a smell that will take days of whisky to wash away.

  “We have answered the summons.” The voice says matter-of-factly. If it weren’t for the tension in the air I would’ve laughed out loud; the leader of these feared Ko’mori has the voice of cub. A female cub. So high-pitched as to be almost inaudible. “And we come to discuss terms. But first,” another shuffle and a long sweeping sound, “respects to you, Aodh Shadowpaw, Chieftan of Clan Shadowpaw. May the blood of you and your offspring flow strong.” There’s a strange clip to the sentiment, like it’s telling a joke I’m not privy to.

  “And respects to you.” I reply. “What are your terms?”

  “Ten thousand Cymmerions or its equivalent, paid immediately.”

  “That will be roughly two hundred bars.” Hew translates their term into the silver that our clan uses for trade. He also taps my right paw, indicating that the price is within our means.

  “So be it. I will make preparations for payment once this meeting is adjourned.”

  “We shall leave directions for payment. Now, what are your terms?” The voice squeaks.

  “I need someone brought back alive. A young maus. Teenager. This should assist your search.” I toss a doll in the direction of the voice. I don’t hear it hit the ground but I do hear a long, deep sniff.

  “This is sufficient.”

  “Return her to me alive. All other lives are forfeit at your discretion.”

  “We find these terms…agreeable. May the Blind Mother watch over you, Aodh Shadowpaw.” With an earsplitting shriek and a symphony of flapping wings, the Ko’mori take to the air and fly out the open window.

  I try to swallow but my throat is completely dry. Hew breathes heavily besides me, each exhale slightly shaky.

  “I have fought basilisks.” He says after a moment. “I have fought ogres and trolls and wyverns. But nothing frightens me as much as those monsters.”

  I say nothing but nod slowly in the darkness.

  May the gods have mercy on whoever brings forth a Ko’mori’s wrath.

  Don't Drink the Rum

  You remind me of the hare.

  What hare?

  The hare with the power.

  What power?

  The power of voodoo!

  Who do?

  You do!

  Do what?

  Remind me of the hare.

  - From “Chant of the Goblin King”

  “Do you even know where we are?” Susi asked as she rubs her eyes. She’s still not happy about me pulling her out of a sound sleep, but Mama prefers visitors at night.

  “Of course I do.” I reply.

  Of course I don't. It’s been a while since I’ve had to come this way, and it seems like the alleyways and side streets have rearranged themselves on purpose. But I still have an inkling of where I’m going.

  As we veer off onto narrower and narrower alleyways the moonlight coming from above grows dimmer and dimmer. But the color is still all around us thanks to the occasional torch or brazier. Streamers and ribbons criss-cross overhead. Clothing of fantastical patterns and colors are strung out between windows. Paint that dazzles the mind as well as the eyes cover the buildings. Earthy, delicious smells reach out from cracked doorways, trying to grab any passerby and pull them in by the nostrils.

  “Bow,” Susi tugs on my robe, “Bow, I don't like this place. It gives me the creeps.”

  “De creeps!?” The voice makes both of us jump. Susi squeaks and hides behind my tail. I squeak louder and try to hide behind Susi. Tucked away in a corner is a lanky figure sitting on a crate. A thin ivory pipe dips from the figure's mouth down to its lap. Frequent puffs give off a dim glow that outlines our new friend.

  His feet dangle at awkward angles with heels almost resting on the top edge of the crate and toes scraping the ground. White and tan dappled fur cover his entire body and he only sports a pair of ragged khaki shorts. Beads of every color dangle from his neck along with other things that I dare not look too closely at. He smiles at us and two white daggers protrude from his mouth. A rabbit. But without the ears.

  “Don't fret, likkle maus. Yuh a safa here dan out dere inna dem de streets. Long yuh no donkya.” He hops off the crate and lopes towards us. Now I can see where his ears went: tied behind his head. Each one is covered in piercings so that every step brings forth a tiny jingle. His last step is a hop-skip and he bows low with a flourish, ears swinging over his head with a tinkle. “Fi mi name ah Jakob. Fi mi broders call mi JayJay.”

  “...Hi Jakob.” What else could I say to a pipe-smoking rabbit coming out of the shadows?

  “JayJay.”

  “Hi JayJay!” Susi smiles at him. JayJay smiles back his toothy – or two-toothed – smile.

  “An hi to yuh too! Now, wah yuh ah deal wid today?”

  “I...” I finally catch the other things that are dangling from his neck: large chunks of bone that have been scrimshawed into strange figures. Most are long mask-like faces that dance and jerk as JayJay cocks his head to the side.

  “Ah, yuh saw fi mi teet!” H exclaims proudly. “Carved dem miself.” He reads the apparent confusion on our faces. “De teet,” He curls back his lip and taps the two ivory incisors, “Dey never tap growing. Suh wi bruk dem off, file dem, an carve dem. Here,” He grabs one of the more grotesque figures and holds it out to us, “Dis here ah Loa. Spirits dat protect me. Yuh kyan have one tuh, if yuh got de coil.” Three fingers rise up and rub together in the unmistakable 'money' sign.

  “Mmmaybe later. I'm here to see Mama.” Another tinkle as JayJay's head lolls to the other side. He makes a great show of trying to remember something and holds out his paw palm up. Sighing, I drop a couple of coins into it. The instant the cold metal hits his hand he lights up and snaps his fingers.

  “Ah, yes! Yuh must mean dat Mama! Mama Ayanna. She di tap a di tap roun' heah! Solves many crosses! C'mon! Dung here!” He motions for us to follow and he's off like a shot. JayJay doesn't run through the alleyways as much as he, well, hops. But damn is he fast. Susi clings to my tail as I half drag her down twisted paths. Half the time JayJay is out of sight with only a mumbled sing-song echoing off the walls tells me whether to run left or right.

  “Oof! Can you – ow! – tell what he's saying?” Susi asks as she skids along the ground.

  “Fuck no.” Although one doesn't always have to know the words to understand. I turn another corner to see JayJay bouncing in place on his toes, a broad grin on his face. He makes a comical bow and motions towards a small door. The building is like any other, decked out in the colorful ribbons and patterns just like every other in this area. Thin wisps of acrid smoke curl up from under the door.

  “Yuh come in nah, mistah monk.” A cracked voice floats up with the smoke. “Bring the likkle one wid yuh. An' dat JayJay? Gwan make-a someting fuh dem. Yuh know wuh I mean.” JayJay smiles again and bows towards the door, shooing us towards the entrance as he does so.

  Susi takes one step and stops dead in her tracks. She looks up with terrified eyes. “I-I think I’ll wait outside with JayJay.”

  “Yeah, sure.” I nod, head swimming from the smoke. Susi exits while I turn back and head further in.

  There is a single room at the end of a lon
g hallway. One tiny, surprisingly bright room. Candles of all sizes cover every square inch of this place and each one gives off way more light than they should. The wax sticks form a circle in the center of the room where a gorgeous young rabbit sits. Candlelight dances over her black and brown fur. Bright pinks and blues on her dress play tricks with my eyes. A thick pink ribbon spirals down her two ears, binding them together. Her deep brown eyes don’t meet mine, but instead gaze deep into my chest – into my heart. She holds a string out in front of her with tiny bones entwined in it. She jangles it twice with a eerie click-clack.

  “Deh bones spoke to me of yuh coming.” She smiles wryly. Swirls and zigzags are etched into her two great teeth and dyed light blue. “Dey say that-”

  “Cut the crap, Ayanna.” I say flatly.

  Her smile disappears and she flings the string to the side with a flick of her wrist. She rests her her head in her paws and sulks.

  “Yuh never let me have any fun.” Her accent is still there, but not nearly as thick or exaggerated.

  “We have plenty of fun. Remember last time?” I elicit a playful smile from her. “And you can tell Jakob…Jay-Jay that he can drop the act too.”

  “He’s new here.” Ayanna shrugs. “And he really gets into it.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not some ignorant rich asshole looking for a seance or some quick-fix love potion. I know who you are and what you’re capable of.”

  Ayanna chuckles the way a parent does when gently correcting their child. “Yuh have no idea who I am,” her eyes narrow, “or what I’m capable of.” She slowly closes her eyes. When they reopen they shine like emeralds. Slowly, deep strands of red entwine with her black and brown fur.

  Well, this is new…

  “So this is the monk that drank the fooking rum.” Ayanna speaks and I scramble back a few feet from the new voice that comes from her mouth. The voice has a soft, lilting brogue. She throws back her head and laughs a deep, hearty laugh. Her gaze levels on me and I feel my balls hide up into my guts. It’s the gaze of a predator. “That drank my fooking rum.”

  “O-oh, yeah.” I stammer. “Sorry about that.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “It was good rum, though. I applaud your taste.” I give my most charming smile.

  “Flattery,” Ayanna (?) eyes me up and down and smiles back, “will get you everywhere. Ah, but tis a shame that my husband is the jealous type. Besides, that’s not why you’re here.”

  “Then why am I here?”

  “Don’t go trying to test me, boy.” Not an ounce of annoyance in her voice. Brown paws streaked with sunset red reach behind her and procure a bottle. Oooo, rum! Bottoms up and within the span of five seconds Ayanna (?) downs half the bottle. Wiping her lips she offers me the sloshy liquor inside. Meh, might as well.

  The instant the rum hits my tongue it catches fire. I cough and splutter (while the rabbit across from me laughs her ass off) as what’s left in my mouth dribbles down my throat. It feels like Hel herself is pissing fire into my mouth. The rum I had last time I was here was nothing like this.

  The rabbit in front of me can’t stifle her giggles as she reveals a tiny jar full of little red lumps. Snatching back the rum, she unscrews the jar and gingerly takes out what looks like a tiny shriveled heart. Bringing it to her lips she gently sucks on it before dragging it down her chin and beneath her dress, over her breasts and down towards her - oh gods! Ow! Ow-ow-ow-ow! Why??

  “Aquarian Reaper.” She explains as the little ball of devil fire plunks into the rum. “Hottest pepper in the world.” She passes it my way again and I take two scoots backwards. She laughs again. “If you want my help…”

  The little pepper bobs in the liquid, mocking me. The aroma of really, really, really, spicy molasses stings my nose. And eyes. And everything.

  Fuck it.

  I close my eyes and gulp down the rest of the rum in long sloppy chugs. Even the mixture that misses my mouth and drips down my chin feels like liquid fire. I’m pretty sure that my throat has third degree burns, although its more numb than burning now. Ayanna (?) swirls through the tears in my eyes as I force a smile.

  “I’ve seen what vexes you.” She suddenly changes the subject, her tone growing very serious. “An evil thing, of darkness and blood.”

  “What is it?” I scoot back closer, wiping away a constant flow of tears and snot. “It…it knew an old children’s rhyme from back home. How did it know that, let alone my language?”

  “You know much about the realm of spirits and those who dwell there. And you know all that shit because Ayanna told you so. And she knows all that shit because I told her. But there are things that even I don’t know about.”

  “And of course this is one of them.” I groan.

  “Of course not.” Her smile is humorless. “I know exactly what it is: a Metminwi.” A small sack lands with a wet thwack! at my feet. It smells like that spicy rum mixed with mud.

  “Do I just…smack them with this or what?”

  “Don’t be an ass.” She rolls her eyes. Whatever weapon you bring, coat it with that first.”

  “Does it work?”

  “I don’t trifle. And you’re welcome.” Her paws spread out wide. “Talk to my beautiful Ayanna for payment.” And with that her eyes close again and the red begins to recede from her arms and face. The deep brown returns to her irises and the rabbit shivers visibly.

  “I nevuh get used to that.” Another shiver. Then those eyes lock onto mine and she seems to forget everything that just happened. With a broad smile she crawls her way over to me, slowly, sensually, until I’m on my back and she’s hovering over me. “Now, let’s talk about dat payment.”

  “My favorite part.” I smile. “But no more peppers.”

  “No more what now?”

  Hel's Ringmaster

  “It’s another one. Completely eviscerated. Whole area stinks of blood and shit. And is that…caramel corn? What the holy Hel is going on?”

  - Sergeant Allistair Wentworth of the Aquarian Guard

  “Are you sure this is necessary?” Archy rolls a few of the bullets in his paw and tosses one to me. The gray lead swirls with the mixture Mama Ayanna (or whoever-the-Hel-that-was) gave me, turning the bullets into earth-toned marbles. I toss it back and Archy deftly catches it between two fingers.

  “Mama said it was.” I shrug.

  “You have six shots.” The great bear begins to load the charges. “Don’t miss.” Sage fucking advice. I turn to Susi who’s sitting patiently on a chair much too big for her, her pink gloves crossed daintily in her lap and legs slowly swinging in the air. Two little teeth poke out from a cheeky smile; she knows I can’t stop her from joining me again even if I tried.

  With all the preparations finished I walk out into the cool night air with my little protege. The ever-present smell of salt and sea had faded with the sun, settling into a cozy place in the back of the nostrils only to be jostled around by a sudden sniff. The only sound is the breeze racing through the tumbled stones of Old Town’s ruins. Leaving here now would get us back to the Upper District by midnight.

  We wordlessly make our way through to Aquarian’s Central Plaza. Even at this hour the heart of the city is still beating with the footsteps of hundreds of people milling about. The opera house stands above it all, it's gilded walls and marble columns showered in the glowing light from the streets below.

  They say Aquarian is a city that never sleeps. I’d like to call bullshit on that. Aquarian sleeps just like any other living thing. What most people fail to realize is that Aquarian is two cities: the one that lives and breathes in daylight and the other that feasts on the night and everything that comes with it. Nocturnal Aquarian is much more fun but much more dangerous. Jugglers toss every object one could imagine as onlookers ooh and aah. Musicians stake out their own private concert halls around the square, throwing out notes like fishing lines and reeling in crowds with various styles of music. All the while prostitutes and pickpockets lurk in the shadows o
f alleys and side buildings, waiting to separate a fool from their money.

  We pass all this on our way north, where the only music comes from fancy clubs and restaurants with names like Le Fleur Petit and Toad and Sprocket and the thieves and hookers wear only the most stylish finery. As we push farther north even these crowds shrink to a smattering of drunk aristocrats and flickering luxorbs.

  “This the same place as before?” More a statement than a question as Susi looks around.

  “Yup. I figure she’ll be expecting me.” I check my equipment once more, my eyes never leaving the orange glimmer of the lights overhead. A faint tap of a cane and a harumph! behind me peels my eyes away. Susi and I whirl to find Mr. Richbear from this morning.

  “I say! You again! Forgot one of your hash pipes or flasks or some other paraphernalia? What is this world coming to when a decent fellow can’t walk down the streets at night without running into some drugged-up monk and oh, why hello miss,” The top hat twirls off his head in a flourish and just as gracefully flits back on, “I do hope you’re not accompanying this degenerate.”

  The maus immediately dons an aristocratic air and curtsies, drawing a wide smile from our new acquaintance. “Why, he is a degenerate, isn’t he?” I can hear the shit-eating grin grow on her face. “But alas, he is also my servant, and we have some pressing business to attend to this evening. Please pardon our rudeness but we must be off.” Another curtsy with the grace of a debutante - much more grace than should come from the daughter of a traveling merchant family. Mr. Richbear bows again and saunters past us. Just as he passes me the orange glow on his face quickly changes to a soft white.

  Worst. Timing. Ever.

  I grab him by the arm and spin him around back to where he came from. “You need to get out of here right now mister! Run! Run as fast as those stubby legs can take you!”

  “Har-harumph! I say, Miss! Please control your servant! I will not be handled in this way! And where the devil did this strange light come from?”

  “Oh please sir! He is right though! You need to get out of here now!” Despite the airs she’s putting on, Susi’s eyes are wide and frightened. “Something bad is going to happen!”