There's No Such Thing as Monsters

by Ren Ryder

  “Why of course, naturally!” Bell giggled again.

  I clenched my jaw and didn’t give her the pleasure of a response.

  There were three wavy, airy horizontal squiggles stacked one on top of the other. A bell sat centered atop it all, bursting with little rays of light. The whole design had been neatly circled with only a small portion left open, presumably so that I could finish the ritual by sealing the contract with my blood, thereby empowering Bell’s personal sigil.

  After giving my switchblade a thorough wipe-down, I did so.

  Instantly I was consumed by pain unlike anything I’d experienced before. My heart clenched in agony. My veins throbbed and felt like they might burst out of my skin. I actually began to sweat blood. Pressure built up in my head and behind my eyeballs, both of which felt like they might burst.

  Then it was all gone, and my skin had been branded with Bell’s sigil. The purple ichor sparkled with silvery mana.

  Time’s a-wasting. Hurry, hurry!

  “Bell, the barrier, take it down!”

  Bell pouted. “You know, you really know how to make a girl feel unappreciated!”

  I pointed, silent.

  “Have it your way~” Bell flew leisurely to inspect the complex interwoven lines of power that made up the magical enclosure.

  "Oh my, what an intricate and well-established barrier— so pretty, look at it sparkle! You know, whoever put this in place had no intention of letting whatever was inside, out. Not unless it was on their terms, at least. Are you super sure you don’t want to rethink your stance on freeing these humans? I can’t promise things will end well for you if you do~” Bell hummed.

  I couldn’t help but notice the derogatory inflection when she spoke about humans. At the moment though, confronting the sylph about it was as low on my priorities list as it could get.

  I gritted my teeth. “Whatever happens, happens. Do it!”

  Bell giggled. “Whatever you say, chief! Better hold onto your pants, sweet thing, because you’re going to be in for a bumpy ride~”

  I have a very, very bad feeling about this.

  My body broke out into a hot sweat and a wave of dizziness sent me reeling. Sweat dribbled off my brow and seeped from the pores of my body. As I teetered side to side and my vision grew fuzzy and indistinct, I grabbed the cage bars to stabilize myself before I fell over.

  “You alright there kiddo? You don’t look so good.”

  Even through my blurred vision I could tell the old man’s face was pinched and his eyebrows were lowered in concern.

  “He’s right, maybe you should take a break. You’ve expended a horrific amount of magical energy opening cages, and this barrier is many times more complex and empowered.” Mr. Floppy Hat recommended a temporary stay of hostilities.

  Bell’s visage was predatory. “They’re right you know. This might just be my shortest contract ever!"

  The first rays of dawn clawed towards me, malignant, uncaring and unstoppable. Apathetic towards my indecisiveness.

  My hands hurt.

  Father Gregory’s benign, beatific expression flashed through my eyes. I found myself clutching his cross in my hand. I felt the bones of my fingers and palm creaking.

  Oh. I see now. So this is what it means to be a part of a purpose greater than oneself.

  A knotted rope, which had been drawn tight and taut, fell slack. I loosened my death grip on the bars of my own accord, straightened my back and narrowed my eyes so the only path I could see lay before me.

  I won’t turn back and I won’t give up until I’ve seen this through!

  “I’m ready.” My voice was clear, cool, and even.

  Bell tittered. “Have you made peace with your gods?”

  Like the opening act of a play, a gust of wind made my cloak dance. The next instant, a gale wind rose around me in a tight, concentric circle. My hair whipped about my face and my clothes felt like they might tear off my body.

  I felt I should have been in the calm center at the eye of the storm, but that wasn’t the case here. I was battered to and fro like a plaything of the gods.

  An incredible force struck in and around me, and something shattered. My vision flickered, then darkened at the edges— I was going to pass out, but no, not yet— not yet! A rare and fleeting, unblemished smile creased my face as I cast a glance over my shoulder at Sammie. She sat whole and unharmed in the chair I’d left her in, sleeping peacefully without a care in the world.

  An impenetrable shadow cast darkness over me. With the last vestiges of my fluttering consciousness, I wondered if Father Gregory would’ve been proud of me.

  Chapter Six

  Trying to move, I was stopped by an alarming number of sharp aches and a frightening numbness. Making minimal movements, I surveyed my surroundings.

  I found myself in a sunny, lavishly decorated room that was bursting with finery and oozing with upper-crust appeal. Wherever I was, I certainly felt out of place in such a well-appointed space.

  I took solace in my one remaining constant. Sammie was curled up in a ball to the left of me. She practically disappeared into the plump, rich comforter adorning the four-postered bed.

  Her hair was a rat’s nest. Tear tracks marred her face, some fresh and others quite dry. Her clothes were rumpled and wrinkled like they hadn’t seen a washing in some time.

  There was only one conclusion to make, and it wasn’t good. Obviously some time had passed since I’d been awake, and more than likely Sammie had been by my side all the while.

  The questions that arose about my current situation and its greater context were many, but I doubted the answers would come knocking on my door. At the moment, it seemed I wasn’t imprisoned or confined in any way, so I would satisfy my curiosity by taking the opportunity to explore the premises. Who knew if I’d retain such privileges once my host became aware that I’d regained consciousness.

  I tried to speak, but instead devolved into a series of harsh, dry coughs. After belatedly discovering a jug of water and an empty glass by my bedside, I poured myself a cup and swigged down the contents with gusto. Sweet nectar. Nothing had ever tasted better.

  I swallowed experimentally and guessed I had recovered my voice, but took another look at the sleep-deprived princess bundled up by my side and thought better of testing it. I eased out of the bed and bunched up the covers around her before closing the room to the door behind me with a barely discernible noise.

  Sammie looked like she needed the sleep. I certainly couldn’t be the one to wake her from her slumber.

  A high-pitched noise made me jump out of my skin before I recognized the source. That was when I sighed. “What does a guy have to do to get some alone time?”

  Bell took flight, stretched her wings for a few seconds, then circled to land on my shoulder. She sat prettily while observing me closely, with crossed legs and one foot kicking. Her heel bopped against my collarbone rhythmically.

  “Look who’s alive and kicking! Poop, and here I was hoping to cash in early. Who knows how long I’ll be waiting now that you’ve pulled through?! You could live, like, forever.”

  I blew a strand of hair out of my face; it’d gotten quite long without my noticing. I’d need to cut it before it became unmanageable. I limbered up my aching body, stretching atrophied muscles and rolling out disused joints.

  “You’re melodramatic no matter what, aren’t you?”

  Is it worse or better that the things Bell says don’t get under my skin the way they used to?

  “Young master.”

  An impeccably dressed maid passed by my one-man comedy skit with a curtsy and bow of her head, showing exquisite form, all without ceasing her progress down the hallway.

  I smiled a supremely awkward smile and returned an awkward bow of my own. “M-M’lady.”

  I’m sure my voice cracked— was she hiding her amusement behind that hand?

  Bell, of course, was her usual tactless self. I caught her snickering into my ear. She had to stand on
tiptoe to do so. Small victories, I’ll take them where I can get them.

  I picked the opposite direction the maid was heading and began walking down the carpeted hallway. The plush carpet felt incredible beneath my feet. It was only then that I noticed I was walking around barefoot in what amounted to underwear and a loose-fitted, nearly shear white shirt with flowing sleeves.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingertips, belatedly realizing the source of Bell’s amusement. “I’m sure you’ll give me the runaround for other questions, so just tell me what happened with the barrier and the captured humans— were they able to get out?”

  Bell hopped off her perch, flew right up in my face, and flicked my forehead. “Even a dunce like you must be able to see what happened. Use your eyes, look around.”

  The sylph gestured expansively, first at our surroundings, then at my well-cared for, if a bit underdressed state.

  I waved my hand in front of my face to get rid of the nuisance. “Guess that’s a yes— and it’s called being conscientious ya know, geez.” Faerie dust got in my nose, and I sneezed. “Sorry, looks like I’m allergic to bugs.”

  Bell stuck out her tongue at me and pulled up an eyelid with her thumb. “Blehhh!”

  We soon found ourselves at the entrance to the largest personal garden I’d ever seen. It was enclosed in glass and open to the sun, and, from what I could tell, sat smack in the middle of the property. Clearly this was its centerpiece. I tried to peer inside but thick beads of condensation rolled down the glass, obscuring much of the greenhouse’s interior.

  “Let’s go in! Might as well have a look-see, right Kal, amiright?” Eyes alight with unreserved excitement, Bell jabbed me in the temple with her elbow.

  For once, the two of us were in agreement on what to do. I grasped the thick brass handle and twisted. Thick, warm air brushed past me as I stepped inside. An intermixed collection of floral scents flooded my nostrils, and I breathed deeply. A sense of calm washed over me as I approached a bench set alone amidst a delicate arrangement of flowerbeds.

  I sat and lounged, leaning back and staring up at the noonday sun. My hand drifted to my chest over my heart, and I fingered the raised, scarred skin there. Bell’s personal sigil: a few simple wavy runes stacked on top of one another with a sparkling bell centered above them.

  Bell picked then to return from her frolicking. “Reminiscing about our romantic coupling?”

  I sat up and stretched languidly, then, at length, rolled my eyes. “As if.”

  “But you were thinking about me, and the magic.” Bell’s voice took on an uncharacteristically serious air. I was slightly thrown off by it.

  “Maybe,” I conceded.

  “You know, besides the fact that you almost killed yourself the first day using it, your affinity for magic is extraordinary.”

  I grimaced and clenched my hands into fists on my knees. “Is that supposed to make me happy?” A biting, double-edged sword lurked within my words. My longer than usual fingernails had burrowed bloody furrows into my palms.

  “You regret your gifts?”

  Bell’s serious eyes were deep, dark, and knowing. I felt naked and vulnerable.

  “Regret? My whole life was a mistake!”

  “You saved those people. Was that a mistake?” Bell rebutted simply.

  I lapsed into bitter silence.

  “I’m sure your little sister would be so happy to hear her big brother whining and bemoaning his fate so. What, would you rather have never been born so that she might have suffered all alone? How very responsible of you!” Bell dug into me mercilessly.

  I bit my lip and felt shame. “I won’t reject what I am, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. People die because of what I am— what we are— Father Gregory is just another innocent casualty of circumstance. All simply because I exist.”

  Bell scoffed at me, and I could have sworn I spotted fury in her amber-gold eyes. “That withered old priest? He was a big boy. Would you take from him his pride and his resolve to do what he thought was right?”

  Acid rose on my tongue and I opened my mouth to respond, but thought better of it and closed my mouth. I laughed instead, and with it a weight rose from my chest that I hadn’t even realized was there.

  I smirked. “So you know how to be nice after all.”

  Bell turned away with a huff. “Hmmph, I just couldn’t stand looking at you anymore, all mopey and stuff. It’s no fun to tease you when you’re like that.”

  I snatched her from the air and tickled her silly, until she begged me to stop.

  “Stop! Stop, I’m begging you!”

  I poked her in the stomach and she fell onto her back upon the wood bench beside me. “Thank you, Bell. I wouldn’t have managed back there without your help.”

  “Now look who’s being all dramatic. Don’t be silly, that’s how our contract works.” Bell played it off, but I could see a slight smile tugging at her lips.

  Bell and I both scooted apart— well, I scooted and she shot off into the air away from me— at the arrival of an interloper.

  “I hate to interrupt your… discussion…” the steward said diplomatically, “Young master, it’s time for the midday meal. Will you be joining the master of the house, or should I send your regrets?”

  I coughed. “Of course, lead the way.”

  Before attending the meal, I was rushed into a changing room by the steward who had originally fetched me. He stuffed me into perfectly fitted yet uncomfortable, richly adorned, flamboyantly colored clothes. They made me feel a step further removed from my body and my situation. And where could I have been but in a dream?

  Sitting to the right of me at the head of an expansive dining table that could host a feast was a man I didn’t recognize, but his appearance and demeanor demanded respect. His long braided beard drew my eye, but not as much as the scar tissue that adorned every inch of visible skin I could see. Not even his face was spared the atrocity committed upon his body.

  Averting my eyes, I nodded wordlessly to Mr. Floppy Hat, whose name I still didn’t know, seated across from me. Somewhat more graciously, I recognized the comforting, fatherly figure seated to my left.

  We were served our meal in silence and we ate in silence as well. All the while I stewed, shoveling food into my mouth like a machine, not yet willing or able to give voice to my frustrations. The chicken and potatoes tasted like ash in my mouth, and the vegetables tasted like dirt. I coughed and downed a glass of water to swallow down the remains of my meal. Then, mercifully, the wait was over.

  The master of the house set down his utensils, and the rest of the table followed suit. “It’s reassuring to finally be given the opportunity to make your acquaintance, Kal. You are every bit the young man the stories made you out to be.”

  Stories? What stories? I don’t have any desire to be made out as some sort of local legend.

  “You all seem to have me at a bit of a disadvantage. It’s a pleasure to meet you…” I tried and probably failed to hold back my grimace as I gestured around the table, implying my ignorance in many things.

  “Ah, yes. My apologies. Duke Regulus Maddox is the name, but you may address me however you wish. These two are more familiar to you I’m sure, Greaves here is my dear friend and confidant while Koji happens to be a famed scholar.

  “When I was made aware of the circumstances of your meeting, I provided my humble estate to house those injured and displaced by the incident.” He imbued the word incident with all the filth and muck contained in an overused outhouse.

  I would have dropped my silverware, if I was still holding it. “D-Duke?”

  I did straighten up in my chair and wiped down the creases in my itchy clothes. I no doubt failed at pretending I was anything other than a common street rat.

  Mercifully, my blunders were ignored.

  Koji fingered the lip of his hat as he bowed his head. “Your patronage is much appreciated, Your Grace.”

  A separate server, one for each of us,
cleared the place settings, bowed, and left without another word. The steward who’d led me to this place filled our wine glasses with a deep red vintage before taking up a vigil in an unobtrusive spot. I fidgeted and bounced my knee restlessly throughout it all, wondering when we’d approach the meat of the conversation.

  We were served coffee and tea to our preferences. In an attempt to drive the lingering cobwebs from my head, I took my coffee black and spooned in a mountain of sugar. The dining room was filled with only the clinking of glasses for an agonizing few minutes.

  “Seeing as my residence was razed to the ground the same day we made good on our escape, you’ve been quite the godsend, dear friend,” Greaves clapped the Duke on the shoulder companionably.

  I blinked at the show of familiarity.

  Fingering my longer than usual pale-white locks and the stubbled growth on my face, I made a show of critically examining my pale fingers and long, unkempt nails. “What of the others? How bad is it out there, really?” Despite my best efforts, a trace of trepidation crept into my voice.

  Greaves and Koji shared a conflicted look before the latter nodded to the former. “Bad, real bad. There isn’t an easy way to tell you this, son. Koji and I, the two of us tried our best to convince the survivors to stick together until the excitement over this Ouroboros business died down…” Greaves trailed off with a weak, awkward smile.

  Koji picked up the slack. “Ouroboros is tearing the city apart in search of escapees, and those they find are being made examples of… A little more than half, close to a score of people— sixteen to be exact— are being sheltered by the good Duke… the rest, I’m afraid, they’ve been strung up and left for the crows… bodies found shredded and mangled… every last one had Ouroboros’s mark cut into their bodies… but, most worryingly, your name is foremost amongst their targets— they’re out for blood. You’re the hottest topic in the underground… anyone suspected of harboring you… is being dragged across a bed of coals.”