Paradise Lost Boxed Set

by R. E. Vance

  OtherMe swung at Evil-and-Cute, who ducked and countered with a punch to the gut, followed by a kick to his shin. I felt the pain, sort of. It was the memory thing again, and even though it was real and intense, it didn’t really affect me in any physical way. I watched in despair as OtherMe fought Evil-and-Cute. Even with his confidence and strength, the ideal version of me was too slow and weak to do any real damage.

  ↔↓↔

  I, on the other far-less-ideal hand, was facing off against my own monsters—the anomalies that were literally children’s nightmares and two Occultists. Like Tink, I focused on the ijiraq and tiyanak, slashing them with my hunting sword. The ijiraq charged and I ducked under his raking claw, turning to do what I had done to him in the desert—cut his Achilles tendon. But instead of cutting through fibrous filament, my blade clacked against metal.

  What the hell? A heel guard? I looked up at him. “Really?”

  The ijiraq smirked at me—a look that was more his mouth bones cracking in an upward-facing crescent than an actual smile—and, pushing me with his staff, threw me against the Crystal. It was like falling on a thistle bush. I winced in pain as a thousand little shards shredded my skin.

  I tried to peel myself off the thing causing me numerous flesh wounds, but I couldn’t. Seemed the Crystal’s thorns were more fishhook than needle, and to get myself off it would take some time. Time I didn’t have. I looked at the ijiraq. “Heel guard. Got an upgrade, huh?”

  The ijiraq nodded as he took several steps back. Suddenly falling to all fours, he sought to charge at me. He was going to impale me on the Crystal shard. I looked around the room and saw that the other Occultist, the tiyanak, seeing that I was done for, ordered the anomalies to do as his master bid.

  Kill the children.

  Monsters lumbered toward the kids in their prison cells. I could hear high-pitched yells—little children crying out for their mommies. I looked at the ijiraq as he prepared to end me and then back at the tiyanak. I knew I only had time to do one thing. I threw the Earl King’s sword at the tiyanak, crying out as the Crystal tore deeper into my skin. My sword twirled through the air as it flew at the demonic toddler, hitting it with an almost inaudible swoosh.

  My aim had been straight and true. The blade pierced the tiyanak’s heart. He died before his body hit the ground.

  The ijiraq momentarily paused as he watched his fellow Occultist fall. Then he sneered at me and let out a howl that I could have sworn shook the ground. Several children screamed at the ijiraq’s call, and I saw four more anomalies manifest from nothing. I’d faced dragons and angels, First Laws and apocalyptic monsters, and I could say with all confidence that there was nothing more frightening or awe inspiring than a child’s imagination.

  The ijiraq galloped toward me. I tried to move, but I was still pinned to the Crystal. Fine, I thought. This is the end. And just like that, I felt a peace come over me. It would hurt, sure, but that pain would be over soon. The others would have to keep fighting the good fight without me. I had done all I could do.

  As I closed my eyes and readied myself for death, I said one silent prayer that the others would be able to save the children without me.

  I figured I had about three seconds until he hit me. What do you do with your last three seconds? Say a prayer? Make a wish? Count to three?

  I did the only thing I could. I conjured the faces of all the people I loved in my head, planning on holding their images and taking them with me to that nothing that was next.

  But the nothing that was next didn’t happen. Nothing did.

  I opened one of my eyes and saw that the ijiraq lay dead before me. Well, not all of him was in front of me. He was missing his head. It seemed that with all the screaming and me being distracted by the certainty of my own death, I hadn’t heard Aau throw his scythe. It had flown even straighter and truer than my own blade, decapitating the skeletal Other in one fell swoop.

  Without either of the Occultists to direct them, the anomalies were wandering around aimlessly. Conner evidently didn’t trust that all the Occultists were dead, because he started shooting the lumbering monsters with his shotgun, which he evidently retrieved before coming down here.

  Aau walked up to me, sniffed twice and unceremoniously grabbed me by my belt buckle and underarm. He lifted me up about a half inch and then pulled.

  “Wait, wait, WAIT—” I started, but the jackal-guard didn’t wait. In a far more literal way than I’m comfortable with, he ripped me off the Crystal. Like a GoneGodDamn Band-Aid.

  My skin sounded like Velcro peeling off a sweater. I fell on my stomach, writhing in pain. It wasn’t that any one wound hurt. It did, of course, but any one wound hurt just about as much as cutting your finger while chopping vegetables. The clincher was the couple hundred wounds that ganged up on my nervous system, took it down a dark alley and beat it into next Tuesday.

  And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, Aau poured what felt like vinegar mixed with fermented lemon over my back. I screamed in pain, thinking of all the things I wanted to do to Aau … when my back suddenly stopped hurting.

  I looked up at the jackal-guard, who exposed his canines and said, “Old Egyptian remedy, plus about four minutes of time. Four minutes that you owe me.”

  “Uh-huh” was all I managed.

  Aau sneered and then joined Conner, who was having a blast while blasting anomaly after anomaly with his shotgun and sending them to Foam City.

  ↔↑↔

  Things above were getting more and more dire, with Evil-and-Cute slowly wearing OtherMe down. Don’t get me wrong—he was doing OK, but this wasn’t a fight he was going to win. Evil-and-Cute knew it, and so did he. But every time OtherMe tried to get away to regroup and try something else, she was there, toying with him in pretty much the same fashion a cat would a mouse. I could feel his frustration, but he did not give up hope. That much I could sense. He kept fighting, hoping that Evil-and-Cute would slip up and give him an opening, or something would happen that would turn the tide of the battle.

  Penemue and Sinbad weren’t faring much better with the DragonFly. Every time they did something significant to it—cut off a wing or severely damage one of its compound eyes, for example—it healed itself. From all the “Yippies!” and “Yee-haws!” I knew Sinbad was fairing well. The kid had infinite energy.

  But Penemue … he was another story.

  ↔↓↔

  I clicked my wristwatch to see how the recently freed Others were doing. From what I saw, they were still keeping the guards busy—without actually killing any of them, which was a plus. I checked in on Marty in the FishBowl and saw several guards toppled one on top of another. Seemed that a guard would go into the FishBowl to try to get eyes on the situation and Marty would bite them. I counted eleven guards so far.

  Empty Hell—Marty was badass!

  But as good as that situation was, things down here were looking pretty bleak. I was standing awkwardly next to a teary Conner as he held a wounded and passed-out Miral on the old prison floor.

  “Conner,” I said. “She’ll live … but we won’t if we don’t get the kids out of here. Is George in place?”

  Conner wiped away a tear and nodded. “The myarids are waiting in the water to ferry over the children and George is on his boat. We just need to get to the south side of the island.”

  “Good … I’ve got to find Colel Cab.”

  Conner looked up at me, confused.

  “Long story,” I sighed, “but she’s the Big Bad behind this whole shit show. And judging from how the fight is going up above, I’ve got to get her to turn off her mojo—otherwise we’re sunk.”

  A very angry Aau sniffed around. From the way the jackal-guard’s ears twitched, I could see that he didn’t like this place. Not one bit. Aau pointed to the far end of the prison where a small hatched door stood open—probably used as a repair duct.

  “The traitorous bug went over there,” he snarled.

  I nodded in confirmation. A
au was an expert tracker, so if he said Colel Cab went through the hatch, there was little doubt in my mind he was right.

  Aau stepped toward the repair duct. “I shall join you and—”

  “No,” I interrupted, stopping him. “You and Conner free the kids. Get them on George’s boat. After that, come help me—if I’m still alive.” I tried to curl my lips in a way that said I was joking, but my mouth wouldn’t help with the lie and I just gulped in resolve. One way or another, this ended. Today. High noon—except it wasn’t noon, it was three in the morning, and I was more Shane than Eastwood. I didn’t like my chances.

  Conner stood up and ripped off one of the tapestries that hung on the walls to cover Miral with. Then he gave her a kiss on the forehead and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Conner loved Miral, there was no doubt about that.

  “You sure about this, Matthias?” Conner asked, not taking his eyes off Miral.

  “I’ll be OK,” I said, grabbing Conner and forcing eye-contact. “But who’s not going to be OK are those kids if you don’t get your head in the game.”

  Conner looked behind me and nodded. “You sure going after BugFace alone is the best strategy?”

  “Probably not,” I said. “I need two favors from you, though.”

  “What?”

  “Can I borrow your pistol?”

  Conner unholstered his pistol and handed it to me. “And the other thing?”

  “This.” I pulled him in close so that our chests were tight against one another.

  “What are you doing?” Conner asked.

  “What I have to. Now hold still,” I responded. Then in a hushed whisper I said, “Tink—you’ve got to go, ’cause I honestly don’t know if I’m coming back from this one.” I figured that if I didn’t make it out, at least Tink would escape with Conner. Hell, she could wait until he was asleep, exit his chest and go back to CaCa—and Conner would never know what, or who, he was harboring.

  “Come on, Tink,” I repeated. I felt nothing. “Tink. Please! I can’t hold back. And I will if I know you’re with me.”

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then I felt that familiar whoomp that always accompanied her leaving my chest, and from the way Conner’s eyes widened, he got a whoomp of his own. We separated and, touching his chest, he asked, “What just happened? Who were you talking to?”

  “I can’t—”

  “You can’t tell me,” Conner sighed. “I’m gonna need some answers when all this is over, Matthias. About what happened there, too,” he said, nodding over to Miral’s still form. Before I could say anything, he nodded at Aau. The two of them went off to save the children, leaving me to go face Colel Cab alone.

  Empty Hell.

  ↔↓↔

  Aau told me that Colel Cab ducked into this place and the jackal-guard wouldn’t be wrong about something like that. He had Krypto AKA Superdog’s nose. Aau’s secret identity: SuperBloodhound (I need to work on my superhero names).

  Point is—Colel Cab was down here. I followed, hoping to find her lair. And yes, it would be a lair. Creatures like Colel Cab always had a lair. It came with their trope.

  I ran through the hatch and found myself running through one of those tunnels you see in alien movies, and exactly the kind of place I’d imagined the inner workings of a prison to be. Thick pipes wide enough to house small tree trunks lined the walls carrying only the GoneGods knew what, while smaller pipes ran along the ceiling for water and possibly electrical cables—but again, I had no idea. As well-trained as I was, the inner workings of a large building designed to hold hundreds of prisoners just wasn’t in my wheelhouse. (Come to think of it, I don’t know what a wheelhouse is, either.)

  This place wasn’t a maze like I’d expected. It was just a straight line. A never-ending tunnel that might as well have been a one-way ticket back to Paradise Lot. I checked my watch, but Mickey’s second hand ticked along at a boring, consistent speed of one per second. No time was being burned here. None I could detect, at least.

  There was no way this place was real. It was, like I said, exactly what I would imagine the inner workings of a prison to be—but I admit, I may have just seen Shawshank Redemption one too many times. But in real life, it just didn’t make practical sense. There were too many pipes and not enough stuff that needed piping around. Once you got back electricity, water and exhaust … what more did you need? A pipe for air conditioning, maybe, possibly a gas line for the kitchen, but that was about it.

  I checked my Mickey Mouse watch to see if magic was being used, and sure enough, Mickey’s second hand ticked along at a normal pace.

  But that didn’t mean magic wasn’t being used. Remembering the little box that filtered magic at the Tree, I stopped looking for Colel Cab and magic, and started looking for what was hiding Colel Cab and her magic. I ran my hands over the wiring and pipes and tubing, and after a few minutes of feeling up useless pipes, I eventually felt it … a little metal box exactly like the one Hunter found on the Tree, hidden by pipe. Once you stopped running and started poking around, they were there.

  And not just one—there were dozens of them.

  Which meant a lot of burning time was being hidden in this place. Colel Cab knew enough to hide her magic, but never really expected anyone down here. That’s why she didn’t bother to hide the boxes more thoroughly. I considered the design of this place—it was modeled after what I believed a place like this should look like. In other words, Colel Cab tapped into my perceptions and created something that complied with my expectations in order to throw me off the trail. Colel Cab had spent a lot of magic creating this illusion and then hiding it with her little magic filters.

  I pulled as many of the boxes as I could find and, remembering how explosive they were, I carefully piled them on the ground. Then I left the tunnel and went back into the main prison area. With the door open, I took aim with Conner’s revolver.

  I fired at the pile of magic filters, quick to get out of the mouth of the tunnel. It was tough aiming and diving for cover, and I missed with the first shot, the bullet ricocheting off the pipes. Even as an illusion, this place reacted exactly like an endless metal tunnel would.

  I lined up another shot and held my breath. Letting it out, I aimed carefully. As soon as I had the tiny box in the pistol’s boresights, I stopped breathing out and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the box and an explosion rang out and a fireball burst out of the door, singeing my jacket as the flames passed by me.

  Looking inside, I saw that just like at the Tree, it spouted out explosive time which pattered out all magic, exposing what this place really was.

  A tomb.

  ↔

  The blast ripped a hole into the very fabric of reality. What was peeled back from its tattered shreds was a dreary tunnel that connected the old prison to a large, underground chamber. I walked over to the moth-eaten curtain of illusion and reality, and once I stepped onto the concrete floor of the real world, all the metal piping and tunnel disappeared.

  I wished that it would simply be a tunnel with nothing creepy lining the walls, but in the GoneGod world, wishes were rarely answered. And my unanswered wish was particularly creepy, because dozens of bodies lined the walls of the tunnel.

  They were under the same spell that Mr. Yew and Mr. Cain were under, and although I didn’t recognize most of them, I knew a few of them. A senator, the mainland mayor, a news reporter I’d seen that day reporting on the missing children … each and every one of them in some sort of catatonic state … all dreaming of a heaven they desired while their other selves, their ideal selves, were being manipulated by Colel Cab.

  All told, I saw close to one hundred and ninety people … one hundred and ninety key players that were doing the bug god’s bidding. I walked along, the tunnel getting wider and the bodies getting less and less frequent until it opened up into a chamber larger than a football stadium.

  I walked another three hundred feet before I entered the main chamber and saw, at its core, Col
el Cab standing there with all four pairs of her arms crossed.

  Next to her were Mr. Cain and Mr. Yew—the two most important pawns in her game. All three of them stood next to a large glass terrarium which held a … a …

  “What’s that?” I called as I got closer. “Besides taking over the world, you’re also into bee keeping?”

  Colel Cab shook her head. “My chief acolyte … a queen bee of the Melipona scutellaris order. She battles your ideal self above.”

  “ ‘Chief acolyte’?” I said, “You mean ‘minion.’ ” Then it clicked: the tiara, the ridiculous jokes, the preternatural speed and senses. “You don’t mean to say that Evil-and-Cute is the ideal manifestation of a queen bee?”

  “ ‘Evil-and-Cute’?” Colel Cab repeated. Then recognition flashed on her face. “Oh … I see why you have bestowed that title on her. Yes, I mean Evil-and-Cute. She is a queen bee who aspired to be more. More is exactly what I gave her. And she gave me so much in return.”

  Evil-and-Cute was a bee that aspired to be human. And I’d thought I’d seen it all. And yet, suddenly things started to make sense. I thought back to what she’d said about how they would now face her nightmare, and how she’d then conjured a dragonfly. Granted, it was a massively terrifying DragonFly, but it was still an odd choice. But dragonflies are one of the few natural predators that bees have, a relentless predator known to go into hives and pull out queen bees just for the hell of it. No wonder she conjured that—I’d be terrified of something known to pull my kind out of bed.