The City of Monsters

by Matthew McCollum

“I'm sorry, dear, I didn't mean it like that. I know you're off at college now, living without me watching over your shoulder.” She smiled. “Tell me about it. Let's start with this Derek character. What's he like?”

  Ling warmed to the subject. “Kind, and strong. Everyone loves him. He's a high-level monster slayer. He saves lives.”

  “Wait, you mean Derek Huntsman?”

  Ling turned to see a boy standing in the doorway, a toothbrush in his mouth. He was wearing simple flannel pajamas, of a red and green pattern.

  He was seventeen, and tall, with the ruddy skin of a pacific islander, and garish green hair. That color looked bad in general, but contrasted with his skin it looked horrific.

  “Mitchel,” Ling said, frowning. “I thought you would be at the server farm.”

  “It was in Triple I,” he said.

  Ah, yes, she remembered the 'scraper in question. Derek and Laura had used it as a back door into the redoubt. It burned near the end of the fight, when the screamers made a final push.

  “The company promised me another job at a new location,” he said. “But that hasn't gone through yet.”

  She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. “Wait, back up a bit. You know Derek?”

  He shrugged. “I read a lot of monster mags. Like you said, he's pretty high-level. Just the other day, he killed a pair of oversized alley crawlers.”

  Ling laughed genuinely. That was pretty rare for her, at least around Mitchel. “I think oversized is a bit of an understatement. They were two hundred feet long each.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You were there?”

  “It sounded fun. Besides, we all thought there was going to be one, normal sized. It didn't sound too risky.”

  “You shouldn't involve yourself with those kinds of things,” Matron said. “It's too dangerous.”

  Ling rolled her eyes. If only she knew. “I was fine. I can take care of myself, and like I said, Derek is reliable. If something had gone wrong, he would have protected me.”

  “She's right,” Mitchel said, which surprised her. He had always been jealous of anyone Ling was interested in. “Huntsman is well-known for putting the survival of allies and bystanders above all else.” He shrugged. “It's the only major criticism against him, actually. They say the only reason he ever fouls up a hunt is because he's trying to rescue someone instead of getting the job done.”

  Ling smiled. “Yeah, that's him. He's definitely got a bit of Chronic Hero Syndrome.”

  “From the way you're talking, I still can't see why you'd run over here,” Matron said. “He sounds like the understanding type.”

  Ling wriggled in her seat uncomfortably. “He is. He's just... a bit of an idiot when it comes to women.”

  Mitchel sighed. “You tried to seduce him, didn't you? Same as ever.”

  Before Ling knew what was going on, she had thrown the chair aside and pinned him to the wall.

  He hadn't said... it. But she knew it was on the tip of his tongue. He had said it before. Even now, his back literally against the wall, his eyes were filled with anger rather than fear.

  “Let me go,” he hissed. “Or I'll tell Derek what you are.”

  “Used to be,” Ling snapped back.

  The bastard grinned. “No. What you are.” He moved his face uncomfortably close to Ling's, until his toothbrush poked her cheek and she could smell his breath. At least it was fresh. “It takes more than a couple runs through a toy box to remove a strain like that, my dear. It's like they say: You are who you are. The toy maker just lets you show it.” He shrugged. “Or hide it.”

  The entire orphanage was made of reinforced titanium, as it was originally designed as a bomb shelter. The foundation was concrete, but a thick carpet separated Ling's feet from it. Good thing, too.

  If she had been touching any kind of stone at that moment, she would have used her powers to kill Mitchel St. John.

  Ling had never killed anyone before. She wasn't even good at killing animals. It made her all fluttery inside. But...

  Ling was not what she was.

  And she would not let anyone say otherwise.

  Who knew what would have happened, if they had been left to their own devices. But thankfully, Matron whacked Ling hard upside the head before anyone could do anything too stupid. She really should have seen that coming.

  “That was uncalled for.” Matron pointed angrily at Mitchel. Ling released him. “Mitchel, go make sure the kids are getting to bed.” He obeyed, muttering the whole way.

  “Sorry,” Ling said, once he was out of earshot. She didn't mean it towards him. But starting fights in the orphanage was just... off-limits.

  “He has a point, despite his rudeness,” Matron said, apparently choosing to ignore Ling's actions. Maybe she just didn't realize how close Ling had come to murdering him. “You always choose the worst moment to jump a couple dozen steps ahead in the relationship. And it never ends well. I thought you were over this.”

  “It's different this time.”

  “It always is.”

  Ling stamped her foot in frustration. “Dammit, it is. Why is it so hard for you to believe that I might have actually found someone right this time?”

  Matron smiled at her sadly. “Because you came running back here, sweetie.”

  Chapter 41: POST NOCTE

  DEREK

  “We ran into Laura earlier today,” Simon said. “And that little blond Asian girl. It was an L name... Li?”

  “Ling,” Derek corrected. He settled into the couch at the cafe a little gingerly. He was still pretty badly injured. His wounds had stopped bleeding, but Laura would still kill him if she found out he was running around this soon. He was supposed to be in bed. “Ling Yu. She's Chinese, and in AU on a scholarship.” He grimaced, both from his wounds and from trying to remember. “...soccer? Yeah, soccer.” When she got cornered, she fought like a soccer player. Lots of kicking.

  Simon pulled up a chair and sat down next to Derek. “Well, she seemed nice enough. Only saw her for a second, though.”

  Derek chuckled. “Next time you see her, be prepared for a discussion about anime. She's majoring in animation.”

  “Fair enough. I know that ever since I chose my major, I've started spewing toy maker technobabble given half the chance.”

  “Oh, you decided on that after all? You had it narrowed down to that and... something else. Something political, right?”

  “Culture studies. But my Power offered me a scholarship, if I majored in the toy maker.” Simon shrugged. “Made it easy.”

  Derek leaned back, smiling. “I imagine it did. You know Akane and I almost chose ours at random? Thankfully, they started offering Monster Study this year.”

  “They didn't have that before?”

  “Not as a major. Just one or two classes.”

  Simon shook his head. “I don't know why your mom wanted you to go, anyway. You guys are making great money already.”

  “She never got to go to college, so she's insistent I take the opportunity.” Derek indicated his injuries. “Besides, monster slaying is dangerous, and if I'm incapacitated, suddenly I'm not making any money.”

  “Yeah, I understand, it's just...” Simon shrugged again. “Our matron was never quite so insistent.”

  A waitress sidled up. “Can I get you boys anything?”

  “Croak,” Simon said, naming a soda.

  “Water for me,” Derek added. “In a plastic cup, if possible. I'm afraid I might drop it.”

  The girl nodded and sashayed off.

  “That reminds me, Derek...” Simon said. “How exactly did you get those injuries, anyway? I don't think you mentioned.”

  “I didn't?” Derek thought he had. Oh well. His head still wasn't working quite right. “Got in a fight with some Nosferatu.” He grinned a little weakly. “You should see the other guy.”

  Simon blinked. “Wait, you mean last night? With the bats?”

  Derek shrugged awkwardly and tried to answer without actually ly
ing. “That area.”

  Simon rubbed his hair back, wincing as he nearly sliced his hand open on his horns. “Nine hells. I heard that was a bad one. They brought down a skyscraper, right?”

  “That was the Paladins. Containing everything.” Derek hadn't been conscious for that part, obviously, but the girls—mostly Laura—had filled in the blanks.

  Simon nodded. “Should have known. True Necessarian style. Destroy a few things so you don't have to destroy everything.”

  “That's a little harsh.”

  “Harsh? That was a compliment. Without them, everything would have gone to hell years ago, even discounting the cultures.”

  Derek rubbed his face with his hand, embarrassed. “Sorry for snapping. I lost another friend last night.” He paused, then realized there was no harm in telling Simon the truth. “She got turned, actually.”

  “Oh, shit, I'm sorry. A friend of mine got turned into a burner—do you remember Paul? But yeah, I know how that is. You know Clarke a little, right? They any closer to a cure?”

  Derek frowned. How did he know—oh right, he knew Derek was friends with Clarke's daughter. “Not that I know of. I'm pretty sure they haven't even figured out what's causing it. It's not viral or anything like that.”

  “You just hear the song and turn into a bat?” Simon shook his head. “Seriously, the world is getting weirder by the day.”

  “This from the man who is purple.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  The waitress came back with their drinks. As Derek had requested, she delivered his in a soft-shelled water bottle. He nodded in thanks. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a maintenance man walking in, setting up a ladder in the corner to service the speaker there.

  As the waitress walked away, Derek turned his attention back to Simon. “They might be getting closer, though. Last night, Necessarius caught about five hundred bats. Plus the hundred burners and ten or so biters, that's a nice, big sample pool.”

  “Five hundred? Hells... how many dead?”

  Derek thought about the question for a second. “Not a lot. Fifty, I think. No, less than that. Two dozen or so.”

  Simon set his soda down in surprise. “Seriously? The blogs have been making it sound worse.”

  “Well, the turned ones are effectively dead, so yeah, it's pretty bad.”

  “Oh, I know, I know, just...” He shrugged. “A couple hundred people died at the Battle of Shendilavri. Almost a thousand at Hathsin. That's what you think when someone says there's been a major battle. Fifty sounds more like what happened at Androlynne, or Minauros.”

  Derek frowned. “There was a fight at Minauros? When did that happen?”

  “No, that was my point.”

  “What, that no one cares about Mammon enough to pick a fight with him?”

  Simon looked at him sideways. “Derek, Mammon's been missing for almost a year. Doresain stole Minauros from the Mammonites a few months ago.”

  Derek snorted some water up his nose on accident, but managed to recover quickly. “You're kidding.”

  “Wish I was. The ghouls have gotten bolder because of it.” Doresain Gravetouched was king of the ghouls, though of course not all of them followed him. Still, generally the violent ones were willing to pay attention to him, if nothing more.

  “Huh.” That explained why bounties on ghouls had gone up the last few months. Derek hadn't thought much of it. But then he grinned. “You gotta admit, it's funny. The Thieves' Guild got its fortress stolen?”

  Simon rolled his eyes. “Yes, everyone has already heard all the jokes. You really need to pay more attention to politics. Anyway, my point is that the screamers don't really seem like a threat if we go by their actual kills.”

  Derek took another sip of his water, contemplating. “Laura thinks the Composer has some master plan that makes this all make sense. Maybe one that doesn't involve actually destroying the city.”

  “What's she basing that on?”

  “Mostly? On the fact that the city is still here.”

  Simon winced. “It's really that bad?”

  Derek wiggled his hand back and forth. “It's... not good, by any means, but it could be much, much worse. Everything's just so confusing.”

  Simon leaned back in his chair. “And here I was hoping it was all fear-mongering and paranoia...” He frowned. “Where are you getting your info, anyway? You sure it's legitimate?”

  “Oh yes,” Derek assured him. “This is confirmed from high up in Necessarius. I'm absolutely certain it's legitimate.”

  Chapter 42: DESPECTUS

  AKANE

  It was about eleven when Akane finished her class. She tried to get that kind of thing done earlier rather than later, and AU's flexible scheduling system gave her that freedom. She had another later tonight, which was unfortunate but unavoidable.

  As she adjusted her sword bag over her shoulder, she wondered if she should call Ling again. She hadn't come back last night, not since her heavy-handed attempt to seduce Derek failed. Honestly, judging from his reaction, Akane doubted it would have worked even if Laura and Akane weren't there. She was a bit worried about Ling, but Adam had passed along her message, so Akane was pretty sure she wasn't just sleeping on the street.

  Akane hadn't seen Flynn since Saturday. They only had class together on Friday, but they had each others' phone numbers. He had called her yesterday, but she had ignored it. She needed to ignore it. He was just another distraction.

  And speaking of distractions... she kept letting her thoughts wander, thinking of anything but what she had to do now. She didn't want to do it, but she didn't really have much choice. She was expected.

  She headed out of the campus with a heavy heart, not even bothering to drop off her backpack at her room. She'd need it to carry the stuff she was getting. She found the light rail and used it to head a couple miles north, closer to the heart of the city.

  There weren't many homes this close to Necessarius Central, but there were a few nice apartment buildings here and there, nestled between Doctor Clarke's labs and the various barracks. It hadn't always been NHQ, but those who had lived here first now enjoyed better security than they could have dreamed of.

  There were downsides, of course, like always. Higher security meant it was less convenient to come and go as you pleased, pretty much like any other military zone. Akane was stopped by a 'sarian checkpoint as she was exiting the light rail station, and another six just walking the three blocks to her destination. Luckily, Butler had thought to give all the Paladins Alpha-level security badges, so she was sped on her way without much trouble.

  The apartment building she was looking for was much the same as when she had left it. Well-maintained, but not terribly high-quality, without any of the hanging gardens the city was so famous for. Some idiot had built the place out of imperfect, porous materials. If gardens were allowed, they'd suck all the nutrients out of the walls, and in a few years the entire building would come crumbling down.

  She passed through the front door—they changed the locks with alarming frequency, but not that fast—and crossed the lobby to the elevator, not looking at the concierge at the desk. He didn't really like her. She had given his daughter a sprained ankle when they were younger. Of course, that was because his daughter and six other girls were trying to beat Akane up at the time, but try and explain that to an overprotective parent.

  The elevator carried her to the thirteenth—or rather, floor 12B—floor soon enough, and she exited faster than was probably necessary. She could've sworn she could feel the concierge watching her through the camera, but it must have been her imagination. It didn't matter. The only cameras were in the elevator, so she was safe now either way.

  Akane knocked lightly on the door labeled 12B5. No one answered at first, and she began to hope that she was out, and she'd be able to avoid this for at least one more day. Normally she didn't procrastinate, but this was a special case.

  Unfortunately, she was w
rong. The door opened after only a few moments, and she was greeted by the sight of Yasu Nakano.

  She was a short Japanese woman, a little over forty years old. She was still beautiful, her minimal wrinkles accenting it rather than cutting into it, but her soft face was scrunched up in a frown, and her hair a bit disheveled. It seemed as though Akane had caught her in the middle of something.

  “If this is a bad time, I can leave,” Akane said quickly, and headed to go.

  Yasu grabbed her arm angrily, and it took Akane an effort of will not to shake her off. “Never mind that. Get in here.”

  Akane stumbled into the apartment and nearly tripped over a cardboard box in the middle of the room. It was especially noticeable because the rest of the place was immaculate. The box couldn't have been more obvious if it had been painted neon.

  “There it is,” Yasu said. “I'm sure you don't want to stay any longer than you have to.” She retreated to the kitchen without another word.

  Akane looked in the box with a bit more caution than was needed. There were all her books and movies, what few ones she had, stacked neatly together and ready for her to take. She should be able to fit them all in her backpack and leave in moments.

  She sighed. Like that was an option.

  She stowed her possessions away, just in case she did need to leave in a hurry, and made her way to the kitchen.

  Yasu glanced at Akane. “I thought you'd be gone by now.”

  “I thought I could stay for some tea, Yasu.” She flinched as if Akane had slapped her, and she corrected herself. “Mother, I mean.”

  Yasu sniffed. “That's better. And of course. Sit down, I'd be happy to make you some. You still prefer milk tea?”

  Akane blushed slightly as she sat. Milk tea was for kids. “Yes.”

  Her mother didn't say anything as she fussed about the kitchen, setting the water to boil and preparing the tea bags. She was avoiding talking, and Akane couldn't blame her.

  Akane was, in many ways, her father's child, not her mother's. She had taken to the Akiyama legacy with a will, and accepted all the implications of that inheritance. If her father was still alive, or if a thousand other things had been slightly different, Akane and her mother might actually be civil to each other. But they weren't, so they weren't.