Monster War

by Dean Lorey

  Almost as soon as she had finished speaking, a portal snapped open next to Tabitha and the Queen of Nightmares strode through, followed by Pinch.

  “Talk of the devil,” Rex muttered.

  The Headmaster struggled to rise to a sitting position. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Without even waiting for a reply, Rex drew his short sword and leaped at the intruders. Before he was able to get to them, the Queen of Nightmares reached out and touched him gently on the forehead. Rex collapsed to the ground.

  Tabitha raised her hand, preparing to open a portal underneath their attackers, but she never got that far. The Queen touched her on the shoulder and the Nethermancer dropped to the worn, wooden floor of the ship, unconscious.

  The Headmaster, struggling to her feet, glared at Pinch and said only one word - “traitor” - before being brushed by the Queen and falling into a coma-like sleep herself.

  After surveying all three humans, who lay at her feet like bewitched characters from a fairy tale, the Queen of Nightmares closed her eyes and smiled. “It is good. They are powerful - particularly the old one. I can already feel them re-energising me inside the Slumber.”

  “What is the Slumber?” Pinch asked, staring at his former colleagues in quiet amazement.

  The Queen of Nightmares grinned. “Cross me one day, Edward…and you may well find out.” She opened her eyes and turned to him. “But that will not happen. You have pleased me.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And, as your reward, you may now grow strong again.” She sliced open a finger and green blood began to flow.

  “Drink,” she said. “Drink and become mighty, and then bring me the head of the boy.”

  “I will. And I will not fail you this time. I will find him and destroy him. I promise.”

  Pinch leaned down…and began to drink.

  PART THREE THE POISONOUS PLOT OF DIRECTOR DRAKE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN THE FIGHT BEGINS

  The Nightmare Division had never seemed so unwelcoming.

  Charlie Benjamin strode into the hallway, his shining new weapon clasped tightly in his right hand. Motion detectors and digital cameras kept silent, electronic watch over every centimetre of the highly classified facility. The air was chill and constantly scrubbed by large, humming machines - presumably to keep the ever-present computers functioning at optimum capacity - and a faint smell of antiseptic filled the air.

  Charlie dimly remembered the first time he had visited this place, how overwhelmed he had been by the bigness and strangeness of it all - the monsters in cages wheeled down hallways by bustling workers in their colour-coordinated jumpsuits, the unusual signs on the doors (‘Gnome De-Juicing Facility’ stuck in his head for some odd reason). It had been a lot to absorb, but it had also been incredibly exciting.

  Not any more.

  What once had been exhilarating now just felt alien and ominous. Of course, like everyone, he had heard stories of how wonderful the Division used to be under the guidance of Director Goodnight, how vibrant and full of purpose it was. The Nethermancers, Banishers and Facilitators who worked for him many years ago had truly felt that they were united in their mission to save the world.

  But that feeling was long gone. Under Director Drake, the people currently employed at the Division seemed sad and defeated, their Gifts marginalised by a man who secretly despised them because he did not have those Gifts himself. A blanket of fear covered the whole place like a funeral shroud.

  It’s a real shame, Charlie thought. Who knows, maybe someday the Division can be restored to its former glory…

  It was a good thought, a noble one in fact, but he knew its realisation would have to wait for some distant future. The present demanded hard choices and tough action if he was going to save Violet - which he had every intention of doing.

  “You there!” yelled a beefy Banisher walking towards Charlie. “I recognise you - you’re Charlie Benjamin! You’re not allowed here!”

  “Where’s the Reduction Room?” Charlie asked, not breaking stride.

  “Did you hear what I just said? I’m placing you under arrest by order of Director Drake!” The Banisher raised his thick metal club. “Don’t make me use this on you, young—”

  Charlie swung the Sword of Sacrifice at the Banisher’s weapon, shattering it. The Banisher looked down at his ruined club, astonished.

  “How did you—?”

  “Where is the Reduction Room?” Charlie repeated.

  The Banisher shifted uncertainly. “See, the point is I’m not really allowed to—”

  “Tell me. Now.”

  The man looked deeply into Charlie’s eyes and saw in them no room for debate or delay. This was not a boy he was dealing with - not any more at least - this was a man, a man who was clearly not going to be denied.

  Nervously, the Banisher pointed down a hallway. “Straight to the end, then left. It’ll be on your right. But if you go down there—”

  He never got to finish his sentence because Charlie brushed past him, running towards the place where he hoped - prayed, in fact - that his friend Violet was being held, untouched and unharmed.

  A thick pane of glass provided a clear view of the operating theatre in the Nightmare Division’s infamous Reduction Room. Charlie rushed up to it and looked through to see a large, sunken area flooded with intense fluorescent light. Stainless-steel surgical instruments glittered ominously, wielded by doctors in dark red gowns and masks.

  Doctors - ha! Charlie thought. Doctors help you. These horrible people are something else entirely.

  Then he saw her. Violet Sweet lay on an operating table in the very centre of the room, unmoving, unconscious.

  Charlie’s heart thudded as a doctor in thick-rimmed glasses pointed a shiny metal device at the top of Violet’s head. Laser light pulsed from the tip, casting a small, intense dot on her chestnut, brown hair.

  “STOP!” Charlie screamed. “VIOLET!” But no one could hear him - the operating room window was bullet-and soundproof.

  No problem, Charlie thought, as long as it’s not Ancient-Weapon-of-the-Nether-proof.

  He swung his sword at the thick pane of glass, shattering it. The doctors looked up at him, shocked.

  “What are you doing?” the one with the glasses demanded. “Entrance to this room requires an authorisation of Rank 4 or high—”

  Charlie opened a portal beneath the man and dropped him, screaming, into the Nether. With a wave of his hand, Charlie snapped the portal shut. “Who’s next?” he asked, leaping into the room. The three remaining doctors set down their instruments and began to back away. “Oh, no, no, no,” Charlie warned. “Don’t you go running off. Wake her up. Now.”

  The doctors glanced at each other uneasily.

  “You’re too late,” a short, squat one said finally. “We finished the procedure just before you arrived.”

  Charlie wasn’t sure he had heard the man correctly. “What…what did you say?”

  “The operation is finished,” the doctor replied, nervously wiping sweat from his brow. “The patient is…well, she’s already been Reduced, you see.”

  Charlie’s mouth went dry. He felt dizzy and gripped the railing beside him to steady himself.

  “OK then…just fix it. Just, I don’t know, reverse the procedure or whatever it is you do.”

  The doctor swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. We would but…it’s simply not reversible. Once the operation is done…it’s done.”

  “No.” Charlie shook his head. “That can’t be. It just…” He walked towards Violet’s unconscious form. She looked so small there on the metal table, so terribly vulnerable. “You ANIMALS!” he screamed. “How could you?”

  The doctors quickly backed away from him. Their fear only made Charlie angrier. Good! You should be afraid, he thought. After what you’ve done, you should all be on your knees, begging forgiveness.

  He advanced on them, his fury rising.

  “Charlie Benjamin!”

  Charli
e recognised the voice instantly. He turned to see Director Drake looking down at him from the shattered window high above, flanked by a full squadron of adult Nethermancers and Banishers. With his grey suit, grey hair and slate-grey eyes, he looked like a charcoal drawing - a figure of a man, minus the humanity.

  “Calm down, son,” Drake said, his pearly teeth sparkling in the fluorescent light that poured from the operating theatre. “Trust me. It’s for the best.”

  “It’s for the best?” Charlie echoed in disbelief. “Violet was my friend and now you…ruined her…and you’re telling me it’s for the best?”

  Drake sighed. “Save your indignation for someone who cares. Everything that has happened to her - to all of your friends in fact - is entirely your fault. After all, if not for you, she would never have been called to sacrifice to the Smith to begin with.”

  Charlie was aghast - Director Drake’s complete indifference to people’s suffering was breathtaking. “Why are you doing this to us? All we’ve ever done is try to help.”

  “Tell that to the unfortunate Nethermancers and Banishers who perished when you killed the Guardian.”

  “I didn’t kill him. You did that! You and General Dagget.”

  Drake chuckled. “I know you claim we did, but it simply doesn’t stand the test of logic. Why would the General or I ever do such an unforgivable thing? The death of the Guardian revived the monsters in the lair of the Named which, in turn, caused a bloodbath.” He shook his head sadly. “No, there’s simply no reason for General Dagget or myself to have committed an atrocity like that. No reason at all.”

  “There is one,” Charlie said, stepping forward. “If the Guardian had lived, the Monster Army would be dead and the Fifth would never have been summoned. If that had happened, then there wouldn’t be a need for a Nightmare Division…or for someone to run it. Someone like you.”

  Charlie could tell from the brief flutter of fear that passed across the Director’s face that he had hit a nerve - but Drake quickly recovered.

  “The aggression and paranoia you demonstrate is, quite regrettably, common in all Double-Threats, and it often has terrible consequences - the unfortunate case of Edward Pinch has certainly taught us that.” The Banishers and Nethermancers behind the Director nodded in agreement - clearly, Double-Threats were not to be trusted. “Pinch went bad,” Drake continued smoothly, “and, by accusing me like this, we can now see that you, Mr Benjamin, are sadly well on your way to joining him as a traitor to the human race.”

  Charlie shook his head. “Someone has to stop you, Drake. Stop you now, before you destroy any chance we have of defeating the Fifth.”

  “Threatening the Director? Tsk, tsk, tsk…Another traitorous thought.” Drake plucked a stray thread from his grey suit. “You grow more dangerous by the second, Mr Benjamin. Why not do us all a favour - in fact, do yourself one - and lie down on that table next to your little girlfriend. As you can see, the procedure is quick and painless. You will not suffer.”

  Charlie laughed. “If you actually think I’m going to do that, then you’re even crazier than I thought. Everything about you stinks, Drake, and the smell of you makes me want to—”

  Charlie stopped. The smell. There was something about the smell here that wasn’t quite right.

  He sniffed carefully, trying to put his finger on it. The operating room was filled with the electric scent of metal, mixed with the tang of antiseptic…but there was another smell too. Something sweet and oddly familiar. This new smell meant something, something dangerous. But what was it?

  And then Charlie knew. Cinnamon.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said and rushed to the surgical sink. He grabbed a beaker of water from it.

  “What are you doing?” Director Drake asked, alarmed.

  “Yes, what?” Violet added, sitting bolt upright on the operating table, eyes wild with panic.

  Charlie smiled darkly. “What are you doing awake? I thought you were unconscious - Mimic.” He threw the water in her face.

  As soon as it hit, the creature that looked like Violet began to shudder and its skin bubbled and darkened. Within moments, the outer layer liquefied and drained away into the surgical grate on the floor, revealing a pink, sluglike creature beneath, with no mouth or legs. The monster’s arms, however, were long and strong and they each ended in five fingers (which makes it a Class 5, Charlie thought instinctively).

  Quick as a mongoose, the Mimic reached out and grabbed Charlie by the head - he knew from experience that those powerful hands could instantly crush his skull. With no time to spare, Charlie swung his brightly glowing sword and chopped through the neck of the hideous beast. Its head sailed through the air and splatted against the far wall like an overripe melon.

  Charlie looked up at Director Drake.

  “Where is she? Where’s Violet?”

  “I don’t know what you think you’re—”

  “For a Mimic to be able to copy something, its target has to be close by and alive, so where is she? Tell me now, unless you want to end up like that!”

  Charlie gestured to the decapitated Mimic with his sword. Drake glanced at it queasily.

  “She is safe.”

  “Has she been Reduced?”

  No answer from Drake. The bony man dabbed sweat from his upper lip.

  “Has she?” Charlie demanded.

  Finally, Drake shook his head. “No. She has not.” That doesn’t make any sense, Charlie thought. Why bring her here and not Reduce her? In fact, why even Mimic her to begin with?

  “To answer your unspoken question,” another voice said, and Charlie was surprised to see General Dagget walk up behind the Director. “We did all of this for one specific purpose - to lure you here and then capture you.”

  Charlie’s mind reeled. Was this all a trap?

  “I know it seems complicated, but it’s not really,” William continued as Brooke and Theodore walked up next to him. “You see, I made a deal with the Director. He agreed that if I could deliver you to him, he would spare your friends from Reduction: Brooke, Violet and, of course, my son.” William smiled. “And now I have fulfilled my part of the bargain.”

  Charlie took a step forward, sword raised. “You may have delivered me here, but what makes you think you can keep me?”

  Just then, right below the shattered viewing window where Drake and the General watched, the lower door to the operating room flew open and Violet - the real Violet - burst through. Behind her, Charlie could see two Banishers lying in a broken, crumpled heap.

  “She’s loose!” one of them shouted, grasping his leg - it jutted out at an odd angle. “Security!”

  “Charlie?” Violet yelled. “Portal out! It’s a trap - they’re just using me to catch you!”

  Charlie nodded. “I know - but they don’t have me yet.”

  “Oh, but I’m afraid we do,” Director Drake said, then turned to the Nethermancer beside him. “Do it NOW.”

  Purple fire crackled across the woman and, moments later, a wide portal snapped open in the operating room just behind Violet, out of view of everyone but Charlie and the doctors. Charlie glanced into the portal for just a second and immediately knew that he had made a terrible mistake.

  Oh, no, he thought. Gorgons.

  Dozens of the snake-headed monsters hissed from the dark depths of the Gorgon Maze near the mansion of the Hags and, before anyone could react, Charlie Benjamin was turned to stone.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN BAD DAY IN THE GORGON MAZE

  “Why did you do that?” Theodore shouted, staring down in shock at the statue of Charlie Benjamin.

  “Because we never would have been able to capture him otherwise,” William replied. “He’s…tricky. But don’t worry about it - he won’t trouble you any more.”

  “He didn’t trouble me to begin with!”

  “That’s because you don’t remember.” William turned and looked his son in the eyes. “This boy caused you a lot of difficulty, Theodore - but I’ve taken care
of everything. You’ve been forgiven for all of your mistakes and now you don’t even have to be burdened with memories of the bad times.” William smiled and there was something desperate about it. “You and I can start over, son.”

  Theodore shook his head, confused. “But…he was my friend. Or at least I thought he could be.”

  “No. He’s bad for you. He poisons everything he touches.”

  “Don’t listen to him!” Theodore looked down to see Violet standing in the operating room below. “Charlie was your best friend before and he still is!” she yelled. “Come and help me now and I’ll prove it!”

  “She’s lying, son,” William said. “She always does.”

  “He’s the liar, Theo! Remember what happened in the ice cave, in the lair of the Named? You saw him kill the Guardian! Do you remember? I know you can because Charlie wasn’t with you at the time, so that memory should still be there.”

  Theodore tried to remember, but it was difficult. In his mind, the last six months were an unconnected series of snapshots - random pictures assembled out of order and out of context. But then…there it was! He saw an image of his father holding the frail creature known as the Guardian in the icy lair of the Named.

  Had that caused its death?

  “Come and help me, Theo…join me…” Violet begged.

  “Don’t listen to her, son. I’m the only one that truly cares about you.”

  Theodore looked from the pleading eyes of his father to Violet’s outstretched hand beckoning him to her, to the marble statue of the boy who looked so terribly familiar, the boy whose friendship seemed almost preordained, as impossible to change as…

  Destiny.

  “Sorry, Dad,” Theodore said. “I have to go.”

  “Wait! Son!”

  Ignoring him, the skinny boy leaped down into the operating room next to Violet. “So what do we do?” he asked.

  “Close your eyes and follow me. And don’t look at the Gorgons unless you want to end up like Charlie!”