by Green Dc
‘Oopsy.’ Tessa smiled sheepishly.
Prgyll shook his glob-like head. ‘I’ve spent the last few weeks being dissolved inside a gigantic stomach, shredded with industrial waste and discarded ab-blasters, all the while struggling to pull myself together.’
‘Me sorree.’ Tessa blushed. ‘Me not knowen salad talken is monster.’
Prgyll coughed. ‘An honest mistake, I’m certain.’
Bruce frowned. ‘But if you’re PT, then who the web …?’
Thinking fast, and not a little desperately, I waved at the new arrival. ‘Hey, uh, cousin!’
‘Cousin?’ Prgyll raised one dripping palm. ‘I’m sorry. However, I’m certain we have never met.’
‘Put your hands and claws on your heads and back away from the prince!’
10: REVELATIONS
‘Gnarly!’ Bruce waved his spindly legs. ‘How can we figure which one’s the real swamp dude?’
‘My money’s on the dying moron in the suit.’ Greta rolled her eyes. ‘Not.’
‘It is obvious.’ Stoker loomed above me. ‘You are wearing a costume. Are you not, PT?’
My eyes moved from stern-faced monster to monster. ‘Yeah.’
Stoker’s voice burned. ‘Remove your mask, mortal.’
Could I run away? Nah. Did I have any choice? Not really.
I clicked the release tag on my neck and twisted off my swamp creature noggin.
The monsters gaped like I was a zoo exhibit. Or, in some cases, like I was a treat in a delicatessen window.
‘It’s a hume!’ Bruce shrieked. ‘Eek!’
‘How unlike the way I imagined,’ said Scarab. ‘This human resembles friend Stoker and is almost … attractive.’
‘Score a new optometrist, Mummy Gal!!’ Bruce reeled back. ‘This one’s gnarly ugly!’
‘Zorg iz confuzed!’
Stoker said, ‘PT is not Swamp Boy, Zorg. He is a mortal. A human. He deceived us.’
Zorg scratched his head. His good eye darkened. ‘Then hooman mortool muzt be dying!’ The zombie scurried forward. ‘Nom-nommm!’
I punched weakly. Zorg seized my arm, raised it to his huge-toothed mouth and bit down on my hand.
Crunch!
‘Argh! Zorg’z teeth iz breaking!’ Zorg scuttled behind Scarab. ‘PT iz not tazting like hooman! Iz tazting like mattrezz zpringz!’
‘Viethe was thus accurate,’ said Stoker. ‘The mortal does have enhancements.’
‘Bionic hand.’ I nodded. ‘Long story– Uhh.’
I doubled over.
Scarab crouched and leaned over me. ‘Swamp – PT, you are in pain?’
‘I’ve felt worse,’ I said. ‘Being stabbed surprisingly hurts less than being punched.’
Scarab lightly touched the holes in my costume. ‘Reveal to me.’
I poked at my Adam’s apple, and unzipped my costume torso, exposing the dark constellation of stab holes across my pale chest. A wave of blood and stale sweat rolled out.
‘Red scent!’ Stoker’s nostrils flared.
‘You are so soft, so … vulnerable.’ Scarab’s voice was tiny with awe. ‘I had forgotten.’
Bruce bounded forward to stink-eye me over Scarab’s head. ‘I figured you were my bud! But you ain’t! You lied and betrayed us and busted our gang rules!’ Bruce’s leg snapped out. Lash! My head whipped back. ‘May your leg hairs forever knot!’
My vision blurred. ‘I’m sorry. I–’
‘Must die!’ Bruce shrilled. ‘I’ll slice and dice you myself and feed you to Mama!’
Stoker drooled forward. ‘Red scent so – irresistible!’
This was so not going well. Still, what did I expect? At least being diced would be faster than the drip-drip-drip of bleeding to death.
‘Back, by Isis!’ Scarab shouted. ‘All of you! Can you not tell PT is dying? Before we decide anything else, we must save him.’
‘Save, then kill?’ whined Bruce. ‘I totally can’t peep the point of step one.’
Greta raised her hand as if in class. ‘For the record, it would make more sense to ransom the boy.’
‘You mean: save, ransom, then kill?’ Bruce’s 128 eyebrows arched.
‘If Zorg iz munching hooman brainz, Zorg iz getting more zmart!’
Ignoring the other monsters, Scarab unwrapped a length of bandage from her arm and tore it free. She dabbed the cloth into a hissing puddle of Tessa’s stomach juices then into the wounds on my chest and shoulder.
‘Ow.’ My stab-holes sizzled. I breathed acid and burning flesh. ‘Ow!’
‘That hurt?’ asked Bruce. When I nodded, he smiled evilly. ‘Top-notch.’
Tessa, recovering by the poolside, giggled like a ninety-tonne schoolgirl.
‘You are fortunate,’ said Scarab. ‘Your wounds are not deep. The thickness of your monster costume saved you.’
Greta yawned. ‘How ironic.’
Scarab touched my stomach. ‘Where did these bruises originate?’
‘Someone’s private office.’ I sagged from the effort of constructing such a long sentence.
Scarab glared at Bruce and unwrapped a longer ribbon of bandage from around her waist, once again tearing it free.
I gawked at the horizontal slice of her volcanic black rock skin, random crystals glinting like living freckles.
Zorg gurgled.
Scarab pulled the bandage tight around my chest and upper arm. The wounds tingled. I felt weirdly stronger.
‘Done,’ the mummy said.
I smiled a feeble thanks.
‘Now with the butt-slicing?’ Bruce twitched. ‘I vote we play scissors rock parchment for the privilege.’
‘Perhaps we should allow PT to impart his story first?’ suggested Scarab.
Stoker nodded. He seemed calmer since the covering of my wounds. ‘I am curious about aspects of this deception.’
‘A webbing story?’ Bruce groaned. ‘What is this? Play School?’
Zorg muttered. Greta inspected her nails.
Mentally, I laughed without humour. Thanks for backing me up after I helped you into the gang, Greta!
‘Killen bad,’ said Tessa. ‘But me more okay now.’ The troll girl stood and star-jumped seven times. Castle Mount’s foundations trembled. ‘Me happy salad monsters okay both. Me go class now. Me miss much too school afore! Bye-lo, gang.’ She wiggled her fingers.
‘Bye, Tessa,’ said everyone.
The spider jabbed my ribs. ‘You ain’t allowed to say, “Bye, Tessa”!’
The real swamp monster coughed. He’d grown back a light reed covering and looked much less digested. ‘I’m, er, voyaging too.’
‘Indeed,’ said Greta. ‘We are late for Alchemy.’
‘Oh, no! I’m sorry. However, you misunderstood my meaning.’ Prgyll slithered out of the pool, his every hand and foot print marked with slime. ‘I’m not voyaging to class. I had no notion education would be so life-threatening. I’m voyaging back to my swamp and never emerging again!’ With a low wave, Prgyll snail-trailed towards the exit.
Everyone waved back.
‘Adios, Swampy bud. Keep it real. May your spinnerets never clog!’ Bruce spun, glaring at me. ‘Yo, faker, let’s hear this story. I wanna tight plot with age-appropriate one-liners!’
‘Begin by telling us your real identity,’ said Stoker. ‘And do not attempt deceit. I can read your face now.’
‘Fair enough.’ I dragged myself against the edge of the pool and propped myself into a sitting position. ‘My initials really are PT. I’m Prince Thomas the–’
‘Prince Thomas?’ Bruce guffawed so hard his mouth foamed lime bubbles. ‘As in the-hume-prince-of-Monstro-City Prince Thomas? Yo, sure. And I’m a dragon’s scaly butt!’
Greta said, ‘He is evidently a similar age to the human prince. Though why would the most-valuable human alive risk said life to attend this C-grade institution?’
‘Same reason you’re here,’ I said. ‘To learn.’
‘Rant for yourself,’ said Bruce. ‘I�
�m here to play pranks on teachers and dumb-ass gobs and avoid being married off by my gnarly old lady and …’ The spider’s voice trailed away, before firing up again. ‘What’re you peeping at? Continue with the lame butt-story!’
‘One day, I’m kind of supposed to become King of Monstro City. But for my whole life, I’ve been a virtual prisoner in my stupid royal quarters. Never allowed near a window. No friends “permitted”. I couldn’t even ask questions about the city outside. The only monsters I met were goblin clerks, ogre bodyguards and the odd assassin like … Bloody Mary.’ I shuddered and involuntarily touched the fingernail scar across my cheek. ‘Lord Boron–’
‘The human regent?’ asked Scarab.
‘Yeah. Also known as the world’s dullest teacher. Anyway, Lord B always told me: “Your job is to live”. Yet I felt deader than any zombie. Um, no insult meant, Zorg.’
The zombie gurgled darkly.
I continued. ‘Stuff that, I thought. So I came here – yeah, in disguise – to learn factoids about the world. Not just from the teachers, but from you guys.’
‘Sucking up’s borrring,’ said Bruce. ‘Tell us more ’bout the assassins. No, ’bout your bionic hand. That sounds potentially non-boring. Always figured you pure-bred humes didn’t dig all that add-on-machine, cyborgy stuff.’
‘You really want to know?’ I asked.
Bruce shrugged.
A part of me wanted to hold my family secrets tight; but my life already overflowed with lies and evasions. The Dead Gang had earned an honest telling of my story; well, some of them had. ‘Right.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I was never supposed to become king. That was my older brother’s job. His destiny, I guess. It made sense. Robbie – Robert – had it all. Brave. Good-looking. Big brain in his noggin. He was the perfect prince, except for when we were alone. Then he’d tickle me until I couldn’t breathe.’ I paused. ‘Every day, I miss him.’
‘So how come you’re bleeding here and Prince Valiant ain’t?’
‘Robert and my father used to play chess in the royal rec room. They’d rub their chins, trying to look serious. One time I faked a gas-releasing sound effect!’ I smiled at the memory. ‘Robert threatened to throw a dead pawn at my noggin. Father scolded us both, though his eyes were laughing. Then they arrived and everything turned to blah.’ I looked down. ‘Vampire assassins exploded through the windows–’
‘Vampire assassins?’ Stoker snorted. ‘What rubbish!’
‘That’s what Gottfried the ogre called them, just before they slit his throat!’ my voice jumped. ‘Yeah, the candles blew out. And yeah, they moved faster than I could follow. But when they slowed, my mind sketched an image that still hogs my nightmares. Their blood-red eyes. Their chalky, blood-splashed hands – just like yours, Stoker! In seconds, they’d murdered five ogres and critically injured seven, including Erica. It was the highest death toll from so deep inside Upper Castle Mount.’
Where was Erica? Maybe the ancient pager no longer worked.
‘Continue! The story!’ The spider sharpened his serrations. ‘It finally owns some decent kick-butt action!’
‘Right.’ I breathed deeply to keep my voice even. ‘Um, my brother and father fought bravely, of course. But the vampires knocked them out and stuffed them into body-bags, along with their own fallen.’
‘And where were you hiding, little lion-hearted prince?’ Bruce mocked.
‘Me?’ I looked down. ‘I didn’t seem to register with the assassins. At least, not until I grabbed the cloak of the biggest. Without turning, he swung his sword and sliced off my hand.’
‘That must have stung,’ said Greta.
I ignored the goblin. ‘Another assassin kicked my hand across the room. A third caught it in his bag. Blood spurted from my arm like a hose. The last thing I remember was the assassins, silhouetted against the moon, launching from the balcony. Um, then I passed out.’ I paused a little longer. ‘My first day at school here was the tenth anniversary of that night.’
‘The tenth?’ asked Scarab. ‘So these events occurred when you were a child of five years old?’
I said nothing – I’d said enough already.
‘Zorg iz almozt feeling zorry for hooman!’
‘Thus your fear of me,’ said Stoker. ‘You presume all vampires are killers.’
‘Aren’t you?’ I replied. Why not be a little brave at the end?
‘Who gives a spin?’ Bruce snapped. ‘The story! What happened next?’
‘Not much. Erica, my ogre bodyguard, crawled into the room. She staunched my wound, saving my life. My next birthday present was an organic mechanical hand that grows in proportion to my body. Thank you, Cyborg Warlord.’
‘So you are a cyborg?’ asked Scarab. ‘An ex-human?’
Wow. She was offering me a life-jacket. ‘Nah.’ I brushed her offer aside. ‘I’m under 20 per cent mechanical, so I’m technically still human.’
‘And your mother?’ asked Scarab.
‘She … hasn’t been herself since that night. But she’ll recover! None of the blah Friendly Viethe said about her was right!’ Woo, head throbbing. Breathe. ‘I won’t stop believing my father and brother will be back. My family will return to the happy days before Monstro City came crashing in!’
‘So you are delusional.’ Stoker slicked his Mohawk. ‘And suicidal, as you proved in your fight against Viethe.’
‘He is brave as well,’ said Scarab. ‘He defended his mother.’
Stoker adjusted his ring. ‘I admit the mortal did land a few half-decent fluke punches on that insufferable goblin.’
‘No way!’ Bruce jumped up and down. ‘Quit feeling mild admiration for the non-dead hume dude! I vote we destroy all evidence of his betrayal by chowing his royal traitory butt here and now!’
I couldn’t resist responding, ‘You want to gobble my backside?’
‘You are so copping a webbing!’ Bruce cocked his spinnerets.
‘Put your hands and pincers on your heads and back away from the prince!’ the familiar voice thundered across the playground. ‘NOW!’ Erica strode forward, her silver-tipped crossbow aimed at Stoker’s heart while her spectre-powered bazooka lined up Bruce’s bulbous abdomen.
‘The hume’s betrayed us again!’ Bruce raised six legs. ‘Don’t shoot, Ms Darth Ogre! Explosive grenades clash with my leg-hair colour!’
‘How come you two-legged weirdos always web together?’
11: REACTIONS
‘You cannot defeat us all, ogre,’ Stoker growled at Erica.
My bodyguard shrugged. ‘I am an ogre.’
Bruce vibrated. The fanning breeze from his body carried hippocow marrow and acrid spider pheromones. ‘You ain’t factoring me into your butt-killing spree. I surrender!’
‘Such weapons are not allowed on school property,’ said Stoker. ‘How did you enter this place, ogre?’
Above her gimlet eyes, Erica’s frown formed a collision of skin-folds. ‘You are not authorised to know. Now back away from the prince!’
‘Erica.’ I waved one arm weakly. ‘Please don’t shoot them.’
‘Do not tell me how to do my job.’
‘I healed your human prince.’ Scarab rose before me, her arms folded, facing Erica. ‘And I do not appreciate my group being threatened.’
‘Mummy hides are tough, but not missile-proof.’ Erica elevated one eyebrow. ‘Do I know your father?’
‘He serves in the Monstro Central Mummy Police.’
‘Sergeant Sneferu,’ Erica said. ‘Sturdy monster.’
‘Erica, thanks for rushing to my rescue. But, one way or another, I have to sort this mess on my own.’ I wobbled to my feet, ignoring the spray of stars across my vision. ‘I just need ten minutes. Please, wait outside.’
‘You paged me all this way to be your doorwoman?’
‘I’m sorry, Erica. I order you to wait outside.’
‘Five minutes.’ With a glare at all the monsters except Scarab, and an extra glary glare at me, Erica pivoted and marched a
cross the playground. The large entrance door slammed shut.
‘We iz killing hooman!’ Zorg drooled.
‘Wait,’ I said. ‘I understand you wanting to gobble me. But please let me finish my story first.’
Bruce ended his vibrating. ‘You mean there’s more?’
‘I want to tell you why I’m really here. And why I lied.’
‘Saying “please” earned you three minutes,’ said Stoker. ‘Tell away.’
‘Thanks.’ I nodded. ‘I’ve discovered my royal house is only months from bankruptcy. Seems likely Mayor Viethe will take over Upper Castle Mount. When he evicts us “humes”, we’ll no doubt all be gobbled as soon as we hit the footpath.’
‘Boo hoo,’ mocked Bruce. ‘Hold your web. Did you just say Viethe will snaffle this joint? He’d become more of a power-crazed pain in the abdomen, if that’s poss.’
‘That’s why I had to come here. It was time a human king actually understood all of Monstro City, not just the highest ant-caverns. So I ordered a stand-in robot to be programmed as my double and asked Erica to monitor school-related news. She intercepted a report of a troll gobbling a swamp monster, and deduced Pr … gyll was the same swamp guy who enrolled here but never turned up. So I ordered a priority monster suit from Doc Franken and hatched my plan to come here in disguise.’
‘A dumb-ass plan we finely foiled.’ Bruce polished his pincers.
‘How did you argue your psycho bodyguard into playing along?’ asked Greta.
‘I’ve been paying Erica super-handsome bonuses.’
‘You can afford it,’ snorted Bruce. ‘Every dude digs hume royals’re loaded.’
‘Not any more. I used all my personal savings and ordered Erica to hock the royal sceptre at a hobgoblin pawn shop – and I am so dead for losing that 600-year-old family heirloom.’
Stoker hissed, ‘You squandered your family’s inheritance to make fools of us?’
‘I invested that money. It was the only way to enrol here without being gobbled in my first minute. And it worked. Kind of. I do regret lying, especially the bit where I was caught. And, um, stabbed. And yeah, I wasn’t a real swamp monster. But I still tried to be myself. I was proud when you guys let me join your gang. And I did – I do – consider you my friends. Maybe the first ones I’ve ever–’