The Foul Mouth and the Headless Hunny (The King Henry Tapes)

by Raley, Richard

  It worked fine until a sudden gust of wind snuffed it out. We were in an enclosed car. Only one guess where the wind came from. Ceinwyn’s smile turned even sadder. “Now imagine a world where your flame is gone, King Henry.”

  I tried not to. That wouldn’t be a kind world. King Henry Price without good influences around him could make for a dangerous person. Person I didn’t really want to be. Ceinwyn’s blow was well struck, so I changed the conversation to my second favorite subject after Boomworm: the Mancy. “I didn’t feel you pooling.”

  “I’ve had the pool for hours now. It’s the first thing I do in the morning.”

  “I can only go a few hours.”

  “You’ll get better at it. As well as other aspects. It’s not all due to knowledge.”

  “That part of what the next three years is about?”

  Ceinwyn shook her head. “The next three years are to teach you responsibility over other mancers—”

  “All the teaching and student-advising bullshit.”

  “—and to train you in the special skills of your discipline.”

  “Of which you teachers have been as guarded as fuck.”

  “For you: how to make artifacts.”

  “That it?”

  “I should leave it to Plutarch . . .”

  “Come on, Miss Dale, it’s a fifteen hour ride.”

  “You’ve already done it. Intra geomancers are only able to manipulate harder earth objects: stone, steel, precious minerals, while Ultra geomancers have heavier anima and are able to manipulate mud, dirt, and sand.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes, you can create the most sought after objects in the elemental world . . . poor you, King Henry, poor you.”

  “Was hoping for some Magneto shit.”

  “Keep hoping.”

  I thought it over for some time, sliding a cigarette out of the pack and playing with it. Enjoying the feel of it in my hand and between my fingers. Ceinwyn had that little ‘which-way-will-he-jump’ smile going on over what I planned to do with the cigarette. That little gust of wind was a warning, wasn’t it?

  “What about aeromancers?”

  “We can dance.”

  “Like the name implies? On the wind?”

  “Yes.”

  “No flying?”

  Her lips twitched. “I imagine it wouldn’t be as fun as it sounds.”

  “Dancing on the wind . . . be something to see.”

  “Perhaps the Daniels girl will show it to you one day.”

  My turn to smile. “Yeah . . . and Welf and me are gonna end up best buddies.”

  “Don’t get too outrageous in your hopes, King Henry.”

  “Yeah . . . Miranda’s definitely out, but you think if I kill a homeless person in her honor that Catherine Hayes will do one of them wind dances for me?”

  Ceinwyn’s hands went white on the steering wheel. “Don’t even joke about that girl. And stay away from her. Stay as far away from her as you can.”

  The reputation of the Three Queens had only grown since our match in the Winter War. Each rumor darker and more violent than the last. They had one more year at the Asylum and everyone, especially the teachers, would be happy to see them gone. “What’s being done about their student-advisor slots this year? Three Queens and the Blackjacks in charge of every underclassman in the school? It’s gonna be a blood bath.”

  “But they’ve been perfect little graduate teachers for the last two years, haven’t they? This is what makes those three so very dangerous: they always know when we’re watching them.”

  “Put more eyes on ‘em then.”

  “We will.”

  King Henry Price defending every Intra and Single in the school. Guess that’s what a big enough bully will do for me. Make me fight back, make me into a good guy just long enough for me to get my punches and kicks in. I hate Welf with a fierce passion, can’t stand the douchebag, but at least he’s not evil. His girlfriend Hope is a bully, but not Welf really . . . he’s just a fucktard. And even Hope on her worst day of PMSing can’t match the Three Queens.

  One day, them bitches are gonna kill some people.

  I felt a twinge of nervousness and found a cigarette in my mouth. Huh. My body remembered the game better than my brain did. My finger reached up and pressed down the passenger seat window. Not child-locked this time, unlike my first trip with Ceinwyn.

  Two quick flicks of the lighter had a flame back in my life.

  Too bad Val’s not that easy. Takes a lot more flicking to get her attention.

  My left hand covered the end of the cigarette and the flame touched its tip.

  In I breathed.

  Such sweet poison.

  I leaned forward to blow a stream of it out of the car.

  Immediately I took another draw and repeated the gesture.

  Hello darkness, my old friend.

  Holding up the lit cigarette I enjoyed the sight of the burnt ashes clinging to its end, the colors of gray and red and orange mixing together. Wonder if these things are why I like Val so much? Of course, she tastes a whole lot sweeter . . . and she drives the air out of my lungs in a whole ‘nother way.

  It wasn’t a gust of air this time.

  It was a quick slice that severed through the cigarette like a knife.

  Now this is a familiar situation, ain’t it?

  Without looking Ceinwyn’s way, I threw the halved cigarette out of the window. Like we’d had a talk about, wasn’t a rookie this time, knew the rules of the game. There went her pool, so instead of being cowed I just calmly put another cigarette in my hand, reaching again for the lighter.

  Another quick slice of air and the unlit cigarette was blown in half, stray bits of tobacco flying out the window. How the fuck did she do that so quickly? But that’s not what I asked, instead I asked, “Have an aunt that died of lung cancer or something? That why you taking out so much aggression on the poor cigarettes?”

  “I can’t have you falling back on bad habits, can I? Next you’ll be finding some trailer park girls to ride.”

  “You’ve made it no secret you don’t approve of me pining after Boomworm, so why should you care if I fuck a redneck or two?”

  “But you’ve come so far, King Henry. Don’t regress through habit and fear. As for Valentine . . . I merely believe that the two of you are destined for things so great that neither of you will have the time for a relationship with each other. It will be on your partners to make sacrifices, sacrifices the world can’t afford from either Valentine Ward or King Henry Price.”

  “You make me sound like some type of knight in shining armor,” I growled, nervously pulling out a third cigarette before I thought better of it. How the fuck did she do that so quickly? I thought again.

  “Perhaps not a knight, never that from you, but Artificers are very important.”

  “If they’re ever trained,” I grumbled.

  “You will be, now please throw away those deathsticks. You can’t imagine how they offend an aeromancer.”

  I did the smart thing and just did as she told me for once.

  “I didn’t feel you pooling again,” I finally brought it up.

  Ceinwyn only smiled enigmatically. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

  Grown fucking man now and she still hasn’t told me how she did it.

  [CLICK]

  Not a whole lot more to say about our car ride to Denver. It was hard driving. Through the day, into night, and all the way until morning.

  Ceinwyn clammed up after that little bit of information. It’s the Ceinwyn Dale way. Give a tidbit and then sit back and watch the reactions for the rest of the day. Think about the different paths King Henry can take.

  He didn’t take much of one.

  The bit about artificing would be filled in by Plutarch in the coming years. The Three Queens . . . well, that’s another story for another tape, kiddies. Not one I’m looking forward to telling.

  Everything said about Ceinwyn’s once upon
a time love just gets added to all the other rumors about her. What better way to keep them going than to feed a detail here and there to teenagers? Watch the exaggerations and hyperbole fly, sounds a lot like a guy trying to impress his way into a girl’s pants.

  Everything about Val and me I get now. Well, some of it. I’m busy as fuck-all with this shop and it’s barely started, wait until I get clients, right? Wait until I get a reputation, right? Wait until I start getting some real results to all these experiments I’m running. I’m not a knight in shining armor, but I just might be enough to save this piece of crap world one insane person at a time.

  Climate Change? On your own, assholes. I hear Fresno is gonna be lakefront property, so I’m looking forward to it. Have to be an improvement for this shithole, right? Besides, fucking geomancer, ain’t I? If I need some land to keep from getting wet I’ll just make me an island or two.

  Overpopulation? Learn to use a condom, it’s really not that hard. If I can live with rubber on my dick, then so can you! Feels better? Ain’t gonna feel better when you’re married to some chick you just accidentally knocked up and her post-pregnancy lady hole is so stretched out you can fit a bowling ball through it.

  Getting the X-Men and the Avengers into the same movie? Even the Mancy ain’t powerful enough to make that happen.

  Ceinwyn’s good at seeing the future, at making the future. But I really hope she’s wrong about me and Val. Hope third time really is the charm. It ain’t the charm and I hope for fourth or fifth time too!

  But getting back on topic: not a whole lot to tell about the trip. Stuck in a car, drinking sodas and energy drinks, eating snacks. Most interesting thing happened when Ceinwyn cut the top off her Skittles bag with a slice of aero-anima. I felt that pool forming at least.

  I read through my stolen celebrity trash magazines, ogling some prime Hollywood bitches in dresses that could support a middle class family for a year or more. Only way the Hollywood Game works. Airbrushing, crash diets, steroid and botox injections, and some skillful plastic surgery on one side. Dreams of grunting and humping with your favorite hunk or starlet on the other side. All of it built on delusion, reality not even on the horizon. They lies, but they pretty lies . . . so easy to fall into and believe for just a moment . . . just one moment of escape from our square house bought by all that hard work cogging away.

  I’ll see you again when I get some privacy, you fine ladies, I thought before I put the magazines away.

  . . . What?

  Ain’t like we had any prime spanking material at the Asylum . . . had to use your imagination. Want to know why there’s so much grunting and humping going on at the Asylum? Ain’t because the whole place is sterile. It’s cuz there’s no porn. Whacking one out is too much work. Better to just find a fuck buddy.

  Heh.

  I’m telling ya the truth, kiddies, better start taking notes.

  Or find a way to sneak in some porn. You’ll run the place in a week.

  We stopped for dinner in Salt Lake City.

  I didn’t see a single polygamist.

  Did have my first steak and lobster in . . . forever. Wasn’t exactly a Household Price meal, even when Susan and JoJo had bailed and money wasn’t as tight as it had once been. I liked it, I guess. Meat, I like meat. Lobster . . . okay. Got to say: would have preferred some peppered fries and a burger from the Cafeteria.

  Back in the car, I dug into my stolen Library books on being an Artificer.

  There were tables and tables of conversion rates.

  And formulas.

  It was terrifying.

  “Learning anything?” Ceinwyn asked.

  “Why does this have to be so complicated?”

  “It doesn’t have to be. If you’re fine with the occasional anima burn.”

  “What’s an anima burn?”

  “Something that’s in your future, King Henry, something that’s in your future.”

  The GPS said fifteen hours, but after we got out of Salt Lake City, Ceinwyn did her best to prove it wrong. We went the northern route to Denver, up through southern Wyoming. They don’t believe in highway patrols in Wyoming, so out of nowhere Ceinwyn decided she no longer believed in speed limits.

  Zoom. Zoom.

  It was dark, silent, and lonely up there. Not any other car on the highway for miles, travelers passing in the night for but seconds. The windows were lowered and outside the summer alpine night was cool, the air smelling of trees, wild flowers, and even wilder grass. There wasn’t much to see but headlights and asphalt. Nothing to hear but the music Ceinwyn put on the radio, some classical flutes and clarinet, your vagina goes toot toot shit.

  Midnight.

  1AM.

  2AM.

  We finally turned south, more mountains all around.

  The Sierra Nevadas feel cold, proud and unyielding; these felt large, overbearing, and brash. If you were going to call a mountain chain arrogant then it was the Rockies that would win the title. Later in the trip, I’d make it to the Appalachians. They feel tired, like a row of old warriors ready to give up and taste their swords. Plutarch has traveled a bit more than I have, old fucker has had more time to do it, and he’s told me the Alps feel murderous and violent while the Himalayas are oddly playful, like children with new toys.

  3AM.

  4AM.

  Hello, Denver.

  Didn’t get to see a whole lot of you, but you’re probably the Mile High Shithole.

  [CLICK]

  I keeled over as soon as we got into the hotel room.

  Rooms. Ceinwyn got us a whole suite. A bedroom for each of us, two bathrooms, even a kitchen attached to a living room. Could have stayed there for weeks just watching TV. TV! Of my own! All mine!

  . . . And I fell asleep before I even turned it on.

  Would have been the first time I’d gotten to control a TV in . . . forever.

  TV at the Asylum is controlled from the Admin building. I’ve told you that before. We get approved movies. Watch what they pick or go without, kiddies. Asylum ain’t high on increasing the feeling of agency in your life.

  Before the Asylum, well . . . youngest child and all, like I had a chance, right? Dad wasn’t watching sports then Mom was watching soap operas. Mom wasn’t watching soap operas then Susan was watching CNN. Susan wasn’t watching CNN then JoJo was watching MTV. Only time I had any control over a TV was when I could suggest we watch something to one of my ‘friends.’ Or if Sally’s mom was working. But I was more interested in grunting and humping as a form of entertainment when that rare occasion arose.

  It wasn’t the only thing to arise, if ya know what I mean.

  So I was out of it, snoring away, suitcase and travel bag still unopened at the foot of the bed.

  Cut to 5PM with Ceinwyn stabbing me in the shoulder with an index finger.

  “No humming alarm . . . that’s amazing . . .” I murmured, still not waking up.

  Ceinwyn clicked on the lights.

  I grunted.

  Ceinwyn retrieved my suitcase and threw it down on the bed next to me.

  “Bed so big, bed so soft . . . I think I might marry it . . . you should leave . . . I’m gonna need some privacy . . .” I murmured some more.

  Ceinwyn opened the suitcase, pulling out some clothes and a package of toiletries. No idea if she packed it herself or told the Asylum servants what to put in it. Seamstresses, laundresses, cooks, gardeners, plumbers, handymen, even a trio of hairstylists, the Asylum is a small city up in the mountains, removed from the world, self-sufficient. I’ve had corpusmancers who joined the armed forces tell me that the closest thing to the experience is living on an aircraft carrier.

  Except the Asylum don’t launch planes into the wild blue yonder.

  Just mentally unstable teenagers.

  “We have a party to attend in two hours,” Ceinwyn told me, “you need to get showered and shaved.”

  “You gonna do that for me too?” I murmured.

  “Do you want a papercut?�
� she asked seriously.

  I sighed into my pillow. One of those overly unused hotel pillows, on account of the hotel changing them every week to keep from being sued for spreading gonorrhea. “Left ass cheek please.”

  She actually fucking did it.

  It was a joke and she actually gave me a papercut, through my pants, on my left ass cheek. I squealed like a pig with a man named Jim Bob after him, up so fast I didn’t sit up but stood up on the bed. “Are you serious?!?” I yelled at her, hand clamped on my ass cheek like it might fall off.

  Ceinwyn stood there with a satisfied little smile, holding up . . . a suit. “Shower, shave, dress in this.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “What?” Ceinwyn studied the suit. “Charcoal will look good on you. Darken up your hair and eyes.”

  “You said this was a recruiting trip!” I accused.

  “It will be for the next three weeks. Tonight we have a function to attend. A very important function of which I’m including you in, King Henry . . . as an adult.”

  Well, I couldn’t complain about that, but . . . “Like, what kind of party?”

  “Not the grinding body parts kind.”

  “I like those . . .”

  Ceinwyn threw the suit down on the bed next to where I was still standing. For once in my life, I had the high ground against her. Damn tall women. Should be illegal. “This party is the friendly pleasantries to your face, all the while sniping you in your back kind.”

  “Oh.” That’s when I noticed Ceinwyn was wearing a silk robe and that her legs were as long as I remembered them to be. “Um.” Ceinwyn pointed at her eyes and I corrected my view. “Right!” I stuttered over my words, “but what’s it for?”

  “Hunting Cryotech is celebrating the launch of a new project, co-funded by the Institution and Welf Financial.”

  “Those names seem suspiciously familiar.”

  “Aren’t you the detective?” she teased me.

  “Welf and Hope gonna be there?”

  “As well as their siblings and extended families I’m sure.”

  “Vicky?” I asked hopefully.

  “Is she likely to keep you behaved?”

  “Like one of five women on the planet who even has a shot at managing it.”