by John McCrae
“If it came down to it, would you step up to protect your creations? To protect this town you made?”
“You’re sounding a great deal like sir Jack,” Nilbog commented. He frowned.
“He’s trying to convince you to go to war,” I said.
“To take pre-emptive action,” Jack clarified.
“I’ll do neither. Not war, not pre-emptive action. I have what I need. I’m a content god, a happy king.”
You’re starved for real human contact, I thought. Or you wouldn’t have let us join you at the table.
My bugs continued to search, though the bastard creatures were coming out of the woodwork to catch and devour them.
Where in the hell was Manton?
Jack spoke, “It’s a question of whether you act now and preserve what you have for the future, or wait and let them come and kill you. They’ve been systematically seeking people like you, eliminating them. I could show you proof, given a chance.”
“I’ll make it simpler,” I said. “You don’t need to leave your kingdom, your garden. You don’t need to go to war with an outside party you don’t know or care about. You want to know what happened to my kingdom? That man, right over there, sir Jack, destroyed it.”
“Nonsense,” Jack said. “I’ve been sleeping these past few years. Naps are such an underrated pleasure.”
“They are,” Nilbog said. “All of my subjects nap every day.”
“Let me explain,” I said. “I had a kingdom that I ruled. I had a king that ruled with me, who kept me company. I had wealth, people I cared about, people who cared about me. Power. I was a god in my domain, and those who stood against me were driven off.”
Nilbog shook his head. “You need a heavier hand to rule. More loyal subjects, so you don’t have to bother with those who would stand in your way.”
“I was more powerful than you,” I told him.
He snapped his head around to stare at me. To glare at me.
I’d pricked his pride, apparently.
“I was more powerful than you, but Jack over there made a promise to people. He didn’t say it aloud, but it was still a big promise.”
“Now you’re making stuff up,” Bonesaw commented. She slid down off the flayed bear’s back and joined a group of creatures her size. She hugged one, abruptly.
But Nilbog wasn’t telling me to fuck off. His attention was on me.
He’d built a storybook kingdom, an impossible place, and populated it with monsters, both beautiful and ugly. He’d had some fixation on this stuff, some Freudian obsession. Not sexual, but still rooted in some primal part of his childhood that had been taken from him.
I’d play this by telling him a fairy tale.
“No,” I said. “And I think Nilbog is clever enough to understand what I mean. Jack promised that he’d come back when his nap was done, and he’d destroy my kingdom. He said he’d destroy your kingdom, Nilbog, and every other kingdom. He said he’d kill all of my people, and he’d kill all of your creations.”
“All of this, from the man you describe as a mere thug?”
“Yes,” I said. “A woman with great powers told him he could do it, and now he’s going to try. It’s why he’s here.”
“To destroy my kingdom?”
“No. He wants you to go to war against your neighbors. To break down the walls that keep you safe and fight people who are leaving you alone. He’ll use you as a distraction, and then when everything is done, he’ll come back and destroy your kingdom. And he’ll do it in the cruelest, saddest ways you can imagine.”
Nilbog nodded slowly.
Jack was still waiting patiently. Too quiet. I felt a moment’s trepidation. I hadn’t found Siberian’s controller. I needed to defeat him before Jack was cornered. The second he decided he couldn’t salvage this situation, he’d order the attack.
Nilbog raised his hands. “Angel on one shoulder that tells me one story…”
A placenta-like blob swelled in his hand.
“A devil on the other, telling me another.”
Another blob appeared in the other hand.
Both burst, showering Nilbog in greasy slime. Two creatures gripped his forearms, looking more like flying monkeys than an angel and devil. They were roughly the size of babies, their faces feral, mouths filled with pirahna-like teeth. One had red hair, a red beard and gazelle-like horns, and the other had white hair and beard and a strange horn that formed an off-white halo above its head.
“I’ll take the angel, if you please,” Jack said.
Nilbog shrugged. Were the creatures more a demonstration than anything else? He lowered his hands, and nudged the white-haired thing in Jack’s direction. The other thing made its way to me. I reached out and took it into my hands, holding it close.
“Do you have a response to the Queen’s allegations, Jack?” Nilbog asked. He reached up to adjust his floppy cloth crown. Creatures were arriving to deposit the meal on the plates. It looked like purple vomit.
“I do,” Jack said, smiling. “But can we eat first? It’s rude to argue over a meal.”
Nilbog nodded, as if Jack had said something very sage. “I agree. We’ll eat.”
Bonesaw made her way to the table. “How did you make this?”
“The chef stores every ingredient we can find inside her, then regurgitates it in the form required. I asked for it to be hearty, and here we have it, chunky.”
I looked down at the plate. Droplets of rain made nearly-clear spots appear in the midst of the purple slop.
So it is vomit.
“It tastes like cupcakes,” Bonesaw said, around a mouthful.
I started to move my mask to eat and be polite, then noted how Jack was holding his knife. The blade swayed back and forth in the air, as he chewed, his eyes rolled back and looking up at the overcast sky above.
The blade was making criss-crosses in the direction of my throat.
He glanced down, meeting my eyes, and smiled.
“Our apparent rivalry aside, have you been well, bug queen?”
“Well enough.”
“Then you should be hungry. It’s been a busy few days, and it’ll only get more interesting. I notice your friends are sitting this one out. Did you break it off completely, or are you still in touch?”
“Still in touch,” I responded. I glanced at Siberian. The knife is a purely psychological thing. If he wanted to kill me, he could use Siberian to do it.
Besides, it was a butter knife.
I moved my mask, without breaking eye contact with Jack, and helped myself to a bite.
It did taste like cupcakes. I suspected it would have been less nauseating if it tasted like real vomit.
It was a tense few minutes of silence as we ate. I found out the devil-thing in my arms wanted to eat, so I let him help himself. An excuse not to eat, anyways.
The creatures in the center of the area finished their ‘show’, and Nilbog clapped enthusiastically. I joined him and the five or six creatures around the table who really had hands to clap with.
The second show began. A gladiatorial fight, apparently. One of the creatures had wings instead of arms, while the other had wicked barbs extending out from the elbows and knees. When even the tips made contact, they ripped out grapefruit-sized chunks of flesh.
I braced against the table to keep it from flipping as the pair crashed into it. Nilbog laughed, and the sound was more than a little unhinged.
“Is everyone done?” Jack asked.
“Yes,” Nilbog decided.
“Then let me explain. Weaver’s entirely right. Except for the part where you die at the end of it all.”
“Oh?” Nilbog asked. He leaned forward, placing fat elbows on the table’s surface. It dipped as his upper body weight rested on the wood.
“Living like this, you obviously dislike the system. You know how screwed up things are out there. People are vile, self-centered, and so caught up in their own routines and expectations that they’re barely people anymore. Y
our creations have more personality.”
Nilbog nodded, taking it all in. “They do. They’re wonderful, aren’t they?”
“Wonderful,” Bonesaw agreed, with the utmost enthusiasm.
He just believes whatever we tell him. He’s a sponge. How do you convince someone who’s so incapable of critical thought?
Worse, Jack was touching on all of Nilbog’s pet issues. The man had been a loner before, a loser. He’d rejected the trappings of society long before he’d become this monster. He’d spent years simply going through the motions until the last parts of the system he’d clung to fell apart.
“I want to wipe the slate clean. Things have been going through the same motions for so long that there’s a rut in the ground. You erased everything that wasn’t worth keeping here, and replaced it with something better. With your garden.”
“Yes.”
“With that in mind, I’m reaching out to a like-minded soul. Someone who rejects the malignant, stagnant society and wants to grow something else in its place.”
“Jack has no interest in growth,” I said. “Only destruction.”
“Did I interrupt you when you were speaking?” Jack asked.
“Do it again and I’ll order your execution,” Nilbog said.
I pursed my lips behind my mask.
Where the fuck was Siberian’s creator? I’d scanned every area where he could be lurking. There were only monsters. I was nearly out of bugs. I had only a select few secreted away in my armor, and they weren’t ones I was willing to sacrifice.
I didn’t have much in the way of cards up my sleeve, but these bugs would have to serve in that department. Problem was, they wouldn’t fix anything now. Bonesaw could counter them too readily.
Where could Manton be hiding? My eyes passed over the crowd of creatures that had gathered around the edges of the area, enjoying their master’s presence.
Hiding in plain sight.
Plastic surgery, or even an outer suit, like the one Nilbog wore. He had to be dressed up in the skin of one of the monsters.
Shit. How was I even supposed to assassinate him if he was going that route? I touched him with a bug, only to find his flesh harder than steel. Unmovable, just from the way his foot touched the Siberian’s.
Jack licked his plate, then set it down on the table. “Where was I?”
“Replacing society,” Bonesaw volunteered.
“Replacing society,” Jack affirmed. “Imagine if your garden really did extend as far as the eye could reach. If you could walk in the direction of the sunset, only to find that your creations have already settled in each new place you travel to, decorated it, transformed it.”
“A romantic goal, one I might pursue if I were a younger man,” Nilbog said. “But even gods get older.”
“They do,” Jack agreed. “Well, we could give you that youth. Bonesaw could grant you immortality.”
“She could also enslave you to her will,” I commented.
“I’d never,” Bonesaw said. She shook her head, her curls flying, “No, I couldn’t! I love these beautiful things he makes! To control him would mean I’d take that creativity away.”
Nilbog nodded at that. “That’s a good argument. Besides, to enslave a god? Madness.”
Except they’re mad, I thought. All of you are lunatics, and I made the mistake of trying to talk sense.
“It’s a good argument,” Jack said. “Because we’re right. Would you like to live forever, as a god should? Would you like to see your garden grow to what it should be? What it deserves to be? Something fitting of a god?”
“It’s a tempting thought,” Nilbog said.
I reached for a rebuttal, telling myself I had to be just as grandiose, just as mad, but I couldn’t do that at the same time I was trying to convince him to go dormant again.
“If I may?”
It was another human voice, but it didn’t belong to any of us.
Golem.
He approached, taking off his helmet. He offered Nilbog a slight bow.
“One of yours, Jack?” Nilbog asked.
“No. Not in the sense you mean.”
“Yours, then?” Nilbog asked me.
Yes, I thought.
“No,” I said.
I saw Jack raise his eyebrows at that.
“Shenanigans!” Bonesaw cried out. “I call shenanigans!”
But Golem took my cue. “I’m a third party. I stand for myself.”
“Hardly worth a place at the table,” Jack commented.
“Then let me stand for the others. The innocents.”
“Innocents?” Jack asked. He snorted. “No such thing.”
“There’s always innocents.”
Jack smirked.
“I’ll allow it,” Nilbog said. “Excellent! Sit! We were just having a discussion.”
Golem approached and sat at the same table I was at, but he took the far end. “I’ve overheard some, so we can cut straight to the chase.”
“The dilemma,” Nilbog said. “The devil on one shoulder, the angel on the other.”
“The sin of sloth versus the realm of possibility,” Jack added, gesturing to my demon as he said sloth, then to his own angel.
“Well said, well said!” Nilbog said. He nodded so hard his double and triple chins wobbled.
“Or is the angel making false promises?” I asked. “There’s no security. No comfort. You claim to care about your creations, but you’d go to war?”
“Many have gone to war and made sacrifices in the present, for the sake of a brighter future,” Jack commented.
“I thought you were trying to break out of the rut?” I asked.
Jack laughed at that.
He’s enjoying this.
I felt almost dirty, knowing I was only helping Jack in his self-indulgence, helping him revel in conflict.
“Well, stranger?” Nilbog asked.
“Golem,” Golem said.
Jack snorted at that. He’d caught the meaning behind the name right off, the white supremacist’s son naming himself after a creature from a Jewish parable.
“Golem, then.”
“I’m not an eloquent speaker.”
“That’s a good thing,” I said. “Too many and it just becomes people talking circles around one another.”
“Then I guess I have to get to the heart of it all. Direct.”
“Yes,” Nilbog said. He leaned forward, and I feared the table would break.
“Were you happy, before any of us came here?”
“Yes. I can eat the most delicious foods, yet get every nutrient I need. I can fuck the most beautiful and exotic women you’d ever imagine, whenever I wish. Every need is provided for a hundred times over, and I’m surrounded by those who love me.”
“Then why change? Why do anything? Let us leave, then return to your utopia.”
Nilbog nodded. He rubbed at his chin, but the act was like pushing one’s hand into jello. It shifted the mass more than it rubbed.
“You wanted a tie breaker?” Golem asked. “This is it. Do what Weaver is saying. Do what the Queen is suggesting. Stay quiet, enjoy what you’ve built here. Attack, and the entire world will take it away. Then, even if you’re strong enough to survive that, which you may be, then Jack will still betray you.”
“Or,” Jack said, “You can stop lying to yourself.”
Nilbog snapped his head around. He growled, “Impertinent.”
“Your people are slowly starving. You make them eat each other to live, and desperately attempt to shoot any birds out of the sky so you can try to recoup what you lose. Bonesaw said they don’t live long. How long?”
“Four years. Sometimes five.” All at once, the light was gone from Nilbog’s face, the sudden fury quenched.
“Who’s your favorite?” Jack asked.
“Polka,” Nilbog said. He reached out, and a female creature, no taller than three feet, hopped up onto the lap of the creature beside her king. She had a narrow face with a reptilian stru
cture, with only four fangs at the very front, but smooth, humanlike skin. Her hair was white, her skin blue. She wore a toddler’s clothes, a long, narrow tail lashing behind her. Nilbog stroked her hair.
“Not the first Polka,” Jack said.
“No. The third.”
“She was your first, and you love her for that, because she drew you from the hell that was your life before godhood, gave you this.”
I can’t interrupt this. Not with the subject being something so close to Nilbog’s heart. I might win the argument, but I’d lose Nilbog’s ear.
But I knew I was losing anyways. Jack had found Nilbog’s weak point.
“My first friend,” Nilbog said.
“And she dies. Because your creations don’t last. You make another, and slowly fall in love with her all over again, and yet you know she’ll die in turn.”
“Yes,” Nilbog said.
“Bonesaw can fix that. I can grant you immortality. I can grant your creation that same gift,” Jack said.
“A hard offer to refuse.”
“It would be wise to refuse,” Golem said.
“A king can’t be selfish,” I said. “A god definitely can’t be selfish. Your responsibility is to your creations.”
“Exactly what I’m saying,” Jack said. “Step out of your comfort zone, to better your people.”
“Enough!” Nilbog screamed the word. As if responding to his anger, every single creature in the area responded. Weapons raised, spines extended.
And Jack was still invincible.
“Nilbog,” I said.
“Speak again, and I’ll end you, queen or no.”
His eyes were angry, hard.
He’d lived for so long in his comfort zone, and now he was being called on to make a hard choice.
“Then please listen carefully,” I said. “Because I suppose I’m paying for this with my life.”
“So be it,” he said.
“If you want proof that Jack intends to betray you, look no farther than your own creations.”
“What?”
“He’s secreted an assassin into your midst. A killer who pretends to be one of your creations.”
A gamble, a last ditch effort. Was my gut right? Had Jack instructed Bonesaw to create a costume or a creature to hide the Siberian’s creator?