“No. I’m not warning you about that. I’m warning you about me, Vega. I’m warning each and every one of you dumbfucks. If you had anything to do with this. Leave town. Now. Cuz I’ll find you. I will kill you. I will enjoy it. I will track you down in this realm and all the rest if I have to. If I find out you’ve been working with him, then your life is over. I might put a bullet in your head, but I ain’t gonna be using a gun to put it there, I’m gonna be using my fist.”
Silence.
Best sounding silence of my life.
Maybe.
Up there with when I asked the Divines who the bottom bitch was.
Javier Castillo smirked some more. “You got balls, kid. You’re lucky no one’s listening in or I would have to kill you for that threat.”
“I might do it even though it’s just us,” Grant Little finally spat on the floor, “think I’m just harmless since I only have fifty pack members, don’t ya? Think since you’re a mancer you can tell me to do whatever you want! Take my girl away from me! Turn her into one of you! I should—”
“Shut up!” Vega snapped.
We all turned to him. He stalked towards me, put hand on my shoulder. “Him? Who do you mean by him?”
“Good to know I can cross my brother-in-law off the list by the way your hand is shaking,” I told him.
Said hand clenched at my coat in anger. “If you are making this up, if you are teasing me because I once admitted to you that I’m worried about—”
“Him,” I interrupted. “The Curator.”
Gasps and groans from the semi-circle.
“I don’t know what he did to him, but that wasn’t a werebull. That was Conan Sapa, a corpusmancer. Same Conan Sapa who kidnapped Christmas Ward, remember that one, Horatio? The Curator’s muscle. Just wormed his way right on through all your security and killed a Recruiter of the Asylum in front of ten-thousand people. But hey, at least the events can keep going, right, Javier? Don’t got nothing to do with them. Just had to do with the Curator shitting right on your collective chests. I think when you commit that much bestiality at one time it’s called a Noah.”
Vega visibly collected himself.
Part of me wondered about why he was so scared. It was more than just a boogeyman to him. Paine had done something once upon a time and Vega remembered it even if he wouldn’t talk about it.
“Good!” Castillo shouted. “That discussion is over then. We can go back to making money and string the fake werebull up by his fake wereballs. Maybe we can even have that be our main event tomorrow night, what you say, Horatio? Teach this Curator a lesson about trying to pull one over on us?”
“The werebull, fake or not, is gone,” the Tsar spoke up. “He disappeared after the event. I personally went with the guards to detain him, but . . .”
“He was seven feet tall!” Appleton scolded. “How could he slip outside?”
“Let me hunt him down,” Grant Little volunteered. “Don’t get to kill this mancer, I can kill another one.”
“What about the explosion?” Ophelia Milton again had the clearest head on finding an answer.
“Another attack by another of the Curator’s agent,” I was purposely vague. “She was some sort of a spy. The explosion was me trying to kill her.”
Chuma Matongo snorted. “So much for your ferocity.”
“Well . . . most people die when you blow one of their arms off,” I slightly exaggerated the size of my geomancer dick. “Guess I’ll go bigger next time.”
The Hyena snorted again, but this time less sure of himself.
“I believe this discussion will continue for much longer now,” Master Zhou cut through all the chaos of the whispering and shouting and side conversations that had sprung up along the semi-circle at my pronouncement. “It’s topic has also become much more serious than we expected. However, it becomes clear to me that perhaps we are all correct in our beliefs. The event can continue as Javier wished. Security must be increased as Horatio wished. The imposter werebull must be found and given justice through any means possible, be it the Eternal Order, Grant’s legendary nose, or whatever tool we have at our disposal.”
Vega’s blue eyes didn’t look so bright as they glanced in my direction. “You have had more than your say then, my friend. Inform Mr. Welf that I will apologize to him personally later tonight and I will be sure to keep him informed on our course of action.”
“You know I’ll do it for free, Vega,” I told him.
“Do what my wife asked of you,” he ordered, “nothing more.”
“You can’t make one of your deals with the Curator. My kind of crisis management is the only way this gets handled. I have more reason to be the one in charge of it than any of you do.”
“But none of the power to make it possible and no one who will speak up for you, due to how ill you have treated everyone within earshot,” was snapped back in my face. “Not even an ally who will come to your defense. King Henry Price, all alone in the world just the way he wants, a vagabond, an outcast.”
Master Zhou nodded like these words were wise.
Me . . . I flipped off Vega and stalked away.
Fine . . . I’ll do it alone then.
Session 54
I tried to pretend that the events of the day had happened to another person. Someone else had been buried in the ground. Someone else made a fairy bargain. Someone else stood in the fairy’s presence just long enough for the fairy to make predictions on that someone’s future and how he would one day go to visit the fairy in the flesh.
Next time I’m just staying in the ground.
Learned my lesson, Plutarch.
Sorry it ain’t the one you wanted me to learn.
Someone else.
Not me.
Someone else popped out of the dirt five miles away and had to walk back to the Asylum caked in mud and mountain, with a thousand new species of worm up his asshole.
I just want a shower, I thought as I found the stairwell to the Ultra apartments. I just want to get inside without anyone seeing me, followed by a shower, followed by a day’s worth of food and rehydration.
I’d already taken care of the other aspects of Plutarch’s punishment.
Does a bear shit in the woods?
No clue.
But King Henry Price does.
“Shower,” I mumbled to myself. “Clean ass crack.”
It was nighttime.
I tried not to wonder about if some Rip Van Winkle shit hadn’t happened with the fairy teleporting system. I could just see a forty-year-old Pocket trying to explain things to me. Well, dude . . . Boomworm married Welf and they had lots of cute babies. But on the upside, those babies are old enough for you to date, so it works out! Boomworm can be your mother-in-law!
“Shower . . . scrub my balls if not my brain,” I mumbled some more.
I know a lot of other mancers dig this type of shit. Being one with their element. Riftwalkers always do the Stranger in a Strange Land under the water for hours bullshit. Not me. I like working the earth, not the earth working me.
Guess the more Zen amongst us would say I have some control issues.
Guess we just see how those Zen motherfuckers feel when Zen says ‘hello,’ knocks on the door, and tries to sell them an overpriced candy bar.
Late in the night, or early morning depending on your point of view on the whole matter. 3AM or the like. Time when a summer night is just getting ready to morph into a way too early summer day. One of the few times of the day when the Asylum was completely silent. Not even night-janitors making noises cleaning up the classrooms. Not even the early rising Cafeteria ladies beginning the long process of preparing breakfast for almost two-thousand kids.
They’re saints, kiddies, don’t ever treat ‘em as anything less.
Also don’t drug their waffle-mix with laxative. They were really sore about that for awhile.
No soup for King Henry.
Food, I thought, and something to drink. Maybe that tequila I s
aved up.
Usually I saved the booze for breakups, but I figured that day qualified as enough of a special kind of fucked up to allow for at least a shot of hard liquor. Shower, food, shot of tequila, in that order.
I thanked the Mancy that no one was up and about as I staggered the rest of the way onto the campus proper. No fences to scale, so on I walked. Always thought that a design flaw. Sure, the Asylum grounds are massive, talking thousands and thousands of acres—mountains and lakes and King Henry shitting in the woods, oh my—but if you knew the school was there, ain’t no security from just walking up to the place.
Werewolf or vampire could cause havoc.
Like a real werewolf, not the fake Wolfgang von Welf kind they use to scare the Singles during the Camping Test.
Since when you been a fan of walls?
Since I had to walk through the forest and saw how many wild animals are out there, kiddies. Some of them don’t even got any flesh. Some of them the teachers play with like courier pigeons. Bet Plutarch is out of his mind right about now.
Wonder if the Lady found out?
Or Ceinwyn?
Guess there would’ve been a search party waiting for me if they had.
So probably not.
Not Ceinwyn at least. The Lady . . .
Crazy old bat lets teachers stick students in the ground if they just give a good argument.
I mean, I’ll pull a prank. I’ll make you shit yourself with waffles. I’ll make your girlfriend think she’s pregnant. But . . . I’m fucking me. Know I should never be a teacher. Except I am. Kind of. Three days into the year and my class already got a free day. Think about all the new words they missed out on learning!
No one outside of the Ultra Dorms as I snuck inside.
Another lucky break.
Fate setting my ass up for a huge fall in the future by the looks of things. Odds falling my way can’t keep up.
I didn’t blame Fate for the hole or for Meteyos.
That was all on man.
Punching you in the jaw next time I see you, Pappy.
Call it even after that. Get down to being taught since I don’t got no choice. But got to be some payback for all this dirt in my ass crack.
I took the stairs up to the apartment level. Ground floor is where all the four-year communal dorms are at. Those things are big, even one of them, but all four together take up a great deal of space. High ceilings in the common rooms too, meant the next floor wasn’t on the second but more like the fourth level.
Three levels of apartments follow that, with more stairs. Ain’t like you upgrade as you gain a year and ain’t nothing different between those on level four or level five or level six. Just the way the year falls, just the way your Ultra class takes the floor that’s free. They built floors expecting a top cap of thirty Ultras a year. Ultra ’09 barely fit. Part of me wondered if the Ultra dorms wouldn’t need an extension in the future.
Especially if my main mad scientist Boris and Papa Welf have their way with Project Cassandra.
For whatever reason, the way the numbers shook out had my class on the lowest floor, the Three Queens and Blackjacks next, and Ultra ’08 at the very top. I tried not to think about the fact that Catherine or Mary or Teresa might be sleeping right above my room. Make for a hell of a peephole.
Charge by the hour. Watch as a poor fucker tries to keep his dick hard while he smells his own flesh burning under Teresa’s fingertips. Finally see Mary O’Connell’s dreaded pee-hole trick. Catherine . . . not sure what she’d do. Outside of papercuts and masterminding suicides and expulsions and administering a beatdown to poor Vicky, I wasn’t actually sure what Catherine’s kink was.
And I never want to find out.
I added to my list: shower, food, booze, check on Vicky, threaten Catherine Hayes.
I was tired, should just sleep the rest of the day.
But when I ever done the smart thing?
I had momentum now. Broke out of a prison, won a rigged game without breaking the rules if you will. If I just kept going I could handle Catherine and Plutarch both. Get things settled. Not have to worry about trouble for the rest of the year.
Yeah . . . that would be nice.
Know how I know you’re addled, fucktard? You even think that simple happy ending shit is possible. It’s the Asylum . . . it always kicks you in the balls.
Always.
Gonna.
Kick.
The.
Balls.
I opened my apartment door.
[CLICK]
Val was inside.
Naked as her birthday.
Like always when she appeared suddenly for a bit of fun.
Only I hadn’t been present for the bit of fun and instead the girl had fallen asleep on my couch.
Prince Henry reacted immediately to the sight.
Know what’s worse than a stiffy against jeans? A stiffy against colors that have been coated and baked in dirt.
Gives raw dog a whole new meaning.
Only for once my head was in control, or more likely out of control and wanted none of that poisoned apple to fuck it up any further than it had in the last few months.
Damn did she look good though.
Coming home after a long day’s work making fairy deals and you find yourself a beautiful, naked, leggy Australian eighteen-year-old on the couch? That’s the stuff of fantasies. If it ain’t the American Dream then it should be.
Forget that fields of gold shit.
Leggy, naked teenage girls.
Make for a way more interesting song at least.
Even with Prince Henry pushing his way against my dirt-clogged pants, I already shook my head in the negative at the very sight of her sleeping there. Nope. Ain’t doing it. Ain’t doing it again.
Couldn’t do it. Couldn’t handle this bi-polar shit tonight.
Val wants to try boyfriend-girlfriend again last year, then she dumps me when things get too hot. Fine. Sucks. I fucked a hillbilly to get over it. To start getting over it. Whatever. But now . . . here she is a few weeks later for some casual, very naked, probably very hardcore sex if our history in that area is any guide. Won’t give me more than some light kissing in public and yet . . .
Could already hear the words after we were finished. How many times she done this to me and pretended it never happened? Saying how it was just a bit of fun, about no one getting hurt, about keeping everything just between the two of us. You like it this way, so don’t complain, King Henry.
Nope, I thought again.
“What the hell do you want?” I growled at her, pulling off some seriously aggressive looming in her direction.
Helped that she was naked and I was covered in forest.
And dirt.
And bear shit.
But let’s move past that.
Val’s face lit up at the sight of me. “What happened?” she asked.
It wasn’t concern.
I might have softened in my attitude if it was concern.
Nah, it was just this randy, kinky twinge in her voice. Not: are you okay? Where have you been? You aren’t hurt, are you? But: my favorite toy got dirty, what a bad boy!
Val was one of the most kind, understanding people that I knew. Unless she wanted some, then . . .
Even that traitorous, no-good, troublemaker Prince Henry deflated.
“I can’t handle this shit tonight, Val,” I told her, pointing at the door. “You need to get out.”
That face I knew so well, those eyes-without-iris, those cheekbones that could cut, it all twisted with disbelief. “You’ve never turned me down before,” she stated. A wave at every naked inch of her. “Not like this.”
“Yeah, well . . . it’s a day of firsts.” First day in a hole. First day making a fairy deal. First day telling Val to fuck off. Wish it was my first day running lost through a forest, but Asylum ain’t very keen on child-safety laws, are they?
She stood up. Taller than me. Always.
Damn.
There’s naked, there’s nekkid, and then there’s whatever Val was.
“I don’t mind,” she whispered into my ear. “A little dirt never hurt. In fact . . . I’m sure my little dirt has always pleased me just fine.”
“Get out,” I repeated slowly. “I don’t have time for your crazy right now.”
Hurt and just a little violence appeared in her dark eyes. “I’m not crazy.”
“You broke up with me a month ago, told me you just couldn’t handle a relationship, whatever that means,” I growled. Showing teeth, setting my jaw, giving her all the warning signs about my mood. “It fucking hurt, you knew it hurt me, but you said it, you did it to me. Made me think it was all over.”
“I get confused—”
I didn’t let her get a word in. “Now, here you are. Want to fuck me. Naked as can be, just like your usual. That would’ve been messed up enough but hey, it is a usual, ain’t it? I’m used to it with you. Might have let it pass. But nah, got to give King Henry some extra crazy tonight.”
“I am not crazy!”
I stared up at her. Those eyes-without-iris didn’t seem like they hid a glimmering star all of a sudden. More like they held a black hole that needed filled. That would devour whatever was needed and then discard the rest.
“I’m covered in dirt and what’s your reaction?” I asked her.
“To not turn away,” she whispered, “to get dirty with you.”
“I’m done being dirty for the day.”
“Then we can take a shower together,” she decided.
But I shook my head. “Too much crazy, so leave or I make you leave, Val.”
“You’ve never turned me down when I’ve come to you like this,” she hissed a repeat, like it was an argument that could remake the world.
I shrugged. “Guess I’m growing up.”
She just stood there, face hurt, face angry, nothing pretty even if she was naked and sugar and spice and all things nice.
“I’m not crazy.”
I glanced down. “You’re so turned on by me being covered in dirt that you’re dripping on my floor. I’d say there’s at least a few wires crossed.”
Her face shuttered in pain.
Seeing her like that hurt me too. But I stood my ground. I even worked up the nerve to point at my door.
The Foul Mouth and the Mancy Martial Artist (The King Henry Tapes Book 5) Page 36