The Foul Mouth and the Troubled Boomworm (The King Henry Tapes)

by Raley, Richard

  How?

  I turned away from Leo’s band, the girls cheering over a mangled bit of Guns’n’Roses. I had to get out of there before I lost it and broke every piece of metal on the drums.

  Back through the labyrinth of the Library. Asylum buildings tend to be larger than the ones you see in normal life. Take the Ultra dorms, ceiling of our common room has to be twenty feet high if not higher. Being so short I try not to think about height much. Only the Library hallways felt cramped. In the rooms, the ceilings vaulted, big, bigger, and biggest. Same for the whole place. Story ain’t an accurate term. Take the Gym, two stories, but each one is big enough to hold thousands of peoples. Like a normal high school gym stacked on top of another high school gym, with a basement the same.

  Size, open spaces . . . you never feel alone at the Asylum. Always at least someone across the huge room, doing their own thing, but still there with you.

  Except in the hallways.

  Good place for an ambush.

  I turned a corner and four guys were on top of me before I had any chance to throw down, much less pool up an iron fist. Two had my arms, two more had my legs.

  Well . . . at least it wasn’t the Eriksons. Unless their mom had fucked some more moose, elk, or caribou I don’t know about . . .

  I twisted, turned, struggled, all that shit. Pretty hard to fight four guys when they’ve gotten the drop on you. Especially after they’ve taken Survival and Defense and double especially after they’ve taken Elementalism as a Weapon. Given their size, no way these guys were anything but Quads or up.

  Which meant: Blackjacks.

  Which meant: Three Queens.

  That’s not good.

  No arms, no legs, so I twisted one close and slammed my forehead up into his nose. No straight on crunchy goodness, just a glancing job, but enough to get him to let me go. Suddenly, I had an arm free and I smashed my fist into the Blackjack holding my leg on that side. In his shoulder, in his back, even into his neck.

  Not a single reaction.

  What the hell do they feed these guys?

  The Blackjack I’d knocked down had sciomancer colors, the other three corpusmancer. Fighting big fuckers, that’s my lot in life, I thought as they kept on hauling me back down the hallway. Sciomancer tried to get a hold on me again, despite a red nose. I managed to land an elbow into his gut, knocking him down.

  Just a few more seconds for an iron fist, then Mr. Invincible on my leg goes down, maybe I have a chance at—

  Mr. Invincible one armed a door open and then my ass got chucked inside by all three of them. You ever been thrown? Crazy sensation, too fast for your poor eyes to focus. Just a bunch of colored blur. I saw white ceiling, lights, I think a mirror. My knees hit ground. Metal stalls, wooden doors . . . did I smell smoke? My face went down into tiles, barely kept from going bloody by my crossed forearms. Would still have some new bruises.

  Had a feeling I’d be seeing Miss Strange tonight.

  Get to enjoy some more hydro-slush too.

  One plus: I had the anima for iron fist.

  Two plus: no one had a hold of me.

  Three plus: Ahh, Ahhh, Ahhhh!

  One of the best lessons Samson taught us in his Survival and Defense class—Root’s is probably different, so don’t expect the same, kiddies—or at least the lesson that I learned the most from, was the lesson about popping back to your feet quickly and safely from any number of positions. Some of the smaller and slighter in my class could really do some tricks. Eva can go from her back to standing into a Judo throw in about a second. Isabel ain’t too bad either . . . though seeing her real face pop up at me would make me wet myself in terror . . .

  Just ugly . . . Shih Tzu dipped in shit ugly . . .

  I’m not close to Eva’s league. I’m small but I got bulky quick soon as I started getting food into me for three real meals a day. No flip-ups or roll-ups. Instead I pushed off with my hands, weight going to my shoulder. I carried the weight around, gathering enough momentum to twist me up. Like a corkscrew. Knees, crouch, standing. Hands in front of my face ready to throw.

  Facing a door.

  No Blackjack in sight.

  Snickering behind me. “And they say he’s smarter than he looks.”

  I turned the other way, hands still up.

  The Three Queens couldn’t give a shit about fighting me.

  Catherine Hayes leaned against the bathroom wall, fingers flickering through the hand drier’s stream of warm air. It sputtered out and she only paused long enough to click it back on, paying no attention to me or the two other girls. Fingers together, then fingers split. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Like the fate of the world depended on the results.

  Mary O’Connell had been the one to speak. Her whole body stretched out on the bathroom counter, she had her coat off, white shirt almost see-through. Also had skirts on instead of pants, which given the temperature was a pretty serious fashion statement . . . or at least a slutty statement. The skirts bunched up into her hips, every inch of her long legs pressed against counter tile.

  Teresa Garcia was at the window, with it pushed open. She was smoking a cigarette.

  A cigarette . . .

  A fucking cigarette at the Asylum . . .

  Some part of me felt a physical longing that Mary’s long legs didn’t have a chance against.

  “Don’t suppose you have one of those to share?” I asked, dropping my fists to be all neighborly . . . but not dropping my one-minute-pool.

  Mary snorted as if the question was stupid.

  “These are worth their weight in gold here at the Asylum,” Teresa answered, flipping me off as she took a draw, “I mean that literally: I could get gold easier than this cigarette and for a lower price. But you think I’ll share with you?”

  “Only hurts the pride to ask,” I said, “and when I ever worried about pride?”

  Mary rolled onto her stomach in a giggle, laughing into the tile.

  “How you smuggle them in?” I asked another question, figuring that talk was better than getting my ass kicked. “The Blackjacks draw straws and the loser spread his cheeks?”

  “Like I’d give you any ammunition, Foul Mouth,” Teresa snarled, before turning to the window and blowing out a cloud of poison . . . such wonderful, wonderful poison . . .

  Catherine finally acknowledged my existence, whispering, “She slept with a janitor, burned her initials into his ass, and then threatened to tell the teachers if he doesn’t keep her supplied. Cigarettes, candies, energy drinks, an iPod . . .”

  Teresa didn’t say anything about the betrayal. Guess they did that to each other all the time. Or she was scared of Catherine. Probably both. Like I’ve said, Catherine’s fucking hot. Willowy, honey blond, would-rule-any-school-she-went-to hot. But crazy. Crazier than Isabel. Isabel’s awkward and says weird stuff and has the hots for me of all people. Catherine is the kind of chick you expect to find out bathes in virgin blood to keep her hair shiny.

  Mary’s a loon, emotionally unstable, giggly, and thinks she’s smarter than everyone. She’s snide and cruel and breaks hearts for fun. Teresa has a temper and an angry personality . . . she gets what she wants and will hurt and bully others to make it happen. I’ll admit, I could have turned out that way, but I didn’t. Teresa makes even King Henry Price shake his head. The big difference is that I’m reactive and she’s preemptive. Plus . . . never seen her be funny or tell a joke . . . always serious.

  Says a lot about the Three Queens that Teresa is the nice one.

  “Well, I’m not one for an audience,” I admitted, trying to keep the tone both light and insulting, “but I’ll fuck ya for a cigarette. Seems fair trade. Just bend on over the sink whenever you want to start.”

  Teresa took another draw, her shoulders shivering. “Please let me kill him.”

  Mary giggled, “Like little ‘ol he could reach anything you’d want touched.”

  Catherine clicked the hand drier again. The buzz of the fan made her whisper seem melodic. �
�We didn’t have our boys bring you here so we could kill you.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “Very lucky you,” Mary giggled, giggled, giggled. Fuck was it annoying.

  Teresa smashed what was left of her cigarette into the wall with her thumb.

  “We brought you here to make you an offer,” Catherine continued.

  “An offer? If you want me to bang you too then I’ll need a break in between,” I told her, still talking shit. “Might even need to have Teresa smuggle in some blue pills. I mean, I’m a young fellow, but two of you back-to-back? Bit much even for me.”

  “Please let me kill him,” Teresa begged.

  “Why haven’t I gotten included in this perverted sex act?” Mary whined. “I always scare them away . . .”

  Catherine ignored them both. “I watched you with Sabine. We worried about her this year. Exceptional girl. But then you won . . . and then with the Intras . . . I don’t think even we could have pulled that play off.”

  “I bow before the master,” I mocked.

  “At least let me burn him a little,” Teresa tried a third time.

  “Or I could do my pee-hole trick,” Mary giggled, this time ominously.

  Pee-hole trick.

  I really don’t like those words going together.

  “An offer,” Catherine repeated. “Throw the match.”

  “Not even for all three of you at once with a donkey added for kicks, sister,” I told her.

  My mouth . . . you know the saying. No talking in a fight, don’t like that, not at all. But the lead up? Fucking with someone like Catherine Hayes who so needs to be knocked down on her willowy tight ass? Talk, talk, talking the day away. Don’t give a shit who you are. Don’t give a shit how scary your rep is. Throw. Attack. Beat me the fuck up, please. Ain’t going to change a thing about my opinion of you. Ain’t going to make me stop calling you out on being a fucking bully that’s ruined lives and cracked minds.

  “Throw the match and we’ll remove Heinrich von Welf,” Catherine finished, clicking the drier twice for effect.

  Same deal Welf made with Leo? Kind of. Welf thought he’d maneuver a win and get my ass kicked. Guess that’s one area where we’re different. Ain’t a whole lot of betrayal in me. Many bad habits and sins and words that make your eyebrows shoot up, but betrayal . . . not me. Try some stupid ass half-joking blackmail even . . . not betrayal. Won’t turn till you already turned. Reactive, not proactive.

  But when I react . . . heh . . . well, ask the Eriksons how much cream they’re rubbing on their holes.

  No betrayal but I’ll play along. “Remove as in . . . a broken bone or two?”

  Catherine spelled it out for me. “From the school. Expelled. Gone. Forever.”

  Damn. No Welf . . . what would I do with my spare time? “How?”

  Mary tittered, her voice so high it made me grimace. “Same way we always do.”

  Teresa pulled out another cigarette and lit it with a bit of flame out her thumb. I didn’t know whether to be scared or turned on. “The same way we removed the four other girls in our class.”

  “So you did do that?”

  Catherine finally smiled. Double damn. Girl was at least a ball puncher. Maybe more. Had a feeling sex with her involved large black objects going up the guy’s asshole. Agreed or not. “Them and a few more when it was required.”

  “Not Ultras I’m guessing. Not High Five.”

  Mary was so excited about the idea she was a few minutes from dry humping the tile counter. School girl dry humping a tile counter . . . what is with me and living in Japanese pornos? “It will be our masterpiece.”

  I looked from one to the next. Cigarette blower, tile humper, drier piddler. “Tell you what,” I said, “how ‘bout you all go fuck yourselves?”

  Catherine’s hand stopped moving through the stream of hot air. In my peripheral I noticed Mary slide backward down the counter and Teresa press against the window as hard as she could.

  Maybe I’d been wrong.

  Maybe we’d all been wrong.

  Maybe they hadn’t made peace.

  Maybe one of them had won.

  “Are you sure?” Catherine asked, hand flat.

  I looked her in the eyes. In those crazy, broken, Mancy-in-Control eyes some Ultras get. “If you ever touch or hurt anyone in my class—even Welf—outside of the Winter War, we got a problem.”

  “One that’s easily solved,” Catherine whispered. “We remove you first . . .”

  No idea what would have happened. Would have got cut up by some air, burned by some fire, and probably would have seen Mary’s pee-hole trick. Or . . . maybe I’d have made a run for it. Gotten lucky. Make the hand drier explode. Slip out the door, smash the Blackjacks guarding us.

  No clue.

  Cuz . . .

  The bathroom door opened.

  [CLICK]

  Good Mancy, do I love fucking with you kiddos.

  [CLICK]

  “Why do you let them stay, why not kick them the fuck out?” I asked.

  Not bothering to ask for permission, I rummaged through the kitchen cupboards, the pantry, and the refrigerator looking for any sort of item you might . . . maybe . . . just be able to call edible. Just like always there wasn’t a whole lot that met even that low bar. There was one egg. Who ends up with one egg?

  Nothing good. No sausage, no bacon, no meat at all. Nothing to microwave . . . can a brother get a hot pocket up in here?

  There was a shit-ton of energy drinks . . . contraband foodstuffs for the students at the Asylum. Not for the teachers though. Especially not for this particular refrigerator.

  I stared at the egg.

  It stared back.

  “You’d rather we put Catherine, Mary, and Teresa somewhere we can’t watch them?”

  I went back to the pantry. Cheez-wiz. Rice-crackers. Pork-grinds.

  “Seriously, how do you survive on this stuff?”

  “We do have a rather lovely cafeteria, King Henry.”

  “Still . . . sometimes you just want to cook.”

  “Never a particular need of mine.”

  “Obviously.”

  I went back to the refrigerator.

  The egg had ‘save me’ written on it.

  I pushed through the Great Wall of Red Bull and felt a box of something at the very back of the refrigerator. I pulled it out. Two-year-old pancake mix. Right . . .

  I looked at the egg again.

  Sometimes the Mancy and that middle finger, man.

  “They killed a girl . . . there’s got to be something you can do.”

  She shook her smiling little head at me. “We do what we can.”

  “Whole lot of nothing from what I can see,” I grunted as I gave up on my searching and just sat down at the kitchen table across from Ceinwyn Dale.

  Of fucking course, kiddies. Who else going to save my ass? Who else got so much money on my ass?

  Ceinwyn shook her smiling head again. “They’re powerful mancers, the Three Queens.”

  “And insane.”

  “A little,” Ceinwyn admitted but that admission didn’t stop her, “Powerful mancers with nowhere else to go. We can’t put them on the street. No other school in this world would take them. That doesn’t leave us many options . . . so the Lady has limited the damage.”

  “One death, two expulsions, and a transfer.”

  “One suicide to a girl who wasn’t of sound mind even without the Three Queens around, a transfer to Her Royal Majesty’s Conservatory of the Elements, and two Special Dispensations for Tutored Study of Elementalism.”

  “Guess she was just weak, right?” I scoffed, burning on the inside. Fucking bullies. Can’t stand them, don’t care if they got a cock or tits, can’t stand a one of them. How many fights I get in back home over some nerd getting picked on? Wasn’t my fight . . . but I didn’t care. Why Ceinwyn have to step in? Would have been worth the beating to knock them horrible bitches down a peg . . .

  “She tried twice even
before she came to Asylum, King Henry. We brought in one of the most prestigious mentimancer psychologists the world has just for her. We moved her to one end of the bedroom and the other three girls to the other. We let her parents come to visit on the weekends. We put the Three Queens in the Holding Room for a week, enough of a punishment that they finally left the girl alone. Yes, bullying is awful, we do stomp it down. If you or Heinrich ever cross the line we will stomp you down as well. But . . . even normal schools can’t solve this problem for the students; the students have to solve it themselves.”

  “What you think I been doing?”

  “Line. Stomp. King Henry.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  Silence for a bit. Typical King Henry talking to Ceinwyn Dale silence. Happens all the time.

  Eventually she broke it. “We all have madness in us. You handle it as best you can, within yourself and with those around you. You hope it doesn’t get worse . . . doesn’t lead to dead children or dead adults . . . or dead friends . . .”

  “Could have removed the Three Queens,” I grumbled, not dropping my first point.

  “There’s no place else for them to go,” Ceinwyn repeated.

  “You keep saying that.”

  “In the hope you’ll finally read between the lines.”

  My fury cooled just a bit . . . just enough to catch the meaning. “Dead children.”

  “Yes.”

  “Seriously?”

  “You didn’t think the High Five was all advantages did you?”

  “Kill them? For getting expelled?”

  “For having nowhere else to go. For being expelled and being mad and being unwanted. The Learning Council can’t allow First Tier Ultras on the street like that. The danger to the general population would be unthinkable. Either you finish your schooling, prove you can control yourself . . . or: a final stomp.”

  “Damn.”

  “Think about it before you plan some revenge to get them kicked out, please.”

  “Yeah, I guess. Suppose winning Winter War might be enough. If they don’t keep coming at me.”

  “I’ll have a talk with them.”