“I wish I was, Obadiah. I really wish I was . . . but . . . goodbye, Val. I’m the last expert in the world on the matter . . . but I think I actually loved you.”
I barely heard Paine’s scream as the geo-anima surged around us. Into the concrete. Into the steel and copper and glass and ground. With my last bit of will before the fuzz overtook me, I ordered it to break everything it came into contact with.
There’s something beautiful about it.
Something . . . operatic . . . about that much of the world bursting around you.
Piece by piece.
My SDR popped. The concrete at my back cracked again and again. The walls tilted. The ceiling slumped. Paine tried to run at first but his metal boot shattered the moment it stepped back on the ground.
My eyes closed as the world broke around me.
[CLICK]
My eyes opened to find I wasn’t dead.
And I found myself not glad by this but pretty pissed off that Fate was fucking me in the ass again.
Or . . . not Fate.
Something worse.
A fairy that’s not a fairy.
No cave, no Geo Realm, no dream of Yosemite either. The in between state of nothing but geo-anima.
I floated in it, Shaky Stick still in my hand, hating just about everything. When you make peace with yourself and get ready to die—it’s really disappointing to be saved. I suppose it’s my fault. Cuz I’m King Henry Price. My whole life is about disappointment and expectations slapping me in the face.
Why should my first attempt at a heroic death not turn out the same way?
“You are such a bastard,” I told the void of geo-anima. “If you could’ve saved me, why not do it before I broke half my bones? Or at least before I tore down half of Seattle’s docking district.”
DID YOU BELIEVE I WOULD SO EASILY LET YOU ESCAPE ME? YOU HAVE A DESTINY TO FULFILL, KING OF DIRT.
“Go fuck yourself. I’m not doing it. I’m closing down the artificing shop and opening up a yogurt store. I’m done. I killed the bad guy, saved the girl, time for my retirement. Don’t be jealous I managed so much awesome in so little time.”
THE BROKEN ONE YET LIVES.
You know what’s scary? Not having a body and still getting the chills. “Well . . . fuck.”
THE FIRE QUEEN IS SAFE.
“Good to hear.”
AND YOU WILL BE RETURNED TO YOUR REALM, IN THE STATE YOU LEFT IT. SEEK HELP QUICKLY AND YOU SHOULD SURVIVE.
“Spiffy.”
DO NOT DEVIATE FROM MY ADVICE AGAIN.
I sensed anger in the void. At me, at the world, at Meteyos’ plans for . . . whatever . . . almost crashing apart with my death. “What are you really? Enough of the fairy bullshit. You, Ceinwyn, the Lady, lies and more lies. Never telling me the truth. Paine’s an evil bastard but at least he had the decency to tell the truth.”
HE TOLD YOU A TRUTH THAT WILL BRING YOU PAIN.
“What truths don’t bring pain? Fear of pain is why there’s so much lying in the world. Tell me the truth, Meteyos . . . hurt me.”
The anger bubbled. Here I could connect with him as nowhere else. Here I could feel what he felt. Imprisonment. Fear of being forgotten. Power unlike anything I expected might exist in the world. I felt millions of years of consciousness bear down on me and felt smaller than I ever had before.
Something formed in the void. Something with scales and a tail and wings. It surround me, protected me in its embrace. I . . . I WAS OLD WHEN THE RACES OF EARTH WERE BORN. I SAW THE FIRST MEN STRUGGLE TO FIND BALANCE IN THEIR POWERS. I WATCHED IT ALL. I SAW THE FOUNDING AND FALL OF ATLAS. I WATCHED ON AS THE PARASITES TWISTED AND WORMED THEIR WAY TO SHATTERING US APART.
I AM ANIMA MADE FLESH.
I AM STEEL SCALES AND COPPER WINGS AND TEETH OF CARBON.
I HAVE NEVER BEEN EXTINCT AND EVEN AS YOUR KIND HAS FORGOTTEN SO MUCH OF ITS TRUE HISTORY, I WILL NEVER FORGET YOUR FAILURES!
Meteyos might have saved my life, but he wasn’t gentle about expelling me back to where I’d come from.
Fucking dragons, man.
One little question and they get all pissy.
[CLICK]
I felt the dirt on my face and hands. I felt the warm summer wind upon the back of my neck.
My eyes opened to brightness and my body once again screamed in pain. Everything hurt. Every pain that the visit to the Geo Realm had masked returned. Every pain that the Slush had healed as well. It all hurt. Hand, face, jaw, ribs, shoulder, leg, what part of me wasn’t injured?
But . . . the pain saved me. Or . . . at least my life. Surely not my soul. The pain brought clarity. Clarity to fight away grey unconsciousness. Seek help and you’ll live. I lifted my head, saw wooden houses, evergreen trees.
I felt tears on my face.
The Asylum . . . he’d thrown me back out at the Asylum . . .
Home.
I never thought I’d be so happy to see the place.
Never thought I’d be so happy to be alive either.
Accepting death, you can do that.
But accepting death and then living through it—that’s where people break.
That’s the second wall.
The Shaky Stick still clutched in my right hand, I crawled forward. I used it like a pick in stone, leveraging my way up a cliff. Smash, clank, pull. I was too exhausted to even grit my teeth. I became more animal than man. Tears, grunts. Desperation set in. My breathing went wild. Each time I lurched forward, scuttling on three limbs, I’d bang my broken forearm and almost pass out from the pain.
I whined, I growled, I crawled.
Closer and closer.
Houses at the Asylum meant teachers.
Teachers meant the Infirmary.
Infirmary meant Slush and I didn’t care a bit about how cranky Miss Strange would be about my condition.
I settled into a pattern. Not the slow pace of a mammal but the stops and starts of a spider. Stillness followed by extreme speed. Rest, then go. Rest, then go. The worst way to travel. Each rest period I laid there, wondering if I could put forth the effort to make another dive forward.
Halfway to the house was bad.
I almost gave up.
Then halfway was gone and it was the home stretch.
Only . . . stairs up to a wooden patio, then to the door.
I cried some more. The bitter, hurt tears of a man who found out that he doesn’t really want to die.
That life is pretty good.
Even with the lies.
Even with dragons and madmen in it.
I should have screamed I suppose. Should have called for help instead of trying to help myself.
But I wasn’t thinking straight.
But then, that’s always my problem, ain’t it? I never think like other people. Don’t trust enough. When the stakes are down I trust my will to get to that door more than I trust whoever was in there to come at my screams for help.
It’s a flaw . . . big one. I’m pretty sure that our arguments or not over the years, she would have come.
All the throwing myself forward had taken everything out of my legs. They felt like mush. Weak. Excess meat. Thankfully, the stairs were open, those slated kind you see on cabins, since that’s basically what all the houses at the Asylum are. I passed up the first rung, even the second rung, and grabbed for number three.
I pulled myself upwards.
Number six.
I pulled myself upwards again.
The end of the stairs was another wall. Nothing to grab for easy leverage. I settled on the patio flooring. Wood slates as well, just enough of a gap for me to smash the edge of my fingers into them and yank my body weight upwards. Sure, splinters. Sure, more blood.
But they’re just fingers, right?
I passed out after that pull up.
For the first time in my life I wished I was as skinny as I was short.
Would have been a lot easier.
Hey, at least I passed out on the patio though.
&
nbsp; [CLICK]
I came to at the sound of the door opening.
Also connected the sunlight with dawn. Then dawn with morning. Then morning with the school day beginning.
It would be days before I made the connection between fighting Paine at night and arriving at the Asylum at dawn and what could have possibly happened to me between then? No idea. Never found out.
Nothing good.
Knowing Meteyos.
There was a gasp, then, “What?”
Somehow I managed enough energy to roll over on my back. Good doggie . . .
“King Henry?”
I looked up and for the first time in my life felt pure joy at seeing my ginger nemesis. Miranda Daniels had grown up a lot over the years since we’d gotten to know each other running around in the forest. Not sure when, but she’d lost the baby fat, gotten a few more inches on her, and went from chunky to just curvy. Still ginger, but the kind of chick you’d actually have a shot at and settle for and then, years later, you’d start to realize you’d lucked out, she was better than you deserved.
Attitude hadn’t changed as much. Still smart, still ready to tell you everything about anything if you asked about it. Still bossy and nosy and ready to argue with you in public . . . but when you got her alone and no one was watching—not half bad. Even nice. Even sweet.
Miranda Daniels.
Not the first person I’d pick to save my life.
But when your life needs saving, you’re out of the picking game.
Grab on to the string, King Henry.
“Please . . . don’t . . . nag me . . . just—”
“Nag you?” Her green eyes flared at the perceived insult, still not paying a whole lot of attention to the state I was in. For the best anima senses in our class, she sure could be blind. “For camping out on my doorstep and scaring me to death? Valentine is fine by the way, not that you’d know because you . . . how did you get here so quickly anyway? And . . . . . . is that blood?”
She was studying my fingers. She blinked at them, then at the way I held my arm, then at the bruises over my face, at the general cut up nature of my skin, the rips and tears that made my coat look more like tassels than clothing.
“Slush . . . please . . .” I managed.
“King Henry?” Miranda asked again, finally catching on and quickly becoming concerned for me.
Kind of touching coming from her.
“What’s left of me . . .”
“Oh my God! What happened to you?” Miranda dropped a bag of teacher stuff I hadn’t noticed she’d been holding and practically injured me again by throwing herself over me, checking each of my wounds in turn. “King Henry, are you with me?”
“Slush . . .”
“It’s okay, you’re okay. You wouldn’t believe the first aid classes they give to teachers here.”
“Slush . . .”
“No, not yet. We need to get you into the house, then I need to call the Infirmary. Can you stand up if I help you? What’s injured?”
The way she was looking down at me . . . like she actually gave a shit about me—weird week kept getting weirder. “Everything’s injured.”
“What’s broken then?”
“Ribs . . . ankle . . . forearm . . . probably more . . . kind of dropped a building on myself . . .”
Miranda gave my cheek a pat. “Probably shouldn’t have done that.”
“Val’s okay?”
Concern turned into anger. Not at me but at Val. Not hate but exasperation with a friend. “Last I heard, she’s on a plane to San Francisco with her sister. After you . . . stayed behind—and sacrificed yourself for her—because she’s the kind of person that’s used to people doing things for her like that.”
“Not fair . . .”
“Oh, shut up, you lovesick idiot. She’s my best friend but she has more faults than you’ll ever admit.”
“Why are we talking?”
“Val’s biggest fault is that she’s so damn smart and brilliant and good at everything that when she finally makes mistakes they’re huge. Like King Henry Price turning up at my door all beaten up and needing medical attention!”
“Not being given . . .” I muttered.
“You outweigh me by probably sixty pounds,” Miranda pointed out.
“This is true . . . you look really nice by the way.”
Miranda blushed crimson, which was extra crimson given the ginger in her. “So I need a little aero-anima to get you on your feet.”
“Oh . . . could get help.”
“I don’t want to leave you.”
“Worried I have a concussion?”
“ . . . More like sure you have one, given that you’re King Henry Price and you haven’t looked at my breasts once this entire time.”
“First time lechery helped diagnose someone . . .”
“We can hope.”
“Never noticed your face was so heart-shaped . . .”
Miranda couldn’t help but chuckle. “You are so out of it.”
[CLICK]
I woke up in a bed.
“Wait . . .”
I couldn’t remember getting there.
I heard Miranda yelling from the porch. “What do you mean you can’t get in?”
“It won’t let us pass, it’s protecting him.”
“That’s insane!”
“Come and get my supplies, you’ll have to treat him yourself.”
“I’m not a doctor, you haven’t seen him! Have one of the geomancers kill it!”
“Miranda, stop freaking out, you can do this.”
[CLICK]
I woke up to the smell of Slush.
“Idiot! Idiot Valentine! Idiot King Henry! Leave me to pick up all the pieces just like always! Just let Miranda figure out all the details, she’s the smart one! We’ll light the Mound on fire! We’ll befriend fairies so they protect us! Look at us, aren’t we brilliant, yes we are!”
Slush poured down over my chest.
I realized I was naked.
“Like what you see?” I mumbled.
“Shut up,” Miranda told me. “Just . . . shut up.”
“Think I’m passing out again . . . so consider this preemptive apology if I get a boner . . .”
“I hate you so much right now,” she said, but her tone said otherwise.
Huh.
[CLICK]
I’m told I slept for three days.
[CLICK]
I woke up in bed with a beautiful woman tucked up beside me, snoring softly.
I felt . . . alive and functional if not well. Nothing broken, though I wouldn’t be working out any time soon.
I smiled down at Val. I didn’t care where she’d come from. I didn’t care about how I’d gotten here either. We were both here. We were both alive. Realms, kidnappers, everything else could go to hell. “That worried about me, huh?”
She perked up immediately, head rising. There was a gasp and then arms threw themselves around me, squeezing so tight I hurt all over again. “I was so worried! I thought you were dead and then they said you wouldn’t wake up and—“
Big, tough Boomworm devolved into tears. I barely kept from joining her. Guess I’d wept out everything on that short crawl through the dirt. “We’re alive.”
“We’re alive,” she agreed, burying her face in my chest.
“This ain’t heaven right?”
A smirk. “If it was your heaven I have a feeling I wouldn’t be clothed.”
“You have a point.” I lifted the sheet covering me. “Speaking of which . . .”
“It was hard enough taking care of you, forget clothing you.”
“Do I want to—“
“Nope.”
“Okay. Uh . . . thanks, I suppose?”
Val shook her head at me. “All you did and I get points for waiting around with Miranda for three days?”
“Miranda . . .”
“You don’t remember?”
“Why not Strange?”
“There�
�s an anima concentration . . . watching over the house. It only lets Miranda and me inside. If anyone else tries it spurts dirt in their face.”
“Not Meteyos.”
“I wasn’t sure.”
“Nope. Some kind of watchdog I’d guess.”
“If you say so.”
I studied her for a bit. “Forget about that, how are you?”
A shrug. “I’m fine. Still weirded out by the adventure, but fine.”
“You escaped?”
She nodded. “It was surprisingly easy once we got out of the docks. I found a SUV to hotwire, then I went east to Boise since I didn’t think they’d expect that. A call to Ceinwyn set up all the rest and there was a plane waiting for us. Quick trip to San Francisco—worrying about you the whole way. When we landed, Ceinwyn told me you popped up at the Asylum.”
“She mad?”
“Furious.”
“Ah . . . what about Christmas?”
A smile. “Well, curious, and unable to stop asking questions about the Mancy. She’ll start classes in September.”
“See, all this time you just had to pay someone to kidnap her.”
We laughed more out of nervousness than anything else. We were drained. Beat down. Exhausted.
Val gave me another smile before rising up enough to sit cross-legged on the bed beside me. I blinked at the sight, turning my head to take in the room. I noticed a certain glass statue on the bedside table. “Yours?”
“Yes.”
“Did I put you on the couch?”
She nodded at a rocking chair in the corner. “Haven’t left your side since I returned to the Asylum.”
“Ah.”
“Ah,” she teased.
“Excuse me for not being wordy in my convalescence.”
“Convalescence . . . you must be feeling better.”
“Yeah, hard not to around you.”
“I will say, you’ve gone further than any guy I’ve ever met to get a date out of me, and one of them rented out an entire opera hall.”
“Oh?”
“Oooh, jealousy,” she teased me yet more.
“It’s unbecoming to torture a crippled man, you know.”
Silence for a bit.
“Any other questions?” she eventually asked.
“Yeah, how bad was the earthquake?”
The Foul Mouth and the Troubled Boomworm (The King Henry Tapes) Page 38