There's No Such Thing as Monsters

by Ren Ryder

  “Here, let me. You likely fancy yourself some kind of wizard or mage, don't you?” The surgeon laughed. “No, really, I don’t mean to condescend to you. It’s, just, to know so little about yourself that you have to be informed by a member not of your own race, isn’t that entirely too amusing?” Hargath had a good laugh at my expense, then.

  “You’ve spent time in the Otherworld, haven’t you? I’m sure you think yourself little changed by the encounter. You’d be wrong. All who venture to the Other Side come back changed, one way or another. For those who belong there in the first place, the changes would be that much more dramatic, don’t you think?”

  Hargath left me to stew in his words, patting me on the arm before letting himself out of the cage. The sound of the door swinging closed seem to reverberate in my bones, but I knew that couldn’t have been the case. Real or imagined, I needed an escape, and so I allowed the chemical numbness still flooding my body to sweep me into nothingness.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I was dreaming, but I was awake. I was in the cage, strapped down to the same dinky gurney with iron shackles that seared my flesh. Everything I saw was cast in shadow, fuzzy.

  My vision flickered and I was transported to another space, another time, through memories both imagined and real.

  Flicker.

  Burning house, Sammie screaming, my screams overlapping with hers. Hands digging through burning timber, choking on hot lungfuls of smoke-filled air. Multiple people pulling me from the wreckage.

  Flicker.

  All my fear, hatred, and self-loathing came crashing down on me all at once. It’s in my weakest moments when my thoughts of inadequacy, hopelessness, and worthlessness are loudest.

  “If only I’d done things differently, this result wouldn’t have come to pass.” Like that.

  Regret for all my past mistakes, big and large, flowed through me.

  “If only I hadn’t approached the Father and asked him to help us.”

  “If only I hadn’t been asleep when he was being tortured, beaten, and killed.”

  “If only I’d been there for Sammie.”

  If only, if only. If only. If only. If only. If only if only if only—ifonlyifonlyifonlyifonlyifonly— if only I weren’t alive. All I bring is misfortune. I wish I’d never been born.

  No. I had things to live for. Life was worth living, even if it doesn’t always seem like it. I knew that, and I couldn’t let myself forget it.

  Sammie. She’s innocent. She deserves better. I can’t let her fall into the dark. I won’t.

  It’s lonely there, at the bottom of the well. There are monsters there, both real and imagined, waiting for you to slip up so they might capitalize on your mistakes. No one seems to care if you drag yourself back up into the light, or if you stay forever at the bottom, in despair. That’s why you have to, for yourself, you owe it to yourself, even if no one else does.

  I was jarred awake by the sound of wood striking metal. “I’ve placed the wards. There’s no way he’ll be making an escape by magical means… now, might I have a moment with our guest?”

  Ever so slightly, I cracked open my eyes. My vision was clear, but I was also in significantly more pain than I had been when I’d fallen asleep. The anesthesia had worn off. Then, it was safe to say that I’d slept for quite awhile, maybe well into the next day.

  “Lady Genevieve gave me strict instructions to ensure the specimen—”

  The old geezer palmed a sack of coins, it was bulging at the seams. “Come now, it’s just the two of us here, we’re alone with no one else in the world the wiser… between you and me, we can work something out, can’t we?”

  The coins inside were gold. I was forced to wonder, why would anyone go out of their way to have a private word with me? My unfocused mind couldn’t come up with a single good reason for what was going on.

  Hargath eyed the bag of money. “They’ll have my hide, they will.”

  The old geezer paused to lean his weight on his cane. He pulled a handkerchief from his tuxedo jacket an instant before his body was wracked by a long, drawn out coughing fit. When it was over, the handkerchief he put away was covered with blood.

  “My apologies. Age, it brings low even the most powerful mages. This new generation of sorcerers might figure that out in their favor, but these old bones are long past their due date.”

  “There are ways, given the right, ingredients…” Hargath began, implying that off-brand medicinal practices might have a chance to extend the geezer’s life.

  “— No, no, it’s not a disease of that kind. Doctors both mythical and mundane have declared my condition terminal. I’m in the final stages. Won’t be long now.”

  “My condolences. You have family?”

  “No, nothing like that. I’ve nothing to leave behind but blood and regret, I’m afraid. But you needn’t pity an old man. Now, as I was saying…” The old-timer proffered the bag of coins again.

  “I’m sorry. Nothing’s changed.”

  “A little space then? I see your shelf of reference books could use some dusting. You wouldn’t even need to leave the room… what could it hurt, some words exchanged between a dead man and a dying one?”

  The old man tossed the bag of coins to Hargath, who caught it in his white-gloved hands. Hargath passed him the key in exchange. With a guilty expression the surgeon walked away until he was mostly out of sight, turning his back on the exchange that was about to take place.

  The old man keyed open the lock and stepped inside. He moved quicker than I would have thought him capable of a moment ago. “When I heard you were back in New London, and alive, I was sure I had misheard. I kept an ear to the ground, in case I was wrong… and boy, am I glad I did.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Don’t you recognize me? Old age hasn’t been kind to me, but we knew each other, once. In fact, the night we met was the night I came to owe you a life debt.”

  I looked at the man I’d labeled in my head as an old geezer just this side of death. My memory stuck on the thick wire-rimmed glasses and floppy hat. The lines of his face, muddied by age, became clear to me. I recognized the old mage before me, all right.

  “… Koji, is that you?”

  “In the flesh.”

  “It really is you.” Questions crowded my mind, all seeking immediate answers. “Where have you been? What happened in my absence? Why are you working for Ouroboros?!” My voice raised at the last, a condemnation lurking in my words.

  “Shh! Calm, you must keep calm. We must maintain appearances, or all will have been for naught!” Koji hissed.

  The surgeon responded to the raised voices. “Everything all right in there?” Hargath called from the other end of the room. He sounded nervous.

  Koji sneered. “How vulgar and lacking in beauty! That tongue will need to be trained… or else cut out,” he spoke his condemnations loudly, so Hargath could hear them.

  Koji fed me information at a rapid pace. “We— Ouroboros— do the nobility’s dirty work, cover up murders for the corrupt, and do business with the profane, both magical and mundane. Drugs, sex, alcohol, lives, you name it, if you have a sin, we provide for it… The Watch has been paid to look the other way for near a decade now. You ask me, there isn’t a single thing left protecting in this godsforsaken city.” Spittle flew off Koji’s withered lips.

  Except, I know there is. A single thing, at least for me.

  Urgently, I asked. “Where’s Sammie? Is she with you? She was, wasn’t she?!” Part instinct, and something else, something visceral, something deep in my bones told me she had been, and recently too. I knew.

  Koji looked both ways, paranoia in every line of his body. “I don’t have much time. I’m being watched. My family, they’ll kill them if I help you outright… I’m sorry, Kal. Now, listen to me closely. Don’t trust Sammie. I know you want to, but you can’t. She isn’t as she seems.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t have a family— and what do you think you’re
saying, I can’t trust Sammie?!”

  Hargath began walking towards the cage at a stuttering pace. “Hey, are you sure you’re alright in there? Look, I don’t want any trouble, it’s my ass in the fire if Lady Genevieve catches you doing anything suspicious. You must’ve heard them, the stories…”

  Koji whispered at a rapid pace, trying to fit in all the words he could. “I lied. I may be an old man, but I’m certainly no saint. Look, I can’t help you directly, it’s too dangerous for both of us… but I can grease the wheels for you, give you an edge for the right moment, one that you choose. I want you to fight, for your own life, for your own sake… but I have to know now, do you want it or not?”

  Koji looked harried, desperate even. “I’m risking everything to stand here before you. After all these years, for me… I’m asking you to trust me. Tell me, do you want my help or not? Yes or no, it has to be now.”

  I felt out the answer, rather than trying to find one through logic. “Yes.”

  Moving furtively, Koji placed something into my left hand, then closed my fingers over it. He stepped back quickly, leaned on his wooden cane, and affected a look of nonchalance just as Hargath stalked up to the bars of the cage.

  “That will be all, I’m sure.”

  “Yes, it will. A good day to you.”

  “And you as well,” Hargath responded with a nod that served double as dismissal.

  “Good luck,” Koji mouthed, and then he was gone.

  I clutched whatever Koji had given me tight in my hand, and wondered at what was to come.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ouroboros had pulled out all the stops for me. I was being transferred by the gutter equivalent of the King’s Guard, boxed in by fifteen Ouroboros hunters. Every inch of skin I could see was tatted up with teardrops, and Ouroboros’s serpent mark was displayed prominently on their bodies. Sacrificial blood magic seethed in the air, pressing against my skin and making me ill.

  Under such strict guard and with the iron making my magic feel far away, I didn’t like my chances of slipping away. I bided my time, clutching my hand tight over the talisman Koji had risked his life— and the life of his family— to get to me.

  A hunter prodded me in the side with his elbow. “Ever been to the Under, ghosty?”

  Another hunter prodded me with his dagger. “Hey, you gon answer the man? Kids these days, oughta learn some manners ‘fore I make ‘em.”

  I clenched my teeth over a pained hiss as the dagger-wielder drew blood. Asshole. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” I replied evenly.

  “One one-way ticket to the Under!” A woman hunter guffawed.

  Apparently Hargath was immune to the intimidation factor of intense, radiating bloodthirst. The surgeon prattled on into the void that would’ve gone unfilled otherwise. “The Under is an incredible place, truly a discovery for the ages. A cosmopolitan collection of underground chambers and caves beneath New London, can you believe it? Built by an ancient race of predecessors, no doubt!

  “The theory goes that, since the city’s built on swampland, over the ages the entire foundation sunk through the muck. Predecessor civilizations are theorized to have built directly on top of their old works as each sunk, one level after the other, to create a sort of honeycomb effect.

  “No one knows for sure how deep the Under goes… some more, shall we say, superstitious theorists suspect it goes all the way, if you’re partial to that sort of thing. Personally, I’m a firm realist— what I see with my own two eyes, that’s the truth.”

  “All the way? Wuz that supposed to mean?”

  “He means all the way to the dark places, man. Like, hellfire and brimstone and all that.”

  A heavy-set, heavily scarred bald man jostled some hunters aside so he could walk near Hargath and I. “Educated man like yourself, Hargath, sir, I see how you might think that way. But me, I’ve seen more than I’d care to admit, seen the dark, seen the beautiful and the deranged. And, I seen magic, and magic don’t lend well to the tongue, though it tends to stick with you all the more for it. I believe there are things out there beyond our ability to understand, and rightly so.”

  Hargath tugged on a wispy thread of hair that sprouted from his chin. “That’s a very well-formed opinion there, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure…”

  “Lieutenant Graf.”

  My attention swung to this lieutenant Graf, and then my eyes boggled out my head. I recognized him. The man was hardly changed despite the span of years that’d passed for him since I’d last seen him, although he walked with a limp now. I’d called him boss-man back then, and like before, the man was standing in the way of my reunion with Sammie.

  “Lieutenant Graf, a pleasure. Under circumstances like these, I believe our meeting to be serendipitous indeed.”

  I looked for the light of recognition in the lieutenant’s eyes, but either he was too hard a man to show things like that on the outside, or he didn’t remember me at all.

  “Seren-what?” Graf spat to one side, like the word had caught in his throat. “Here we are, this be the entrance we need.”

  We arrived outside an unmarked door, situated suspiciously beneath the shadowed contour of a bridge somewhere in the Upper Quarter. The lieutenant produced a brace of hooded lamps from a bag, and passed them around. Even I got one. I mostly pointed it at my feet to keep from tripping over the chains connecting the two manacles around my ankles.

  Our group made quick progress through the underground warren. Both floor and ceiling were cobbled brick that had begun to degrade. Water accumulated on the ceiling and dripped onto our heads, like rain but more disgusting. In the beginning we had to trek double-file or single-file, until we reached a staircase leading to a lower level and the layout opened up to accommodate our group.

  While the ceiling remained cobbled brick, the foundation was a different substance, stronger, like hard rock or metal. Most dwellings were squat, long things built from hewn rock. How they moved such massive boulders into place, I didn’t know, but the effect was impressive.

  Some buildings stretched high, high into the sky to disappear into the dark. These tallest buildings were made from crystalline substances and tempered glass. Aboveground, they would have stood as shining edifices of civilization. I could see how theorists would believe a predecessor race built this place. New London didn’t yet have the technology or engineering know-how to build such tall buildings.

  “A-all these years, this l-little w-wonder was beneath our feet. M-Much of our tech-technology, esp-especially the advancements of the la-last century, are s-said to have been re-reverse engineered from these w-warrens,” Hargath said, teeth chattering.

  “Having a spot of trouble there, Doc?”

  “Want Wendy to warm ya up? She may look like a mean one, and let me tell ya, she is, but she sure can keep a room warm, if ya know what I mean.” Lots of nudging and snickering followed the comment.

  “You best shut your trap, Larz, less you wanna find out what it’s like to be toothless,” Wendy challenged.

  “Yes, ma’am, understood, ma’am.” Larz saluted, still snickering.

  We walked for miles down the wide boulevard, no one wanting to break the silence. The underground felt like hallowed ground, a sacred space where one dared trespass at their own risk.

  Abruptly, the hair on my arms stood on end. From the rooftops of buildings or as close as the shadows of a nearby alleyway, I felt the gaze of predators and sensed the spark of magic. I could practically feel them salivating over the buffet passing them by.

  For a change, I was thankful for the presence of the hunters. I would have surely been attacked otherwise, and I didn’t fancy my odds, alone and in the dark.

  Of course, I wouldn’t be down here in the first place if not for them.

  Graf cleared his throat and said, “This is it, then. End of the line."

  The boulevard terminated in a smooth, crystalline wall that barred our passage forward. The lieutenant grunted and nodded to two
of his men, who broke off to either side of our party. They took up positions at two mechanisms spaced about fifteen feet from one another, located flush against the wall. When they pounded them in sync, a great shuddering shook the foundations beneath our feet.

  I tripped over my chains, lost my balance and fell on my back. Graf swooped down and got up in my face then, close enough that I breathed in the rancid scent of him whether I wanted to or not.

  The lieutenant let his bloodlust ooze out for a second, and the intensity of it sent a shiver down my spine. “You didn’t think I remembered you, didjya? Well, I do. Fact, I requested from the top ‘imself to deliver you into ‘is arms, so don’t be gettin’ no ideas that we’re pals. Not that none of that matters, not no more. Make peace with your gods, because tonight is your last night on this earth, Specter.” Then, like a chill wind in the heat of summer, the bloodthirst was gone, replaced by a placid expression.

  Oh yes, he remembers me.

  Graf picked me up, then set me down on my feet and patted the dust off my back. My aural cloak withered and writhed wherever he brushed against it, and I was overcome with a feeling of deep revulsion. The sacrificial blood magic used by the hunters didn’t jive with mine. At all.

  “Here, lemme help ya up there, boy-o. There, there. We gotta deliver you in one piece, we do. Can’t be feasting before the proper folk, can we?” The party’s laughter was thrown back in a haunting echo.

  The lieutenant called his hunters to attention and forged ahead. “Let’s be on our way then, shall we,” Graf soldiered on as if nothing had happened between us.

  The roadway thinned out to the fifteen-foot span of the entrance, large enough for five to travel abreast. We traversed a city’s block worth of metallic roadway before the passage opened up, creating a domed cavern that yawned into the dark.

  “This is your last stop, Specter,” Wendy cackled into my ear.

  It was an old-style open-air coliseum. Or, at least, it would have been, if it wasn’t buried beneath thousands of tons of dirt and rock. We descended a set of elongated stairs that I imagined had served as bleachers, once. It all looked to have been carved out of one colossal piece of granite. Whether the stone had been there already, or it had been moved or magicked into existence, only its creators knew.