Intermission: Monsters of the Past And Hopes for the Future

  --- Gregory Fischer ---

  The world around him slowly fell apart, breaking down into hundreds of thousands of pages. All of which slowly swept their way back into the book before him as they left him once more in the atrium of the Black Briar library.

  He… was emotionally and physically drained to put it lightly, and yet at the same time something inside of him felt… lighter than it had in a long while. As if an old weight had burned away. (Though I suppose in some ways it has.)

  With a silent nod to himself, he actually took in the space around him noticing how only Briar was currently pleasant.

  The head librarian gave him an almost fragile smile. “How are you feeling?”

  He took in a deep breath before letting it out as he gave her a fragile grin of his own. “Like I could really use a smoke break.”

  “No smoking inside the library, unless you’re far far away from the books.” Briar told him with a half hearted glare. “The smell catches between the pages and it's a nightmare to get out even for me.”

  He couldn’t help but huff at that. “Fair enough.” He took another look around. “Where is everyone?”

  Briar grimaced. “Maeve… didn’t handle her test well. She passed, but she… didn’t care for the ending…”

  His mind drifted towards the memory of both the first book he collected, and the likely contents of his first book chronologically. “Yeah… I can get that…”

  Briar’s expression fell, her guilt clear.

  Which is why he patted her shoulder, “Which is why she needs to remember her story isn’t over, it’s really just beginning.” (I’ve got to believe that.)

  Briar gave him another smile. “Yeah, your stories are just beginning.”

  “And hopefully it’ll be one that doesn’t end anytime soon.” He nodded to her, before thinking about his old unit and deciding on what the next chapter of his story would be. “Where did Maeve run off to exactly?”

  “She’s over in the kid’s section watching the Lost Children.” Briar answered, pointing off in a direction.

  “I’ll have a talk with her, maybe it’ll help.” He arguably wasn’t the best person for that job, but Maeve probably wasn’t in a mood to talk to Briar either. (Besides, if I want to be better, I’ve got to do better.)

  Briar gave him a quiet, “Thanks.” as he passed her by. One he wasn’t going to comment on.

  In the children’s section he found the Lost Children playing across the various activities and playsets Briar had set up for all of them. (It seems like there’s more every time I pass this place…)

  Off in a half shadowed corner he found one of the Lost Children trying to prod Maeve into playing with them, the theater rose humoring them by playing fetch with the child but doing little more.

  (Right… Let’s try not to fuck this up.)

  With a sigh he made his way across the playroom, only having to duck and dodge the children twice as they came running across his path.

  “Oh, hey mister!” The Lost Child waved, the only one to break away from their ‘Play’ to talk to him.

  (Maybe that means this one is Ferris?) While all of the Lost Children looked similar, there were a few faint differences between them. Not enough for him to tell them all apart, but enough that he could tell they weren’t all actually duplicates of the same child.

  “Hey, kid.” He greeted with a nod, before turning towards Maeve.

  If possible she seemed to curl even further into herself, refusing to meet his eyes.

  Not that he’d been expecting much better based on what he knew.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Crouching down to Ferris he told the Lost Child, “Why don’t you go play with the other kids while I try to cheer up your big sis?”

  Ferris gave Maeve a brief concerned look, before nodding and running off somewhere.

  Even with it being just the two of them, Maeve still didn’t say anything. Seeming to put in an even greater effort to look away from him as he took a seat beside her.

  He pulled a cigarette out of his pack before putting it in his mouth and not lighting it. The familiar weight in his mouth something of a security blanket as he prepared for what he was going to try and do.

  “I just went through my own little story quest.” He admitted, eyes looking dead ahead even as he felt Maeve finally look his way. “I had to kill four people I once called my brothers and sisters. I tried not to but… That’s not part of my story.”

  It sucked, but… (It’s something I’ve got to accept.)

  Maeve didn’t say anything, so he threw out that, “On the plus side though, I did get to kill my old boss again. The one who put me in that… position in the first place.”

  The theater rose let out a light laugh. “Must’ve been nice.”

  “It was. Honestly, probably enjoyed it more than is healthy.” Which is why he’d forced himself to pull back halfway through rather than beating the man’s face in until he’d broken his own knuckles doing so.

  “I wish I could kill my old… employer.” Maeve bitterly confessed.

  “That so?” He knew enough about the situation with the Crimson Carnival to have a solid enough idea about all of that.

  “That… illusion… That test it… I couldn’t say no no matter how hard I tried.” The theater rose tried to explain, something fragile in her voice. “No matter how hard I tried to leave, to kill him, the world continued to reset until I took his hand…”

  “How bad was it? The thing you had to do.” He clarified, aware of just how bad a trip down memory lane could get.

  Maeve was silent for a moment before holding out her hand and using her nail to put a faint cut on it. Bleeding it just enough for her to draw some of the crimson into the air. Possibly the same thing for her his cigarette was for him.

  “I wasn’t born a vampire.” She told him, her gaze distant as she looked ahead, not really seeing the blood dancing between her fingers. “I was once human. An actor in an age when… women were not allowed on the stage. The king… I thought him some low ranking noble, higher in station than myself but… nowhere near as powerful as he was. He knew I was a woman, and applauded my acting and offered to make me his personal entertainer.”

  Maeve sighed, the dancing blood slowly began to pick up pace. “I wasn’t a fool, I knew how dangerous some nobles were to the little folk, so I turned him down. I spent weeks living in fear of him outing me, even as he promised not to. He showed up to my every performance, bringing me flowers with each. This went on for over a year, a fraction of my life a devotion flattering like nothing else I’d experienced… If only I’d known it was barely the blink of an eye to someone like him, an afternoon at most…”

  “One day I became frustrated, I’d learned to read and write so that I could share stories of my own. The head of our troupe… he was willing to bend rules for my performances but… He didn’t believe a woman knew how to write a good play, that I was only good at being a pretty rose on the stage.” The woman known as the Theater Rose spat, her moniker suddenly sounding like an insult.

  “And so I made a foolish mistake.” Maeve admitted, her confession damning herself to silence.

  “You trusted a charming stranger, who had spent a year earning your trust.” He finished for her.

  “Aye.” The actor nodded. “Even when I got to the Court he didn’t immediately turn me, nor did I know the kind of monsters that walked those halls. Not until after my third performance… I was riding high on the applause of the crowds, and… when he made his offer… I didn’t understand…”

  Just like he hadn’t understood what would happen the first time he took a hit of Chem Smoke.

  “I didn’t realize what he’d done… Not until he brought me a gift, a feast in my honor… I was horrified when I saw what the feast was made of… But I was so thirsty I… I…” Maeve slowly bit the air, almost as reliving the moment in her memory. “It made me feel so powerful, the Crimson rushing through my veins. I felt unstoppable, like I could perform a thousand plays in a single night, and I… I forgot I was once human… I… I forgot for centuries…”

  He could still remember the first time the Chems his system, not as strong as the stuff he would’ve taken now, but back then… When he’d never taken a hit… He felt like he could burn the world and dance on its ashes.

  “I wonder… Which of us has the higher body count, the centuries old vampire or the guy who lit the flames of war upon two countries?” It was a morbid question, but he felt it fit the mood. A small confession of his own sins, to let her know she wasn’t the only monster in the room.

  Maeve gave him a wry grin. “Given my age, most likely me.”

  They were both quiet for a moment. “You need to remember this isn’t the end of your story.”

  “I know.” Maeve sighed. “That’s the problem, the book released me shortly before I did… many terrible things. Things I should not be forgiven for. And I fear if I stay here I’ll have to do those things again.”

  (Yeah…) He could see why that would be a problem, after all he wouldn’t have willingly entered that book if he knew what he’d have to do.

  “Like I said, this isn’t the end of your story. This is the beginning of a new chapter for both of us.” He told her, trying to get his words together. “We were both monsters in the past. I mean, you ate people and I burned people alive. But look at we pulled off? We got those kids away from the Carnival.” He gestured to the space around them. “We brought Ferris and the others to a safe place where they can play with each other without fear. We may not be the best people around sure but… maybe we can write a better story than the one we lived.”

  Maeve let out a scoffing sound. “That’s a fairly hopeful idea. More hope than reason if I were to be honest.”

  “I know…” He admitted, falling back against the wall. “But… I’d rather hope for a better story, than live as a burned out husk in the one that I knew.”

  The vampire had nothing she could say to that.

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  Gregory is getting an Upgrade to [The Black Briar Librarian] Pick one. (Yes I'm being cryptic with these.)