Derek Landy - American Monsters

She was halfway there when she stopped, hauled Axton back a few steps, then let him drop. She wandered over to where Milo Sebastian was tied to a large display table.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” said Milo. Like the rest of him, his dark hair, shot through with grey, was wet. That, combined with the stubble on his square jaw, made him look like a mature aftershave model who’d just emerged from the pool.

“Sorry about the sprinklers,” Amber said.

“That was you?”

“Kinda.”

“And all that singing and screeching?”

“I got them drunk,” she told him. “The bogles. Got them drunk and let them kill each other. Vicious little bastards.”

Milo grunted. “Yeah. Axton?”

She turned one of her fingers into a claw, and cut the ropes. “He’s over there. He was studying them, can you believe it? I get the feeling he knew way too much about their mating habits. Do you know they lay eggs?”

“I do,” said Milo, standing and wiping the slime off his chest. “I do know that.”

“They laid eggs on you, didn’t they?”

“Yeah,” said Milo. “You?”

“Nope,” she said. “They didn’t. They tried, but I got free.”

“You’re lucky. It was … disgusting.”

“I can only imagine,” said Amber. “The clothes section is behind me. You can get yourself a dry shirt. Maybe one that isn’t ripped. I’m going to deliver Axton.”

Milo nodded. “Meet you back at the car,” he said, and walked away.

She dragged Axton out into the parking lot, heard the sirens approaching. The Kingston Valley Fire Department was not the fastest to respond to possible emergencies, it had to be said. Amber dumped Axton behind a wall and used her claw to open a cut on her palm. Blood flowed freely and she turned on the spot, forming a circle of blood around both Axton and herself. When the circle was complete, the blood caught fire, and they weren’t in California anymore.

THEY WERE IN A castle with high stone walls that vanished into the darkness overhead, walls that were decorated with tapestries and punctured by stained glass. A cold wind blew through the castle, and carried with it the screams and sobbing of the damned. Amber threw Axton from the circle of fire, and he woke as he landed.

It took him a moment to realise where he was, and then he spun, eyes wide.

“No,” he said. “Please.”

Footsteps approached, from one of the five arched doorways ahead of them. Axton tried to scramble back into the circle, but Amber stepped out, pushing him away, as Bigmouth led Fool into the chamber.

The meat beneath Bigmouth’s peeled-back skin glistened like a freshly made wound, and blood still trickled from the hooks that held those layers of skin in place. His lower jaw, reattached to his skull with thread and wire, swung with every step he took. Behind him came Fool, a thing without gender dressed in a patchwork robe, blinded by the lengths of glass that still pierced its closed eyes. Its bald head was covered in ash and its mouth was smeared with lipstick. It bared its glass-shard teeth as it sniffed the air.

“Amber Lamont,” it said. “And … Ooooooh. Axton, Axton, Paul Axton. I remember you, Paul Axton. You tried to cheat my Master. You tried to run.”

“It was a misunderstanding,” Axton said. “I swear that’s all this is, a simple misunderstanding.”

“Then why run?”

“I panicked. I got scared. There’s really no need to—”

Amber smacked him to shut him up. “I need to see Astaroth,” she said. “Just a word. That’s all I want.”

Fool frowned. “Pertaining to what matter?”

“Pertaining to me, Fool.”

“I will tell Lord Astaroth you are here,” said Fool, and tugged on Bigmouth’s chain. Bigmouth scrambled ahead and Fool followed, disappearing through a wide crack in the wall. Amber didn’t know the shortcuts the way Fool did – she barely knew how to take the long way round – so she shoved Axton ahead of her and started walking.

When they got to the giant doors, Fool and Bigmouth were waiting for them.

“Lord Astaroth is ready to receive you,” said Fool.

The doors swung open, and Amber dragged Axton into a large hall with mirrored walls, in the centre of which were ten steps that led up to the throne of the Shining Demon. And there he sat, Astaroth, gazing down at them, orange light swirling like lava beneath his skin.

Axton dropped to his knees. “My Lord Astaroth. Forgive my stupidity.”

Astaroth ignored him, looked instead to Amber. “You grow impatient, it seems.”

Her eyes flickered to Fool, who kept its head down. “Not impatient, Lord Astaroth, just … eager. You sent me to track down my parents, but every time I get close I have to go after people like this.”

“And that upsets you?”

“I just … I feel like if I could focus on my parents, I’d be able to get them to you a lot quicker.”

“And you want your vengeance, naturally.”

She saw no point in lying. “Yes,” she said.

“You are impatient,” said Astaroth, “yet, to me, not even a moment has passed since your parents were born. You place far too much importance on the passage of time, as if time has any bearing on this place, or those who dwell here. Your parents will not escape me. That is all you need to know.”

Amber bowed. “Yes, Lord.”

“There is something else you wish to say.”

She looked up. “My Lord?”

“Speak, girl.”

A hesitation. “I’ve been carrying out my duties, my Lord, but on occasion I’ve had to call on the extra strength you provided in order to do so.”

“You have been consuming the vials of my blood.”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“Two, my Lord.”

“And you want more.”

“No, my Lord, actually, I … I don’t. Your blood makes me stronger and it’s … intoxicating, but I’ve been, uh, I’ve been seeing things. And hearing things. Hallucinations. I was—”

“You worry that you may be losing your mind,” said Astaroth.

“Yes, my Lord.”

Astaroth smiled. “You are my representative. As such, you must be open to different ways of thinking, to new ways of processing information. My blood is helping to expand that capacity.”

“So I’m not going crazy?”

“Oh no, you most definitely are. But, as long as you stay useful to me, you will remain alive.”

“But … but Lord Astaroth …”

“Begone, little creature,” said the Shining Demon, turning to Axton. “I have other matters to attend to.”

Amber hesitated, but left before Axton started screaming. She didn’t like the screaming.

AMBER RETURNED TO THE wall behind Walmart, and the circle of fire around her died and she stayed where she was, her hands curled into fists. Bright light raked the air in rhythmic sweeps, announcing the presence of the Kingston Valley Fire Department. Right about now, perhaps, they were discovering the eyeless remains of the security guard inside, or maybe they were gazing in puzzlement at the dozens of little furry bodies lying in pools of water and whiskey.

Amber left them to it. She didn’t know what happened when the civilian world encountered the horrors of the Demon Road. She didn’t know who they called or what they did. She didn’t care.

She hopped the wall, made for the Dodge Charger parked by the kerb. The trunk popped as she neared and she reverted. Gone was the six-foot, red-skinned goddess, and here was her shorter counterpart, the girl with her brown hair in tangles and her belly stretching her tank top. Her face lost the high cheekbones and the perfect nose and the plump lips as it settled into its normal, less beautiful shape. Months ago, this reversion would have depressed her, but these days there was someone out there, a girl with tattoo sleeves and a smile as wicked as her sense of humour, who found this version of Amber quite beautiful indeed.