Vigor Mortis

Chapter 17: Monstrous Musings

The pressure is on as we continue. Souls start getting larger and larger on average as we move further and further from the city, and it’s getting increasingly difficult to avoid large monster territories. Still getting a piggyback ride, I use Norah’s helmet as a surface to help repair my spear on the go, which she tolerates with the patience of a goddess.

More and more monsters end up resistant to Penelope’s attacks as well, to her increasing dismay. Still, the team manages to cut our way through a winding path of obstacles, making good progress before settling down for the night. I have another nap before nightfall, assuring everyone I got good rest on Norah’s shoulders and that I’ll be fine overnight. It isn’t a very long night, thankfully, so I even believe myself. You know, as long as I got a few soul-based pick-me-ups to help keep me awake.

Unfortunately, to my annoyance, some people seem to be having difficulty going to sleep. I had been afraid of something like this. I think Remus knows something is up. Will he confront me about this? Will he find out? Will I be killed? Yet while the others rest, Penelope is actually the one who got up and sat down next to me instead.

“If you’re hiding another talent,” she hisses quietly, “it would be damn helpful if the team knew about it.”

My eyes narrow. What did she notice? I need to tread carefully here. Appeal to her ego, she’ll like that.

“Is stabbing things considered a talent nowadays?” I ask, voice flat. “I’m telling you, your spell just makes it way easier to move and think.”

“Vita,” she answers, her eyes narrow. “Remus had us take apart the bodies while you were passed out. Your last five kills didn’t die from dagger wounds.”

I swallow.

“What the heck did they die from, then?”

“I don’t know,” she answers icily. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

I grimace, body sagging. What the heck do I say? “Oh yeah, you caught me, I’m actually forbidden by the church and government to exist.” I might, might be able to brush off my deathtouch as a non-animancy talent, but having more than one talent was pretty rare. People will be inclined to wonder how scout-sense links up with an apparently-non-biological-kill-vector, and I don’t doubt one or two people will come up with “soul magic.” That was too many. I didn’t want this spreading around.

“Okay, okay. You got me Pen,” I say dramatically. “The truth is, I’m so stunningly beautiful that lesser creatures faint in my presence.”

“…What.”

“It’s true,” I drawl. “The gods themselves sing praises of my infinite beauty! Not even the Mistwatcher could resist holding me in a delicate embra—”

She slaps me backhanded, hard. The crack of it echoes once in the otherwise-silent night as a welt blooms on my cheek. Well, Remus is definitely awake now.

“Do you think that you’re funny?” she hisses. “We all could have died. You nearly did die, and you’re making jokes?”

“…I guess I get to add you to the list of people that will hit me if I say something they don’t like,” I comment dryly.

Is she going to keep pushing this? Damnit, this is the worst possible time, too. If Remus had been asleep I might have been able to just kill her and make her a Revenant. She’ll at least stop being such a bitch to me all the time. An expert biomancer can probably stop herself from decomposing, right? Wouldn’t that be a fun and handy way to make her use her powers?

“Quit looking at me that way,” Penelope says, leaning back a little. “Quit… quit staring as if I’m beneath you, you little shrimp!”

I blink in surprise, mastering my expression with significant effort. Right. I should calm the fuck down. My cheek stings a bit, but that’s no reason to plot a fucking murder! What is wrong with me? She doesn’t know anything. I’m fine. I take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry for the jokes, Penelope. I’m just really not comfortable talking about this, all right?”

I try to stand up and find a different place to sit, but she grabs my wrist and holds on.

“Why?” she hisses.

I glower down at her.

“Why what? Why did you come out of nowhere, accuse me of something crazy and hit me in the face? I don’t know, Penelope. Now leave me alone! The others are trying to sleep.”

Her expression is furious, but she does let go and head back to her sleeping bag. Damnit. Damnit! I had just started getting along with her a little! Stupid fucking necromancy! It’s not like I want to keep it a secret! I just don’t want to die!

Furious with myself, with Penelope, and with the entire damn world, I settle in for a long, long night. Remus doesn’t even go back to sleep, so I can’t pull out a soul to munch on. Worse, an hour after Penelope passes out again, he gets up and sits down next to me.

He doesn’t say anything, though. He just looks up and watches the island above. I’m not in the mood for company right now, though. My thoughts race: why is he here? Why is he being silent? Is this an intimidation tactic? If it is, it’s damn well working.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, giving into the silence first.

He glances at me.

“In my experience,” he says, “most people come to the Hunter’s guild to escape something.”

I frown back. The heck?

“Yeah, well, that makes sense to me. I probably wouldn’t be here if starving to death wasn’t my alternative,” I tell him.

He smiles knowingly. Though what he knew, or what he thought he knew… I had no idea.

“I’m not so sure you wouldn’t be,” he said simply. “Most people come to the Hunter’s guild to escape, but some come to seek. Adventure, glory, passion, death. For themselves or others. They are the ones that truly excel in this business. Penelope is like that. You are too.”

I scowl.

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence I guess.”

He turns his attention back to the sky.

“I once knew a man whose talent was to make living things explode.”

“…What?” I ask, blinking with surprise.

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “They sent him to a research lab and reverse engineered it. It’s an illegal spell now. Something about gas production. Apparently the learned mages couldn’t get it past even the weakest magic resistances, but he could just do it. To anyone, whenever he wanted.”

His gaze returns to me, eyes gleaming.

“His parents were carpenters, I think. He had been trained at the craft from a young age, and he was good at it. So of course, everyone told him ‘just don’t blow anything up and become a carpenter!’ But he ignored them all and joined the Hunter’s guild instead.”

I scowl.

“What happened to him?” I ask.

Remus shakes his head.

“He served us wonderfully for ten years, then one day his team went out and didn’t come back. So it goes. But my point is… why? He wasn’t forced by a life of hunger and cruelty. Penelope certainly wasn’t. So why would they join us?”

“Because this was the only place they could use their talents,” I answer.

It’s part of who I am, Lyn had said. Remus nods.

“In his heart, and in his soul, in the very core of his being… that man was a killer, because he was born with a talent that killed. Talents want to be used. People want to grow. That is just part of what a human is. People like him, people like us… we kill monsters so we do not become monsters ourselves. For some people, the hunter’s guild is a place to do something that matters before they die. Yet for others, it is the only place they can matter at all and still be themselves.”

I stare at him. He didn’t seem aggressive at least. But there were hundreds of talents he could be talking about. Would his stance change if I told him what mine is?

“You think I’m part of that category,” I say. “That I have a talent for killing.”

He shrugs.

“I suspected there was more to you from the moment you signed up. And you have grown more from these past two days of fighting to the death than all our training sessions together. I just wanted you to know that you’re in good company, when it comes to death. The Mistwatcher makes some of us healers and some of us warriors. It is just His will.”

Damnit. ‘His will.” Didn’t that just cinch it, though? It figures that Remus is a Mistwatcher-worshipper. All his flowery language applies to everyone but me, I bet.

“I appreciate that,” I say stiffly. “I still just don’t think I’m comfortable talking about it.”

He flashed another knowing smile, which couldn’t help but piss me off a little. He probably thinks he knows, because he probably never considered natural necromancy is on the table. Mistwatcher-worshippers might want to kill me, but at least they also think I don’t exist.

“That’s all right for now. Just remember, one day you’ll be out here and something will come after your team that will push you to the limit. If you hold back when that time comes, you will die. In my opinion, it’s always better to go all-out from the start than to save your trump card for the last move. Seize the upper hand and keep the momentum. That will always be more reliable than praying for a last-second reversal.”

He gets up and returns to his bed after that, leaving me to stew. Yeah, well, maybe I can become a way better hunter if I use hordes of undead. Wouldn’t that be handy? Honestly, I’d love it! It sure must be nice having a talent people won’t kill you for! Great advice, Remus!

I should calm down. I’m probably just annoyed because I’m so exhausted. While I wait for everyone to pass out, I decide to check up on my own soul. I don’t often pay too much attention to it, but with all these other souls I’m eating I probably should keep better tabs on it. Before, it had been dark, lightning-like flashes glowing occasionally from within. It had since grown substantially, the flashes now settled into a calm light, oscillating in brightness as if breathing. It’s as though the blackness is a shell, holding the glow in despite its small cracks. It feels like… an egg.

What am I? Am I even human? My soul looks and feels nothing like anyone else’s. It’s like some alien thing hiding in a facsimile of a human soul’s shape, just a creature in a shell of a girl. Have I always been like this, and never known? Or is adding other souls to my own changing how mine develops? I suppose it doesn’t matter. I already know I’m a monster.

Eventually, Remus falls back asleep. Thank goodness. Regardless of my musings, I happily pop out one of my spare snacks and swallow, letting stress melt away along with the soul in my belly. Ah, it felt so good. I couldn’t stop now, so at least this is a fun way to end the day.

I can’t believe this job isn’t even half over.