Chapter 9 #2
“Of course not. I’m hardly going to wipe out an entire magical species just because of your diet.”
“Well,” Hashleigh said. “To be fair, you looked like you were going to kill me five minutes ago.”
Another chill chased away some of the anger that flared up in me. She was right; that goddamn intrusive thought had taken over for a second, and I’d imagined myself beating her to death with a brick. What the hell was wrong with me?
Ramen Hair Wendy cracked her knuckles. “Are we doing this? Because there’s eighty people in the waiting room out there, and no staff to serve them.
” She inhaled and smacked her lips. “I can sense that we’ve blown right past frustration.
They’re probably going to start breaking the furniture, any second. ”
“I’m not here to kill you, Wendy,” I told her.
“No?”
“No.” I straightened my shoulders, regaining control.
“I came here because I thought Connor might be coming for your spark stone, so he could get more abilities to help him manipulate people. But I underestimated him again. He already knows how to manipulate the hell out of everyone.” I started to take a deep breath through my nose, copped a huge whiff of old reheated fish, and thought better of it. “You can all probably go back to work.”
“Well,” the old man grumbled. “This is a bit anticlimactic. I thought we were here to face our doom.”
“Sorry, sir. No doom today.” I pointed at Hashleigh.
“Are you sure your spark stone is safe? I don’t know why I should have to spell this out, but if Connor finds it and devours it, you’ll lose your magic.
You’ll find it harder and harder to feed, and you’ll probably starve to death eventually.
I don’t understand how the general public are glossing over that little fact,” I grumbled.
“Connor is literally called the Devourer because he eats the source of your magic. I just close the stone with the magic still inside—intact.”
“I can answer that,” Cecil piped up, flicking ash off his cigarette.
“It takes time for the magic to fade from any supernatural race once the source is gone. When Connor devoured the spark stone from the Kingdom of the Creatives, it was five years before anyone realized they’d lost the ability to influence others with their art.
You’ve only just started closing stones, so nobody really knows if that magic will fade eventually, too.
In a lot of people’s minds, both of you are the same.
” He waved a paw, still holding a cigarette. “Only time will tell.”
“And we don’t have any time.” I clenched my fists. “Connor will take them all.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about ours.” Hashleigh grinned. “Nobody can possibly break the ward to the pocket dimension. Not even us.” Her smile faded a little.
I peered at her. “What does that mean?”
“To break the wards, you have to understand the true calling of the brethren—our purpose, if you will—here in this realm of existence. And… uh… if we’re being honest, we don’t really have one.
” Hashleigh furrowed her brow, and I caught a glimpse of her little stubby brown horns poking through her bushy hair.
“We might have had a purpose at some point. Our sacred texts all say that we’ve got one.
We’ve forgotten what it is, though. So maybe we don’t have one. ”
“That’s nonsense.” I blew out an exasperated breath. “Of course you have a purpose, Hashleigh.”
“We don’t, really. We just annoy people and eat their frustration. It’s why everyone hates us. Look,” she said, giving me a hard stare. “Are you sure you don’t want to wipe us out? Sorry to keep asking, but we were all prepared to go to our final deaths. We all did our wills and everything.”
“I’m sure.” I held my hand up. “And of course you have a purpose. Everything has a purpose. That’s like saying mosquitos don’t have a purpose.”
She hesitated, then frowned. “They don’t.”
“They do, actually. Mosquitos are an important food source for bats and frogs and fish, and they’re also pollinators.
They’re a necessary part of the ecosphere, even if they are annoying.
But you guys—” I held up my hand, pausing for a moment for emphasis.
For some reason I felt like it was important to let them know I understood them.
“To be annoying is your purpose. Frustration is a useful emotion.”
There was a long moment of silence.
“It really isn’t.” Hashleigh shrugged. “Everyone else hates it. But it’s the only thing that sustains us.”
“They might hate it, but it’s useful. No, not just useful. It’s necessary. Frustration highlights what your passions are, Hashleigh. It shows you are still alive. It teaches you how to not do things.”
The brethren all stared at me, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, as they processed my words. The silence became more loaded, charged with emotion, almost vibrating with a strange intensity.
I could almost imagine cinematic music swelling in the background, sweeping violins or something.
I liked making people feel good about themselves, so I kept going.
“Frustration is a tool to help you think of ways to do things more efficiently, and how to make things better. While I was out there”—I jabbed my thumb towards the waiting room—“I came up with several ideas to streamline your processes, but I also thought about some things I could implement in my own department. You guys being incredibly annoying pushed me to be better, to do better.”
Silence. I could have heard a pin drop.
“Oh, and one more thing. You also made me feel better about being childless, Hashleigh, because your toddler is insanely annoying. That in itself was such a gift, and I am sincerely grateful for it. Thank you.” I bowed my head to her.
The brethren gaped at me. Nobody moved. Even Cecil froze.
A strange zing chimed through the air.
“Do you understand? You guys are servants of the Middle Realm, remember? You’re not Lower World chaos monsters. You have a purpose. You’re here in this human realm to help everyone else see what is really important.”
A golden glow sparked from a tiny pinprick of light, growing brighter and brighter in front of me.
I shaded my eyes. “What the hell?”
“Incoming!” Cecil barked.
Hashleigh let out a shout. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
A dark-amber crystal appeared in mid-air, right in front of my face. About the size of an apple, the stone was round-ish—not spherical enough to be a globe, not elongated enough to be oval. Every facet cut into it was, annoyingly enough, a different size.
But it was still beautiful.
I reached out and plucked it out of mid-air. “Is this…?”
“That’s our spark stone,” Hashleigh breathed out, eyes glowing. “With that little speech, you just broke the wards that have been in place for thousands and thousands of years.”
“Oh.”
The stone tingled underneath my fingertips, an annoying kind of prickle rather than a buzz. That’s right, the stone said to me. I have a purpose. I’m here to remind you that you can do better.
“Sorry about that, Hashleigh.” I glanced over at her.
Tears poured down her cheeks. “You did it,” she whispered. “I can’t believe you just did that. And it wasn’t even hard for you.”
“Of course it wasn’t hard,” I said. “I honestly meant every word. Everything in this universe has a purpose. Everything has a reason for being, even if it’s sometimes hard to understand. You guys are important in this world, just like everyone else.”
There was a long, emotional silence. The teen grunted. “I feel kinda bad now. My money was on Prince Connor.”
“Me, too,” Ramen Hair Wendy piped up. “We all thought you were just some old nutty lady with too much magic who knew nothing about any other species. I never dreamed you’d be able to understand us like this.”
“Ah, it’s not so hard,” I said, passing the brethren spark stone from one hand to the other to stop it from prickling me.
“I’ve got a human guy in my call center team who likes to troll people on social media for fun.
Yeah, he makes people mad, but he also makes some of them so mad that they log off.
That’s good for everyone.” I frowned. “Now that I think about it, I should probably check him for stubby little horns.”
“You understand us.” Hashleigh wiped her cheeks; they were wet with tears. “We’ve been trying to remember our purpose for generations, and you just rattled it out like you believed it. Oh, ain’t that just the tits.”
Wendy leaned closer to her, her eyes glowing, inhaling deeply.
“Get off,” Hashleigh elbowed her. “No cannibalism.”
I cradled the crystal in my hands, feeling it zap me every now and then. “Do you want me to close it for you? I promise your magic will be safe.”
Hashleigh nodded, her chin wobbling uncontrollably. “Yes, please,” she whispered.
I held the spark stone and concentrated. You know what you’ve got to do. Keep your magic but hide it carefully inside. Protect yourself. You’re an important piece of the puzzle that makes up the big picture of this whole World.
The stone zapped me—a couple of quick electric shocks—then, slowly, the bright amber glow dimmed, growing darker and darker, until the stone was still.
When my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw that the brethren were on their knees, their heads bowed. “Our Queen,” they chanted. “Our Queen.”