Chapter 47. Blasphemy

  The night was theirs, two more hooded figures going about their unseemly business in the shadows of the Pit, where the darkness only grew deeper.

  “All I know is where to go and what to say,” said Monty. “I don’t know what we’ll find there. I was instructed to bring someone ‘exceptional,’ and that if my companion was found lacking, there would be no second chance.”

  “So you really think I’m exceptional?” asked Jeremiah.

  “I’m betting my life on it,” said Monty. “You have provided the Stonefists a remarkable service. I hope that what we are doing tonight will go a small ways towards repaying you.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Jeremiah. “Will you be able to use those deeds and stuff?”

  “Those ‘deeds and stuff’ are with the lawyers now. They belong to the Stonefists. Now, any Stonefist who wants it has land to work for honest pay. Not all will take that option, of course, but enough will.”

  Monty stopped short, halting Jeremiah with a hand on his shoulder. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and carefully considering his words. Jeremiah gave him the time. “Look. The Stonefists are the only family I’ve ever known. Raising them up, giving any of them a chance for a better life—that’s everything I’ve been working for. And then I find you, and you hand it to me on a plate. I might have thought I’d begrudge you for making it look so easy, but I don’t. I thank you, Jay, with every ounce of gratitude I can muster.”

  The outpouring of appreciation took Jeremiah by surprise. “You’re welcome. I’m glad it’ll go towards the cell members, they’ll appreciate it more than me.”

  “I don’t fault you for not grasping the whole of it. The Stonefists now have something to offer no one else can. We’ll attract and retain the best talent, and the only way any other gang can compete is to offer something similar. I welcome them to do it.”

  Monty led them to a nondescript decrepit shack, of which there were thousands in the Pit. It sat dark, like all the others, seemingly abandoned, like all the others.

  But something about the shack was off. Looking at it bothered Jeremiah, in a way he couldn’t describe. The sloppy angles, an architectural staple in the Pit, seemed intentional, like they existed to offend the sensible eye. It looked like something Jeremiah would see in a nightmare, plucked out and transplanted into the real world.

  “I’ve cased this place more than once,” said Monty, squinting at the face of the shack. “I can’t make sense of it. It’s hard to remember, somehow.”

  “You feel it too, then?” Jeremiah shivered. “It’s like it doesn’t belong here.” He realized he’d never come to this part of the Pit before. Even now, he felt an urge to turn and flee, call the whole thing off.

  “There’s another thing, too,” said Monty. He pointed at the ground. “What do you see?”

  Jeremiah looked, frowning at the bare ground. There wasn’t anything to see where Monty had pointed. Then he realized. “There’s no rats here. Anywhere.”

  Monty nodded. “I’ve never seen a living thing come here voluntarily. Once again, are you sure you want to do this?”

  No, Jeremiah wanted to say. No, and you’re too good a man to be wrapped up in all this. Instead he said, “I’m sure. Let’s do it.”

  “Time to get this over with, then,” Monty said.

  Stepping over the threshold of the shack turned the air in their lungs rancid, as though something inside them had rotted. The walls were pocked and scaling, and the normally packed earthen floor was strangely damp and crusty. Jeremiah drew his dagger in anticipation of danger. Monty balled up his gargantuan fists.

  A stair led them downward, toward the faint glow of a lantern. Jeremiah did not expect light to improve the situation much. The deeper they went the more the building began to feel hostile, like the very beams of wood were infused with malice.

  Once as a child, Jeremiah caught a baby rabbit, upturned by the neighbor’s dog. He still remembered how the rabbit’s heart had felt against his palm, rapid and light, as though ready to take flight at any moment. His heart now hammered the same tattoo against his ribs as they descended deeper and deeper.

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  Finally they found the source of the glow—a small oil lamp sat beside an immense bloated man, grotesquely swollen and nude. The man’s skin was mottled and split with decay, his eyes were glassy, and his mouth contorted into a bloody harlequin grin.

  Jeremiah knew the man was dead, so he nearly jumped out of his skin when the corpse spoke. “You’ve come to feast!” The head jerked and twisted as it spoke.

  “Steady,” Monty murmured to Jeremiah. “I’ve come and brought an exceptional specimen, as is required.”

  At first there was nothing, but then the corpse stirred. Something in the swollen gut twisted and writhed against the skin. Then a split appeared, ragged and puckered, running from the corpse’s belly button down to its crotch and beyond. The corpse’s gut surged, and a man’s head pushed through the breach. The man was slick with congealing blood, and began wailing like an infant as he forced his way from the body. He was nude as well, a full grown adult, and he deposited himself to the dirty floor in a festering pool.

  Jeremiah’s heart was pounding in his chest from the horror. “Gods curse this place,” whispered Monty, backing away from the ghastly sight.

  The man, Jeremiah could see now an elf, ceased his childish wailing and placed a thumb in his mouth before standing up before them.

  “Name yourselves,” he gurgled around his thumb.

  “I am Monty, leader of The Pit Crew.”

  “I am Jay, of Shabad.”

  “I am Nascent,” said the elf, his voice was a high falsetto. “We shall start with the dwarf. Boy, make yourself comfortable in the next room, the amenities are at your disposal. No peeking.”

  Jeremiah looked to Monty for confirmation. He was ready to fill this building with poison gas at a moment’s notice.

  “It’s alright, go,” said Monty.

  Jeremiah left the room through a door indicated by Nascent. The next room was no different than the others, save for a figure bound on the floor. It was a humanoid shape, wrapped so tightly in black leather its gender or race couldn’t be determined. Its arms were bound behind its back, and its knees against its chest. The face was covered, and Jeremiah had no idea how it could breathe.

  In front of the restrained form was an unrolled pack of butcher’s tools. These were the amenities. Jeremiah grabbed a delicate looking filet knife and carefully sliced at the leather surrounding the forms face.

  “Stay calm, I'll get you out of here. I can-”

  “Cut me!” The figure shouted. Jeremiah scrambled back in surprise as the bound form wriggled in excitement, only it's mouth freed from the bindings. “Cut me! Use me! Butcher me how you want! Ahahaha, I'm your little calf! Who wants my delicacies?”

  The figure's tongue slid out of its mouth and flopped about like the feeler of a probing insect.

  Jeremiah felt his grip on calm sanity slipping, this was all too much. He covered his ears to the ramblings of the bound figure that continued to writhe as much as it could.

  “Do I free this thing?” Thought Jeremiah, “does it want to be freed? Does it know any better? What is this place? What's happening?”

  He jumped at a tap on his shoulder. Monty was standing over him, scowling at the amenities. “You’re up. Keep it together,” said Monty.

  The only thing that stopped Jeremiah from running out of the room was the knowledge he’d be running into one just as bad.

  “It’s okay to be scared,” said Allison, “it’s not okay to lose yourself in fear.”

  Jeremiah closed his eyes and stood up, slowly and calmly. He had a job to do.

  “Come in, seeker of freedom,” said Nascent.

  Jeremiah found Nascent drinking from his water bowl, tipping it back over his face in a clumsy soppy manner. The biological muck that washed off of his face and neck revealed pruning and pale skin. Nascent had been inside that corpse for a long time.

  “How did you find me?” Nascent asked directly.

  “I followed Monty,” said Jeremiah. He didn’t want to give out even a modicum of information more than was asked.

  “Yes, yes, quite the boring dwarf. Do you know why he brought you, Jay of Shabad?”

  “He said he needed someone exceptional,” said Jeremiah, his tone flat and business-like.

  Nascent put his thumb back into his mouth and toddled toward Jeremiah. It was an intentional mockery of walking, unsteady and with rapid tiny steps.

  Suddenly Nascent toppled forward. Jeremiah instinctively caught him, but shoved him away almost as fast. The brief contact had left a mucus-like film on Jeremiah’s robes.

  “Oops, I fall down!” said Nascent. He gigged and cooed at his own antics.

  “Touch me again and I’ll kill you,” said Jeremiah. Truthfully, he would just run, but he didn’t want to be this thing’s source of fun.

  Nascent popped the thumb out of his mouth and straightened, disappointed in not finding a receptive partner. “What makes you deserving of true freedom? Why were you chosen as exceptional?” asked Nascent.

  “I’m a mage,” said Jeremiah, “an enchanter, to be specific.”

  “Oooh, that is special,” said Nascent. He began crawling up the deflated torso of the corpse. “We would be pleased to have you, yes we would. But all have to prove their sincerity.” Nascent reached up and pried open the mouth of the dead man. Something was glittering in the back of his throat. Nascent reached in and pulled out a long golden shiv. It looked like a gigantic sewing needle, as big as a dagger.

  “You’re not going to ask me why I want to join? Or tell me about what it is you do?" This was moving too fast. He didn’t want to know what a giant sewing needle was going to be used for.

  “It matters not,” said Nascent, “your desire to join is the only thing that matters. Your desire to taste freedom. If you sought to join, only because you wanted to destroy us all, you would be welcome.”

  “Fancy that,” thought Jeremiah. No reason to affirm or deny anything.

  Nascent held out the needle toward Jeremiah. At first Jeremiah was afraid he was supposed to pierce himself with it, or let Nascent do it. But it was being offered, and Jeremiah took it.

  The needle was heavy, solid steel with a gold plating, and incredibly pointy.

  “You must make us an offering,” said Nascent, “only the truly exceptional may enter. All must come to us as a pair, but only one is ever admitted. You have until sunrise, no lollygagging, you must be sure.”

  Nascent curled up on the chest of the corpse, and took one of its distended breasts into his mouth. Jeremiah tried not to vomit as Nascent’s throat worked noisily, and something went down his throat.

  “You…want me to kill Monty?” asked Jeremiah.

  “I want for nothing,” said Nascent, popping his mouth off the corpse. “Simply bring me his head by morning. With his heart stuffed into his mouth if you please. Now, unless you’d like to join me…” Nascent hefted the other breast, shaking it toward Jeremiah.

  Jeremiah gagged and spun out of the room, stowing the needle blade beneath his belt. He almost ran into Monty who was leaving the waiting room.

  “We done here?” asked Monty.

  Jeremiah nodded. Over Monty’s shoulder he could see the bound figure was still now, clearly dead. The knives had not been disturbed.