Statement: The laughing bothered me. I did it with little control, and at situations that a normal person would have balked at or shown revulsion. Those emotions of disgust were there, but lost under mirth. Is it madness, or a sign of my mind breaking? Is it magic, or a taste of what had always lain underneath? I’m scared that the answer to any of these questions may be “yes.”

There I stood, between an angry mob of raiders with rocket launchers and guns, and a small swarm of invading mini-orcs. The monsters wouldn’t last long and should serve as a distraction at best. That would hopefully last me long enough to sneak, with a bit more effort and less blind faith, into Coach Madison’s camp.

I peeled off the Hawthorn disguise. If nothing else, that would help me be recognized by Coach Madison and allow me to pretend I was not the bomber. Even if Theo tattled, I was a pale white teen and not a defined brown-skinned half-monster.

Bleating sounds of mini-orcs could be heard in the distance. The guards, all men from the sounds of it, shouted orders at each other.

I moved slowly toward the library. The barricade of vehicles and wood on the far side came into view. Trailers lay in a neat row. I cringed upon remembering the almost nonstop sound of moaning, especially in light of Little Shade’s statement that they were slaves.

My mind raced, searching for an answer. This place was a fortress filled with people who were loyal to Coach Madison. I briefly wondered why he hadn’t turned me into a slave as well. There was no time to worry about that now.

Chaos would serve me well. Setting free the slaves, if it were possible to do so, would be the best way to turn this place upside down. The stewardesses’ tip, one of many, had been to pay attention to the hints.

The best place to wait for a slaver would be near the most frequently used slaves. That’s what my intuition told me. It made no sense that a person who could enslave other people would pass on ‘free’ sex.

I paused near a building and cupped both hands over my mouth and nose. This would be disastrous. Theo and his companion were enslaved. They might be following orders or choosing to bring people in. I suspected a bit of both. There might be even more out scouting the neighborhood.

People relayed orders. A bell rang in the library, loud enough to be heard outside, likely an alarm of sorts. There was security here that hadn’t been present at my house. It was civilization. I pondered, only briefly, what removing a unifying force would do to this place. The sense of right and wrong had warped a bit.

Then the darned moaning started up again, coming from the trailer nearby. I slunk off between buildings, past the place I’d spent half a day, and up to the window of the location.

Three figures were inside, going at it hot and heavy. The man in the middle had a tattoo around his neck as well, but it was gold instead of black like the other two I’d seen. He was completely oblivious to me and balls deep in a short woman with furry feet. I glanced twice, once to confirm the guy inside might be the slave master. The second time was to double check her furry feet.

The golden tattoo had to be the right sign. Somewhere in Little Shade’s endless rambles she’d mentioned such a person. That one man held the reins over all others. The symbolism of a man in charge of others having their own slave collar, fancy gold or not, was too large to ignore.

As for his choice of bedmates, it was out of place but at the same time, made perfect sense. I mean, of course he was screwing a woman with feet that might have belonged to a rabbit or dog. There were tusked half-sized people being killed a few blocks away. There was a faerie on a table inside the nearby building. Feet were far from disturbing.

I slid along the trailer door and kept an eye out for enemies. Along the way, my hands slipped into the book for a black spell. Energy tingled all along the inside of my hand and fingertips.

“Oh yeah, Master, just like that. Your horse cock is hitting me in all the right spots.” The woman being, handled, devolved into a moan while the third companion rubbed her chest along the man’s back.

Beneath the second woman’s red hair was a black collar. It was offset by cheap white lingerie and gaunt skin. They had all that food stockpiled and weren’t eating well. Maybe sex slaves were kept too busy.

The man growled. “Lacey, you better be getting ready back there. You’re next.”

The black tattoo shimmered as a lace of gold slid through. “Of course, master, anything you say,” the second woman said.

She slid a hand between her legs and gasped. My eyes rolled and head shook slowly. The trio were completely oblivious to my approach. A herd of elephants could have been drowned out by their fake noises. I wondered why Coach Madison let this man sit in the middle of his park and realized that there could be dozens of reasons, and none of them would matter in a second. People were simply crazy.

They distracted themselves and I lifted the latch to get inside. Neither one noticed me, perhaps relying on men like Theo, who was otherwise engaged, to warn them. I lifted my knife then took a steadying breath. The man grunted disgustingly and the full-bodied woman under him kept right on smiling. The other near them fell to the side while writhing in fake or effective pleasure.

I slashed his throat and jerked him to the side. He flopped and blood spurted everywhere despite my attempt to contain his mess to one side of the bed.

Post Note: I think it helped, that I didn’t know his name. It helped that he enslaved people —though at the time it was merely a ‘gut feeling’ which told me so.

The previously pounded woman’s smile faded and turned quickly to screams. Her companion froze and tightened. Furry feet kicked wildly as blood continued to flow.

“You’re welcome,” I said to the ladies while smiling happily.

One day with all that moaning had made me downright irritable. There was no telling how bad it had been for them. This wasn’t murder, it was liberation.

They both turned to me and pulled weapons out of the trailer’s shelves. The redhead dropped a crowbar and grabbed her neck. She twitched, cried, and went limp. Her companion, the furry-footed woman, lasted a few seconds longer then stopped moving, half sprawled over the dead man.

A man charged into the trailer. I barreled him over with a body slam. A gunshot rang and the women woke and started screaming once more. Their freedom induced comas hadn’t lasted long.

Two more shots echoed after me. I ran away from the barricade wall and back toward the red housing. The women kept screaming. It sounded far more natural and more annoying than the moaning.

People scrambled out of buildings. Other trailers slammed open. I assumed they’d robbed a recreational vehicle store down the street to get this many in the parking lot.

Others might have reset, fell on the ground flopping, or whatever, as well. It could be possible that they’d collapsed at the wrong time and were quickly beaten by invading mini-orcs. There was more to the thought that was lost under the panic of “Dear God” “What have I done?” and “Please let this work.”

If the camp was loud before, now it was bedlam. People lay on the ground, unmoving. Many headed in the trailer’s direction. I ran past a dozen men with unshaven faces, mismatched clothes, and a mess of weapons.

I kept going while a dozen different failures on my part flashed through. I’d love to blame the lack of foresight on sleeplessness, being messed up, fighting monsters day in and out, having recently regrown my hand, or a dozen other whatevers. In truth, I didn’t know why I was doing half of what I had been.

Too many impulses in my head were making it hard to stay on the straight and narrow. The one thing I’d done consistently was destroy anything I perceived as an outright monster. I was simply defending myself, with a bit more proactivity than recommended.

Moral quandaries and panic occupied me during the flight. People yelled but none sounded close. My hiding spot in some bushes outside the library stayed safe long enough to count minutes. I waited for the commotion to die down but after counting to one hundred a dozen times, nothing had changed.

People still screamed. Gunshots went off. The word “Treat” filled the lulls, what few there were.

I squeezed my eyes shut. This waffling behavior of mine was driving me batty. I had to stay focused and on task. Once all this madness ended, I could crawl into a hole and sulk for a few months. One of those red painted houses would have enough liquor to kill myself a dozen times over.

The dagger sliced with disturbing ease into the wood framing of a door. I carved a square around the locks while people continued to fight in the distance. No one noticed me, or no one was around to care.

I crept slowly, intent on not being captured a second time. There were no guards here. The place was as sparse as it had been the first time I visited. Having a person who could enslave others probably made it easy. All they’d need to say was, “Don’t go into the library.” That would put me in a time crunch, because if I were enslaved and ordered not to do something, the first thing I’d do is get revenge, then go where I shouldn’t in hopes of it having prizes.

The room was nearly empty. The desk sat in place, complete with its runes and chalk patterns all over the surface. The writing was still illegible but managed to convey frantic scribbling.

“Big smiling murderer! You’re back,” Midge the Tattletale said cheerfully. “Or is that returned. Reunited? Rejoined. Yes, we are rejoined again. Well, almost.”

The small blonde faerie fluttered around with her golden chain tethered to the desk. It clinked and sounded almost as musical as she did. I stepped close and readied my blade.

Midge completely ignored the weapon.

“You’re here now, and I smell money. I tell you a secret. I sell you a secret. Sell is the better word in your limited tongue. One hundred of your bucks. One hundred from the debt card. Fair trade, worth every pint.” She bobbed her head. Each sentence was enunciated and sounded sharp. I wondered why I hadn’t noticed an accent before. Faeries didn’t come in ethnicities, did they?

Speculation: While this idea does me no good now, I’ll mark it for later. It is possible Midge was once human too—and changed with an item she purchased. How much then, of her personality and offer, was a result of the item she bought, or her original mindset? I imagine being six inches tall changes one’s perspective.

I stepped around the room carefully and checked the far door. It was closed. There were no signs of other people anywhere, but staying wary would help.

“Why do you need money?” I asked.

“That’s a big secret! I only sell small ones. Little ones. Worth every buck. But they don’t shape lives. Or lie shapes. Or is it line apes?” She paused, even stilling her wings, yet somehow stayed afloat. Midge shook her head and continued, “No, I sell pebbles in a stream. Small ones. Very tiny, like me. You’d need a lot to divert the ocean.”

I considered gouging her for more information, literally. The idea went out the window. There had to be a line at hurting people; I had to retain some shred of humanity or I’d never be able to look at myself in the mirror. I was already pushing myself to simply exist and adding in a pixie’s death, or whatever she was, would make sleeping that much harder.

Little Shade had sent me here for a reason. There were no rules, that I knew of, against misleading anyone. It was a simple enough task to use my original reason as leverage.

“What if I free you? Will you tell me what the money is for?” I asked.

“Oh yes, yes I will. And I’ll sell you small secrets too. For one hundred of your bucks.”

Midge didn’t offer a discount even with the offer of freedom. I didn’t know why but the idea bothered me. My eyes roamed the chain link again, ensuring she was really bound to the jar.

“But only small secrets,” I confirmed while smiling.

She landed on the tabletop and fidgeted.

“Yes. Small. Small, small. Pebbles.”

“Because you’re not big enough for big secrets. What happens if you get one? Do you explode?”

I was teasing her. The action confused me but didn’t stop me from speaking. Midge buttoned her lips and flared her nostrils.

“Well?”

The last time I’d been in here, three people were in the room with me. Nix, who I hadn’t seen yet. Toymaker, who was probably out there as well, and Coach Madison.

“Tell me why Madison and Nix call you Pix, but Little Shade calls you Midge.”

“That’s not how it works. Only small secrets for one hundred bucks.”

“Why not a rose?”

“Because I ate them all. All gone.”

Toymaker had implied growing roses took a lot of effort. It might have to do with smells like perfume. It might have to do with other mad faeries flying free and eating them.

“Then tell me, about me. You called me a smiling killer.”

“Money!” She held out a hand.

I frowned and pulled out the card. She touched a finger on it, light flashed. Maybe the secret would pay off, but if it didn’t there were always more mini-orcs to kill. It might be cathartic to destroy an army of the tiny scavengers.

Post Note: My hand itched at that comment, and not in a good way. It was best to ignore how close I’d come to death from a mob of monsters.

The card reflected exactly one hundred bucks less. I checked the name and title again. It still said [Runed Rogue] and my full name.

“Your words. Too small for such big ideas. They don’t know, but I know. You’re designed, built, created, shaped, molded.” She counted off on her diminutive fingers. “Crafted? No, that’s the wrong word. Forced, yes. Forced to be a smiling killer. The one. The mischievous knave. Because the Else called you a liar.”

I blinked and pondered using my blade on her. She’d barely be a splatter on the knife point. Midge, or Pix, had taken money, or debt, or whatever, earned at the risk of my life. She’d better have more to say than repeating the same nonsense as before.

“No, no! I tell you. You will kill to keep a secret. Kill to find a secret. Kill a secret. Kill the Secret King. All these. Do you have one word for those ideas in a ball?”

My head shook slowly.

“Shame. You should make one.”

She flew about, no doubt in search of more roses to devour. There were none in the room.

“That’s it?”

“That’s a lot for one moment. Maybe in another moment you’ll get more. Fare’s fair. Fair fire four. Fools want more. Clever men know when to share. But you already know that secret, right? They paid you to ask about secrets, don’t you find that odd? Then you pay me to learn them. But none of us can speak plainly. So frustrating.”

I rubbed my head, settled a hand over my mouth and nose then took deep breaths. It hadn’t been worth anything to learn that tidbit. She was right though, they had paid us to search for hidden rules to the new world, and Midge took money to hand out the keys to small mysteries. That was very strange, and having the conflict pointed out by another person was worth money.

“Now free me.” She tapped a foot against air. It made no sense, but it sounded like she was clicking against hardwood while clearly not being on any objects. Magic, I assumed.

I drove my blade into the table top and ruined the markings. Midge watched, flew around the chair to wrap her chain tightly, and pulled it straight for me to cut. I grabbed an end near her tiny leg, locked the chain in place, and wedged my blade tip into the link and twisted.

It popped apart.

Midge shivered. The sight distracted me, but not as much as being in the Hawthorn form would have. All those jittery motions on a tiny woman wearing a very light dress would have sent me into overdrive.

She was free, as far as I could tell anyway. There might be a magic bug zapper outside, but that wasn’t part of the deal with Little Shade. I turned to leave and noticed one of the walls shift.

“So, Little Dick, was it worth it?” A deep, back-twitching voice came from around the corner. “All that money for some of her gibberish? Five months and I couldn’t get anything sensible out of her. One day and you think you’ve learned something?”

Coach Madison walked out with the same short man in a tie standing right next to him. In his hands was the gun from before. Coming in here had been a mistake. Maybe Coach Madison predicted the move, or maybe Little Shade set me up.

There were too many questions to sort. I searched for signs on how they’d remained hidden, only to notice one of the walls had hinges and was part way open.

I lifted my chin and stared at the man. He’d been taller than me, once. Now, he only had more muscle and a gun. But despite his apparent strength, he hadn’t killed the hydra.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“I think you’re dangerous. Nix says you killed the hydra. Pix here called you a grinning killer. Then there’s that breach in the walls. Awfully convenient that you show up right after.”

I smiled. “And I killed your slaver.”

Coach Madison raised an eyebrow.

“The man with the golden neck tattoo.”

All my ideas of trying to skate by as “Lance” in this place were out of my mind. Honestly, it’d been a half-baked plan anyway. If I was going to be threatened at gunpoint, it made sense to make sure I deserved to be shot.

Coach Madison’s eyes went wide. “You killed him?”

“Correct. Your slaves are off their chains. Some are lying out there, easy pickings for monsters. Theo and the others might even have fallen to the mini-orcs coming for your supplies.” Coach Madison’s face turned red. I smiled, happy to get revenge for being called Little Dick over the years. “So, shoot me, or start running before they catch you.”

He lifted the gun and said, “I think I’ll—”

Before he could finish I flung my blade at his face.

Coach Madison shouted in outrage and pulled the trigger. It went wide as he reeled from the knife wound.

The bullet tore into my shoulder. I fell to the ground. Someone else was speaking but their words were lost under the sudden onslaught of fresh pain. It sounded like a very, very angry Little Shade.