When Humans Cry Monster (Part 3)

Part III: The Monster

         Ilona stared in helpless horror as they tore the mayor to pieces.

         Instantly she backed away from the window, drawing the dusted curtains behind her. She felt both her hands spring up to her lips, covering the perfect 'O' that was her mouth. It was all she could do to restrain the urge to cry out in shock and in fear.

         She knew she had heard the screams too late. Having been preoccupied with the little girl's safety, she had retreated to the innermost depths of the house to stay with the child. There, the angry cries of the crowd had not reached her. If she had known what was happening any earlier, she would have rushed to the mayor's rescue.

         Yet she still could not find a way to forgive herself for the fate she had consigned him to. Too late or no, she should have done something to save him! Why had she simply stood there and watched?

         She ran back into the depths of the huge house, wiping away the angry tears that formed in her eyes. The townsfolk would be coming for them next, she knew. Conscience and reason had left them. They were no longer free, no longer rational human beings. Their individual minds and consciousness had coalesced to form one thinking, breathing entity that lived only to hate and to spread destruction.

         They had succumbed to the frenzy.

         The girl was staring up at her as she came quickly towards her. "Please," Ilona pleaded, kneeling down in front of her so that her eyes were on level with the girl's, "we have to hurry. We have to leave here. They are coming for us!"

         The girl stared back, eyes black, placid. The eyes offered her no response.

         "Please!" Ilona was desperate.

         Nothing.

         Exasperated, she grabbed the other's arm and pulled her up to her feet, no longer concerned with what the girl child might or would do if provoked. But the girl did not stir, evinced no sign of anger or surprise or retaliation. The eyes remained unmoving, forever fixed on her.

         She pulled at the girl then, bringing her deeper and deeper into the blackness of the house. They reached the back of the house where an ancient kitchen lay crumbling into dust. From tiny slits between wooden boards that barred the once-windows, faint light sliced lance-like through the black.

         Ilona went to one of these slits and peered outside. Two smaller houses, doors and windows closed up, and in similar states of disrepair as their current hiding place stood shoulder to shoulder at the other side of the street. There was no sign of life anywhere. The narrow lane that divided the larger house from the two smaller ones was empty.

         She stared at the wooden boards that blocked the windows, assessing the situation. She would have to be quick with this, if they were to escape the mob. The magical light of the Biting Blade flared as the bolo leapt into her hands. Then she stabbed at the boards, splinters of wood flying into the black as they exploded under the attack of the enchanted weapon.

         The boards ruined, the windows opened once more, Ilona peered hastily outside. She looked down the street in both directions for any sign of the approaching rabble. The street was quiet. Together Ilona and the girl climbed up and over the sill and into the open. "Quickly!" she hissed, taking the girl by the arm. She took the road to the right, half crouching, half running.

         They had reached a juncture in the road when Ilona stopped short. To the right, in the street that led all the way back to the front of the house, there were voices. She could see the faint trickles of torch light licking at the edges of the shadows. The mob!

         Abruptly she turned about, bringing the girl with her. They began to run in the opposite direction, anxious to get clear from the approaching riot behind them. Then a scream uttered from far back, and Ilona started about in fear.

         They had been found!

         They ran faster now, Ilona in the lead, the girl at her side. Ilona pulled at the other, trying in vain to ignore the cries for blood that ensued from behind. If they could reach the other juncture at the other side of the road, and if they were quick and smart enough, they might still be able to lose them.

         But then the torch fire appeared around the bend before them. Through a cloud of swirling dust, dark, haggard figures approached. A bent, gnarled man carrying a Bible in the lead, they came in droves and in dozens, the flare of the torches bright within their hands. The looks on their faces suggested something more than bestial; the hatred and intolerance had become a virulent disease that deformed their once human features.

         Ilona wheeled around, frantic. The other half of the mob was fast approaching from behind them. She looked to the large, ancient house that stood looming like some giant insect before them, the one wherein the girl and herself had been hiding all this time before circumstances had forced them out. They could go back in there and perhaps run all the way to the front door. But there were probably others there, waiting for them.

         Turning from one direction to another, searching for that elusive chance at escape, Ilona spun around and around until she was dizzy. Finally she stopped, her body tensing in fearful anticipation. The little girl remained quiet and still at her side.

         "Ilona the Adventurer!" a voice coughed. Ilona turned to see that it was the gnarled, Bible-holding man who had spoken.

         Padre Penitente.

         Ilona shot him a cold, icy stare.

         "What have you got there with you?" the old priest mocked, eyes moving from her to the girl beside her.

         Ilona scowled at him. Suddenly she found the Biting Blade glowing within her hand again, and she pointed it threateningly at them as she moved guardedly in front of the little girl.

         There were groans of angered surprise from many in the crowd as the sword lighted up. "Devil Magic!" they cried. "Black Arts!"

         "Yes, that is right," Penitente said, "an impious servant of the devil himself." And his lips curled into a most inhuman grin. "All of us here have heard much about you, Ilona. You and your many adventures."

         "You are too young to have accomplished such great feats," another offered. "Perhaps demons have aided you in your little conquests?"

         "A demon such as the one you and the mayor have been safeguarding from us!"

         "Stop this madness!" Ilona yelled, beside herself in anger. "I serve no demons, and this one I hold in my care is no devil! She is just a little girl!"

         A roar of laughter tore itself into the gathered mob. Padre Penitente smiled his wry smile. "Give us the devil, Ilona, and we may consider sparing you."

         Ilona shook her head no.

         Padre Penintene walked up towards her, closing the distance between them. "Consider your decision carefully, child."

         Ilona stared up at him, wary. Penitente was unmoved. "Look around you," he said, gesturing behind him, at the crowd of indios. His voice had dropped to a whisper, so that only she could hear. "Are you going to let these good-for-nothing natives have you? You are of noble blood, as I am. You have a future ahead of you. Why throw away all for... for... this? Give the devil to me, and I will see to it that you will leave Santa Estasias unharmed. God is on my side, child. Do as I say!"

         Ilona's eyes narrowed slightly as she glared into his eyes, challenging him. "I would rather die than deliver the life of an innocent child into the arms of vile, murderous, hypocrites!"

         The priest sighed sadly, closing his eyes and shaking his head slowly. "Give... me.... the devil. Now."

         "No."

         "For God's sake, give me the blasted devil!"

         "No!"

         As he withdrew from her, fiery red crept up Penitente's wrinkled face, making him appear like a ghost from out of the fire. "I gave you your chances, Ilona. You didn't take them. Now you'll die along with your sorry little bitch devil."

         The mob began to encroach upon them then, a tightly knit circle of heaving bodies that inched ever the closer towards the two in the middle. Ilona staggered backwards, bracing herself. She swung around, the Biting Blade brandished before her. The mob crept onwards, heedless of her threats, undeterred even by the presence of the Magic within her bolo.

         A man poked a staff towards Ilona, but Ilona parried with her weapon and frustrated the assault. But the mob was becoming bolder, the attacks growing more vehement, and the circle was fast closing in. Ilona took a hit in the rib and she winced in pain. Yet she fought on, meaning to fight to the very end.

         Then something extraordinary happened. The monster girl, who had been so calm and indifferent, came suddenly forward, the claws for hands tensing at her sides. The crowd halted, sensing the difference. Ilona herself stopped to chance a quick look at the girl. But she found herself staring.

         The eyes, black and luminous, had convoluted into tiny slits as the brows above them furrowed in anger. The girl's lips had parted in a snarl. Then a sound ensued from the lips, faint and unheard at first, only to grow louder and more definable. She was growling, a human and a beast at the same time.

         The weapons poked at them then, until both Ilona and the girl were surrounded by a swirling mass of wood and pointed metal. Ilona fought on, parrying every blow, while beside her the girl slashed wickedly at the attackers, weapons splitting in half as they made contact with the claws. Padre Penitente, having been handed a shovel by one of the farmers, brought himself closer and closer to the girl until his reach was good enough for one, fatal blow with the weapon.

         But the girl launched herself at the old man, claws tearing. One claw caught the wood of the shovel and splintered it into a thousand pieces. Padre Penitente screamed in surprise, backing away in fear. But the girl was too fast. In one blinding instant of a second, she attacked once more.

         She ripped a hole right through the old priest's throat.

         The razor claws kept flying then, cutting, tearing, slashing, until Ilona found herself in an unexpected flurry of blood and dismembered body parts. Screams filled the air as claw made contact with flesh, screams that ended in gurgled cries of pain as blood gushed forth to choke the throat. All of a sudden Ilona found herself surrounded by death.

         And then she realized she had been given a brief preview of hell.





         What was left of the mob dispersed as the last of the girl's victims fell beneath her feet.

         Ilona stared, speechless, at the corpses piled everywhere around them. She shrank back from the terrible sight in an effort to escape from it all, but found she had nowhere to go. The dead were everywhere.

         What had she done here? She heard herself scream. So many lives. So many dreams. Shattered. Smashed. Snatched forever away from them. And for what? What had she accomplished from this... this mindless slaughter?

         She had saved a child.

         A child?

         She saw the girl then, blood-soaked from head to foot. The anger was gone, the claws relaxed, the face once again calm, indifferent. The dark eyes stared back. Unfeeling. Unruffled, despite the immensity of the crime.

         Ilona turned away, disgusted. She had saved a monster. And she had killed an entire town in the process. Forever damned she would be for this! Forever damned!

         She started suddenly away, her eyes watery. Trembling legs maneuvered recklessly through the dead bodies, the thick of blood splashing upon her soiled boots. She would escape from this place, as far away as possible from this monstrous deed, from this unforgivable sin. She would find herself a dark, dark hole where she could forever hide herself from the world. An unfit punishment for too atrocious a crime! Perhaps she would kill herself...

         Ilona stopped and looked back.

         The monster stood close behind her. Following her.

         "What do you want from me?" Ilona cried in dismay. The tears came to her eyes and she was engulfed in an overwhelming sense of self-pity. She brushed irritatingly at her eyes, meaning to drive away the pain, yet failing in the effort.

         Then she heard a sound... a whisper. Surprised, she looked more closely at the girl. Had it come from her? Ilona peered and saw that the other's lips were quivering... as if trying to say something but could not.

         "M..." the lips shook.

         Ilona stared. "W...what?" she asked, startled, bewildered.

         "M... Minette."

         Ilona glared, confused more than ever.

         "Minette," the girl repeated, quietly, the voice of a child, "My name is... Minette..."

         Ilona continued to stare at her for a long time after that, not believing, not really comprehending. Then, in a sudden surge of despair, she fell down on her knees and wept.

         Oh God, what have they done to you? she cried, her trembling fingers reaching forward to touch the other's face. She had saved this monster... this girl, from death. Now it was her responsibility as her savior to take care of her.

         "Minette," she whispered, choking back the tears as she smiled sadly at the girl. "That is a pretty name."

         The monster stared back at her, eyes as cold and lifeless as the coming darkness.