Chapter 76: Morkel the Spiteful (Patreon)

“You want to do what?” Carol demanded.

“I want to capture and interrogate a Morkel.” Tom repeated.

“Oh, I’m sorry.I thought you said you wanted to carve up your own leg, then shit in the wound, because that’s pretty much what you just said.” Carol said, crossing her arms.

“What, are you afraid of the Morkels?” Tom asked, keeping a straight face as he impugned her bravery, one of the surest ways to get her to do something.

“I know what you’re doing,” She said, waggling a finger under his nose. “And it’s fucking working, goddamnit.”

Carol heaved a long breath. “Alright, but a Morkel’s power is entirely geared toward fucking up other people. They can’t fly or teleport, bake clay with fire, see the future, or bless crops, but they can make you kill and eat your family.

“If we’re going to do this,” Carol continued, oncrossing her arms. “We’re gonna do it my way, and treat them like a goddamn SCP.”

“How do you know about SCP’s? Tom asked.

“Bitch, I can use the internet as well as the next demon.”

“We’ll want to get a male Morkel,” Carol said, rubbing her chin.

“Why a male?”

“They mostly focus on diseases and mysterious wounds opening on the body, wasting sicknesses. You know, easy stuff.”

“How is that easy stuff?” Tom demanded.

“Because the Morkel women like to get inside your head!” Carol said, tapping Tom’s skull for emphasis. “And despite what you might think, the brain is a pretty fuckin’ soft tissue. Once they’re in your head, you’re as fucked as a bitch in a puppy mill.”

Thanks for that image. As usual, the Outsider had a way with words.

Tom thought back to the cursemark he’d seen in his dream. Obviously that was mind fuckery.

“We’re gonna want a woman, then.”

“What did I justsay?” Carol asked emphatically.

“Get me a Morkel woman,” Tom said. “I’ve got questions.”

“You’re not thinking with your dick are you?” Carol asked, glancing down at his crotch then back up. “Cuz if so I can cut it off for you.”

“No. The problem looks like it was caused by a Morkel woman. I want to know how we can fix it. A morkel woman will have better insight.”

“What problem?”

“The Raze problem,” Tom said.

“I mean, he can’t be that much of a problem. Couldn’t even kill you right and put you out of my misery,” Carol grumbled.

“I’m distinctly under the impression he wasn’t trying very hard for some reason,” Tom said, arms crossed.

“Really? Because teleporting you into space seems –“

“He killed EVERYONE!” Tom said, his voice rising. “Not just a handful of people, everyone!” Tom’ heartbeat accelerated as he recalled the devastated city, torn to shreds by planes of space. “If that cursemark fails, everyone dies, including me and Ella, and EVERYONE ELSE, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing anyone could do about it. He tore through the five great families like fucking tissue paper, so stop your bitching and get me a goddamn Morkel woman!”

Carol studied his expression for a moment.

“Including Ella?” Carol asked, her expression darkening.

“She’s an En’hol in his mind,” Tom said. The man took his decision to purge the world of Alia very seriously.

“Well, time to kill this fool,” Carol said, hefting her hammer over her shoulders.

“How do you intend to do that?” Tom asked.

“….shit.”

Tom raised an inquisitive brow.

Carol sighed. “I’ll go get a Morkel woman. But handle her like you would a fuckin’ nuclear reactor with rabies. I’m serious.”

“Your concern has been noted.”

“Better be,” Carol muttered as she sauntered out.

***DREAM***

The Morkel was young, with long black hair, pale skin and cherry-red lips, a lot like the Betty page pinups Grampa had that Gramma would take down and hide whenever she spotted. Except the gold eyes. she resembled Lily superficially, although her features were a bit more square and austere.

“Aren’t you brave, talking to me in person?” Aisha Morkel asked, kicking her foot that was crossed over her other leg, causing a faint jingle as the chains rattled. “I likebrave men.”

She looked waytoo relaxed for someone who’d been kidnapped in the middle of the night.

“Less brave than you might think,” Tom said with a shrug. It was a dream, after all. Tom wasn’t planning on talking to her directly at all. If even half the rumors about the Morkel were true, they were never going to meet in person. “Food?” he slid the salad across the table to her, along with a wooden fork.

“So generous.”

The faint jingling stopped as she reached out and took the fork thoughtfully before she began to daintily pick at the salad.

“So,” she said around some greens, “Whaddya wanna know? I assume this isn’t a social kidnapping?”

“Raze Kinzena is affected by a Morkel curse.”

Her brows rose precipitously, a leaf falling off her fork.

“And you’re telling me this because…”

“I want to either revert it, or restore it,” Tom said. “Allowing it to break in its current state leads to a lot of people dying. Myself included.”

“So you’ve got a lot of personal stake in this, huh?” She asked with a grin, stabbing a few more leaves as she leaned forward with a predatory smile.

Tom sighed, knowing he’d made a misstep. He’d probably have to try again tomorrow, but he might as well see what kind of headway he could make tonight.

“You could say that. It’s a curse bound to what looks like a piece cut off an article of women’s clothing. It uses memories as fuel to suppress memories and control his actions.”

“Wow,” she said, nodding. “That sounds like my great-aunt Lenore’s work.”

“So the Raze is Hollow, huh? That’s a scary thought. I can’t believe Vendrith was such a nitwit.”

“Any way to fix him?” Tom asked.

“You said the cursemark is degraded?”

“Yeah.”

“Then no,” Aisha said, stabbing clumps of leaves with her fork. “It might have been possible to disenchant the cloth and return his memories before it began to degrade, but once that set in, disenchanting it would result in Raze being a madman instead of a Hollow, which would probably be worse.”

“The best thing you can do for yourself, is use that cursemark to get the slippery bastard to hold still for a moment, and cut his head off. That might kill him.”

“You’re sure?”

“Pretty damn sure. Replacing degraded memories results in frothing maniacs,” Aisha said, scraping the last of her salad, save for the carrots. She then pushed the plate across the table back to Tom.

“I don’t like carrots,” she said by way of explanation, wiping the vinegar dressing off her lips.

Tom shrugged and picked up one of the carrots. I like carrots just fine.

CRUNCH!

“How would I go about disenchanting the cursemark?” Tom asked around the carrot, an idea percolating in his mind.

“Hmmm.” She leaned back in her seat. “Before that, we’re going to discuss your side of the bargain. I want concrete assurances that I’ll be returned to my family unharmed, and with a sizeable payment for my time and expertise. The Great houses have a tendency to kill Morkel co-conspirators once they’ve served their purpose.”

“That’s…really!?”Tom asked.

She cocked her head, looking Tom up and down.

“Awfully naïve for your age, aren’t you?”

“It’s the sunburn, makes me look older.” Tom said, waving it off as he took another carrot off the plate.

CRUNCH!

“What are you, fifteen?” she asked, cocking her head.

Tom nearly choked on the carrot.

“Twenty.” His birthday had probably gone by already. Tom had no way of telling without access to a calendar the last six months. “Why would you think a fifteen year-old would know about – nevermind. What assurances do you want?”

“One of the most basic things a Morkel learns to do when they’re young is to enforce a man’s word. I want your word that when this conversation is over, you will release me, and pay me…let’s say a quarter of my weight in gold.”

“I give you my word that I’ll return you to your family unharmed, if I get the information I’m looking for.” Tom said.

“Now that’s not good enough,” Aisha said, leaning back in her seat. “I want a more concrete end-point. That’s far too vague.”

“’When this conversation is over’ is a little too much in your favor, isn’t it?” Tom asked. “You can end the conversation whenever you want.”

She gave a faint smile.

“You’re not totally stupid, are you? Just ignorant. Very strange.”

Tom raised a questioning brow as he snagged another carrot off the plate.

CRUNCH.

“How so?”

“You just…don’t have certain prejudices against Morkels that are taught to children from the moment they can speak. Honestly it’s delightfully refreshing to speak to someone who isn’t terrified of me. Very attractive. You wouldn’t happen to do conjugal kidnappings, would you? In your free time?”

“Uhuh,” Tom grunted. “Sure. Back to the terms of letting you go. I’m not paying you gold. Returning you safe and sound is as much consideration as I’ll give you. We are enemies.”

“That’s not going to work for me. A cursemonger’s expertise comes at a cost. If you can’t pay, I’ll have to make you pay. You can’t just steal what you want from me and walk away, En’hol. Please don’t make me make you pay. Your mind is such an immaculate porcelain doll.”

“I think you’re maybe…overestimating your influence here.” Tom said, grabbing another carrot.

CRUNCH.

“Really?” Aisha asked, kicking her feet idly. “How are your carrots?”

“Fine? They’re carrots,” Tom said, glancing down at the plate.

He frowned.

The number of carrots on the plate hadn’t diminished.

There were only five or so.

Tom idly itched his hand before glancing down at it.

The fingers of his right hand ended in bloody stubs of bone fragments and spurting blood.

Thump.

THUMP.

THUMP.

In shock, Tom reached a shaking left hand into his mouth and retrieved a masticated mush of raw flesh and bone.

Tom.

Tom!

TOM!

“TOM STOP!”

***AWAKE***

“Tom, stop!” Nema’s voice echoed through Tom’s mind as he woke up, thrashing in her grip. Nema had his right hand, Carol his left, holding his brutalized hands away from his face.

His right index finger had it the worst. The bone itself was shattered, and the entire thing was being tenuously held to his body by tough threads of skin, as spurts of blood spattered on the bedsheets, floor and wall.

“Hold his arms, I’ll get the crypt!” Nema said, handing Tom’s wrist to Carol.

The taste of his own blood caused Tom to retch and cough, spitting out the coppery tang.

“You back with us?” Carol asked, watching him with more than a little schadenfreude mixed with a healthy dose of ‘I told you so.’

“I’m tempted to let you lose the finger,” Carol whispered in English. “If only to give you something to remember your lesson.”

“I got a finger for you,” Tom muttered, flipping her the bird with his mostly undamaged left hand.

Carol gave an inhuman grin and mimed a biting motion toward the offending finger with her razor-sharp teeth.

Click!

Tom didn’t flinch, causing Carol to pout as Nema rushed up with the healing crypt. A moment later, the minty chill of healing spread through his body, and his fingers were whole again.

“You okay?” Nema asked, her eyes moist with suppressed tears. “You’re not gonna start…hurting yourself again, are you?”

“Nope,” Tom said, flexing his fingers. “Bring me my gun.”

“That doesn’t sound like a…great idea,” Nema said hesitantly.

“Here you go!” Carol said with a grin, handing Tom the heavy revolver.

“I’ll be right back,” Tom said, checking that the pistol was loaded as he marched out the door.

“I gotta see how this plays out,” Carol said with a grin, trotting after him.

Tom walked down to the prison cell and hauled the door open.

Aisha Morkel sat there, legs crossed, leaning back in her chair, just as she had been the first time he arrived.

She glanced up to his face, her eyes widening slightly in recognition.

“Evening.’” Tom said.

“Aren’t you brave, talking to me in person?” Aisha Morkel asked, kicking her foot that was crossed over her other leg, causing a faint jingle as the chains rattled. “I likebrave men.”

“Less brave than you might think,” Tom said with a shrug before he put a bullet through her brain.