MonsterVille

Mellie left the clinic with the antibiotics, she stepped into the cool evening night and took a deep breath. There was ozone in the air, a lingering precipitation of rain to come as well, she could taste it, smell it. A storm was coming, a big one. From the lack of the usual suspects roaming the streets she wasn’t the only one to notice it.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” a man cooed.

Mellie pivoted in her leather boots to face a man who appeared in his late thirties. He had grey blue eyes and short silver hair that had been cropped short recently. He was taller than her by nearly a foot and he looked decidedly pleased with himself that evening—which was never a good sign. He was wearing a thick musty cologne but she could still smell the faint aroma of old fish lingering about him, that oily day old smell of rotting fish. It was unpleasant, even mostly hidden.

“Brannagh,” Mellie greeted civilly with a forced smile, “it’s been too long, how are you?”

“Melanie, it warms the heart to see you again. I have been well, and yourself?”

“Peachy.” She replied. He didn’t get the sarcasm. The older monsters usually didn’t, although they usually understood the tone if not the words themselves when they were being insulted. The older monsters were very good at recognising any perceived insults, even if it hadn’t been intentional. Given Brannagh’s slimy smile he was in a good mood which didn’t bode well for whatever poor soul had put him in such a mood, the things required to make him smile would make most monsters cry.

“I don’t want to be rude,” Mellie said with a carefully measured tone, “but it’s going to storm soon and I don’t have your appreciation for that turn of weather.” Brannagh inclined his head graciously.

“Then of course we shall dispense with the small talk. Name your price.”

“My price?” Mellie repeated.

“For your human,” Brannagh elaborated. “You acquired one of the five young men in the lottery two nights past and I am willing to meet your terms for him, name them.”

Mellie had to fight to maintain her composure. He wanted River. Of course he did. A live human was a valuable commodity in their town. Mostly for a source of delicious protein and a feast for the family but they also had other… uses.

Brannagh was one of the few monsters in town restrained enough to indulge in those other uses. To be less quaint he probably wanted to breed River, he had several human women that he had collected from the lottery over the years and with fresh male livestock he would be able to breed more diverse human children, keep the blood lines fresh for a few more years.

Breeding humans in a monster town was a demanding profession that required a balance of patience, power and resources as they had to be cared for, kept in reasonable health for breeding or for food depending on the needs. They had to be raised to a suitable age regardless of their use and given the enormous time commitment for raising humans, and keeping other monsters from sneaking a snack or two… well not many monsters could accomplish it.

Human breeding allowed Brannagh to curry favour with the apex’, allowed him to operate freely with his harem, it made him nearly untouchable as his commodities were too highly valued by the community to risk interfering with.

“I understand your mother has withdrawn her protection,” Brannagh remarked. It could have been a threat, an offer, or it really could have just been an idle remark to pass the time while she thought over his offer. “Given your predicament I would be more than willing to offer my own protection in her stead.”

Again she wasn’t certain whether Brannagh was making a threat or thought he was being genuinely helpful, the old monsters didn’t think the same way as her generation and someone like Brannagh—he had been born in the depths of the cold fathomless oceans, she couldn’t begin to reckon with how his mind worked, with what he desired or understood.

“That’s a generous offer,” Mellie inclined her head in a small gracious bow of respect. “May I have some time to consider it?” She raised the bag from the clinic, “My human had an unfortunate encounter with a rat tonight, he may not even live till morning.”

Brannagh nodded, “That would indeed be unfortunate. Already two of the five have perished,” he sighed. “Such a waste. It is not in my nature to complain over such things but I truly doubt the intelligence of our brethren,” he confessed wearily. “Sustaining our population requires at least a modicum of foresight.”

A light drizzle of rain began to fall and while Brannagh raised his head and let the cool waters run over him Mellie huddled into her jacket. She would say this for Brannagh he was a considerate monster, he noted her discomfort. “Would you call upon me tomorrow night with your decision, one way or another?”

“One way or another,” Mellie agreed.

If only that was the end of her encounters on her return home. It wasn’t that Mellie didn’t enjoy associating with other monsters, some of them at least, but it was just so tiresome. All the pretence, all the bravado, showing strength, hiding even a perceived weakness. Monsters were predators, every last one of them, from the strongest to the weakest and while the town revolved around the apex’ every monster beneath them still fought to carve out their own personal niche so they could demand respect, or rather fear, of any monster they deemed weaker.

Unfortunately Mellie stood at the low end of the spectrum, so far beneath the others that most of them considered her barely more than human which just made her prey. The only reason she had made it to her mid-twenties was her mother’s indulgence. Not all monster’s loved their offspring—many discarded them at the earliest possible age, but Analyn had always been fond of Mellie—despite her weakness.

Or maybe she had just believed Mellie would ‘monster up’ given a little time, that she was just a late bloomer. Either way it didn’t matter anymore, her mother’s protection was gone and Mellie suspected she would soon learn just how much that had shielded her from the predators in the town. Her mother was a powerful monster all on her own, add in the fact she was the favoured of an apex and that had made Mellie untouchable for years.

A distant part of her wondered what would happen if one of those monsters came for her… they would come for her human first which would be a direct challenge to her, and if they took him, if she couldn’t defend what was hers? They would come for her too. It was possible Analyn would make an example of a monster that killed her daughter regardless of whether she was protected or not but that wouldn’t change the fact she would be dead.

In light of those thoughts Brannagh’s offer had serious merit. It wasn’t the most moral choice, she didn’t want to have River’s blood on her hands, but she also didn’t want to die, or worse be taken by another monster who liked to play with their food. Monster on monster cannibalism was rare… but it did happen when monsters grew hungry enough, while monster on monster violence/rape was an all too common occurrence among the weak. Troubling thoughts.

For the small price of a man’s life Mellie could buy protection from Brannagh, or another like him, it wouldn’t be quite as good as the protection she had enjoyed beneath her mother’s patronage but it would keep her alive.

It wasn’t as if Brannagh would mistreat River either, he would be used to breed with the ‘mares’ Brannagh owned, several of whom were quite pretty and ranged in age from teens to forties. As long as he could breed he could be a valued commodity, and if he couldn’t? Then he’d face the same fate as any other human, he’d be lunch. Probably for Brannagh’s harem. Food for thought.

“As I live and breathe if it isn’t Melanie, the bitch of the North West.”

“Abrams, what a charmer,” Mellie replied smoothly as a man in his mid-twenties cut in front of her. She was so close to home, she could see her house just down the street. So close.

“You know it,” Abrams cooed, his eyes lighting up as his gaze raked over her. “And you are as fit as ever Melanie.

“And you’re as sleazy as ever,” Mellie shot back. “Now would you mind moving? It’s raining and I hate the rain.”

Abrams eyes flashed a deep yellow and his chest cracked as he stretched his arms out, he was putting on theatrics but it made him no less dangerous. He was what the Norse legends called a Berserker, in the heat of battle he would become a monstrous blood thirsty beast that was nearly unstoppable, also completely uncontrollable. He’d had a thing for Mellie since she was barely more than a kid. Apparently he felt it was the right time to make his move.

“You should learn to play nice,” Abrams cautioned, his voice lowering to a deep bass.

“Speaking of playing, where are your friends?” Mellie asked. Berserkers tended to travel in packs.

“It’s our first time,” Abrams leered, “I didn’t want to share.”

Mellie put down the brown paper bag with the antibiotics in it. She straightened up and sighed softly.

“We don’t need to do this,”

“Yes.” He countered, “We do. You have been sitting on your high horse for too long Melanie, looking down on the rest of us when you are nothing, just a momma’s girl, so now it’s time for you to learn your place.”

“In the middle of the street?” Mellie asked, “God, you’re so damn crass.”

“And you’re such a bitch.” He reached for her, the conversation portion of the evening apparently over. Mellie glanced up at the falling rain and sighed, she really did hate getting wet. She moved in a ripple of motion, her arm suddenly out of the berserker’s reach and he stumbled forward. She could see the shock on his face, the incomprehension.

“You sure you want to do this?” Mellie gave him one last chance, “We can still both walk away.”

His yellow eyes burnt with growing anger, “I’m going to fuck you six ways to Sunday, and then once my berserkers have had their fill I am going to whore you to the rats and ferals.”

“Like I said, you’re so damn crass.”

Abrams surged forward and Mellie pivoted in his reach, she brushed his extended arm to one side cracked him across the throat with an open palm struck that left him winded.

Unfortunately it also made him angrier, his flesh mask tore at the shoulders, the skin falling from his body in chunks as he straightened into a man that topped seven feet with thick bulging muscles. Fur rippled down his chest and he snapped a broken jaw in her direction, a broken jaw that shredded through the skin of his face to become a snout with gnashing jaws and hideous breath.

He was truly monstrous and in his natural form without the constriction of the membranous flesh he was twice as fast. His hands clamped on either of her arms and lifted her from the ground as he shook her violently. It felt like her brain was jelly smashing around inside her skull and she was left seeing stars as he snarled in her face. She notched ‘hideous’ breath up to rancid with a touch of putrid, she could smell the rotting flesh of his last meal caught between his teeth.

“I was going to take you in my mask!” Abrams roared with delight, “Now I’ll do you like this, I’ll tear up your insides and—” and Mellie head butted him. Which turned out to be a mistake, it hurt her worse than it hurt him and he chuckled as he lifted her over his head and slammed her into the asphalt. She felt her ribs break, felt the hot splash of blood seeping from gashes across her face and arms. Then she felt his elongated nails raking down her back, slicing through her clothes like a hot knife through butter, she heard the shredding of the remnants of his pants and she felt something hot and hard touch her back. She didn’t want to know anymore, didn’t want to feel anymore. She wouldn’t cry out, she refused to give him the satisfaction and that’s when she stirred. Mellie felt her rising and then she felt nothing at all.

The colour drained from her face until she was left pale and bloodless, her eyes turned red and filled the white space as the monster looked out into the world. She swivelled in the berserker’s grasp and broke his hold with ease, she still lay on the road looking up at his startled expression but she was no longer the weak one, no longer at the disadvantage.

“Mellie?” he asked.

She quirked her head to one side, “No. Not Mellie. There’s only me.”

She brought her knee up in a fluid motion and sunk it into the berserker’s chest. Wolfen flesh tore and he was thrown off her, his body hitting the ground with a meaty impact a dozen feet away as she calmly rolled to her feet—as if she had all the time in the world.

“There’s only me now,” she said, looking across the road at the bloodied berserker rising to his feet. He may have physically towered over her but it was she that dwarfed him, that made him weak, powerless. The shift in the balance between them was obvious but he was a fool consumed by his blind rage and goaded by her attack. It didn’t matter in any case, she wasn’t going to let him leave alive.

The berserker dropped to all fours and roared his primal bloody fury as he charged her, his impressive lope covered the ground in a heartbeat. A heartbeat which left her an eternity to wait. The instant before he would have crashed into her he reared onto his hind legs and lunged for her throat rather than the soft easy flesh of her belly. It made no difference. Her dainty hand wrapped around his throat and with a squeeze she dropped him to his knees. He grasped at her hand, his eyes wide with disbelief while she barely noticed his presence. It was like lightning in her veins, surging through her very being, every atom of her body was alive like never before, screaming with need, hunger, with desire.

“What is this place? This feeling I have?” Rain was falling heavily, it slicked along her skin and she revelled in the sensation, in the pleasure of it running down her body. She looked down into the berserker’s frightened eyes. “Have you ever felt this?” she whispered as she leant in, “Ever felt so alive? Felt so free?”

The berserker couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream, couldn’t so much as sneeze as she crushed his throat in the palm of her hand. It was so easy, so simple, why had she never done it before? She knew the answer to that one. Knew she was still dormant, still waiting for the time, waiting to be born into the world. She couldn’t wait to be born… but it wasn’t her time, not quite yet, she could feel that as well, could feel the weak flesh of her body falling apart around her. It wasn’t ready for her, wasn’t ready to become hers.

She felt the disturbance in the wind and the rain, felt the men and women rising through the night, coming to the berserker’s aid, she felt their rage growing as they began to shuck their human forms and ride to the rescue of their brethren. She couldn’t see them yet, not through her unborn eyes, but she smiled at them regardless. They could see her. With a casual twist she snapped the berserker’s neck, the thick cartilage and bone gave way to her like soft candy and his limp body twitched on the ground.

His brethren paused, still just out of sight, just beyond her field of vision.

“Come,” she whispered into the night, “Come to me.”

They faded into the darkness.

Mellie stared at the body lying in the rain, stared into its lifeless eyes and she breathed out slowly. She had felt it, had felt the other side of her rising, had felt her monster taking control to protect her, but such a thing didn’t come without a price. Abrams was dead and she was weak. Mellie sunk to her knees on the wet street and coughed hard, blood splattered against her hand and she spat another mouthful onto the ground. She was queasy, exhausted, and despite the cold rain bucketing down around her she was feverish, burning up again.

Her monster side was too much stress for her all-too-human body, the sad truth was she just wasn’t monster enough. Not monster enough in a town filled with monsters. There was a way to fix that, a solution to all her problems, but she wasn’t ready to go there, not yet, not ever.

She sighed and pushed herself back to her feet. She was saturated from head to toe and she still needed to see to her human, if he died because of a stupid little infection she was going to be pissed. She scooped up the soaked brown paper bag which promptly ripped and spilled the antibiotics all over the road.

Some nights…