Pies

  ( Roger )

  Roger remained on high alert. He kept his eyes wide and ears keen. Every twelve steps he glanced over a shoulder, while trying to appear as casual as possible.

  I should've brought it with me. I definitely should've brought it with me.

  The sun was setting over Rainbow City. That meant they'd be starting their blood rituals soon.

  He arrived at Amethyst Avenue, only for his legs to lock in place, jerking him to an awkward stop. There was someone ahead that he didn't recognise.

  Shit. Act natural. Keep moving. There's more than one way home.

  Roger about-turned and headed for Ametrine Alley instead.

  Usually he'd still be at the Tearoom at such a time, but the thought of leaving his family alone after dark just didn't sit right with him. Not anymore. Besides, it was getting harder and harder to relax there with so many of them around. He hadn't even touched a drop of the Tearoom's coveted cream liqueur. No. It was better to keep his mind clear and body ready.

  When Roger came to stand before his garden gate, he realised all was not well. His wife was waiting for him at the front door, her hands planted on hips.

  What have I done now? I'm not even late...

  "Rachel, love of my life, how kind of you to welcome me home."

  Rachel, however, said nothing. She simply stood aside and pointed indoors, as if directing a dog.

  Roger knew better than to speak in such circumstances. It was best to do as instructed and take his scolding like a man. With his head low and shoulders slumped, he shuffled inside.

  He immediately clocked a familiar leather satchel upon the dining table.

  ...Bollocks.

  He turned, ready to proclaim he'd never laid eyes upon such a thing, only to meet the sternest of marital gazes.

  "What the hel were you thinking?" Rachel whispered angrily. "Bringing something like that home puts us all at risk."

  Roger tiptoed over to Regan and Ralph's room to peek inside. The curtains were drawn. Two sleeping lumps lay beneath bed sheets. He closed their door quietly before responding with his own whisper. "What choice did I have? Everyone's started carrying one."

  "And who's everyone?" asked Rachel.

  "Them."

  "Them?"

  "You know exactly who I'm talking about," said Roger. "Hundreds more forestfolk arrived today. I'd bet at least half of them are Stargazers, maybe more."

  Rachel threw her hands up, an action unfitting of the hushed voice that followed. "They've just lost their homes, Roger. Where do you expect them to go?"

  "My priority is you and the kids, not them. Their twisted worship ruined things down there. I don't want it ruining things up here too."

  Rachel shook her head then stomped over to the dining table. A flip of the satchel's flap revealed the sharp dagger within. "Yeah. Great job. You know what happens if you're caught with iron? Regan and Ralph will have to grow up without a father."

  Roger's eyes fell to the floor. As much as he wanted to protest, he knew Rachel was right. There was nothing more prohibited in Rainbow City than iron. Even the Tearoom forbade it, and the Tearoom didn't forbid much. Yet, what choice did he have? Two Fairy Princesses had already died fighting for the Stargazer's cause, and a third was imprisoned for championing their heresy.

  Roger reached into his pocket to brush his fingertips over the teapot badge within. Over the years he'd appreciated many of the privileges Princess Puddingpuff provided to discreet clientele, but as of late he'd started to wonder if she offered a little too much freedom.

  Who knows where her loyalties lie...

  "I'm only trying to keep you safe," said Roger. "No one is going to find out."

  "Really?" asked Rachel. "You know peacekeepers came to the door earlier? I hadn't even found your little prick yet. What would've happened if they'd asked to come inside and look around?"

  "Peacekeepers?" Roger hustled to the window to check on the sunset street. "What did they want?"

  Rachel sighed. "...Do you promise you're not going to freak out?"

  "Of course. Just tell me already."

  "...There's going to be rationing."

  "Rationing? Fucking rationing?" Saliva sprayed from Roger's lips. He turned back to the window, half expecting to see a group of zealots bleeding circles around whatever precious scraps of food remained. "I told you they're going to fuck things. In fact, they've already fucked them. In fact, they're fucking us right now. We are quite literally mid-fuck, Rachel!" He was getting so worked up that he paid no heed to the sound of a cupboard opening and closing behind him.

  "Another broken promise," she said out of nowhere, as if it was a habit of his.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" Roger looked back to her to see what she'd retrieved from the cupboard. A midnight robe.

  ...Bollocks.

  She throttled the material. "You said you'd gotten rid of this. You said you were done."

  It was true. He had promised he wouldn't attend any more lessons, but if the scholar was willing to warn of the dangers his family faced, Roger had a responsibility to listen.

  "I... I did say that." Roger nodded slowly. "I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

  "What's wrong with you? Sneaking out at night to meet with some flyblown freak in the middle of the forest..."

  Roger had hoped that by persuading Rachel to attend just one lesson, she'd understand. Unfortunately, that hadn't gone to plan.

  "Listen." He presented his palms smoothly, like he was trying to calm an apprehensive beast. "I know the scholar's a bit weird, but -"

  "A bit weird? He's disgusting!"

  "You heard what he said. He used to be a Stargazer himself, that's what made him so sick. That's what their rituals do. You really want hundreds of them praying for plagues up here? Anyway, what was it you told the kids the other day?" He snapped his fingers until the memory emerged. "Don't judge a book by its cover!"

  "Oh there's a fucking limit, Roger. The man drips maggots!"

  "I know, I know." Roger found sweet sentences spilling from his lips. "My angel, my lovely, my everything... I am just one lesson away from enlightenment. Give it a couple of days, let me earn my needles, and I'll be able to explain everything with perfect clarity! It'll all make sense!"

  Rachel launched the robe at him. "Sod enlightenment!" she shouted. "You make your choice right now. Do you want to sneak around the woods at night in a dress, or do you want to raise your family right?"

  It's not a dress...

  As scary as Rachel was when she lost her temper, seeing her eyes shimmer was a thousand times worse. Her disappointment melted all resistance and independence, like fudge before a furnace.

  "...Ok," he croaked. "I'm done."

  Rachel's eyes narrowed with doubt. "You said that before."

  "I mean it this time. I swear it. I'll even get rid of the robe."

  "And the knife."

  Roger opened his mouth to agree, but the words caught in his throat.

  What if we need it? Things are only going to get worse around here. What if... wait.

  He looked to the kids' bedroom door. Despite the shouting, they hadn't tried to peek. They hadn't even stirred.

  "...Sure," said Roger. "Do whatever you want with it."

  He made his way over. He turned the handle. He opened the door and poked his head inside.

  Something rushed him from the dark. Moisture pressed to his face. Alchemic potency burned his throat and filled his lungs.

  When Roger's thoughts resurfaced from the tingling haze, he found the dining room dark. He couldn't be sure how much time had passed. Every visible curtain had been drawn to a close and a single oil lamp had been lit.

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  Across from him, Rachel sat upon a chair. Or rather, she was bound to it. Tears rolled from her sore eyes, only to soak into a length of cloth that'd been tied to stuff her mouth.

  He tried to jump up and call out, but found that he too was restrained and gagged. Air whistled up his nose as he prepared to howl into the saliva-drenched rag, only to be shushed from the shadows.

  "Quiet now, Roger. It would be quite unwise to wake Regan and Ralph..."

  What? Who? How do they know our names?

  A cloaked figure half-emerged from the surrounding black. One he'd heard tales of, just as all who frequented the Tearoom had. A supposed ghost that haunted rule-breakers. Rumour was, no one had ever seen her twice. Those that didn't learn from the first sighting vanished without a trace.

  The Grey Lady! What's she doing here? ...Oh no!

  Ashen eyes watched his flustered panic. "Looking for this, perhaps?" She tossed a leather satchel upon the tabletop.

  Roger's tongue flailed against invasive threads, yet conjured naught but muffled moans.

  A laced finger pressed to a polite smile. "Hush now. Conserve your voice. Your turn to speak will come, and when it does, I suggest you choose your words very carefully."

  Wait... that snappy, precise, self-indulgent tone...

  Recognising the intruder's identity did little to put Roger at ease.

  I knew it! She's with the Stargazers! That's why she lets them worship at the Tearoom!

  He looked towards Rachel and whimpered. Neither of them were able to move, yet their chests heaved and clothes clung sticky.

  Princess Puddingpuff started to pace. She walked slow, steady rings around the face-to-face chairs. Roger glared each time she passed behind Rachel, yet trembled every time she disappeared behind him.

  "I forget your age, Roger. Forty-something, I'm sure. I doubt you're old enough to remember when Splishsplash still held sway around here. She was... ok at maintaining order, I suppose. Certainly efficient enough at removing those who dared defy her Queen... though, she was a little binary in her approach. To her, there exists only loyalty and disloyalty, with no shade in between nor room for negotiation. I imagine that was intimidating in its own way... but not nearly enough. You see, Splishsplash, unfeeling as she is, fails to see the true value of fear."

  Roger whined.

  "You're afraid because I want you to be afraid. I want you to be scared of what I'll do should you even think about shuffling a single toe out of line... yet, you're far from powerless, Roger. In fact, it is your choices that'll determine whether I am to be benevolent or wrathful. All I ask for is absolute obedience. Do you think you can manage that?" Princess Puddingpuff came to a stop behind Rachel. "Or would you like a demonstration of what will happen should you waver in the slightest?"

  Roger shook his head rapidly. He put so much passion into his thrashing that the whole chair rocked.

  Laced fingers traced Rachel's flinching arm, along her stiff shoulder and up her tensed neck before finally coming to rest on her jaw. There the hand gripped firmly and forced Rachel to remain facing forward, so she couldn't hide her terror. Puddingpuff's voice lowered to a mere whisper, yet not nearly quiet enough to evade Roger's ears.

  "You've heard of my magic, I'm sure. The ability to turn the edible into cake. Most consider it a party trick, yet what they fail to realise, of course, is their own digestible composition..." A wet muscle moistened glistening lips. "Imagine, if you will, the sensation of skin drying out. Of every pore widening until your entire body, from head to toe is pocked and gaping. Of hole-riddled flesh softening until it sloughs from caramelising bone. Of your vision liquefying and dribbling. Of blood thickening, of cream clogging every artery until your sloppy heart splits asunder... Transforming such complex biological systems is not a swift process. The nerves and brain are last to be affected, and by that time, their cakening is more of a mercy..." Princess Puddingpuff squeezed, denting Rachel's chin. "You're certain you don't require a demonstration?"

  Roger swung his head, nodding so hard it hurt. Snot streamed from his nose, mixing with the other salty fluids soaking his face.

  "Good, because you're far from the first household I've visited today, and I've grown very tired of cleaning up mess," said Princess Puddingpuff. "I will ask questions and you will answer with neither hesitation nor dishonesty. Understood?"

  Roger could only sob in agreement.

  "Excellent. First question. Your favourite dancer, Miss Briar, you wouldn't happen to know where she is now?"

  How the fuck am I supposed to know that?

  Blood surged through veins with such force that his temples felt like thundering drums.

  "You're not hesitating, are you?" Princess Puddingpuff prowled toward him.

  Shit!

  Roger shook his head. He couldn't help but flinch when the royal reached for his face.

  "Shame..." She pulled the gag free from his mouth. "Next question. One of your friends shared with me a little secret. They said you've been meeting with a very naughty man in the forest. Is that right?"

  "I-I-I can explain," he blubbered. "I made a mistake! I got mixed up in the wrong crowd and was led astray! But listen! Please, please listen! None of this is Rachel's fault! She and the kids have nothing to do with this!"

  Princess Puddingpuff nodded very, very slowly, then took up the dagger.

  Thud.

  It planted in Rachel's thigh. Spasming muscles strained against tight ropes. Screams stifled.

  "No!" cried Roger.

  "I told you not to hesitate. Twice. My time is precious and you'll waste not a single second more." Princess Puddingpuff pressed a digit to the weapon's handle and wiggled it. Crimson bloomed around the buried hilt before spilling to the floor. "Have you, or have you not met with a prophet in the woods?"

  "A scholar!" cried Roger. "He calls himself a scholar, not a prophet!"

  Princess Puddingpuff ceased torturing. "Good. I assume this so-called scholar was rather large and riddled with parasites?"

  Roger could practically feel himself being torn apart. So desperately did he want to beg for their lives and call comforts to his wife, but their captor had made the rules all too clear. "Y-yes! A nailed giant crawling with bugs!"

  "Well that all but confirms it. The Stargazer's 'prophet' and your 'scholar' are one and the same," said Princess Puddingpuff. "I imagine he warned you of them? Of the dangers their rituals present and the risk they pose to Rainbow City?"

  The Stargazer's prophet? What is she -

  "Roger," snapped Puddingpuff.

  "Yes!" he yelped. "That's right! That's exactly right!"

  Rachel's head was swaying. Her eyes rolled back and torso jerked.

  "I'll tell you everything, I swear! But please get my wife some help!"

  "Do you know how many people I've killed today Roger?" The royal stepped between them, blocking Rachel from sight. "Do you know how little her life means to me? You'd have to provide something most moreish for me to consider sparing your family..."

  Roger's mind raced as the muffled choking fell quiet. Never before had Rachel's silence proved so deafening.

  "I'd hurry up if I were you. She's not going to last much longer." Princess Puddingpuff observed what Roger couldn't. "If only you knew what he's planning next... Or of any weaknesses his pet fairy might have..."

  But Roger hadn't a clue. He didn't even know the scholar had a fairy. Roger could only regurgitate all he could recall. "He used to be a Stargazer! He offers enlightenment! He gives needles to the educated! He... he..." Something flared to mind. Something he wasn't supposed to know. Something he'd overheard from one of those chosen few. "His name is Skaphos!"

  Ashen eyes widened. The interrogator paced away. One hand searched her pockets, the other pressed her stomach.

  Rachel had paled. Rachel had stopped moving.

  "Princess Puddingpuff!" Roger cried.

  But the royal showed no interest. Her focus was set upon an aged sheet of paper. "...This 'Skaphos', did he appear old?"

  "Yes!" wept Roger. "His armour's ancient! Held together by nails and chains! Now please!"

  Finally satisfied, Princess Puddingpuff pulled the dagger free to cut both of their ropes.

  Roger threw himself at his wife, yet no matter how much he shook, he could not wake her. No matter how loud he cried, she would not respond.

  "You humans really don't respect how fragile you are." Princess Puddingpuff was pouring something on the floor.

  Odorous liquid spilled across Roger's back. His vision was so blurry he barely recognised the empty oil container clattering to the floor.

  "Unfortunately, you're not the only one with a family to protect." She headed towards the door, flickering lamp in hand. "Oh, and you needn't fear for Regan and Ralph. I moved them whilst you were both passed out. They're already mourning you at the orphanage." She released her grip.

  Flame surged through the room, embracing Roger in immediate and extreme agony. He scooped Rachel up in burning arms. He tried to scream, only to receive a mouthful of fire and smoke.

  I'm sorry!

  He carried his limp wife through the inferno, stumbling blindly and hitting wall after wall until he collapsed.

  I'm so fucking sorry!

  The searing pain numbed. Blinding light faded. The world became cold, dark and still.