Chapter 32 - Torture

I was feeling better. A lot better, actually.

I mean, torturing Fang wasn’t [Therapy] – not exactly. But it was close.

And before you start, no… I was not procrastinating. Or running away from my problems. I was prioritizing. Specifically, my mental health.

See? Completely different thing.

“No… No, Nyx… please – I can’t take anymore,” Fang’s mother hissed, her voice husky, deep, almost a growl really. “Ohhhhh!” she moaned.

Uh, okay, this isn’t what it looks like!

Ahh, what was that? It looks like Fang’s mother is bound up by my arm chain and swinging from the rafters, her rippling, well-toned limbs glistening in the steam and her sultry eyes half lidded in exquisite pain? Like we were “torturing” her in order to mess with her closeted crotch goblin eavesdropping out in the hallway?

Okay, then it’s, uh, exactly what it looks like. Sort of.

“Any fours?” Cole asked from across the partially collapsed desk.

“Nope, go fuck yourself,” I replied.

But much more importantly, I was so good at this new game!

I called it “Go Fuck Yourself.” You see, each person had to ask if the other was holding cards of a certain number or type. If they guessed right, they got those cards. If you matched four, you got a point. If the other person didn’t have the cards, then they had to draw another. I was winning. Cole hadn’t made a single match.

He was taking his overwhelming defeat really well, though.

“I feel like you’re cheating,” he muttered, pulling another card from the deck.

“Most people say that at first. You’re just new to the game,” I reassured him.

Cole was still glaring, but he just let out a frustrated sigh.

“Um… any sixes?” I offered.

Cole just sputtered, staring at the card he’d literally just pulled, turning it to reveal the six of sea serpents. Ahh, that would make another match for me!

“How? How do you keep doing this?” he demanded. “Are you psychic? Can your corrupted spirit read minds or something… and also destroy my illusions?”

Ahh, right. I’d told him about Lili. Also, Maribel. What was the harm?

I mean, I had the friendship tablet now.

“Nope.” Then I hesitated. “Well, not exactly. Lili can read my mind, but not other people’s. As for the game, I don’t know what’s happening. I’ve never won before.”

Which was technically true.

Mostly because I just invented it.

Meanwhile, I discreetly peeled the shadowy spiderwebs off the card Cole had handed me and let Lili eat them. It was actually a nine of kraell. Interestingly, Cole’s new gaslight spirit worked on himself too. Apparently, he was really starting to doubt his ability at this game… or I was just amazing at it. One or the other.

Although, I had to mix some traditional cheating in with the mind games for it to work. That’s where my babies came in. Like how #3 was currently peering out of a rathole behind Cole and was gesturing that the next card was a three of—

The elf whipped around abruptly… only to find nothing.

Just Fang’s mom dangling there near the door and moaning loudly.

Huh, why are you all pointing at her and screaming at me—

Ahh, right! I guess I still need to explain. You see, we weren’t just messing around and torturing my bromate. We were also testing out Cole’s new and evolved spirit. He was my new employee, after all. So, this was basically my job now.

Also, I’d had so many questions.

Like was the illusion limited to Cole? Could he only change his own appearance or also the appearance of other objects? Like, say, a ratskin sack of Fang’s garbage I had the babies haul up from downstairs and then hung from the rafters with some old chains? Or some playing cards I found in Tom’s desk? Also, did the illusions have mass? Body heat? Could they make realistic sounding voices? Or sound effects? Like the clink of my arm chain? I mean, Cole had mimicked Elder Gracen – or Tom – pretty well, right?

Obviously, the answer was yes. Yes to all of it.

This was so much better than Cole’s lame persuasion spirit. I’m not even sure why he was upset about it. The egg spirit had given us a gift.

Now, the more astute among you might also be wondering how my babies had been hauling stuff up here. I mean, don’t my ratholes have limited range?

Honestly, that’s a fantastic question.

As for the rest of you… well, some of us are just born different. Smarter. More perceptive. Better looking. Funnier. But it’s okay, it’s not your fault. Being mediocre has its advantages too. Like no one will ever ask you to come up with a last-minute plan to save your dysfunctional family. They’ll probably ask your much more talented sister.

That’s why she’ll die younger. Probably from the stress.

See? Don’t you feel better?

I figured. I’m getting really good at gaslighting.

Anyway, the answer was simple. There was this little chute that ran from Tom’s office right down to the food hall. Which didn’t make me angry at all. Why would it? You know, because my adoptive, conman father had access to food all day, every day? While I was starving? And bleeding? And probably limping? But still fucking working the river?

Ahem… anyway, I was fine with it. Great even.

All that hard work had probably built character. Also, muscles and an unhealthy thirst for vengeance. As I said, I was getting really good at this gaslighting thing.

Honestly, I was a natural.

“I can’t—I can’t… it’s just so deep… too deep,” Fang’s mom moaned louder.

What? Why are you looking at me like that?

Ahh, you must have figured it out by now.

Yeah, that was all Cole’s new spirit. It’s awesome, right? But you sort of have to “prime the gas pump,” if you know what I mean. Like how I’d had to weave in some actual cheating at the card game before Cole started doubting himself.

And the answer to your inevitable question is yes. In order to get this whole thing with Fang’s mom going… yeah, we had to act it out at first. Also, destroy some of the air wards soundproofing the door to make sure Fang heard every glorious second.

The best part? This worked with Fang’s rules!

Yeah, that’s right, we were just roleplaying.

Cole really hadn’t wanted to – roleplay Fang’s mom, I mean – but he’d come around eventually. Some people just needed to be properly motivated. Bromance had taught me that. Besides, it only took a few minutes before the gaslight spirit took over and the clone of Fang’s mom had only gotten more, um, realistic since then. I’m, uh… I’m not proud of it.

I’m fucking delighted. Look at her! And those moans? Exquisite.

And that was all me. All my acting. My props. My perfect set.

My left hand twitched. Okay, Maribel helped too.

“I have to admit, it’s pretty fun,” Lili offered grudgingly.

Of course, it was! I mean, owning some sort of canned silverfin empire was nice and all, but think of all the people I could gaslight with this power! Not just Fang, but everyone.

And then there were more questions. Better questions.

Like was the quality of the illusion relative to our victim—or, err, gas lightee’s belief in the lie? That was Cole’s theory. And if so, could we make the illusions more powerful? Bigger? If we really committed to a role, you know? And was there a limit? Like what if we convinced a whole crowd of people they were getting attacked by a sea serpent? Would Cole’s spirit create one? Maybe even allow the illusion to use its own fake spirit’s powers?

Thankfully, we were about to discover those precious answers.

Because the door blasted open with a wave of mist.

And our test subject finally arrived.

Fang strode through that cloud of vapor, body slick, his chest heaving, daggers drawn, his eyes like twin suns – burning with a fury I hadn’t seen in ages. Cycles even.

Even more interesting, the scene changed as he entered the room, as those glorious searing orbs took in his mother dangling there. Cole’s spirit flared powerfully and dark spiderwebs streaked across the office. The walls transformed in an instant, now covered in soft, crimson velvet. We’d painted them red, so they were already halfway there. And yes, it was blood. Also, an extensive and very tasteful collection of whips and manacles now hung there – neatly arranged and labeled, of course. Property of Nyx, they said. That was also me. We’d hung up some of Fang’s trash – just nailed it straight to the walls.

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I always knew [Interior Design] was going to be my most powerful skill.

Although, I wasn’t planning for the clone of me that suddenly appeared in the empty chair beside Manslaughter, Fang’s little book in one hand, a pen in the other… like I was taking notes? But why was I wearing glasses? And a sweater with arm patches?

Honestly, Gassy-Me looked a little like Horus, right?

“Is it possible that your estrangement with your son started with your own parents? What were they like? Were you close?” Clone-Me demanded.

“No, no, Nyx… no more. I can’t…” Fang’s mom growled.

Clone-Me stabbed that pen at her. “Did your father leave when you were little?”

Her eyes went wide. “How… how did you know?” she hissed back.

Meanwhile, Fang just stood there in shock – his rage turning to confusion.

“What’s going on?” Cole – the real one – whispered to me across the desk.

I shook my head. No idea.

Although, it was a really good question.

First off, I think Cole was right. The power of the illusion was relative to the gas lightee’s belief. The strength of the illusion had increased gradually while the closeted trash goblin listened outside the door – filling out, becoming more convincing, more real. Maybe he’d begun to believe it? But why this sudden change then? Was it something about seeing it? And why all these odd details? The sweater? The glasses?

I mean, I got the misleading, sexual moans… also, the manacles and whips. I had sort of built up that scene, hadn’t I? That was funny. Hilarious really. But what about that weird book and those questions? I wasn’t responsible for any of that... right?

“Do you think maybe it’s your own issues – growing up without a father – that encouraged you to brutally murder and eat your own mates?” Gassy-Me continued.

He adjusted his glasses. “That maybe your male offspring are so weak and such ineffectual hunters because they lack a strong male role model in their lives? That maybe… just maybe, you’re responsible for how Fang turned out? Frail. Whiny. Emasculated by even his own precious murder babies?” Gassy-Me demanded.

He checked his notes. “Also, why he’s in some absurd bromantic relationship with a crazy sapien with a poor grasp on reality and a penchant for interior design?”

Why did Gassy-Me sound so disgusted at that last part?

Also, I swore he just made eye contact with me!

“Maybe…. Oh, maybe you are—you are right,” Manslaughter growled. “It is just… that is so deep! Too deep! Please stop.” She moaned again as though she was in pain, writhing against her restraints.

“It’s okay. I know these sensations are new, strange. These are feelings – your feelings. Dozens of cycles of repressed emotion,” Gassy-Me explained.

“I hate them! I hate them so much!” she cried.

Cole and I just watched. Speechless.

Okay, yeah… this definitely wasn’t us.

Alright, new hypothesis: The gas-lightee was the one creating the illusions.

Which meant we were just “guiding” him – but that was about it. And apparently, the gas-lightee’s capacity to rationalize was quite high. Almost unlimited really.

Like take this scene right here. Clearly, Fang didn’t see me as a viable sexual partner for his mother – which was incredibly insulting. But he did see me as a clinical madman willing to psychologically dissect my new mother-in-law. Which was… also terrible?

“Not far off, though,” Lili added thoughtfully.

“Now, look at your son and tell him how you feel,” Gassy-Me demanded.

Oh, shit. Fang looked real pale, the color draining from his scales. He just stood there, trembling, sweating, staring, his daggers forgotten…

You know what? Actually, I kind of hated this.

I mean… I loved it, obviously. But that was sort of the problem.

The illusion was doing a better job of being me than me! Like how was I supposed to enjoy this when Cole’s spirit was stealing my thunder? And Gassy-Me definitely looked at me this time. He even smirked. Smirked!

“I don’t… I can’t…” Fang’s mom muttered.

“Do it, or I’ll have to punish you again,” Gassy-Me insisted. “I’ll tell you about the time I killed a rat ogre with my bare hands while your son just stood there and watched.”

Then her eyes shot to Fang. “No! Please! Okay, Fang… Fang you are…”

“It is—it is fine. You do not have to…” Fang stuttered, trying to stop her. But he didn’t run away. Didn’t try to flee back into the closet in the hallway. Which could only mean one thing. He was curious.

“But I… I have to… Fang, you are—”

He leaned forward, his daggers hanging from numb claws.

“You are weak. So, weak. Weaker than this handsome sapien. He is so witty. So charming. So much smarter than you. And so good looking – definitely a viable sexual partner for your steam show of a mother.”

What? That’s what she said! You heard her…

Okay, fine. Technically, that last one was me. I might have taken over. Sorry. All I had to do was stand behind Fang’s mom and mimic her voice – Cole’s spirit rendering me invisible. I couldn’t just let Gassy-Me have all the fun! It was so easy to impersonate Manslaughter. I just added lots of “s” sounds and then let Cole’s spirit work its magic.

Lili sighed. “We talked about this. Also, it didn’t work.”

What? But it was so convincing—

Ahh, Fang was glaring at Gassy-Me, suspicion suddenly shining in those giant yellow snake eyes. And my clone’s smile was sort of… drooping?

What? What was going on?

Wait, did the mean there was no way Fang could rationalize what I just said? That there was literally no way he could imagine his mom might be attracted to me?

Wow. Just wow.

“What is this? Is this real? Where is the actual Nyx?” Fang demanded, his eyes skimming the room until they locked on Cole – who sat frozen behind the desk, cards still in hand, his eyes wide, and his face super pale.

Ahh, his spiderwebs had snapped, his own illusion shattering.

“Who are you?” Fang demanded.

“Uh, my name… my name is Cole—” the elf began, flustered.

“Did you do this?” he demanded, pointing, murder in his eyes.

Cole swallowed hard. “No! No, of course not!”

Fang didn’t look convinced, stalking toward the elf, mist billowing and his daggers held firmly, the metal gleaming in the soft red light that was shining from somewhere.

Ahh, this looked like a great time for me to leave—

Luckily for Cole and quite unfortunately for me, Manslaughter walked in right then – the real one – blasting fresh demon monkey shit from her arm with a beam of steam.

“Mr. Gracen, there’s a problem in the warehouse. Those demonic monkeys have gotten loose. Not only that, but apparently, the entire southern gate was destroyed. The whole thing. It’s just a pile of scrapmetal. Where is that crazy sapien—?”

She cutoff as she witnessed the scene in the office.

No one said a single word. Although, I did notice Fang’s eyes drift back and forth between the clone of his mother dangling from the ceiling and the, uh—the real one.

The one who was glaring at the person in chains.

Another pulse of corruption rippled through the room.

And suddenly it was a clone of Fang hanging there.

Except, this time, Gassy-Me wasn’t sitting in the chair anymore. I was actually holding one of the whips on the wall. Wow. The empty hanger was still there. Seriously, I was impressed with the level of detail. But what was I going to do with it?

“Do it! Call me your [Battle Daddy]—" Gassy-Me roared, raising the whip.

Woah! Woah, woah, woah. Time to stop the experiment!

Which I did. Immediately. By having Lili devour all of the illusions at once. She really didn’t want to but I made her. She purred in the back of my mind, relishing the sweet influx of nimbus. That was much better than the laughing.

Unfortunately, the others weren’t as grateful or amused. Judging from the way they were all screaming at me, it seemed like they were stuck on the whole “gaslighting thing.” They looked pretty upset. Pointing at the weird tools nailed the walls and the bloody rat sack swinging from a chain. Also, there was lots of incoherent yelling.

Oh, what was that? What are you trying to ask?

Something about Fang and the whip?

Ahh, you must be wondering how Cole’s illusions sustain themselves, right?

Another fantastic question! Obviously, they used some of his nimbus to get started, but my theory was that the spiderwebs were actually devouring the nimbus from the surrounding environment. At least, judging from the way the walls had rusted rather quickly and the carpet had fallen apart. Also, the whips and manacles had all basically disintegrated. Which really opened up an interesting new line of questioning, didn’t it?

I mean, obviously, both animate and inanimate matter contained nimbus – even back here in the Five Rivers. Lili and I had been eating plenty of it. Except objects didn’t just disintegrate when I drained them like back in the gate. They sort of decayed? Different, but not that different, you know what I mean? Like what was the implication of that?

Was everything made of nimbus?

But the gates were created, right?

So had the Five Rivers been created? And if so, by whom?

The theory seemed sound, but I didn't have any way to prove it.

Well, except maybe by draining all of the nimbus in a specific point. Which was actually really hard. It wanted to fill that empty space back in. Like water, or mud, or monkey shit, or blood…

Anyway, maybe if I drained the nimbus really, really fast I could punch a hole in time and space. Sort of like when I absorbed the sewer bricks back in the gate. That might prove my theory… or possibly create a ravenous black hole that would swallow the entirety of the Five Rivers. Huh, now I was super curious—

“Don’t do it!” Ahh, that was everyone.

They were all staring at me – which led me to believe I might have been talking out loud. Again. But they didn't look quite as upset anymore! Mostly just horrified.

“It was just theoretical,” I muttered. “Anyway, are you all feeling better now?” I chirped. No one answered – all of them just glaring.

And then, “What is happening here?” Fang demanded.

“Who is that? Where is Mr. Gracen?” That was Manslaughter, pointing at Cole.

“Nyx, why are you hiding behind me?” the elf insisted.

Ahh, right. I guess it was time to finally explain things.

“You are all experiencing a shared delusion caused by the proprietary blend of herbs and spices I laced into the food downstairs,” I explained calmly, using Cole as a shield. An elf-shaped infused spirit item that I could browbeat into working at will.

Shit, they were all still glaring. I was hoping Cole’s gaslight spirit would work again.

Apparently not. Not after the other person was aware of the deception. Weird.

It was almost like they didn’t trust me.

And they were all looking pretty murdery.

So, I explained for real this time. Which took a while.

“So, this elf has been pretending to be Mr. Gracen,” Manslaughter muttered sometime later. “With his persuasion spirit, which is now—

“A gaslight spirit, yes.”

“Because of his STD?” Fang asked.

“Shh, he’s still sensitive about it. He got spirit raped.”

Cole just flinched, his head in his hands.

Manslaughter was massaging a temple with a claw again, a dot of blood beading there. “And Mr. Gracen is dead – maybe – and he left you the factory. You? A sapien with a broken core and no spirit? The Hollow. The weak, irritating child he adopted?”

Didn’t love any of that, but I just kept smiling. It really hurt.

“Technically, he owned the whole town,” I chirped. “So, I guess I do too now, right Cole?” He just groaned in pain. Manslaughter seemed to take that as a yes.

“And this… this is not more gaslighting?” Fang demanded.

Everyone looked at Cole then. “No, he’s telling the truth this time.”

“As insane as it sounds,” the elf muttered under his breath.

“Then that means all the damage Nyx caused to the food hall, our debt…” Fang murmured, his eyes brightening and a feral grin sliding across his face, revealing far too many teeth. “It’s gone, yes? Because we own everything?”

“We?” I demanded, crossing my arms.

In a flash of mist Fang was standing by my side, his scaly arm threading through mine. Which was super weird. I don’t know if you knew this, but he wasn’t normally the touchy feely sort. More stabby and abusy.

“Of course. I get half,” Fang answered.

“What? Why? How?” I demanded. “This was my inheritance.”

Fang scoffed, waving a clawed hand. “We are bromates, are we not? And that entitles me to half of the bromantic estate. These are the rules, yes? The same rules you used against me in the hell sewer? Do you not remember? Lili back me up…”

The forgetful trash goblin trailed off.

It was probably the smile creeping across my face.

The realization reflected in those snake-like eyes.

My trap finally snapping into place with perfect precision.

He tried to remove his arm then, but I didn’t let him. Oh, no. I’d learned my lesson. I wasn’t going to let him run away from this – run away from us. Not after he’d just admitted our relationship in front of his mother. The real one.

Oh, yes. That’s right. Fang was finally out of the closet. He’d even revealed our bromantic relationship to Manslaughter. Or, should I say, my mother-in-law.

Who was now looking at me with a conflicted expression. One that warred between disgust, despair, and resignation. Probably because I was a weak, hollow, rationally challenged sapien… but also super rich. In fact, I was her boss. So, I could fire her at will.

Which meant we were officially family now.

Tied together by the loving bonds of blackmail.

“Ahh, yes, I guess Fang’s right,” I replied, still smiling. For some reason, it hurt less now. “Isn’t he… mom?”

Manslaughter flinched, glared, steam pouring from her earholes. But she didn’t try to stab me. Or punch me. Or murder me. Probably because she couldn’t – not with my battle onesie. Instead, she just looked away.

Meanwhile, Fang just seemed lost, slumped against me and staring vacantly.

And Cole looked like he was going to be sick.

See? I told you. I was feeling a lot better. Great, actually.

You just had to learn to prioritize.

And now? Now, it was time to survey my empire.

“Our empire,” Lili hissed, cackling with glee.

Then she and Maribel hi-fived.

Best. Surprise party. Ever.