Karl wanted to die. He didn’t want to have to be any longer. It was too much, and he was tired of it. He’d done what he’d set out to do. He’d stopped the Norm that had killed his friends with its fatal breath. Howle had stopped the zombies. Everything was done. He wasn’t needed anymore—not that he was ever needed by anyone other than Fink—but… he no longer had any use for his monstrous new body. He was done, and he wanted to go.

He didn’t want to cause any more trouble.

It wasn’t the first time Karl felt this way, though it had been years—many years—since he’d last felt this way. That was before he’d met Fink.

Before he’d met Geoffrey.

Almost lazily, Karl dragged a claw across one of the patches of human skin still on his throat. The flesh split open like a carcass. Within seconds, he felt the tickling feeling again, the tickle that told him the wound was knitting itself shut, like the two other self-inflicted claw-wounds beneath it. Just like his previous attempts, the wound grew minute, forest-green scales as it healed, and as sharp as his claws were, they had a great deal of trouble slicing through the scales—his, or anyone else’s.

Even with Bever’s blood on his hands, it wasn’t until after the battle that the situation’s true horror had dawned on Karl. It had come to him after the infecteds’ screams had quieted.

It was like everything had just… fallen apart.

Time had never been kind to Karl, but now, it was outright cruel. Without his emotions raging in his veins and battle-frenzy sparking in his nerves, Karl could fully inhabit his monstrous new body. Rage had carried him through his fight with the fungus’ horrors, but now that rage was gone. Without the strength of those feelings, Karl felt empty and alone.

He tried to pray. His mother would have wanted him to pray. But what was the point in that now?

What was the point in anything, anymore?

The Angel no longer comforted him. Maybe He never had, and it was only now that Karl was seeing it.

Karl’s father would have boxed him on the ears had he known he was thinking such wicked thoughts.

Karl tightened his body around the stone pillar. He’d curled around the broad thing, brushing his green scales back and forth against the edges of its tiles. He’d hoped it might have scraped some of the scales off, but instead, the motion only drizzled bits of abraded tile onto the floor.

Behind him, he heard a voice. It was probably speaking to him.

Karl groaned, not wanting to hear it.

He felt like he couldn’t get the images of the battle out of his head. A moment later, they did just that, leaping into being around him. It made Karl shut his eyes and moan. It was just another way he’d fouled everything up.

Even my memories are useless troublemakers, he thought.

Something had broken inside him. He didn’t know if he believed in God anymore. Could a demon even believe in God? Would the Angel extend His hand to save them?

Karl was sure Geoffrey would have known the answer. Geoffrey had an answer for everything, and Morgan knew the rest. With Lord Athelmarch’s guidance, and his comrades’ example, Karl had been able to do something he never thought possible.

He’d found a reason to be proud of himself—of who he was, warts and all.

He’d found purpose.

He could ride in on Fink and lob a smoke bomb, providing cover for a retreat. He could hide on rooftops or in grimy alleys, with his rifle in hand, ready to fire when one of the commanders gave word. He could even help make porridges and stews for the soldiers when they made camp. He knew his vegetables well.

“When the war is over, you should ‘prentice yourself with a cook, Karl,” Bever had told him. “Geoffrey’s right. You have talent, boy. You just need to open your eyes and see it.”

Karl peeked his eyes open

My eyes are wide open, now, Bever, he thought.

At least the battle-memories were gone. Gone like Bever, and Geoffrey, and—

—Karl shuddered.

Karl didn’t understand why he was turning into a Norm.

Did I do something wrong?

He got no answer. Or maybe, that was just because the answer was all around him.

Why worry about doing something wrong when you could never do anything right?

He was a failure of a son. A failure of a man. A failure of a soldier.

Failure. Failure. Failure.

Even now, when the other Norms were using their powers to help clean up the carnage, he was stuck here, useless.

How can I do anything when I can’t even move!?

Karl bit his lip.

His legs weren’t legs anymore. Instead, they’d been replaced by a long, sinuous, muscular limb that seemed to do everything except what he wanted it to do. He tried to think back to what he’d done in the heat of battle, to try and retrace his steps, but he couldn’t.

After the battle, he’d been stuck on the lawn, useless and huge. Then the soldiers in black came. Karl had worried they were going to try shooting him again, but instead they told him he had to go to the “garage” where the other Norms were being kept; something about needing to keep watch over the “bad” Norms, as if demons could be anything other than evil.

And things had gotten worse.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“What’s a garage?” he’d asked, in a quiet, sonorous voice.

He didn’t know what a “garage” was, nor where it was, nor how to get there.

The soldiers had been very confused by that, and their reactions had only made Karl feel worse. In the end, Karl had to drag himself to the garage, pulling himself by his claws, sinking their tips into the street’s stony pavement, prying up the setts as he moved forward like a dying slug. He had managed to figure out how to use his underbelly to push himself forward, but it wasn’t very much, and it was anything but natural.

One of the demon sorcerers—still human-like and legged—had laughed at him as he’d passed by. Some of the other Norms had offered to help, but Karl had shrunk away from them, staying as quiet as he could. It didn’t matter that they were the “good” ones who had fought against the evil. He didn’t want their help.

He was scared of it.

Dr. Howle had lied and manipulated him, and it had cost lives.

When Karl had asked them if he could see Morgan’s boy, they’d just shaken their heads. But they had the gall to say they’d wanted to help him.

What kind of help didn’t help?

With a shudder, Karl let out a soft moan and squeezed his body a little more tightly around the stone pillar. He was too miserable to cry. His tears were unnatural. They had a sweet stink, and they burned where they trickled down his human skin. It made Karl force himself to not cry, if only to keep himself from feeling any more hurt than he already did, which was already more hurt than he could bear.

Even though there was activity all around him, Karl kept perfectly still. He couldn’t move even if he tried—and he had tried. The journey to the “garage” was as long as it was short, and as difficult as it was simple. It would have been a minute’s walk if he’d still had legs. But he didn’t, and so it wasn’t.

The garage was in ruins. Broken glass covered the ground like melting snow. Yet, even in ruins, it still fascinated him. He’d never seen so many tiles in one place! They depicted the sea, with all its living treasures. He saw things he’d only seen dredged up on the beach or in one of the books of curiosities in his father’s library. He suspected there was even more to be seen in the structure’s lower levels, but the military was blocking off access with troops and more the black fencing.

Karl had asked about it, only to be told that they wantrf to keep the Norms “in one place.”

The cloud of deadly green Norm breath had melted scars and holes into so many different marvels. Just looking made Karl feel melancholy. The horseless carriages—“cars”—littering the place were marvels to look at. Not even an Archluminer’s carriage was as commanding or colorful as the horseless carriages—the “cars”—moored in the garage. A few had been riven all the way through, exposing the metal of their inner workings.

From where Karl rested curled against his stone pillar, he got a view of quite a few of the vivisected future-vehicles. He stared at them, wondering how anyone could figure out how to make something so complicated. Making hopeless guesses as to what the different parts did helped distract him, but only for a little while. He couldn’t do it for long before he lost the will to raise his head and look around. When that happened, he’d close his eyes for a while and rest in silence, focusing on the not-uncomfortable pressure the column was exerting on his mane of slender, flexible spines.

He waited patiently, waiting for the evil to claim him and turn his eyes silver for good.

Maybe that will be enough to kill me, he thought.

Or at least, it would keep him from ever having to wake up again.

But try as he might, Karl couldn’t relax. Closing his eyes didn’t quiet his thoughts like it used to. His memories were like etchings, now. They captured every little detail, even ones he shouldn’t have noticed. Even with his eyes closed, he could rattle off the other Norm’s appearances down to the last detail. He knew exactly where they were, and what they were doing. He knew the words they’d whispered to one another.

Suddenly, the garage echoed with a dissonant shout. It shattered Karl’s bogus calm. His back spines stiffened, scraping against the column’s tiles.

His eyes shot open.

The soldiers were up in arms, like an anthill provoked. Black armored troops got into their war machines. Bullets spat overhead, mixed with the white soldiers’ fire-beams.

The voice shouted again. This time, Karl paid attention.

“You’re not going to keep me here!” it yelled.

Karl pushed off a nearby car, revolving himself around his column. What he saw made him shiver with dread.

“No…” he muttered.

Not another fight…

One of the sorcerers had used his powers to pluck up one of the white-armored soldiers and swing the helpless man around the room.

It was the sorcerer who had mocked him.

But he wasn’t alone.

Another, far more monstrous Norm had stuck out their arms. It was like…—

—The soldier screamed mid-air.

They’re dueling for control, Karl thought.

“Screw you!” the sorcerer yelled, suddenly releasing his power’s grip.

“No!” Karl yelled, looking up.

His coils loosened.

The other Norm had kept on pulling, and without the sorcerer’s power to pull back, there was nothing stopping the man from getting slammed into the wall near the ceiling on the other side of the garage. He hit the tiles with a sickening crunch.

Karl wasn’t the only one to look up in horror. Startled, the other Norms weren’t able to react quickly enough when the sorcerer turned his magic on them. He repulsed them with a wave of force that staggered some and sent soldiers and the smaller demons skidding across the ground, along with several nearby cars, creating an opening which the sorcerer seized. He hurled himself through the air in a long arc—half flight, half leap. He landed on the other side of the garage, next to the white-armored soldier’s broken corpse, only a couple yards away from Karl and his column.

The body’s scent hit Karl’s nose, making his nostrils twitch. The urge to feed made him freeze in terror, only to watch in horror—and then rage—as the sorcerer started gorging himself on the dead soldier. Bullets pelted him from behind, shattering the windows of the nearby cars. A strafing fire-beam ignited the sorcerer’s clothes. But the monster was unfazed. Suddenly, the metal rounds bounced off an invisible forcefield and clattered to the floor. The barrier didn’t stop the red beam, not that the ray had much effect as the sorcerer’s body grew and grew. His lengthening, thickening tail tore open his flaming pants. Sparks and ash floated around him like butterflies on the wind.

Other Norms roared and shouted. They slithered toward the sorcerer. Some even threw themselves at him, desperate to stop the transforming demon.

Two of the army’s war machines rolled into the garage, down a ramp off to the side.

The demon moved to intercept them.

For Karl, it was like watching Bever get consumed all over again. It kindled his rage.

For the longest time, Karl had been angry. He’d resented his life. He hated being weak and lonely and feckless.

And just when his life was starting to turn around, he lost everything—even his humanity.

On any other day, Karl would have gone on a ride with Fink, galloping through the marshes and the moors. He’d find connections with the living world, and as he raced with the herds of wild horses as they streamed across the hills, he’d forget that he was pudgy, and lowly, and nothing. Only God could know the true splendor of the world. Compared to that, who wasn’t pudgy, lowly, and nothing?

But now, even that was taken from him.

The world was rotting. Burning and rotting.

Without thinking, Karl uncoiled from the column. He slithered toward the still-growing Norm and then leapt onto him, flinging himself forward with powers he felt more than controlled.

The others skidded to a stop.

The man-eater was even worse than the silver-eyed Norm. The silver-eye hadn’t been in his right mind. He hadn’t chosen to do what he’d done.

But not this monster.

Binding the man-eater in his coils, Karl ripped into the sorcerer with vicious strikes of his claws. In his pain and rage, Karl wrapped bundles of force around his claws. He couldn’t see them, but he could feel them pulse in his head, and the air around him quivered as he squeezed his anger into them and roared. The energy sparked. A tingle shot down Karl’s spine.

Faint cyclones whipped around Karl’s claws, digging into the man-eater’s body like a mason’s drill, but at furious speed. The drilling whirls burred pasty holes into the sorcerer’s body. With Karl’s every slash, more and more of the sorcerer’s flesh was splattered across the garage’s tiled floor. Even when the fiend stopped moving, Karl kept clawing into him. The rain of bullets stopped, but Karl dug and slashed and tore. A whorl of blue and green hissed up from the floor as Karl’s claws struck the tile, their fine ceramic shards rasping against his hide.

“Enough!” someone bellowed.

The words broke through. Karl stopped. He flicked away the mutilated sorcerer with a wave of pain, and then broke down and sobbed, his sweet tears burning as they ran down his cheeks.