Page 6 of Of Monsters Of Kings

I looked back at the next corner to find he’d taken up position in the middle of the landing below and was peering downward. Did he expect an attack, or was this to prevent my escape? As I lingered on the landing above him, Stag turned to one side, clearing the path out of the apartment building. He didn’t look at me, but there was that sense I’d had with Ox of a choice being offered. He wanted me to know that I could leave.

My instincts told me to leave. They told me that if I walked up the stairs, my mother might starve to death, unable to move while she wondered what had happened to me. If I didn’t walk up the stairs, she’d likely still starve to death, but we could starve together. That seemed a nicer alternative. The best scenario was that I didn’t get murdered today, the skull employed me, and then no one had to starve. I felt dubious about how employment to a skull might work out long term, and I didn’t have the luxury to think past tomorrow.

I climbed the stairs after Ox. Ten flights.

Twelve.

On the seventeenth flight, Ox stopped before a metal door and sat on a wooden chair beside it. I peered over my shoulder, then studied the landing when it became clear this was the final destination.

My, what a mess.

The shredded walls gave the illusion that a great beast had stalked down this landing while dragging his claws through plaster and wooden frames. A tiny space clear of damage revealed the walls were once painted the deepest red. The carpet… durable and expensive. Scuffed in areas. Unlike the walls, the ceiling was untouched, but I squinted at the strands of hair hanging in a few places. What a bizarre, gross thing.

Even a destroyed landing could only occupy a person for so long. The time and silence extended.

I cleared my throat. “Are we waiting, Ox?”

Goodness! That wasn’t his real name.

I’d stilled, but Ox didn’t open his eyes as he replied, “Through there.”

Perhaps his name was Ox then. That would certainly be a lucky guess. And if it wasn’t, then he didn’t seem to mind the name anyway. “Does he know to expect me?”

The rich and powerful often owned radios, which was the only way to speak over a distance since The End, but I hadn’t seen these guys speak into any radio on the walk here.

Ox chuckled.

Then nothing.

That was that, then. My gaze slid to the metal door. I’d already decided this must happen. Inhaling deeply, I strode to the door, twisted the handle, and pulled. Oof. My breath rushed out. Not a smooth opener.

I yanked harder, and the door relented in a scream that whipped through the landing and echoed down the stairs. Someone had jammed that back on its hinges one too many times.

I left the door ajar and entered the room, certain that my pounding heart was as audible as the screaming of the metal door.

A large man sat on a wooden chair in the middle of the room. He was faced away. Aside from his chair, the only other furniture in here was the low stool beside him that held a glass of water. The carpet was almost pristine aside from the slight wear at the door where I hovered. The walls were unblemished, and if it wasn’t for the man and the glass of water that appeared crystal clear and free of any stagnant films and fungi, then I might’ve believed this room had remained unopened for centuries, a time capsule.

Instead, the near emptiness of the space felt purposeful and cold. Uninviting.

I shouldn’t be here.

But I was.

One thing was clear. This skull would win the fight against his skeleton crew any day. He had eaten an ox, a stag, and a sand cat, because along with his obvious size, his posture sang his grace, and the coiled tension radiating from the skull shouted his power. My knees wanted to knock together, and I widened my stance. My voice wanted to tremble, and I could only do my best with that.

“The hotel you s-shut down today, I worked there. Your c-crew say you have no plans to open the hotel again and no other plans for the space yet, but why let it sit vacant when you could profit otherwise? I can?—”

“You looked into his eyes.” The skull didn’t move as he spoke. His voice floated as though from the depths of a daydream, and the musing tone was at utter odds with his size and coiled tension. How could he exist in a daydream and also on the edge of bursting forth to strike me down?

I sensed my answer was vitally important to my survival and to keeping his interest a while longer. “Into Ox’s eyes? I don’t know. Perhaps for a second.”

“A beat.” The words floated to me. “No more before you peered elsewhere.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. The skeleton crew hadn’t spoken to their skull on the way here. Oh. Unless Sand Cat radioed from the bottom floor as I walked up.

My brow cleared. “I suppose so. Yes.”

“Supposing. I would expect such of a creature like you. And so you are here.” Boredom entered his detached voice.

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