Chapter XXIII
An Ape for a Shape
Day passed to night. Verity and Kurt were only a few miles apart when the Groomslayer’s aircraft landed.
Verity would sleep for a half day more, unaware of her being placed into a small room in the luxurious holiday suite of Carolus Eisenforst’s mountain top chateau. She dreamt of an apegift offer, the call for power, the call to have her father’s bodyguard slain by her word.
The reality of what might be, of her being lost to the Unghost plagued her as a thorn sharper than the quickore fang in the palm of the Groomslayer.
She could not escape the thought of that possibility, the truth that was becoming manifest with each passing year since her family had settled in Great Oak County after the war. “What other choice is there? Evolve and adapt to the new age or die,” spoke Eugenius Geissler's voice echoing in the dream. “Or die.”
She awoke hours after being tranquilized, as Kurt had reached Mount Mockwitch, upon John's black steed Whip, galloping to the grove of Deathbrand. Upon a soft mattress she opened her eyes to a telescreen in front of her feet. She was dressed, though the clothes were not hers. She was clad in a skintight fabric with a color that shifted like a chameleon’s flesh: she could not pull it off in her frustration, pinching her skin before the telescreen flashed an image: A face, pale with a blueish tint, lips lightly pursed; Eugenius Geissler’s face like a half moon covered in shadow, watching her. “You have awaken now, Countess, according to my serum’s potency, and have found yourself in a foreign location, the Chateau of Carolus Eisenforst. You will attend their ceremonies this evening, hence your exquisite outfit…”
“No,” said Verity.
“You can’t force me associate with ettins. I understand the rules.”
“Ettins? Where have you learned such language…ah, from the boy. Carolusson. He has escaped the County, an offence punishable by death, you know…We tried reaching out to his foster father, but the poor ape died in a fire a few hours ago. What a tragedy.”
Verity stared blankly at the screen.
“No comment? No, no need to worry about him, just an old man. But your own father? Do you wonder what is become of him?”
“What…”
“Ah, what. What a question what.”
“What did you do to him?!”
“Emotion. Good. You care. Papa is doing fine, well, practically fine. Broken bones and hemorrhaging fine.
I must admit, I attended to my own surgery before his…but I am here with him. I will keep him safe, and he will learn to accept the order of his Master Azza through the strike of the iron rod and barbed scourge if must be. Now, if the ceremonies go well tonight, without you making a fuss, Papa will be healed, no problem, you have my word…after all, it was his word that granted your lodging here with us devas.
He made the right choice for both of you. So be a good girl. We don’t force anyone to join the Order, but when you decide to officially join I will be the first to turn you into the most…ravishing specimen.”
Geissler moved his face from the shadows. His face was two, the second was blonde haired, the skin the color of urine, handsome, and joined to Geissler’s under a black helmet. The scope of Eugenius Geissler’s image widened, revealing a body in a black and blue uniform, a large O and A emblazoned on the chest in blood red lettering. “I am the Prince of the Wildermark, the new Groomslayer,” he said presenting himself to the screen.
“I take on all of Erich’s ceremonial titles, but also his power, his black blood, the purest of the pulver straight from the mouth of our ancient god king’s is my own. Indeed, I am second in power to Azza Unghost himself,” he said with a creeping smile.
“Anything else?” said Verity flatly.
“Anything else?…Your tone is appalling. You understand far less than I had assumed, she-ape. Truly, I am under the impression that you had been in contact with…the Dead King of Men. You know whom I speak of? The one whom that little necklace you wear symbolizes?”
“Whom does it symbolize?” said Verity pulling the Tooth forward, the bane of ettins.
“Forget it…get rid of that damn necklace though. I strongly recommend it…”
“Is that all, Groomslayer?”
The Groomslayer shook his head. “The ceremonies are starting soon. I’ll be watching closely…oh, and you have a little surprise coming. Enjoy.”
The telescreen flickered and extinguished its display.
A door behind it swung open. There stood a man in a skintight crimson suit, his face of the same color, so that Verity figured he was no man at all, but an ettin, once a man, but recently forfeiting his humanity for a new imposing, monstrous body.
“Verity Von?!…goodness, are you not incredible…Ah, where are my manners? I am Arnulf Margrave of Bloodfirth. I understand you have just spoken to my Head Surgeon Eugenius Geissler.”
She said nothing, looking instead to the telescreen that flickered again a blue light.
“...Perhaps you are in overwhelmed by my coming.
Yes, I agree your circumstances arriving here were unfortunate. But you were saved…they probably haven’t mentioned it, but that little Rural Zone you were flown from is going to be razed within the week…too much of a liability for the rest of the GUSA and Herrenhausenlands…Consider yourself blessed, you are in the midst of ultragods now…” He grinned… “,Oh…and ultragoddesses, of course.
Now the festivities will begin shortly, and I trust you will be pleasantly surprised, but in case you still have cold feet, I want to introduce you to a familiar face. Someone else from the R.C.Z. Reached out to us recently…apparently was talking to Master Azza…an old acquaintance of yours he says, and Lord Azza agrees you two should be paired up…at least for tonight.”
Arnulf yanked on a steel chain; it was attached to the neck of a young man clad in a white leotard.
The man looked away from Verity, kneeling, his knuckles on the ground like a fettered gorilla.
“I’ll leave you two teenyboppers alone until the party gets going…have fun.”
Arnulf shut the door.
Etzel Galvan stared at the ground saying nothing. He had no need of words. They both could read each other more intimately than telepaths. For an hour they sat in silence, an increasing din from the center of the Chateau reminding them of their ettin-hosts.
Too did the telescreen flicker, the dual face of the Groomslayer flashing them subliminal glances: a warning that time was running short.
A countdown from 60 seconds appeared on the screen.
Count Bloodfirth spoke from an amplification device hidden in the walls.
“A minute till our festivities take off. The first game of the night: “An Ape for a Shape.” Find an ape and make a monkey outta ‘em! Do whatever ye will; for that is our right as superlative gods. As for those still, regrettably, in the shape of an ape...find yourself another ape!
Take them before they take you! There are about 80 monkeys here this evening, so if you get a move on, you can save your simian-hides and win a chance to receive an apegift! There are two hundred gods here tonight though so get going as soon as the countdown hits zero.
Take an Ape, win a shape, ain’t it fun? Oh, let’s count together, 10,9,8,7,6...”
Verity looked at Etzel. She saw a glimmer of disdain in his dark eyes.
She knew exactly what he was thinking, that she was capable of inflicting worse punishment on him; that she would sell him out to the ettins in an instant.
Afterall, they had played this game before, at least in their collective consciousness, their shared memories and dreams of a veiled chamber and a looming dagger in the lady's grip.
Verity offered Etzel up to the Groomslayer, to Eugenius Geissler in exchange for a new shape, a new body, suitable for life among the glamorous on the concrete island of Subohemia: there she would be granted the rank of goddess, a supreme being, immortal. All that was required would be the life of one of her father’s bodyguards...a nobody, a highschool drop out. Probably a criminal, a serial killer with a large bodycount from the Taboo Smashing Wars. That was all; but they picked Etzel from the ranks of apes, and his dark eyes stared at her, heartbroken. He had loved her from afar, and she had known it.
When the killing blow was finally delivered, she was numb. She refused the honors and promises of immortality. But it was too late. Eugenius took her, and reconfigured her to his own liking. Perhaps she deserved it, the transformation into Etzel’s likeness, his corpse used, abused until she was one and the same with his cadaver, except for the eyes, a reminder for the mirror of what once was.
All the while, Etzel’s ghost watched her commit the worst imaginable atrocities, all in the name of receiving her old body back: the irony was not lost on them both, until her mind was lost and at that moment all was truly lost. Her soul was lost.
And it was that soul that sat in a room with the ghost of the boy whom she led to the slaughter.
“...5,4,threetwoone, off you go!”
“Kill me. Save yourself,” said Etzel.
Verity stared blankly at his pale face. There were screams and barks outside, as if a ravenous pack of werewolves had been loosed on a shepherd’s flock.
“Do it...Kill me, and get it over with.”
Verity looked around the room. The Groomslayer’s two faces stared them down, impatient, annoyed.
“I’ll send Erich in there and deal with you both if neither of you make a move soon,” he growled.
Etzel looked to Verity, yelling,“What are you waiting for??!!”
Verity slapped him across the cheek. “You idiot! I didn’t want this to happen...I’ve never wanted you dead! If we’re dying, we’re dying together...or we’re fighting together!” “
But...you’re unarmed...”
“We have the Weever’s parts...”
“I don’t have shit...” said Etzel.
The door pounded; there stood the werewolf at the gate.
Verity shook her head. “You do, Etzel. Take it. Its yours.”
The Tooth split in two halves.
“Take it!”
The door blew down. Standing tall was the wolf, blond, red faced, wearing a black leotard spattered in red.
Erich von Herrenhausen II pointed a finger out into the room.
“One, two. Two apes. Oh, weren’t you supposed to be my toy for the night?” Erich smiled.
Verity shouted out: “No! Erich...don’t come closer: you’ll die.”
He was dumbstruck, then laughed and laughed.
The blonde werewolf strolled inside the room, hands behind his back.
“You’re...you’re apes. I could wring you into paste, pulverize your bones with a single swat-” “-No, Erich. You can’t. Your body is pumped full of pulver.”
“Pul-what? Alright, I’ll spare you,girl, but let me show you how wrong you are...” Erich gripped Etzel by the throat and lifted him up, feet dangling. “Prepare yourself for the ape-pit.”
Etzel's eyes looked ready to burst out the skull. “Etzel!!!”
His face turned purple.
“Alright, I’m bored. I’m-what-” Erich stumbled forward. In his spine was the chained fang of the Weever.
He was paralyzed. Etzel dropped from his grip.
Erich Jr. crumpled to the ground.
“That’s quickore. It will burn right to your black heart,” said Verity her foot on his back, the Tooth pressed by her bone-white hand.
Black fluid dribbled from Erich’s mouth. Verity pulled the Tooth out from his back and turned to Etzel, unmoving.
“Etzel! Come on, no, come on!”
His body was still. Cold. “Etzel! You don’t die like this! This time was supposed to be different!”
The uproar outside the door was deafening.
The Telescreen flickered.
The Groomslayer was scowling. Verity held the body of the boy who loved her, fires burning along the hall.
“Not like this...”