Slices by Michael Montoure Page B

monsters?”
    “You
know.” Toniele sighed with the impatience that only the very
young have. “The monsters. The ones who look just like people.”
    “Oh,”
Jasper said, letting it hang between them. “Those monsters.
Aren’t you a little old to be believing in monsters?”
    “Why
isn’t there any food in your kitchen?”
    “I
just moved in. I said, aren’t you a little old for stories?”
    He
looked at her a long moment. The light from the fire was the only
light in the room. “No.”
    “Hmmmm.
All right. Well, then. Tell me what you know. And I’ll tell you
how much is true. And you can see if you believe me.”
    Toniele
lit up. “Okay. They say monsters built the roads.”
    “Well,
now. I don’t know if I believe that, do you? The roads go on
and on and I don’t think they ever stop, so maybe they never
started, either. I don’t think anybody built the roads.”
    “Oh.”
    “Now,
don’t look so discouraged. We’ve only just started.”
Jasper’s throat was parched. She would have given anything for
a cup of tea, but she didn’t dare. “Tell me what else you
know.”
    “They
say — they say monsters kill babies.”
    “Oh,
yes. Oh, I’m sure that’s true. They’d hardly be
monsters if they didn’t, don’t you think?”
    “Sure.
I guess. Raishaillion’s heard that monsters — ”
    “Now,
I’m not talking to Raishaillion, now. He was too scared to come
inside, remember? You were the brave one; I don’t care what
Raishaillion’s heard, you tell me what you know.”
    “Okay
… I’ve — I’ve heard that monsters have dark,
dark skin, so they can hide in the shadows better.”
    “Oh,
yes. Not as pale as you, pretty boy.”
    “And
that they get old fast. That they only live a few months.”
    “Yes,
I think that sounds about right. Yes. What else?”
    “I’ve
heard that they’re — that they’re warm. And that
their hearts move.”
    “Move?
You mean they get out and move around?”
    “No,
no!” Toniele laughed. “You must have heard. That they
move. In and out, like this.” He demonstrated, little fist
pulsing. “And that their lungs are always moving, too, even
when they’re not talking.”
    “Yes.
Yes, I’ve heard all that, too.”
    “That’s
creepy.”
    There
was silence in the kitchen for a moment. Nothing but the crackling of
the fire.
    “What
else?”
    “They
used to … eat animals. The whole animal, not just the blood.
Right down to the bone. They had the teeth for it, too, small and
rough and just for tearing and tearing. Animal teeth.”
    “Anything
else? Anything magical about them?”
    “They
could stay up all day! They never slept. And they could go out in the
day, too, they could go out in the sun without burning.”
    “Why
do you suppose that is?”
    “Raishaillion
says — ” The boy stopped, bit his lip, suddenly aware
he’d spoken the forbidden name.
    “It’s
all right,” Jasper said, soothing. “What does
Raishaillion say?”
    “He
says they had a powerful god.” He was still biting his lips,
not sure he should continue, not sure if he should blaspheme in front
of this old woman. “One of the old gods. A god they’d
killed, nailed to a, a cross of wood, so they could have his power.
And they’d use these crosses against us.”
    “Did
they work?”
    “Sure.
Sure they did. And if they didn’t, they’d come after
people with garlic and wooden stakes, and they’d cut people’s
heads off and — and — ”
    “There,
now. There. You settle yourself right down. You’re getting
yourself all worked up over nothing. How old did you say you were?”
    “I’ll
be fifty in another two years.”
    “Fifty,
huh? Fifty’s too old to believe all this nonsense. All this
talk about monsters. No such thing as them.”
    “Oh.”
He watched her for a long moment, listening to the fire hiss and
crack. “You’re sure?”
    “I’m
sure. Don’t you think I’ve lived long enough that I would
have seen one, by now? I think I know better than