Chương 125: Wyland

We were back at the circus, again. The crowd was no longer cheering and whooping in its crude mockery of human voices. There were some jeers and shouts, but it was largely a frustrated smolder. The game was over too early for them and they didn't like it. Not my problem. Looking around, I could see the tired and dejected faces of everyone, except for Lafeuillade, who was impatiently tapping her foot. Even Tancred looked more exasperated than I had ever seen him, and I've broken the man's wrist before.

I couldn't even imagine what he had to see, if what I went through included a school shooting and 9/11. He too was rapidly tapping his foot, gaze fixed ahead like a deer in headlights. The pedestal being used as a seat by the gigantic Foras began to lower, and Foras shrank at the same time as he faced us. When the change in size finally stopped, he still loomed over us by a good two, three feet. Outside of the crowd murmurs, the silence was only interrupted by the punctuation of their tapping feet.

"I must say, I do commend Leo Holt for discovering the secret rule so soon!" He exclaimed.

"I suppose now I should clarify in detail. Potential is not as tangible a thing as what Christian Lofield sees, when it comes to the greater scale of predetermination and whatnot. Most potential is, inherently, wasted, in preset fashion. By forcing new potential to be wasted through failures, I could accrue enough to retroactively restore May's foot."

"All this for a fucking foot," I called out, echoing May's own complaint when this all started.

"You're so goddamn lucky I can't hit you here."

"Why yes I am!" He called out with a laugh, prompting similar laughter from the crowd.

"And I imagine you intend on finding some contradictory punishment to our bargain despite meeting it," Lafeuillade called out.

"Worry not. Once this trance finishes, you will all return to the waking world and see May's foot has been restored, as though it was never lost and never harmed."

"Waking world," she echoed.

"Thank you for confirming."

"Pardon?" Foras inquired, glancing towards the agent, before suddenly blood began pooling out of his lips. He let out a gag, holding his neck in what I would then learn was pain.

"You see," Tancred's voice. Far calmer-sounding than he initially looked.

"I'm a bit of an… esotericist. Post-postmodernist in the more philosophical context. I'm no wizard or anything like that, magic is goddamn stupid, but when the world's weird, you look into the weird. The boys and girls already have it cracked that I'm a superhuman because of your stupid little game," he called out, walking into my view while pointing at Foras.

"So I suppose I should let the cat out of the bag. I've gone so in deep on the stuff that a read of Keynes' Treatise on Probability unlocked a power in me. Everything is a fifty-fifty split between any two given outcomes. I see that division, and I can measure the odds and outcomes of them." So that's how he always seemed to know the right thing to say. Why I couldn't lash out whenever he did things to piss me off. He waited it out until the gamble was always in his favor.

I wanted to interrupt his entire spiel just to knock his teeth in for likely manipulating the entire team for God knows how long, but he was possibly digging us out.

"And it's funny, usually I have to be put in a situation where I'd need to consider the possibilities. But when you said the words 'Hypnagogic state,' and for whatever reason the two choices just kind of showed up in my head. Either you were using magical hypnosis replicating a hypnagogic state — which I couldn't do anything about — or you were targeting the actual hypnagogic state people just naturally enter when falling asleep," he explained. Foras began coughing up thick globs of black ichor.

"G-guh-guh-get-" Foras stammered out, his voice an animalistic wheeze.

"-To the point? Gladly. Anyways, part of that esoteric bullshit is I really like lucid dreaming. It's great for tactical models. So Morgan and I discussed her getting you to confirm if it's a dream or not so I could take the reins."

"Wh- whogh- When-""Oh, yeah, that was with Morse code." He tapped his foot.

"Shocked you didn't parse that. Must've been too busy thinking of ways to torture my kids. Though the last bit wasn't a conversation. I remembered how Chris dealt with that other demon. He performed the Lord's Prayer to neuter 'em," he noted, gesturing over to Chris. The redhead's mouth was still gone.

"The prayer wasn't written in English anyway, so I realized any language works. Including Morse. Those last few taps were an 'Amen,' by the way." Foras let out a wheeze, collapsing to a knee. Even when kneeling, he was about my height.

"Anyways, we're getting our payback by me taking the reins for a couple of minutes. In your throat right now is a collection of the memories of every knife that's stabbed me," Tancred taunted, pressing a finger against Foras' chest.

"And I can rotate that in my goddamn head." The demon let out a groaning noise as more blood poured out.

"Now, if you want the thrill ride to be over, you're going to verify that there's no bullshit with May's bodily restoration. No secret fucking tricks."

"N-naugh-" Foras almost belched out.

"-No tricks!"

"Do you swear?"

"Agh- Agh- I swear!"

"To who?"

"Wh-what-""Swear to God, you fucking mongrel!"

"I can-" Tancred grabbed the hulking man's ear, turning his face up so he could look him in the eye.

"You don't seem to understand. I'm not talking about the Adonai here, you piece of shit. I'm talking about me. Right here, and right now, I am your God. Because I'm the one who decides your fate. Now swear. To. God." Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Foras croaked out more blood before wheezing an"I swear to God!"

"Good boy," Tancred stated.

"If you ever lay a goddamn finger on any of my kids again, you're dead. You will become the next notch on my belt. I will figure out a fucking way with Morgan." It was at that point where I realized, I had only ever seen one small side of Tancred in the whole time I had known him. The most agreeable and sociable portion. Somewhere under that hide of his was something that wasn't any better than me. The only difference I could see was I didn't seem to enjoy it the way he did.

Foras stopped wheezing, glancing almost heartbroken eyes towards Agent Lafeuillade.

"You- You knew this would happen-""Of course I did," she remarked.

"You've scammed me in every deal before because you're a craven failure. All of your kind are. You're just the one I know best how to work around. I didn't know the mechanisms, but I sure knew you would find some way to scam me and hurt these people. So I took the safest trap possible that also gave me a chance to get some payback. And, admittedly: This is also for Yvaine. Tancred, get us out."

"You got it," the agent stated before raising his hands and performing a SNAP We were back in the base. Chris' mouth was back. There was a hole burned into the TV screen. More importantly, I could see May's foot had returned, no signs of injury or abnormality. She noticed it faster than me, as she had broken into tears. Either of joy to be whole again, or out of terror of what just occurred. Chris and Jairo both stumbled into spots to sit down, Chris against a wall and Jairo on the other beanbag chair.

I managed to stay on my feet, that or maybe my body just wouldn't let me fall over after being put through so much shock and terror. Though the stress weighed on my back and my chest, and my head. Oh God, my head. Like an iron weight was chained to the bridge of my nose, just dragging everything down somehow.

"Right," Tancred's voice broke into the room.

"All of you get some rest. Morgan, you need a breather, but we're going to have to talk later. You didn't clue me into you having some vendetta plan for that son of a bitch and it cost the entire team their mental health and compromised the clandestine nature of my power." Chris pushed himself back up to his feet, trudging over to May and helping her stand up, leading the crying girl to her room. As he passed me, however, I tapped the side of my fist on his shoulder.

"Hey," I started, drawing his eyes to me.

"I saw. I get it. I'm sorry." He just stared at me for a second. Something in his eyes changed, though. Started to maybe get glassier. I wasn't sure. He just nodded, before resuming leading her off to her room. Jairo followed behind. Tancred glanced at me as I just stood there like furniture, not really content to go to my room.

"I said get some rest, Leo."

"You know I don't rest by sleeping." He watched me for a few moments, before deeply inhaling. And with an exhale, "You want to knock my lights out over the power thing."

"You already told me you had a power, Tancred. What I want to punch you over is that I'm pretty sure you used it to manipulate me every step of the way. Don't lie to me about it, either." His hands sat in his pockets as he watched me.

"If you're using your power again, I'll brea-""I'm not using it. I'm composing myself and coming up with the best words, you little snot." Lafeuillade watched us, hands at her sides. Likely getting ready to intervene for if I decided to just maul him then and there.

"You're right," Tancred admitted.

"I did, in fact, use it to get the optimal response out of you on numerous occasions." I took a step forward.

"But-" Another step.

"Let me finish before you decide to crack my head open!" I stopped.

"Thank you. As I was saying. I did. But, my power works best when I look at things from a detached and very impersonal perspective. Sentiment complicates things because what might be useful might not be what I want. That's why I've never used it on my ex-wife, terrible as she may be. That's why I had to get confirmation from Morgan instead of relying entirely on it, because it would put you all in danger if I was wrong. When sentiment gets in the way, I tend to pick the wrong answers."

"And what, you think I can believe you've been choosing wrong for me out of sentiment at some point?"

"Leo, do you think I would let you fucking punch me? Like when you went and stopped Technofiend?" No. No he wouldn't. I fucking hated when he was out-wording me like this.

"Don't bother with saying if I'm right or something. If you're not gonna deck me now, that's all the confirmation I care about. I need to go make some phone calls. Get some rest and think a little." He explained, before trudging off without another word and heading to the upper floors. Silence lingered in the room, as much of a welcome guest as I and Lafeuillade were.

"I…" I started, glancing at her. Her head turned towards me, face completely unreadable. Those sunglasses hid her eyes.

"One of the tragedies I went through. It was in Chicago." No change of expression in her face. But I could immediately feel her trying to read me. Measuring my movements. I felt like a rabbit in a falcon's gaze.

"Her name was Yvaine, then?" She slowly nodded.

"Yes. So he showed you that."

"Yeah. He did."

"I didn't name her." That's why it said "her" on the wheel instead of "Yvaine." I wondered about that, since Lily's name was mentioned.

"I hadn't come up with a name for her yet when it all happened. Was too busy arguing with my parents over it. They were furious with me for trusting a man at such a young age. Not as angry as I am with myself."

"So Foras named her." She nodded.

"Indeed. Morgan Lafeuillade is an adopted name. My first name is Morgan, but Lafeuillade was adopted. When Yvaine was five years old, he took her. Part of his deal.

'Custody,' he called it. Two years later I learned she was leading a cult. Likely fully corrupted by him. I took to studying the occult. I learned healing magicks to cure her." My mind went through the list of accusations Foras levied against her. They were beginning to add together.

"And there wasn't any way to cure her, as it turned out."

"None at all," she admitted.

"So I took to using the power of names. The mother of Ywain is Morgan LeFay. Lafeuillade was the new surname I bound to my soul, as I misunderstood the French translation. Morgan Le Fay in French is Morgane la fée. But I think the intent still granted me enough power to assert when I tried to confront her. To stop her."

"There was no stopping her. Whatever Foras did to her made her unstoppable," I stated, confirming where her story was going.

"So you gave her the last mercy you could as a mother." She nodded.

"I am going to Hell, Leo Holt. All I can hope for is when I find her there, she will forgive me, and I can hold my daughter in my arms again." Her face never changed throughout this conversation. She still spoke and kept her composure as though we were talking about traffic. I could tell how much she was holding it in, though. Because I've done it the same, myself. I wasn't good at this. But I was there in her shoes. I saw what she went through. It put something Sam did for me into perspective.

My arms whipped out, and I pulled her into an embrace. Paternal hugs weren't something I had any experience with, but I tried. It took only seconds to hear her sobbing into my shoulder. I said nothing, and let her wail away against the fabric of my jacket. That was the last day I ever spoke to Morgan Lafeuillade, born Morgan Wyland.