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confounds me. I wouldn’t want to ruin your ability to enjoy
your . . . my secret, now would I? But unfortunately, I can
see your father’s anger has you far too inclined to put away
the civility of a pleasant conversation. So, if you’re ready?”
“I am.”
The floor cracked at the thunder of the god’s charge. He
still maintained some semblance of the folklorist, stretching
the dead man’s body across his monstrous spirit, in the
process outlining the wickedness that was his unwholesome
essence. He may have been taking lives long before the
advent of hands, but he certainly hadn’t been doing it with
his own. The monstrous creature swung his oversized
claws with all the grace of a blindfolded bull, telegraphing
each attack long before it was delivered. However, I may
have underestimated his alternative resources, for the very
moment he noticed me smiling at his combat prowess, he
gave me a look that carried the weight of a hammer. I found
myself on the receiving end of a psychic blow that shattered
my nose and both my collar bones.
My father was all too glad to return the attack with one
of his own, crashing into the twisted flesh of the god with
such force, he brought Tom to a knee. Returning the blow
with another glare from his eyes, the god blistered much of
my skin and set my hair on fire. Again, my father returned
rage with rage, the blade of the axe sizzling deeper into the
Lord of Secrets, calling up flames from the wound. The god
roared, from pain or outrage or both, and moved to tear the
axe from where it sat wedged into his chest. I continued
to push my luck, using the moment to bury my remaining
sister into Tom’s face. Unlike most organisms born upon the
earth, he seemed largely unbothered by the cleaving of his
brain. The monster glared from above my sister’s smile, the
heat nearly evaporating the flesh of my right arm, strands of
muscle tissue peeling back across areas of exposed bone.
The dream preserved me somewhat from the flames,
which seemed hotter than most I’d known. I decided to
188 | Mark Anzalone