Chapter 32 - Appetite for Destruction

Myria was running. She had destroyed, again. She had to get away. Away from the threat, and away from those she might hurt.

Adrenaline surged through her body, urging it on faster, but her limbs were sluggish. They did not wish to respond. Her right hand felt wrong. She was unable to move it properly. It was the one that had held… the thing. The pretty poison.

Her vision, normally so acute, was becoming more and more blurred, as if viewed through a distorted lens. Am I losing my sight as well?

And the pain in her head was a throbbing in time with her pulse. Regular, like a clock. A glass clock that might shatter at any moment.

Am I dying?

The thought brought a panic as the alley she was running through suddenly dimmed to pitch black, and she felt as if she were swimming through treacle. She struggled on, feeling her body continue to betray her. Feeling as if time were slowing to a stop, just like before, and this time taking her with it.

Then a light assaulted her eyes, adding a new and stabbing pain to the experience."

"How are you feeling?"

Myria's realized she had opened her eyes, and struggled to keep them open and focus, but the light... "Too bright. Hurts."

"Jessie, turn down the lamp, would you?" The light receded to a more bearable greyness. Myria realized that she was not running at all, but lying horizontally on a surface. It was soft. And felt of woven material. Cloth. Over padding.

Myria swallowed, mouth dry where just before it had been flush with saliva. "I am… in a bed?" Each word made her wince as it reverberated through her skull.

"Yup." Myria turned her head to her right where Jessica was just turning back from the lamp. "Back at the hotel in your own rooms. The sergeant had you brought here and let me and Jonny know right after."

She realized now that Jonathon sat at the other side of the bed, eyes intent and brows furrowed. Concerned. She realized he was holding her hand. It felt pleasant. Reassuring. I am alive. "How do you feel, Myria?"

"I have a head ache. It is like before when…" Memory washed back over her. Her voice lowered to a whisper "Did I… are any humans…"

Jonathon glanced at Jessica, then shook his head. "No one died, Myria."

Myria felt a great weight removed, replaced by a wave of sadness. She felt her eyes begin to sting. "I am… a monster."

Jonathon brought his other hand up to cup Myria's face. "No. No you aren't. Don't talk like that."

Jessica snorted. "Seriously Myria. It was completely self-defense. Those things could've killed you." She looked thoughtful. "Though the table was probably innocent. Never can tell with tables, though." She smirked a little, and Myria wondered how much of it was an act.

They are trying to reassure me. She noted that Jonathon was sitting a bit stiffly. "How are you? Are your ribs well enough to be here?"

"You know, for a monster, you are awfully worried about everyone else. I'm fine. A little sore is all."

"And like we said. No one got hurt. Just the furniture. And I think you can afford to replace the table."

Myria played back the events again, morbidly probing what had happened like a missing tooth. "But what if… next time… it is not a thing?"

There was a long moment of silence where Jonathon and Jessica looked at each other from either side of the bed. Myria felt her stomach seem to sink.

Finally Jessica cleared her throat. "I guess now's when I stop hiding behind 'I don't wanna talk about it', huh? Take one for the team?"

"That's up to you Jessie."

"What do you mean? Jonathon what is she speaking of?"

Jessica grabbed Myria's left hand. "I'm talking about what happened that day." She looked slightly ill. "You're worried about what you can do? I saw what you can do, okay?"

"But-"

"Shut up."

Jonathon shot Jessica a look. "Jes-"

"You too. You shut up too." Her voice was shaking slightly. "You want me to open up for Myria? Fine, I'm open. But that means you both hear it all. All of it." Myria could feel Jessica's short fingernails digging into her hand.

"I saw what you did to those men, Myria. You took them apart speck by speck. And they knew it too." She dropped her head, hiding her face as she went on more softly. "That one, the really scary one. He watched his… his hands going, right in front of his eyes. I could see it, Myria. It was scary as hell."[1]

Myria could feel her body cringing back, trying to curl up, but Jessica and Jonathon would not let go of her hands. Jessica was telling her what she feared. That she was a monster. How was this to help?

Jessica took a deep breath, and raised her face, and the look on it was predatory. "Those men. They were the monsters Myria. Not you. And you didn't just stop them, you didn't even just kill them. You destroyed them. Every single piece of them. And they knew it was happening."

Jessica squeezed Myria's hand even tighter for a moment, then let go and hugged herself. "I'm glad you did it."

"Holy crap, Jessie."

"Yeah, well. I didn't really want to talk about it."

"But-"

Jonathon had been gnawing on a question, and interrupted. "Myria, did you know, walking into that situation, that you could even do that?"

"I… I had not thought of it. I was to be human. And humans do not do this. I was terrified."

"See what I mean? No matter how we got to that point, you put yourself at risk, to protect me. And you killed those bastards, and you did it to save me. Think about that." She looked at Myria carefully. "Have you ever hurt anyone who wasn't trying to kill you first?"

Myria blinked, and found herself staring at a wall. Her eyesight was recovering. She could actually make out details on the molding. And her head ache seemed to be receding. "No. I suppose I have not." She turned back to her friends. "But this does not guarantee I will not. It is… it makes me afraid of myself. Is that normal? Do you have this fear?"

Jessica's mouth turned up at one corner. "Nooooo…" she drawled. "I can't say I have. Though there've been times I've wanted to shove Jonny in the oven."

"Jessie!"

Jessica snorted. "Jonny, she needs honest. I'm giving her honest. Sheesh you act like she's gonna fall apart if you tell her the truth. The way you two soft-foot around each other is just stupid."

Myria sat trying to process that for a moment. Then realized something and tried to sit up. "The Palace! The hearings! I must-"

Jonathon tried to hold her back for a moment, which just caused both of them to wince as their various aches kicked in.

"Um Myria, you were out for an entire afternoon. I don't think the hearing is still going on today."

"Oh. I see."

"Myria, you need to stop doing these things. It's getting worse I think, every time."

"I think you are correct. I shall rest, then."

"Yeah. You do that. I'll go get you guys something to eat. How about that? You two don't try anything while I'm gone, though."

"Jessie!"

"Oh I'm joking. Seriously, you're both half crippled. You'd kill each other if you tried anything.[2]

His Grace, Sir Samuel Vimes, Commander, City Watch, looked up from his desk as a certain sergeant of the female dwarfish persuasion[3] entered his office.

"I was wondering when you were going to provide that 'full report' you promised."

"Sorry commander. After we got her back in her quarters at the hotel I had to send word to the bakery, and put a squad on guard duty at La Extravaganzia."

"Hah, bet that made the hotel manager happy."

"Not at all sir."

"That was sarcasm, sergeant. But what else?"

"Oh. Well after that, sir I ran some tests."

"Stop right there. I have the feeling I'm going to get a long, scientific explanation when what I want is a simple explanation." He raised a finger. "Which I have not yet gotten."

Vimes picked up a piece of paper. "What I have is Constable Visit's report, which is simple. Too simple in that it talks about a freak accident, possibly weather related, which caused a stampede wherein…" He look at the report again. "'Forsooth, The great Om in his mercy saw that there were but minor injuries and a few pieces of damaged furnishing.'"[4]

He put the paper down again.

"What I found most interesting was the fact that you had zero input to provide, and when I asked you for your personal report, your response that it was all 'very confusing' and you needed to check some things."

"Yes sir."

"I'm not buying what you're selling, Sergeant."

"No sir."

So would you like to explain what exactly happened," He held up the finger again. "When I say that, what I really mean is I want a sentence. One. Single. Sentence. That gives me a clear summary of what happened in that restaurant, sergeant."

Cheery pursed her lips. "Well sir, in that case, I can tell you that the table we were sitting at exploded, as near as I can tell."

Vimes leaned forward and gave Cheery a sharp look. "And what was LeJean doing, right before that happened."

"How did you know-"

"Lucky guess."

Over the next minute, Cheery began to relate, in detail, exactly what she saw from the time the courier flagged them down to the… event.

"I assume you have already questioned the courier?"

"Yes sir. He seems completely innocent."

"No one is completely innocent."

"Well innocent of this, sir. He described the man who gave him the package. It definitely wasn't Miss LeJean's baker friend that gave him the box, though he was hired near the bakery so he assumed it was. We're making inquiries."

"Meaning you've told Angua."

"Yes sir."

Vimes sat back and pulled out a cigar, looking at it carefully. "So, do you think that the food was poisoned?"

"No sir. That's the thing. I ran some tests."

Vimes froze. "I thought you said the whole box exploded?"

"She had one in her hand, sir. The one she threw."

"Ah. And you managed to find it."

"Yes sir. I'd be a poor forensic investigator if I didn't look, sir."

"Ok. Go on.

"Like I said. I ran some tests on the bread. It wasn't bread at all, sir. As far as I can tell, it was some type of extremely sweet substance, mixed together with some kind of water-soluble binder."

"Wait. You're saying… it was sugar?"

"Not exactly sugar, but something like it, sir. Designed to dissolve almost immediately. And made to look like something only Miss LeJean would want to eat."

"And no poison?"

"Nothing, sir. I checked for everything I could think of." She looked sheepish. "I even tried a tiny bit myself, since Mister Hardlee didn't seem worse for wear.[5] It was incredibly sweet sir, but nothing harmful."

"I see."

Vimes tapped his fingers on the desk. Trying to add all the bits up to make a clear picture. Is LeJean allergic to… sugar? Wouldn't that be ironic. And who would know that little fact to try and take advantage of it? Vimes went through the list of people who had reason to want LeJean dead. He made it through the letter A when Cheery gave a polite cough.

"Yes?"

"I also tested the dust, sir. It was just a mixture of elements. Carbon mostly. I was able to get it to burn, just like coal dust. I'm guessing that there were lighter components too, but they probably dissipated."

"How is that significant?"

"Commander, as crazy as it sounds, I believe that Miss LeJean turned the table and the box into individual elements."

Cheery had expected several reactions. No reaction wasn't one of them. Vimes sat there, completely blank-faced, and Cheery tried to fill the silence.

"I… sir, I compared it to the dust from the Knäcke kidnapping scene. It was the same material, mostly. A bit more calcium and iron there…"

Vimes raised his eyebrows. "Go on."

"Well sir, if you take into account that the human body is mostly water, with some carbon and calcium and iron, sir…"

"You are saying, that you think you know what happened to the kidnappers, and who did it."

"Yes sir."

There was another long silence before Vimes asked, in a quieter voice. "What's your impression of LeJean, Cheery?"

"That she's not a murderer sir."

"Is that all?"

"That, and I really wouldn't want to piss her off, sir."

"You and me both Sergeant. You and me both."

[1] This story is told in "From Dust to Flesh: Myria LeJean Book 1"

[2] Jessica doesn't know the half of it, does she?

[3] He could tell cause… she was a dwarf. And wearing lipstick. And had sergeants stripes. Oh and cause, well, she was one of his men, of course. Lots of his men were women these days. Or something like that.

[4] Constable Washpot Visit-The-Infidel-With-Explanatory-Pamphlets never misses an opportunity to witness to the lost of the world. Even his police reports aren't a safe read.

[5] Other than throwing up on someone else, which probably doesn't count.