《Leere》 Chapter One: The Hate 1 The Hate rounded the corner as a sea of red. Leslie reached for the sesnickie. ¡°So long, you sorry fucks!¡± Leslie cried as he climbed using thick handfuls of white fur. Leslie threw down his last can of disco freeze, and as it hit the ground, the members of the Hate froze. Leslie shook violently at the repeated use of the nasty shit and had to pause halfway up the sesnickie¡¯s side. You¡¯re no Goddamned good. You smell like asshole. She¡¯ll never want you¡ªyou¡¯re the shit brother, aren¡¯t you? Aren¡¯t you? AREN¡¯T YOU? NO! He had seen no other way but to use the cans, but it was one fuck of a rough trip. He looked at the Hate now, frozen, their leathery transmogrifiers pointing at him. Guns made of skin, Leslie thought, and that cheered him up a bit. I¡¯ll show you a fleshy rifle, you brainwashed fucks. But the effects of the disco freeze assaulted him again, and the thought lost its luster. Leslie yanked hard on the sesnickie¡¯s white mane for one last hoist, nearly dropping the Eraser from his armpit in the effort. Pip¡¯s pointed ears twitched. ¡°Watch the hair, bunnyfucker,¡± the sesnickie said in Leslie¡¯s mind. ¡°She was a hare,¡± Leslie said. ¡°Right.¡± ¡°You know she was a hare.¡± ¡°Fine. Harefucker.¡± ¡°And I didn¡¯t fuck her,¡± Leslie said. ¡°Said every harefucker I ever knew.¡± ¡°Her name was Deborah, and ¡­¡± Leslie paused. ¡°How many harefuckers do you know?¡± ¡°Just the one.¡± ¡°Oh, for fucks sake,¡± Leslie groaned. The sesnickie gave a noncommittal shake of their mane. ¡°Whatever gets you through the disco freeze. Didn¡¯t Fiona warn you about that¡ª¡± ¡°Quiet!¡± Leslie snapped, trying to clear his mind with the mantrum. As he chanted, Leslie pictured that other place as if he were already there, feeling its vibrations and the associations he had with it to gin up the right frequency, like tuning to the right channel on a stereo. A memory of Fiona urging Leslie not to use the disco freeze swam up unbidden, and Leslie cursed at it until it swam away. The tik-tik music of Lavender, along with the frozen forms of the Hate (which would unfreeze any minute now), and the low vibrational pull from the disco freeze that felt like a bad stomachache, were making it difficult for Leslie to focus on the mantrum. Fiona swam back for a nag. Disco freeze is for the incompetent, Leslie. It¡¯s a trick. You¡¯re better than that. Aum balamb-bom-bai, he chanted in his mind. Come on, you dick sneeze! Aum balamb-bom-bai. Aum balamb-bom-bai. Leslie felt warm, almost sleepy as he and the sesnickie began to Move, shifting slightly, their colors fading. The stargazer lilies, the shadow wood, the Manor House, Aum balamb-bom-bai, Leslie thought. But then ¡­ a different set of images came to him, something he¡¯d never seen before, a kind of feeling more than a thought, a hollow nagging, like something left undone, unsaid. It pulled at him in the middle of the Move, and a mantrum slithered in¡ªsomething he¡¯d never heard before, never felt. It was ¡­ unfathomable. He looked down at the Eraser in his hands. He tried to resist, but it was a lust he could not think his way out of. This close, this true. Just ¡­ just a touch. Then we bring it to Alfred. Fix his brain. Don¡¯t want to use it on him without ensuring it works. A distant piece of him screamed to drop it, to wait, to do anything else but attune this mantrum, but the pull was too powerful, and Leslie too weak. He started to utter the new mantrum under his breath, when, almost entirely on impulse, he brought a piece of cloth from his robe between his skin and the Eraser. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. What the fuck was that? he thought. Have to be more careful. He started the Moving mantrum over in his head, and thankfully it did not take long to get back in sync with Pip. The Hate stirred. An empty one raised their transmogrifier up and pointed it at Leslie¡¯s serene face, firing just as he completed his Move. 2 Leslie rematerialized in a familiar room on a familiar mound of white fur¡ªand, as he looked down¡ªwithin a not so familiar body. ¡°Trans-fucking-mogrified,¡± he observed. Luckily, what he¡¯d taken from the Temple of Emptiness had stayed in his lap through the Move¡ªa lap that no longer had a cock and balls in the middle of it. Well at least the Hate had a sense of humor. He quickly took inventory of body parts. He had orange fur all over his body except on his belly which was white. His legs bent backward, and he had paws the color of mud. Keeping the Eraser in his armpit, Leslie slid down the sesnickie¡¯s side, awkward in his new body. As Leslie¡¯s paws met the cold marble, the Eraser slid from the grip of his armpit and dropped to the floor. Leslie gasped. If it breaks ¡­ The black tablet landed without a bounce and did not break, making one very loud thunk when it hit the floor. It was odd¡ªLeslie was sure it hadn¡¯t been so heavy as that, to fall without a bounce and such noise. He stared at it for a moment, wondering if he should maybe pick it up to ensure it was really alright, but decided against the notion and instead sat on his haunches to begin the process of getting his body back. Quint had named this room ¡®the meditaz¡¯, and Leslie was fairly certain the wizard had made the word up for the sole purpose of sounding clever. It was a large chamber with rows of thick marble pillars that held lit candles in iron sconces to each side. The candles on the pillars were kept burning at all hours by Putnam the manservant who changed them out when they burned too low. Pillows sat on the marble floor all along the chamber¡¯s edge. Leslie had spent many hours in the dimly lit meditaz, listening for the vibrations of the universe and the mantrums that they manifested as. This is where he had sat two years ago on the Day of Contemplation and learned the very vibration he was about to attune. Leslie began chanting the mantrum and visualizing his body as it had been before the Hate had turned him into a fox. As his body started to reform, a familiar voice cut through the silence. ¡°Leslie, welcome back! How was your time with the Hate? Pleasant, I¡¯m sure. Always did have a good sense of humor, the Hate.¡± The voice hesitated then let out an echoing caw of laughter. ¡°It appears my words ring true! They transmogrified your cock and balls clean off!¡± The cavernous meditaz amplified Quint¡¯s following titters. Just then the sesnickie began to purr. ¡°Ah, hello to you as well, Pip. And thank you for traveling to that dreadful planet Lavender to pick up our lovely Leslie, may Emptiness forever massage the area between his thighs. Although it seems there may be nothing there to massage ¡­¡± Leslie paused in his transformation. ¡°I see you haven¡¯t changed much, Quint¡ªsame crusty beard, crusty face, crusty jokes. Now, would you like to stare at my cock some more, or can I get on with it?¡± ¡°Or lack thereof?¡± Quint said, raising an eyebrow as he went on staring. Quint had bushy, grey-white eyebrows that sat atop wire, circle-rimmed glasses. His long hair, beard, and mustache combined into something like the mane of the sesnickie¡¯s, surrounding his whole face in a pointy, tangled mess. Quint usually wore a blue cardigan over a white button-up tucked into grey slacks, and old man loafers that Leslie thought had never been replaced, or washed, or taken off, for that matter, in all the time he¡¯d known the old wizard. Quint looked down to the ground at the black rectangle. ¡°You managed it, eh?¡± ¡°Yes indeed-y, now if you please, I¡¯m trying to grow your favorite part of me back and then we can see if this thing works,¡± Leslie said. ¡°I should hope it works!¡± Quint said with mock concern. ¡°Not that, you fuck. The Eraser.¡± Leslie folded his hands back in his lap and slipped into the mantrum once again. Om shindi-andi-ah Om shindi-andi-ah Om shindi-andi-ah As Leslie slowly chanted himself back to his original form, Quint reached above his head and scratched the sesnickie under their chin. ¡°You fucking stink. How bout a bath? I bought more Sly Grass if you want to smoke after dinner,¡± Quint said. Pip sniffed loudly in reply and nudged Quint with their head and the nearest candles flickered. ¡°Now, now, Pip. It won¡¯t be all that long before Leslie has a cock again and has eaten something reasonable. I¡¯m hungry too, and I¡¯d like to join you in Svargaloka before we try to use the Eraser on Alfred. Sly Grass after dinner.¡± They were having a conversation, Leslie knew, but Pip was keeping his contributions exclusively in Quint¡¯s mind. Sometimes this bothered Leslie, but right now it was a welcome courtesy because he was having enough trouble focusing with one voice blathering on. 4 After an hour or so, Leslie came back to his body and his steady flow of generally unbothered, non-mantrum thoughts. I have to piss, was the first. His second was: Why didn¡¯t they turn me into pilgrim shit? Or something as helpless, a fucking clover or something. They went on and on about the fuckin thing¡ª¡®it will empty all of the empties.¡¯ Why let me get away? Leslie picked up the Eraser and he could hear the tik-tik music that played on the loudspeakers all over Lavender. He put it back down and looked around the room. The music stopped. He rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger, looked up, exhaled, and though he was terrified to touch it¡ªbut also wanted nothing more than to touch it¡ªhe bent back down to carry it to his brother. Tik-tik Tik-tik Chapter Two: The Eraser 1 ¡°Twenty years we¡¯ve held the Eraser,¡± Keeney said. ¡°Twenty years since we wrestled it from the Woman in White¡¯s bony hands, at your command.¡± Leere¡¯s hooded red cloak whipped in the wind as he looked out over the sharp angles of His city. Keeney¡¯s belly quivered. But he had resolved himself to this. How many did we lose to get it? He cleared his throat. ¡°And we give it away, my lord?¡± Keeney added. With a voice like the hiss of leather, Leere said, ¡°We will have it back. For now, this must be.¡± Leere raised a black-gloved hand. Keeney clenched his fists, taking a step forward to protest further, but the air grew thick, dark, heavy. Shadows flickered out from every corner, and Keeney dropped to his knees. Low vibrations assaulted him, pulling thoughts of death and isolation to the forefront, thoughts of his son dying a dozen gruesome deaths to the hands of this thing, this monster, his lord. ¡°This¡ªmust¡ªbe.¡± Keeney fell to the obsidian floor, cold and slick with his own sweat and blood from a split lip. ¡°P-p-p,¡± he sputtered, managing to turn his face to Leere. Leere dropped his hand. The air thinned, darkness lifted. Then Leere shifted and disappeared. He had come and gone like this many times since returning twenty years ago. The savior of the Hate, the Necrolore, had wished to remain discreet during that time, coming for short periods to give instructions to the Rakshasas, then disappearing again. Though Leere told them He was here to stay this time, He was rarely in one place long. ¡°He has much to attend to before the One Dream can come to its true fruition,¡± said the Rakshasa guarding the doorway. ¡°And then everything will be set right, Keeney. These false idols, illusory beliefs, Thrast, all gone¡ªobliterated. In His hands, we will all dream His dream. The true dream.¡± Keeney nodded and chanted it to himself like a mantrum. His son had the black veins of Thrast running through his flesh and would die unless the One Dream was true. ¡°I was ¡­ mistaken,¡± Keeney said through sharp indrawn breaths. The Rakshasa nodded, and gestured Keeney through the door. ¡°You were.¡± 2 Bookshelves walled the common room floor to ceiling. Leslie rushed through. He¡¯d had enough Leere and One Dream shoved into him on Lavender that he¡¯d be happy to never see a book again. Tik-tik. Leslie felt the Eraser calling to him. The mantrum slipped into the edges of his awareness again. No. I gotta take it to Alfred. Tik-tik, the chaos music challenged. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. A babbling voice grew louder with each step toward the dining room. ¡°Bab-goob job-job,¡± Leslie¡¯s brother Alfred said in his unintelligible dialect. At the head of the dining room table sat Quint. On the long side to Leslie¡¯s left sat a woman with dark hair and dark eyes, reading a book. Necrolore and Merrilore was the title of this one. The exact fucking fairy tale that Leslie had read over, and over, and over again on Lavender. There was Leere, the story-taker, the Necrolore that absorbed all into itself to make the One Dream. Then there was the Merrilore, who shared the stories of all and allowed them to be as they would. Fiona was always reading some damn book. ¡°Pleasant reading?¡± Leslie said. ¡°Better watch out or the Necrolore might take your books!¡± Leslie still didn¡¯t know what it meant, really. The Necrolore would take all the stories away and give back His? Leslie had walked past the statue of Leere, the prophesied Necrolore, every day before entering the Temple of Emptiness on Lavender. The hooded thing had goat-like horns, held a key that looked almost like a wailing, deformed child, and His left foot was set forward because there was no ¡®right¡¯ reality, only His One Dream. And despite Leslie¡¯s claims that it was all bullshit, whenever he passed the statue, something pricked the back of his neck, and it had nothing to do with the snow covering the planet, and he would look behind him just to be sure nothing was there, watching. He had those goose pimples now. Fiona did not look up. Alfred, who sat next to Fiona, had the same dirty blonde as Leslie, dark circles under pitted blue eyes, and pale skin. ¡°Hello, Alfred,¡± Leslie said. Alfred¡¯s only response was to continue babbling, looking from one hand to the other, then at the ceiling as if something was just about to make a whole world of sense. ¡°Hello, Leslie,¡± Fiona said as she looked from her book to Leslie¡¯s exposed manhood. Then a small grin cracked the thin line of her mouth. ¡°Chilly?¡± Leslie realized his robe had come undone. His face flushed, and he started toward Alfred, wrapping the robe tight about himself. Quint said, ¡°It won¡¯t hurt him to be this way for a time longer. Sit, Leslie. You need a real meal.¡± Leslie hesitated, then pulled out the chair closest to him at the opposite side of the table from Quint. Quint coughed wetly into his shoulder. So it hasn¡¯t gotten any better, Leslie thought. Leslie held tight to the Eraser. It was as if it wanted him to forget about his brother and use it for himself. ¡°Leslie? Are you alright?¡± Quint asked. Leslie hadn¡¯t realized that his face was slowly inching closer to the Eraser in his hands. He put the tablet down on the table and smiled up at Quint. ¡°Yes. Fine. Um¡ªsorry. I could just see my reflection in it, and, well, you know ¡­ they don¡¯t have mirrors there, and¡ª¡± ¡°And you finally saw how fucked you look!¡± Quint said, peering at Leslie over his circle-rimmed glasses. He raised his drink. ¡°Cheers to your restored self-awareness! Now let¡¯s eat! Putnam!¡± The kitchen door opened, ushering forth the steam and savory scents of a cooked meal. Putnam the manservant glided in. Phildrious Putnam, bald and straight-backed, carried a tray in one hand, while the other hand was a tray. The not-hand held little crumble cakes while the other held a metal tray with creamy, bacon-flaked potato soup and freshly baked sourdough bread. ¡°Welcome back, Master Leslie,¡± Putnam said with a small bow. His voice was cordial and uninvested. Leslie could feel his robe sticking to the sweat on his stomach, chilling him. ¡°Thank you.¡± Leslie could feel his robe sticking to the sweat on his stomach, chilling him. His heart pounded. He looked first over his shoulder as the goose flesh broke out again, then down at the Eraser. Putnam leaned over the table, pushing the crumble cakes from his not-hand onto a silver dish in the center. A human hand replaced the tray and Putnam made his way around the table with the tray of potato soup and sourdough. When Putnam got to Fiona, he paused to look at the book that sat in front of her. Putnam frowned and shook his head. Leslie was covered in sweat now. Was Quint looking at him again? The tik-tik had left his head as soon as he put the Eraser down and Leslie missed it. He actually missed the chaos music of Lavender that the black tablet played inside his head when he touched it. If he could just hold it, one more time ¡­ the mantrum ¡­ what was it? Leslie ¡­ Leslie ¡­ Leeeslieee ¡­ ¡°Master Leslie?¡± Putnam said behind Leslie¡¯s left shoulder. ¡°Would you care for some potato soup?¡± Leslie jumped in his chair, nearly knocking the ladle and bowl right out of Putnam¡¯s hand. ¡°NO I DO NOT WANT ANY FUCKING SOUP!¡± He grabbed the Eraser, muttered something under his breath, and disappeared from the room. 3 ¡°Bas-ani-con-funishtu. Bobishbo can-toni,¡± Alfred said as he continued to fidget in his seat, worrying some impossible problem that only he could see. The Eraser, his brother, and the hope of fixing his addled mind, were gone. Chapter Three: Mantra Scramble Chapter Three: Mantra Scramble 1 I wondered if something like this might happen, Quint thought as he clicked his tongue. ¡°Putnam, get Pip. They are in the waterfall room bathing.¡± ¡°Yes, Master Quint,¡± Putnam said with a slight bow, then hurried from the room. Quint walked to the opposite side of the table. Yes, this was a strong vibration; there would be traces left where it had warped the air. With any luck, Pip would get here before those traces were gone. 2 Phildrious Putnam phase-shifted into his original form as he exited the dining room, becoming an oily black humanoid shape. He reached for a phase warp, collapsed into a puddle, and went underneath the kitchen door into the hallway on the other side. He could feel the pull of the other potential he had accessed by touching the phase-warp¡ªthe pull to be the puddle completely and stay that way. He naturally resisted this tug as he did any time he phase-shifted. Assuming his original black and oily form¡ªwhich did not tug at him¡ªPutnam walked down the hallway, an endless sprawl lined by doors. Above each door was a golden sign with engraved writing: ¡®Theatre,¡¯ ¡®Sly Grass Den,¡¯ ¡®Spider Milk Bar,¡¯ ¡®Peep Show,¡¯ and oddly enough ¡®19¡¯, were just a few. Putnam stopped in front of one marked ¡®Waterfall Room.¡¯ He reached for a phase warp in front of the door handle, shifting himself back into the expected manservant form he usually wore with his friends, then twisted the handle. The door opened to a roaring waterfall that fell over a rocky ledge into a plunge pool below. The water sparkled with the reflection of sunlight, flowing toward the doorway then veering to the right. Putnam stepped into a wooded area that clung to the water¡¯s edge like facial hair. The trees were very tall and slightly red in color, and the door Putnam came through stood open in the trunk of one of these behemoths. ¡°Master PIP!¡± Putnam yelled, trying to get through the blast of the waterfall. He stepped forward onto a rock the size of a human head. ¡°MASTER PIP!¡± Putnam yelled again, louder this time, and then the sesnickie jumped out of the water near the edge, causing water to come crashing down on Putnam¡¯s head. ¡°Master Pip, something has happened, and¡ª¡± Pip shook the water out of their fur, ensuring that Putnam¡¯s livery was entirely soaked. ¡°Leslie has vanished with the Eraser,¡± Putnam went on, wiping water from his eyes. ¡°Master Quint said he needs you now.¡± At this, the sesnickie Moved, teleporting. Putnam turned around and became oily black again, the wet livery disappearing. He went through the door and made his way back. 3 Leslie drifted. The vibrations sang and strummed his nerves with chaos fingers. He could hear¡ªeverything LOW. EMPTY YOURSELF. BE A VESSEL. YOU CAN ONLY BE TRUE IF YOU ARE TRULY EMPTY. I. SEE. YOU. White light ate away at Leslie¡¯s mind. He screamed. Blank¡ªeverything blank, stretching forever. A flash of red. I CAN MAKE IT STOP. White, acid light. Now red¡ªa red cloak, a tall form. Horns peaking from beneath a hood¡ªbrown, twisting horns. The face was obscured but for the bottom where it swirled in a black and white Void. Static fuzz. I CAN MAKE YOU HAPPY. Images flashed in Leslie¡¯s mind. But was it his mind? Was he here? He seemed more ¡®it¡¯ now. He appeared to ¡­ be ASURA and himself at the same time¡ªwhich was all time, every time, both selves, all selves. ASURA. He saw himself suspended above a pool of static fuzz like what had swirled inside the hood. Then was dipped in. He was ¡­ A virus, eating holes through a heart. A breath blowing phase dust, separating the atoms of its victims. A woman breaking wooden spoons across a child¡¯s back, leaving thick splinters in the skin.. The Hate, drugging the water supply of farmers who refused the One Dream. Rakshasas coming to Dandelion from their previous planet and enslaving the Drake people. Leslie, with the mantra scramble bug, walking toward his brother Alfred and then putting it into his ear. The bug smooshed its way through Alfred¡¯s brain and extended its hundred legs across pink meat, biting its pincers into the prefrontal cortex¡ª Mantra scramble. Alfred babbled. ¡°I didn¡¯t do it! I would never do that to Alfred¡± Leslie screamed. YOU ARE THESE THINGS. YOU ARE BUT A SMALL PIECE OF THE ALL. YOU DENY THEM, BUT THEY ARE YOU. ALL THAT YOU SAW IS SO. I CAN MAKE IT STOP. White light threatened to consume him. EMPTY. A vision of a doctor taking a spike to a woman¡¯s tear duct, hammering it home. One red tear falling down the cheek. EMPTY. ¡°STOP!¡± Leslie cried. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I CAN MAKE IT STOP ¡°NO!¡± I CANNOT MAKE YOU, THIS IS TRUE. I CAN TAKE THAT WHICH IS AND SHAPE IT. Leslie felt a hole tearing. He felt it in his stomach, though he knew it was in his mind. The hole was there before, but now it was gaping. It was like the mind grooves that Quint talked about sesnickies traveling when they did a Fishing. It felt like ASURA was riding back and forth in these grooves in a rocking chair, turning divots into chasms. Fiona. The old wound. 4 Pip vomited. The sesnickie was sickened by the scent of this place. The phlegmy bile drifted in a sinuous line from Pip¡¯s mouth, denying gravity, and Pip pushed away, floating toward Leslie. Leslie hung suspended in air, stomach to the sky, his arms, legs, and head hanging down. WHAT IS THIS? ANOTHER HAS COME? IS THIS ¡­? YES ¡­ I CAN USE THIS. There was a very strange vibrational pulse that came over Pip and they couldn¡¯t quite place it. No time, they thought. Pip jumped for Leslie, coiled their body around him and sent a very invasive set of feelings and thoughts to him. 5 The meditaz. Escaping the Hate. Alfred babbling next to Fiona. Fiona ¡­ The scents and colors swirling translated to something like, ¡°We need to Move, you fuck. The mantrum! Let¡¯s get back. This place makes me sick!¡± Fiona. Back to Fiona. Leslie chanted the mantrum for Moving. 6 Fiona spooned potato soup into Alfred¡¯s mouth. She noticed she was chewing a nail on her free hand to the point of pulling skin and stopped. Quint paced the long side of the table. A grandfather clock ticked quietly behind him. Fiona looked to her left, where Putnam stood by the door to the kitchens, staring unblinkingly ahead. Fiona had grown fond of Putnam in the five and a half years since she stumbled into the front yard of Quint¡¯s Manor House, but she still had the remote sense of unease when he was near. It was a group of phase-shifters who chased her through the Forest of Midnight, surrounding her, feeding on her vibrations. At the time, she had no idea what they were eating, just that she was being sucked on¡ªlike nothing good ever was or ever would be. She had felt the fire of hives ringing her eyes before she blacked out. That was her first memory; anything before the Shadow Wood did not exist, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not piece together her life before it. When she awoke from the phase-shifter attack, she was in the Forest of Midnight, black, quiet, alone. Standing up, she¡¯d felt for the nearest shadow tree, using the branches as anchors in the dark until one step brought sudden light all around¡ªlight, and a manor house in the middle of a field of knee-high pinkish-purple lilies. Later, Quint had told her some people called them stargazers. Fiona noticed a lone shadow tree standing on a hill behind the house. She felt drawn to the black mass of leaves dancing like flames in the wind. She walked warily toward the house, and when she was halfway there the front door opened and out stepped an aged man with circle-rimmed glasses, long, fuzzy gray hair, and a beard that came to several matted points around his jaw. Two blonde young men followed. Then a black, oily shape stepped from behind the trio, and Fiona had fainted. ¡°Shit,¡± Fiona said as she tore skin from her nail. She sucked on the finger to soothe the pain. Quint stopped his pacing to look over at her, but she shook her head and he went on, muttering about some woman, and the Hate, and all the bother, and he should have known better, and it was Valucias all over again, and on and on. She thumbed her book, turning to a picture of the red-cloaked Leere. Where had Leslie gone? Why had he looked so insane when he¡¯d grabbed the Eraser? Why couldn¡¯t Alfred just get over the goddamn mantra scramble? A tear landed on the page, darkening a ring of Leere¡¯s cloak the rust color of dried blood. She caught Quint looking at her again and wiped her eyes, turning away, scowling and hoping the hives that betrayed those true emotions she rarely shared hadn¡¯t formed. Alfred had pushed Fiona away, throwing himself entirely into his research until she gave up on their marriage entirely. But then he¡¯d become ¡­ broken, right when she was finished, for fuck¡¯s sake, right on the day when she¡¯d finally decided to tell him she was done, and she was leaving the manor house, and she hoped he found what he was looking for in his research. She clenched a fist under the table. It wasn¡¯t fair. How could she leave him now¡ªhow could she even want to until he was well again? And why did Pip Fish that card if it led to this? she thought. Pip had been so sure the Eraser was the only way to fix the mantra scramble in Alfred¡¯s brain. Fiona was impatient, not only to heal her husband so he could get back to his life, but also so she could get on with hers. 7 Leslie took full control of the connection between himself and the sesnickie. Pip arched their back in protest. Suddenly, in the middle of the Move, the image of the austere dining room disappeared and the cold marble pillars and tile of the meditaz replaced it, only¡ªit was wrong somehow. 8 There wasn¡¯t much to Leslie now but a kind of divine urgency for¡ªFiona. It was an ache the had once pained him daily, but he¡¯d moved on, understanding that Alfred had won her, as Alfred was brilliant, was incredible, was some kind of a fucking genius, wasn¡¯t he? Leslie had accepted it, yes, but every flicker of eye contact still sent a jolt through him. And now those eyes wouldn¡¯t leave his mind, wouldn¡¯t stop their boring into him, their wanting him. There was no acceptance now, oh no, why would there be? Now there was only that painful desire, and the surety that she, too, felt this way. Doesn¡¯t she? She does¡ªyes, of course she does. She always has. You were just too craven to try. She¡¯s been waiting the whole fucking time! To have her he knew what he had to do. He saw his brother sitting cross-legged on a square pillow against one of the pillars of the meditaz, eyes closed. Leslie felt the tickling in the back of his head that signaled the beginning of a sending from Pip. He wasn¡¯t sure how he did it, but he thrummed into the Eraser. Waves of cold rippled through him as Pip¡¯s sending was cut off. Leslie felt the sesnickie stiffen beneath him. Frozen like disco freeze, he thought. Low Vibrations. Leslie dismounted and took a step behind the pillar to his left. There was a reason Leslie had used the Eraser¡¯s strange powers to Move back to this time and day. This was the Day Of Contemplation six months ago and Alfred would be in a deep trance. ASURA, the being inside the Eraser, had also shown Leslie the way¡ªwhere to go, what to do. All would be provided. Leslie peaked from behind the pillar at his brother. He turned and began to walk toward Alfred. A very muffled piece of him urged him away¡ªAway, don¡¯t you remember? Go back and tell the others you know what happened to Alfred. If you don¡¯t do it, maybe that¡¯s what¡¯ll fix him. If you never did it to him, then it never happened! Alfred hadn¡¯t exactly been present around this time, and he barely even spoke with his wife, Fiona. He didn¡¯t deserve her! He did, however, deserve the bug. Yes, the bug, which would be provided soon, and Leslie would put in his brother¡¯s ear because it was the only way Fiona could let go of Alfred for good. But where was the bug? He continued to walk, then paused as he saw the red-cloaked figure towering over him to his right. Brown, twisting horns peaked out from a hood that concealed the head. He¡¯d seen this creature, or a statue of it, on Lavender. It was Him! The story-taker! The Necrolore! r LEERE! HELLO LESLIE Leslie¡¯s face twisted as he dropped the Eraser. Leere pointed a transmogrifier at him. The world grew around him, the pillars were giant towers now, the ceiling pushing miles away. Leere bent and picked Leslie up. He was the bug, a fucking mantra scramble bug! But it wasn¡¯t supposed to be like this! The thing inside the Eraser, ASURA, it¡ªHe¡ªhad assured Leslie that a bug would be provided, and that Leslie would carry the bug to ¡­ to what? It was all fading, and fast. He felt the need to feed, to reach little legs into slits of pink meat and poke and prod and feed and feed and feed on vibrations. Powerful vibrations. Leere carried Leslie toward his brother and placed him on Alfred¡¯s neck. Leslie crawled into a screaming Alfred¡¯s ear canal and smooshed his way through the brain. He extended his hundred legs into what holes needed filling, those cracks that leaked food, so much food into Leslie, then stabbed his pincers into pink meat and squeezed. Alfred went rigid, his screams fading in a kind of hissing whine until a grotesque twist of nonsense and babbling palsied on his lips. 9 Pip watched from the shadows, helpless, frozen from Leslie¡¯s strange control over the vibrations¡ªPip assumed it had something to do with the Eraser that Leslie still held as he walked toward the oblivious, meditating Alfred. Pip watched as Leslie turned, stiffened and shrank. A very tall, red-cloaked figure walked from behind a pillar, and, with a gloved hand, picked Leslie¡¯s tiny, flailing bug body up off the floor. Alfred screamed before the babbling began. The cloaked figure turned to Pip. The sesnickie, now free from Leslie¡¯s vibrations, jumped for the Eraser. There was a powerful scent attached to it, thrumming with the vibration of forward, and future, and here, but not now. Pip materialized in the dining room of their original time, dropping the Eraser and scrambling to the corner of the room.