The New Weird - Ann VanderMeer [86]
The teeth came for me next, clown lost or forgotten. I rolled, scrambling through the falling water to dodge. I would not fight the Lizard, for the Lizard was Ooze. Though it could kill me, I could no more harm it than harm myself.
The snap of jaws missed me, tearing at the leg of my shadow suit to raise a shower of pink and yellow sparks. Rolling, I could not see the clown. Absent my target, my fear returned. I could not leave, not yet, for I had to see the Lizard safe.
I twisted away again, readying my blade. The Lizard's jaws yawned tunnel-wide as it swept toward me. A bright spark gleamed deep inside its throat.
The clown.
I took a great breath, faced my fear one last time, and let the Lizard swallow me.
I stumbled on the rough tongue, struggling against the hot gasp of the Lizard's breath, then raced toward the spark. The clown was there, gnawing at the wall of the Lizard's gullet with its dog-headed jaws.
The Lizard could not fight something that attacked from within.
Blades flashing, I broke into a forward roll, letting the brilliance of my shadow suit draw the clown's blow. Steel still struck as it had done before, sprouting from the clown's hand like a thorn from a vine, but in my side rather than my heart.
I accepted the pain, pushed myself down the blade, and set Truth against one of the clown's wild yellow eyes while Sinister came from beneath to cut the strings of his hams.
The clown yowled, his voice a dog's, as he collapsed. His next blow missed me, wide with the loss of his balance. Then I realized the hot wind of the Lizard's breath was blowing in, not out. The tongue beneath my feet rippled, the walls of the throat likewise.
The lizard was swallowing the clown. I had done what I could, it was time to fear for my own life. I gathered myself and shouted in the voice of winds, "Away!"
The Lizard roared, expelling me to tumble upward in the darkness. I had banished myself with my words, and fell onto the ledge at WallEye's feet.
"Fool," said Wall-Eye. He nudged me with a metal toe.
"It is over," I said. The clown's warm dog ear pulsed in my hand, wrapped around Truth's haft.
"The Lizard is Gillikin business, not Shadow business."
I sat up, testing my wounds, inspecting the shadow suit's tears. The pain wavered through me like the Lizard's peristalsis, threatening to swallow me whole all over again. I needed to hold my own with WallEye, though. Gasping, I said, "I hunt those things which the dark sends us."
"The clown came from above," the priest pointed out.
A great shriek echoed from far below, as the cataract suddenly abated to a mossy dribble. Then a flash of red light pulsed in the darkness.
We smiled at one another. The Lizard had once again defended Ooze, albeit with my help.
"If the clown somehow comes back up," I said, "he is mine." My breathing still labored, I folded the ear into a pouch at my waist ― it would count for something if ever another clown came to call.
The old priest helped me to my feet. I saw the Lizard for a moment in Wall-Eye's gaze, and surely he saw the same in mine. We stood with the taste of clown in our mouths before ascending, he with his anger and me with the stumbling, pained gift of my life, in silent brotherhood to the curtained door of the Gillikin priests and all of lovely, dark Ooze beyond.
Watson's Boy
BRIAN EVENSON
...behold, I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it.... ― Revelations 3:8
[ONE]
His Keys.
HE CARRIES two hundred and thirty-five rings of keys. His father has constructed harnesses for him to loop over his arms, chest, and waist, upon which the keys hang. The harnesses consist of heavy canvas straps, oversewn and strung with hooks.
When he walks, the keys rattle upon his flesh, making his skin tingle. He tries the keys in the locks. The keys do not seem to fit