Monstrous Ink

1.

Theseus and Asteron

Why does someone make a Labyrinth? For people to get lost in?

No. You make a Labyrinth with a centre. You put people in it to find the path.

Why do you put something in a Labyrinth? To hide it?

Ha. Putting something at the centre of a Labyrinth is the surest way to make people seek it.

For this is what Pasiphae did when she gave birth to a monster. Pasiphae, child of Helios. Pasiphae Sunspawn. Pasiphae the Oracle, who saw with eyes as bright as daybreak.

Pasiphae, who was more sunfire than woman. Who mated with a godly bull because fuck you that’s why.

Pasiphae, who saw her child’s twisted path as clear as dawning.

What do you put in a Labyrinth? What do you keep swaddled at its heart?

Oh, something precious. Something that must be kept safe.

She called him Asterion, for the stars that were his eyes.

She suckled him on sunshine and when he was big enough, she weaned him onto scraps of scorched meat.

The rumours abounded, of course, that Asterion was feeding on the flesh of humans. And perhaps it is possible that when wicked people came to take him away from his mother, he fought and killed them with the godly strength that others would call monstrous.

Would you not have fought for a parent?

Alas, rumours are what they are. Something had to be done.

What kind of person designs a Labyrinth as a prison? An engineer?

An engineer is really just a person who solves puzzles. And when Pasiphae came to Daedalus with a puzzle, he saw a way all the parts could fit together.

In return, she made sure he had plenty of wax and feathers in his cell. For all the good it did him.

What do you call a Labyrinth that you don’t plan to leave? A trap?

Or, perhaps, if you were safe and if your sister Ariadne (who could find the secret ways of the maze with string to guide her) brought you enough food and enough books, you might call it home. For a while at least. You might, deep in the dark with an ever-shrinking supply of candles, even remember that you are more than a monster. At times.

But Pasiphae dreamed of more than this for her darling child. For the precious, holy creature who held heavens in his countenance.

So, when one of her other sons (one of Minos’s brats) died due to Athenian treachery, Pasiphae saw a way that salvation could perhaps be bought with that tragedy. Knowing the Greeks and their fondness for Heroes, she knew that demanding reparation in a tithe of human lives would surely bring a shining paragon who would rescue her child.

Admittedly, she did not expect it to take so long. She saved what poor unfortunates she could from their fate in the maze (though it must be said, that was as much to spare Asterion the guilt as to spare them their lives).

Finally, Theseus arrived. Ariadne was persuaded to make doe eyes and escort him into the Labyrinth’s core.

What do you call a person who willingly goes into an impossible Labyrinth to confront a holy monster? A hero?

You might be better off calling him an optimist.

For when Theseus met with Asterion, he fell for him immediately. How could he not, when his eyes seemed full of galaxies? And so, in the heart of a maze made by a master, their two hearts were joined.

The extraction wasn’t easy to arrange, but everyone involved was determined. And Minos was very much prepared to believe that the bull remains he found in the maze were those of Asterion.

Once the lovers set anchor at Naxos, so that Ariadne could disembark to meet her own lover, Dionysus, it should have been plain sailing for them.

But Poseidon had never liked Asterion and he threw up a storm to scupper their ship and their hopes.

With home tantalisingly close, Theseus had the crew rig up black sails, to indicate that the Gods were displeased and that sacrifice should be made.

Theseus’s father, King Aegeus, tried every sacrifice he could think of. Wine, gold, animals… nothing worked. He grew desperate.

What do you call it when you would give anything? When you would pay your every iota and dash yourself upon the rocks, praying that you might wrestle fate aside?

You might call it sacrifice. You might call it ritual. You might call it love.

Whatever you call it, the storm broke. Theseus and Asterion made safe harbour.

Their happiness would be tinged with tragedy, but it was always going to be. And it was happiness, nonetheless.

And far away, looking down on them through the sun as it burned through the clouds, Pasiphae smiled.

Why does someone make a Labyrinth?

So that something precious might be found in its heart.

2.

Ask Questions Later

Elle forced her decaying tongue into action. Spittle, blood and other matter sprayed from her mouth.

It resisted, of course. Every part of her body, from her toes to her brain, resisted in these end days.

Except her teeth that is. Her teeth were always eager.

Those teeth clacked and cracked and the bone beneath them gave way. She slurped the contents down as if she were a child again, upending her soup bowl to let the liquid spill down her chin.

She smacked her lips.

Squirrel was good, but a bugger to catch and the traps were getting harder and harder to manage as she lost fingers. Still, she fumbled in the undergrowth until the catch clicked back into place.

She heard another click.

She sniffed.

The rich scent of the squirrel’s viscera had masked the smell of the hunting party.

She saw them now through rheumy eyes, a blurred slow-moving menace. Her eyes hadn’t been good even before the change, now all they could make out was the glint of metal pointed at her.

Elle forced her decaying tongue into action, hope and stubbornness holding her flesh together.

With Herculean effort she managed a single word.

Stop!

The bark of gunfire drowned her out.

3.

Fly Trap

In a plain white room, a woman sat with a bowl of red liquid in front of her. She did not touch it. Her captors did not know she was a vegan, and she did not know if the previous owner of this blood had consented.

Did you know that vampires are actually closer to plants than to animals? A faint smile spread across the woman’s tanned face; a smile that would have been gentle if not for the fangs. On a cellular level, that is.

Do not speak unless spoken to. The voice crackled over a speaker, seeming to come from each of the plain white walls at once.

The woman sat still, a spot of vibrant energy in a washed-out prison.

Isn’t that funny? She said.

Speak only when spoken to. Non-compliance will be disciplined.

Isn’t that funny? She repeated. A plant that cannot stand the sun’s light?

You were warned.

The white walls flared to brilliance, flooding the room with ultraviolet light.

Aaaaaaaaa— the woman began to scream and writhe in pain, aaaaaaaaaah ha hahaha.

The screams turned to laughter and her writhing stopped. Her laughter continued to ring out.

"Hahahaha. Oh, wow. I got you, right? You bought the whole ‘oh no, I’m meeeeelting’ bit? Oh darn. She wiped a sticky, tar-like black tear from her eye and then adjusted the heavy pleather coat, a comforting battered presence around her shoulders. It had been her armour since childhood. Seriously, though? Ultraviolet? That’s reassuring. Good to know I’m working with amateurs. What are you, government? The Catholics or Orthodox wouldn’t pull this shit, for sure. She stood and stretched out her arms. Been a while since I got a good tanning session in…"

The speakers crackled but nothing was said.

Oh, don’t mind me. No need to keep me entertained with conversation. I can be sparkling all by myself. She rocked back and forth on her heels. "You’re lucky you got me, to be honest. Not all of us manage to keep our faculties intact. The rest get very ‘ra ra bitey bitey’. Not such good company."

Crackle.

Ultraviolet may not be effective, but this room is equipped with sprinklers and we will use them.

Our brains are vestigial, you know. Did you know that? Probably you didn’t. The speakers crackled again, but she kept talking over them. It’s part of the whole—

You will comply or—

—plant phenomenon, after we change, you see—

—we will initiate countermeasures and your expiration—

"—our vitals become somewhat, well, less than vital, so—"

—is an acceptable, if regrettable, outcome for ensuring you—

—you need to keep those pathways firing and fed or they fade quick.

—remain contained. Repeat: we will use holy water in 5, 4, 3, 2—

Holy water?

A pause.

Permission to speak, my dear captors?

Crackle.

Granted.

Do you want to know an interesting fact about holy water? Of course you do. She had not once stopped smiling. "Now, holy water will definitely work. So will most holy things. So will unholy water for that matter. Wrap your head around that one!"

Crackle.

Is there a point to this?

Have you worked out the desaturation point yet?

Another long pause. The speakers did not crackle.

Because, she continued, "genuine holy water will kill me dead. But there is a measurable point at which holy water is contaminated enough that it is no longer, axiomatically speaking, pure. How old are these pipes? How long has the water been standing? Do you know how much copper, how much bacteria, it takes for water to unsanctify? It’s low. And, honey, holy is a binary state…"

A crackle again. The sound of two hands wrestling for the microphone.

One hand won.

I don’t care, doctor, your experiment is evidently out of your control. Alpha Team: commence Expiration Protocol.

A wall slid open. Several heavy armoured figures emerged, clad head-to-toe in a truly unnecessary amount of tactical gear. Two grabbed the woman’s arms. A third held a modified pneumatic battering ram to the woman’s chest and pressed a button.

She screamed. But she didn’t fall.

"Ow, my fucking ribs. Good bloody gad, you dicks!"

They stared at each other for a moment.

Oh, it’s a stab-proof vest. She rapped on her chest. Her arms were somehow free, the guards grasping at empty air. Something beneath her leather coat clunked faintly. Bought it on eBay.

She looked directly at the hidden camera.

My turn.

4.

Little Ivan

Once upon a time, there was a little boy called Ivan.

Then Ivan died.

His family mourned, the village sang dirges, then they drank all through the night as death was