Nocturnal: A Novel

There was anger in Firstborn’s voice, but also desperation. He sounded like one of the kids in school who — when caught in a lie by a teacher — just kept repeating the lie louder and with more intensity, hoping to wear the teacher down.

Rex knew he needed to say something, but he couldn’t even form a word. Firstborn seemed so powerful, so … cool.

Now Firstborn played to the crowd, raising his arms, turning and staring at anyone who would meet his gaze. “What all of you smell, it is a ruse. It is impossible!”

Then a new voice, the cutting hiss of an old lady. “And how do you know it is impossible?”

The crowd parted for a woman wearing a long gray skirt, a brown sweater and an orange scarf tied over her head and under her chin. She was kind of fat and hunched over a little bit. Everyone fell quiet as she walked across the deck. Firstborn watched her approach, but her eyes were only on Rex.

The woman stopped right in front of Rex. Rex didn’t move. She put her hands on his shoulders, leaned in and took a big sniff. Her eyes closed. She leaned back.

“Finally,” she said. “We have waited for so long.”

Firstborn’s gray-speckled lip curled up, showing the sharp teeth behind. “Not you too, Hillary. This can’t be the king.”

She turned on him, wrinkled eyes narrowing. “And how would you know that? How would you know this boy could not be the king?”

Firstborn started to answer, then stopped. All his power seemed to vanish.

She stepped closer to Firstborn, reached up to shake her bony finger in his face. “You say it is impossible because you have killed babies that could be the king!”

The crowd gasped. The mood of the cavern seemed to change instantly. Rex stood very still — it suddenly felt like something bad was about to happen.

Firstborn spoke in a calm voice. “That’s ridiculous. The only babies I killed are the ones that came out human. We have enough mouths to feed as it is.”

“You lie!” Hillary wheeled to face the crowd. “I have seen Firstborn kill the babies, the babies that could be kings, the ones” — she pointed at Rex — “that smelled like him.”

Firstborn laughed, but the sound was hollow, forced. “And if I killed these babies, Hillary, then how is it that this boy stands here claiming to be king?”

She spoke in a low hiss that was easily audible over the silence. “How do I know? Because for eighty years, I have been taking the ones that could be kings and sneaking them out of Home. This boy, the one who stands here, I made sure he made it to the surface thirteen years ago.”

Firstborn stared. He blinked, slowly, almost as if he couldn’t understand what Hillary was saying. “You took them out? You know not what you have done.”

“But I know what you did,” she said. “You kill our kings because you want all the power for yourself!”

“Don’t be insane,” Firstborn said, but the crowd’s growing roar drowned out his words. A circle of strange bodies started to close in around him. The big-headed man and the black-haired woman pushed back against the crowd.

Firstborn stood tall. “This isn’t about power. This is about keeping our kind alive. A king will lead you all to your deaths — I will do what has to be done.”

The big, black-furred man’s eyes locked on Rex’s, and in that moment Rex felt the depths of Firstborn’s rage, knew that the creature wouldn’t think twice about killing anyone in this cavern to get what he wanted.

Rex saw a brief sneer, then Firstborn rushed in, claw-tipped hands reaching out. The tall creature bellowed a roar that rooted Rex to the spot.

Sly and Pierre shot forward and slammed into the oncoming Firstborn, stopping him short — the points of his black claws swiped just inches from Rex’s eye. Firstborn’s knee shot up, snapping Pierre’s head back. Two black- furred hands lifted Sly as if the snake-man weighed nothing at all, then threw him hard into the crowd.

Rex had never imagined someone could be that fast, that powerful.

As Firstborn turned again to attack, a shadow passed over Rex’s head — Fort stepping over him to block the way.

From Fort’s back, Sir Voh raised a tiny hand. “Save the king!”

The crowd roared and rushed in. Bonehead swung and hit a white-scaled man, but then went down under a pile of bodies. A normal-looking man reached for the black-haired woman. She reached for the chains on her hips but the man was on her before she could get them. She ducked a punch, then shoved her hands against the man’s chest — there was a flash and a loud crack. The man twitched violently and fell. The woman turned to do the same to her next attacker, but a blanket-clad person hit her from behind, knocking her to the deck. In seconds, a dozen people covered her, twisted her hands behind her back.

The crowd cautiously closed in on Firstborn.

He let out a primitive growl that made people flinch away, then reached for the guns strapped to his thighs as he once again rushed at Rex.

Fort stepped toward Firstborn and swung his big right fist. Firstborn sprang high — Fort’s punch whiffed harmlessly beneath. Still arcing through the air, Firstborn aimed his pistols. Rex moved by instinct, diving between Fort’s barrel-like legs, hiding under the bigger man’s mass.

Firstborn fired, bam-bam-bam-bam-bam, trying to adjust his aim even as he descended, but it was too late for him. When he came down, dozens of hands reached up to grab his feet, his legs, his arms, his chest. The leader of Marie’s Children went down under a kicking, punching pile of bodies.

Sly stood. “Kill Firstborn! Kill him for the king!”

Bleeding from bullet holes in his shoulder and the leg, Fort lumbered to the pile of bodies. He tossed people aside until he reached his giant left hand down and pinned Firstborn facedown on the deck. Fort put a knee in Firstborn’s back, then grabbed the man’s wrists and held them firm.

As strong as Firstborn was, he couldn’t move.

Sly walked forward. He picked up one of Firstborn’s pistols. His snake mouth smiled and laughed as he pressed the muzzle against Firstborn’s gray-streaked temple.

“I’ve been waiting for this, asshole,” Sly said. “Been waiting a long time.”

The crowd shouted for blood.

Firstborn looked at Rex. The green eyes looked lost, desperate — the brave knight, brought low.

Rex held out a hand. “Stop! Don’t kill him.”

The crowd’s murmur died away.

Sly didn’t move the gun. His smile faded. “But he has to die, my king. He just tried to kill you.”

Rex couldn’t shake off Firstborn’s words. The tall man had said his murderous ways weren’t about keeping power. Why would he say that? He could have been lying, but it didn’t seem like he was.

Sly looked down at Firstborn. “He must die,” Sly said. “Him and all his rules, and the way he treats us!”

The crowd murmured approval — they wanted Firstborn dead almost as much as Sly did. But they weren’t thinking straight, none of them were. Rex knew he had to step up. His destiny began right now.

He walked forward and held out his hand, palm up. “Give me the gun.”

Sly stared back for a moment, then once again smiled wide. “Of course. The new king should kill the old ruler.” He handed the gun over butt-first.

Rex took it. He’d never held a gun before. It was heavier than he’d thought it would be. It felt good in his hand.

Firstborn was pinned down and overwhelmed by numbers, yet even now he seemed more dangerous than all the rest.

Rex squatted on his heels. “Firstborn, you said I’d lead everyone to their deaths. What did you mean?”

Sly shook his head. “Just shoot him already. Don’t let him speak his lies.”

Rex looked up at him. “Sly, be quiet.” Rex didn’t even recognize his own voice —