MonsterVille
Thirty Three

Harvest Days

“Ride of the Valkyries?”

Mellie shrugged, “It felt appropriate.”

They pulled up to the thick iron gates of a sprawling estate, where a half dozen men waited. Mellie killed the engine, silencing Wagner half way through his epic song, and slipped out of the car in a motion that was a little too fluid to be entirely human.

The first man was decked out in a valet’s vest and promptly gestured for Mellie to hand over her keys; his disdainful grimace for Mellie’s beat up old car was hard to miss. The second man was a different story. He was non-descript, brown eyes, brown hair, wearing a tuxedo.

“Your invitation Madam?” his voice was smooth, controlled—dangerous. He was so bland he sent chills running down River’s spine.

Mellie produced two sheets of thick white parchment and handed them over. The man offered a sceptical look as he read through them. His eyes flicked back across Mellie, then to River, an appraisal that he obviously found wanting.

He sighed. “Please follow me, and do not leave the path.”

Two of the remaining men turned to the iron gates. Their muscles bulged beneath their tailored suits and they grunted as the gates slowly opened.

The first man turned and set a brisk pace.

River didn’t see a path, but he kept close by Mellie’s side. The midday sun beat down overhead, but it wasn’t warm, the air carried a chill as a thick rolling mist blotted out the grounds, a mist that grew more pervasive with each step until the burning beacon of light was reduced to a glimmer overhead. Wherever or whatever HelljFord Manor was, it wasn’t easy to find.

“I feel a little under dressed,” River said softly. He was wearing blue jeans, a white shirt and a black jacket. It was a timeless look, but considerably more casual than the men around him. Mellie was dressed in a simple slim fitting purple dress, knee hair black leather boots, and her hair was pulled back. It was simple, but elegant.

“The Mayor likes to put on a show,” Mellie said as she moved to follow the retreating figure of the man ahead, “Formal dress, formal attire, but most of the monsters that attend? They’ll be less formal. Most will wear their human masks out of courtesy but you can expect everything from animal hides, to jeans to ten thousand dollar bespoke suits. Just depends on whether they’re looking to impress or make a statement.”

“And what are we looking to do?” River asked.

“We, are trying to stay low key. Not too flashy, we don’t want to stand out, but we don’t want to be overlooked either. Safer to stay in the middle of the pack.”

“Hence the jeans?” he prompted.

Mellie nodded, “The Mayor will ensure her guests remain civil—nobody wants to be on her bad side—but make no mistake, a party like this? There will be favours exchanged, alliances broken and made, monsters competing to show off their pretty little trinkets and prizes. Envy and jealousy are the bread and butter of our world, to be envied, to have what someone else desires, it’s a mark in your favour.”

“And wouldn’t that put a target on your back?”

“Exactly. Tonight is a gathering of the most powerful monster in town, they want to be envied, they want to inspire jealousy, they want others to come after what is theirs, to try and take it. They perceive such actions as a compliment—right up until the moment they kill the usurpers.”

River’s head was spinning.

“Can I ask why we’re here again? Not to be insulting, but you’re not Apex, or all that powerful—again no offense—so why did we come?”

“Because we were invited, and the only thing more dangerous than attending this Harvest, would be not attending.” Mellie cast her gaze ahead into the darkness, piercing the foggy veil in a way River couldn’t. “My mother often attended these kinds of parties,” Mellie added softly. “She spoke of them many times.”

“But this is your first?”

Mellie nodded again.

“So a lot of what you know, what you’re telling me, is second hand?”

“Be polite; they’ll try to provoke you, don’t let them. But don’t insult them either, try to draw as little attention as possible and if you can avoid it don’t speak to any of the Apex’s. I doubt they’ll be interested in you, but their entourages will play with you for the hell of it.”

“Their entourages?” River’s head wasn’t just spinning, he felt like he was caught in a cyclone.

“Most of the invited will bring a human pet to show off, or to offer for the Harvest. They’ll also bring their seconds, maybe a few of their sycophantic lackies. Some of the Apex’ represent groups of disparate or isolated monsters, they’ll bring an even larger entourage than the leaders.”

“Leaders?”

“Not every group of monsters is led by an Apex, the Berserker’s ‘Skati’ for example, he was a dick, a strong one, but not on the same level as an Apex.”

“Right, so ground rules. I shut up, don’t offend anyone, and stay meek as a mouse.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Mellie agreed absently.

Following the man in the tuxedo they crested a small rise which looked down on a sunken field, a field surrounded by burning torches—their smoke fading into the mist. A mist that rolled over the sunken field, and blotted out the light above, but only touched upon the field beneath. A field filled with long wooden tables piled with a variety of cooked and raw meats.

There were a group of women off to one side, a cross between a medieval concert and a rock band that let forth a lively beat, oh and of course there were the hundreds of monsters swarming the field, dancing, laughing, skulking in shadows and casting their gaze towards that bright spot above the fog. Leery gazes waiting for the unwelcome light to break through.

A throne of wood and stone lorded over the field, a woman with rich blazing gold eyes sat on the throne. A dark cascade of Medieval styled dresses piled around her, and servants crouching to either side. On her left were gorgeous rosy cheeked young woman, fifteen or sixteen at the oldest, wearing slim white togas and silver collars—the leads to which chained to the throne. Likewise to the right of the throne were a series of scantily clad young men; a few years older than the women and each of them rippling with muscular physiques. River had the uneasy feeling they were the Mayor’s personal human entourage, her toys, her displays for all the little monsters she had invited. If monster’s really did court envy and jealousy, than the Mayor was doing a hell of a job.

River also noted the revelling monsters left a very clear space around the Mayor as she lounged, and watched over the festivities.

Tuxedo-man cleared his throat and spoke in a strong voice, by magic or some trick in the design of the sunken field his voice carried clearly.

“Lady Melanie, daughter of Analyn, personal guest of our Mayor, Representative of the Berserker Tribe, and her human.”

For a brief moment all eyes turned towards the two of them and River fought the desire to cringe. The moment past and the revelry recommenced. The Mayor’s attention however was firmly fixed on the new arrivals.

The Tuxedo turned on his heels and left, presumably returning to the gate.

“Remember River, they may be wearing pretty faces, but every last one of them is a monster. Even the humans that serve them. They’ll try to manipulate you, trick you, incense and humiliate you. Don’t let them. Everything you do reflects on me, and without me they’ll kill you.”

“Mellie,” River began hesitantly, his mind filled with images of the last place he had been ‘safe’, the bloody wholesale slaughter of mermaids and humans alike, “Can you honestly tell me we’re going to live through this ‘Harvest’?”

Mellie took his hand firmly, her palm warm against his sweaty skin. She looked tired as she tried to offer him a reassuring smile, before she pulled him down the hill without a word.

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