“Be a dear, and fetch me the contract, won’t you?”

The pink bug, which resembled a blossoming flower more than it did an insect, obediently brought out a piece of parchment tucked away within the vagrant’s robe. Quickly, a small crowd started to detach from the mob of marching criminals, and formed around the old man. Those who heard him use the medicine magus’ given name were clearly agitated, but the fact that he seemed unphased by an attempted stabbing held them back. His true identity was still a question mark.

“Okay, lessee… ‘Burn after reading’.” The bearded man started dictating the contents of his contract out loud, seemingly unaware of his current circumstance. Or was he simply that confident in his strength? These thoughts feel like they’re getting caught in my throat.

“Party A, Gregor, is to completely destroy the currently-registered residence of Esmé Medeor, ensuring she is not mortally wounded during–”

Suddenly, a swing. One of the mercenaries standing closest to the vagrant threw a wide hook aimed straight at his head – any hesitancy that the crowd had, instantly dispelled. And yet, my feet remained planted to the ground, refusing to budge.

Before anyone could react, the flower-like bug on Gregor’s shoulder skittered deeper into the cloak, loudly chattering as it did. Then, as if he were commanded, the vagrant whipped his head away at an incredible speed, slapping away his assailant’s arm, and tripping him up onto the ground. The onlookers who were about to join the fray reflexively took a step back, and the rest of us continue sizing up the beggar. What kind of dominium is this? Reflexes, long-range, body armor…

“Employer… Payment… Obligations…”

The vagrant continues scanning through his parchment contract, muttering to himself out loud, but everyone’s attention is diverted elsewhere – the mercenary who tried attacking Gregor hasn’t gotten up from the ground. Instead, he’s curled into a fetal position, tightly gripping his right arm. Gregor’s soft-spoken voice becomes impossible to discern, drowned out by the intense grunts of pain coming from the body. As the noises turn to screams, more and more Scélére locals try pushing their way through the glut of bystanders, all of whom are desperately trying to piece together what just happened. Two of them go out of their way to try and help the mercenary, but any questions, or physical contact only seemed to amplify his suffering.

“Ah, here we go – contingencies,” Gregor announces, reaching the very bottom of his contract. “In the event Party A, Gregor, is identified, or discovered…”

He trails off.

While everyone’s eyes are still fixed on the mercenary writhing in pain, I’m carefully studying Gregor. The way his left foot is pointing towards a nearby alleyway, the way his head tilts in the direction his pink insect is standing, and the way he’s carefully lifting one hand off of the parchment.

Like he’s about to reach for something.

“Duck!”

My knees buckle, dropping my body to the ground. My warning, however, came too late.

In a lightning-fast motion, the vagrant brushes aside his cloak, revealing a collection of glass bottles, from which he snatches up one filled with a pink liquid. The practiced movement leaves the others no time to react – in an instant, a foul-smelling solution gets splattered over everyone who had surrounded Gregor. I can feel some of the liquid dampen the back of my shirt, but whatever it was, I must’ve avoided the worst-case scenario.

While all the bystanders are still reeling from the chemical attack, Gregor picks the mercenary who tried to slug him up by the collar. I can tell that he’s whispering something to the man, but I can only make out one word.

“…hungry.”

Before anyone can take action, the vagrant pours out what’s left inside of the unlabeled bottle onto the mercenary’s face, tossing it aside once he was done. The musky stench is strong enough to make me gag. Suddenly, Gregor grabbed his mark by the head with both arms, but still, nobody moved in to help. An inexplicable feeling of foreboding washes over everyone.

To my horror, a cascade of insects begins falling out from the beggar’s beard. Everyone becomes paralyzed with fear as ants, maggots, centipedes, and other horrific creatures crawl out from Gregor’s facial hair. At first, the only audible sound is the mercenary’s screaming, but a moment later, a grisly scratching noise becomes too loud to ignore. The bugs are burrowing through the man’s face, uprooting skin, and flesh, until they’ve finally hit bone. His cries for help are gradually replaced with coughs, intruding upon everyone a horrific mental image.

Finally, the mercenary crumpled onto the ground, dead. The various insects that Gregor has used started crawling off of the cleanly-picked skull, much to the dismay of everyone who hadn’t ran away yet. The vagrant turned towards the gathered crowd, and uttered a warning.

“Apologies, but I am contractually obligated.” He paused, pointing towards the sky. “These little critters were on their way towards the clinic, but they really can’t resist the smell.”

As if on cue, a large shadow materialized around all of us. Above, an amalgam of familiar chirping, and ominous buzzing rings out; a swarm of insects large, and dense enough to be mistaken for a rain cloud.

“Locusts…”

The plague began descending onto Scélére at an alarming speed. Any criminal who was still standing frozen in place found their motivation in the half-eaten corpse of their comrade. The locusts were coming, and if they’re drawn to the smell of whatever liquid Gregor spilled onto them, then they would end up like him. A visceral panic spread in an instant. Everyone ran for shelter – no doubt, the exact outcome that the insect magus must’ve been hoping for.

For a moment, the idea to just run flashed into my mind. Any potential help I could’ve had is fleeing, not to mention the fact that I still haven’t fully understood the way Gregor’s magick works. Before I knew it, my feet started to point in the exact opposite direction than I was facing.

But if I run, the chances of being able to draw Gregor out a second time….

Having, in his view, succeeded, the vagrant turned back into the alleyway, and started to run.

“Aw, hell.”

“Daisy, are you seeing this?!”

The pink bug chirped something in response, no doubt matching the magus’ bewildered tone of voice. I’m fortunate enough that Gregor doesn’t seem to know a lot about the layout of Scélére – our chase takes us through winding passageways, and empty backstreets. Even though I wasn’t completely doused in that foul-smelling solution, some of it still got onto my shirt. The sound of buzzing gets more, and more intense, drowning out distant screams as the plague of locusts takes hold of its targets. Without slowing down, I slip my shirt off, revealing all of Wulfram’s tattoos still on my body.

“You realize, young man, that if I get rid of you – right here and now – that there won’t be anyone left looking for me?”

“Think of me as a tick, asshole!”

Out from the corner of my eye, I can see that a large chunk of the swarm chasing me down detached, attracted to the white shirt I left behind.

Shirt… left… behind…

My only layer of protection from the bugs…

Without stopping, Gregor turns to face me, releasing several flying insects out from his beard that I’ve never seen before. Alarmingly, however, all of them have stingers of some sort. Hornets, wasps, and even bigger wasps with red wings start circling around me, making it even more difficult to keep track of–

“AAARGH! MMPH!”

The pain is indescribable. Spots in my body stung by the creatures feel like they’ve been completely paralyzed – a red-hot poker puncturing straight through them. Any threat I manage to swat away gets replaced by two new ones, but I cannot lose track of Gregor here. Just… a little closer…

My hand gets close enough to touch the magus, but nothing comes of it. Whatever flying devils he sicced on me… their venom is virulent. I fall to the ground, unable to close any of the paralyzed fingers on my hand. Those fingers do, however, scrape Gregor’s body as I faceplant into the ground, gathering what little information they can in the name of survival.

Ridges. Countless grooves. My fingernails slip in, and out of crevices, that feel just like joints.

Gregor hasn’t stopped running, so let’s give him a reason to.

“Your magick..! I thought it was impossible to transform the human body!”

…That got to him.

The loud buzzing dies down, and the insect magus begins walking back towards me. In a secluded alleyway such as this, there wouldn’t even be a point in screaming for help.

“…What makes you think I’ve succeeded?” He asks.

“I tried stabbing you, remember? Not to mention, what I felt just now was no armor. That’s the shell of a bug.” It’s difficult to string coherent sentences through the pain. For now, though, I need to keep him distracted.

“Bug? Shell?! You dull witted…” To my amazement, the magus starts removing his cloak. I was hoping that someone who pulled off transmogrification would take the first opportunity to brag about it, but this feels more like a teacher correcting a student.

“This is a pair of elytra – the hard-shelled wing case of most flying insects found within the Coleoptera family. What you’re seeing is nature’s perfect shield.”

The sight is nauseating. Any skin on Gregor’s torso looks as though it has been emulsified with the shell of a beetle – patches of skin imperfectly draped over solid cartilage. Faintly, you can still make out a faint luster reflecting the light in places where the flesh is particularly thinly layered. As someone with no knowledge of bugs, it’s mystifying how this human being is still able to breathe.

The magus finishes showing off the fruits of his labor, and comes closer. With a single question, he’s only an arm’s length away.

“…It’s imperfect, I know. But, since you seem to be curious, perhaps I ought to let you experience it?”

It takes a lot of effort to drown out the fear of what he’s threatening. Gregor takes another step, hand reaching out; and then…

*clink*

In a quick motion, I manage to rip off, and smash all of the bottles that the magus had dangling around his hip. Immediately after, I get up to charge at Gregor – hoping desperately that I spilled something problematic onto the ground.

Instead, the magus instantly jumps away. He looks… frightened..?

“Oh, you fucking… Now you’ve done it.”

Suddenly, Gregor’s pink bug lunged itself off of his shoulder, and towards me. Gingerly, the man cups his pet with both hands.

“Daisy… I know… It’s the pheromones… Let me get you some fresher air.”

Before my very eyes, the insect magus jumped up onto the solid wall of a nearby building, and stuck to it. Was this another transmogrification he subjected himself to?

“You’ve just wasted two years of hard work young man. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“What the hell was in those vials?!”

“The chemicals insects use to communicate. For ants. Vespidae. Coleoptera. And every single one of the chemicals I use to amplify those smells.”

In the distance, a foreboding rumbling sounded. Gregor continued jumping upwards, heading towards the rooftops.

“The silver lining is, I suppose, that I’ll be fine as far as the contract is concerned.”

What the hell was on its way here?!

“Chin up, tattoo – what you’re about to see is worth dying for.”

                                                   While you wait, check out these other Tourney novels!