Jonathon Worthington: Strangelight Investigator

Case #18: The Mystery of the Purloined Past (Chapter 4)

I sighed heavily and resisted the urge to poke the cube with my finger.

"Truthfully, is that the best lie you can come up with?"

Orsch cocked his head to the side slightly and shook it. "I apologize, sir, but I am not quite sure what you mean."

"You expect me to believe that a device you have glued a few crystals and extra gears to is some sort of life-giving mechanika that keeps death at bay? That the containment cube Cora designed to entrap spectral phenomenon is somehow assisting my own body in maintaining its vital functions while being hidden in a bag in our room? Is that honestly what you are trying to convince me of?"

"Of course, sir."

I barked a short, derisive laugh, and mimicked his tone. "Of course. Why would I even contemplate you'd give me another answer? That you still expect me to believe all that you tell me without question after the secrets you have withheld is either a testament to your low opinion of my intellect or an example of your own extraordinary capabilities of self-delusional justification."

Orsch stiffened and turned away with the cube.

"No, wait, please don't take away my source of all life and goodness," I said with a flat dryness. "No. No. Don't hide my heart away."

"I must admit, I had forgotten how cruel you could be, sir," the big ogrun said softly.

Guilt penetrated my heart like a shard of ice; I'd known how harsh my words were, but in the midst of the comment I'd felt vindicated in using them to combat his subterfuge. But now that they were out they felt mean, small, a petty attempt to hurt him for not telling me the truth. Yet that was how he had kept me in line before: making me feel ashamed for doubting him even as my companion had lied to me and poisoned me to keep the bloody curse under control. It was an old trick, used one too many times.

"Orsch, may I see the device more closely?" I kept my voice steady, threading an apologetic tone into the request. He had no way of knowing I was insincere.

The ogrun hesitated a moment, then turned back around. He held the device out to me. "Please be very careful with it, sir. Your existence depends upon it. If you must doubt me then do so about other matters; this is far too critical to take lightly."

"Indeed it is," I murmured in agreement, taking the cube out of his gentle grasp. A thousand ants raced up my hand and through my body like a brief electric shock, causing my teeth to snap together as my muscles tensed. The strange feeling pulsed within my blood for a moment before subsiding into a background throb that threatened to give me a headache. "How does it work? You're so insistent that it's important, yet I'm fairly certain that my heart will continue beating, my lungs continue breathing, without its effects on me."

"I am sorry, sir, but I cannot say."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" I muttered bitterly. "Can you at least give me a hint? Perhaps a parlor game where I guess at the number of syllables in your current lie? Or would you rather construct an elaborate word puzzle that has the answer hidden within it? What particular game must you and I play for me to get another hidden answer out of you?"

"Sir, it is not as simple as that."

"Allow me to straighten the bow then, mate," I snarled, letting my baser instincts rise up along with the language change. An evil grin slid across my face as I raised the modified cube up above my head before throwing it down to the floor with all of my might. Orsch let out a pained cry as the fragile device struck the wooden floorboards with a satisfying crunch, its delicate form warping as gears and crystals broke and flew off. A rather unspectacular puff of light and sound popped out of the containment cube, and with a dying whine I felt the ants crawling under my skin recede as the mechanika's clockwork workings sputtered to a permanent halt.