feasting on flesh directly to drinking blood. You’ve nearly done so in a night.”
“You’ve made me eat my father,” she whispered.
He laughed.
“Would you have preferred your mother?”
He walked over to the broom closet and opened it, pulling her beloved mama, also tied up tightly and gagged. Mama dropped to her knees upon seeing Papa on the table, the tears flowing like the Zhu Jiang.
“I didn’t know who you loved more. Girls tend to love their father. Mother-daughter relationships are…more fraught.”
“Are you going to let her live?” she asked, the words already hollow before they left her mouth.
That shit-eating, snake charmer’s grin which she had fallen for so many times before crossed his mouth.
“Of course not,” he said, “I told you I would see to your parents. You can’t leave loose ends like this behind. The memory of you alone, that’s dangerous enough. But family? Searching for you? That’s something we can’t have. Besides, I haven’t feasted yet tonight either.”
Topan let his hand settle on Mama’s mop of brown hair like a spider. Unbidden, a gasp came to her lips. The world was like moving through molasses, and only in spare moments did clarity abide.
“You’re going to drink her blood?”
“Oh, no,” Topan replied, his eyes shining in the moonlight, “In a century or so, when you’re at the height of your power, that energy, that essence that you sensed in dear Papa here’s blood? You’ll be able to tap into it directly.”
Topan’s hand tightened on Mama’s scalp. Mama began to roar, such as she could, behind her gag. Topan laughed, and though it seemed like nothing was happening, Topan’s skin began to grow robust, his eyes began to glimmer, and he began to bear the look of satisfaction. Mama, conversely, began to lose her sheen, the laugh lines under her eyes deepening into sharp wrinkles, her hair turning gray before the young girl’s very eyes.
It was as though Topan was sucking the very life from her.
A moment later, reduced to a shriveled mummy, Mama’s body stopped giving up its vital essence. Topan let go of her head and she tumbled forward, crumbling to dust upon impact with the floor.
“Now let’s clean up this mess and get you home to America.”
***
“You can’t have her! You can’t have her! She’s mine, Cicatrice, mine, mine, mine, mine !”
“The giant of his own story,” Cicatrice whispered in her ear.
Topan stood in the doorway, his fists raised in fury. He made quite a contrast to Cicatrice in his red, Western-style suit. Around his neck he wore a noose like a necktie. His face was distended with rage and he had the look of a man who hadn’t slept in days. Cicatrice took a step forward, surreptitiously placing himself between Topan and Idi Han. He folded his hands behind his back.
“Hello, Topan,” Cicatrice said, his voice utterly deadpan, “so nice to have you home after all this time.”
Topan strode forward but stopped just short of laying hands on his patriarch.
“That’s my get. I sired her. She is my gift to the ages.”
“I am neither yours nor anyone’s property,” Idi Han said.
“Quiet, little one, or this will not go well for you after you’re back in my hands.”
“Do not call me that.”
She glowered at him. He wheeled back, taking another look at her.
“You think you’re someone special? Stop hiding behind your nursemaid’s coattails, then, little one.”
“I told you not to call me that anymore.”
“Yes, she’s chosen a name for herself,” Cicatrice said, “One you taught her, in fact, Topan.”
Topan’s eyes narrowed. Cicatrice put his hand on Idi Han’s shoulders and brought her around in front of him.
“Tell him,” he said, tapping her shoulder.
“My name,” she said, “is Idi Han.”
“Idi…” Recognition dawned on his face. “The giant? From the story? I think you misunderstood the point.”
“No. It’s you who missed the point, Topan.”
Topan
“You’ve made me eat my father,” she whispered.
He laughed.
“Would you have preferred your mother?”
He walked over to the broom closet and opened it, pulling her beloved mama, also tied up tightly and gagged. Mama dropped to her knees upon seeing Papa on the table, the tears flowing like the Zhu Jiang.
“I didn’t know who you loved more. Girls tend to love their father. Mother-daughter relationships are…more fraught.”
“Are you going to let her live?” she asked, the words already hollow before they left her mouth.
That shit-eating, snake charmer’s grin which she had fallen for so many times before crossed his mouth.
“Of course not,” he said, “I told you I would see to your parents. You can’t leave loose ends like this behind. The memory of you alone, that’s dangerous enough. But family? Searching for you? That’s something we can’t have. Besides, I haven’t feasted yet tonight either.”
Topan let his hand settle on Mama’s mop of brown hair like a spider. Unbidden, a gasp came to her lips. The world was like moving through molasses, and only in spare moments did clarity abide.
“You’re going to drink her blood?”
“Oh, no,” Topan replied, his eyes shining in the moonlight, “In a century or so, when you’re at the height of your power, that energy, that essence that you sensed in dear Papa here’s blood? You’ll be able to tap into it directly.”
Topan’s hand tightened on Mama’s scalp. Mama began to roar, such as she could, behind her gag. Topan laughed, and though it seemed like nothing was happening, Topan’s skin began to grow robust, his eyes began to glimmer, and he began to bear the look of satisfaction. Mama, conversely, began to lose her sheen, the laugh lines under her eyes deepening into sharp wrinkles, her hair turning gray before the young girl’s very eyes.
It was as though Topan was sucking the very life from her.
A moment later, reduced to a shriveled mummy, Mama’s body stopped giving up its vital essence. Topan let go of her head and she tumbled forward, crumbling to dust upon impact with the floor.
“Now let’s clean up this mess and get you home to America.”
***
“You can’t have her! You can’t have her! She’s mine, Cicatrice, mine, mine, mine, mine !”
“The giant of his own story,” Cicatrice whispered in her ear.
Topan stood in the doorway, his fists raised in fury. He made quite a contrast to Cicatrice in his red, Western-style suit. Around his neck he wore a noose like a necktie. His face was distended with rage and he had the look of a man who hadn’t slept in days. Cicatrice took a step forward, surreptitiously placing himself between Topan and Idi Han. He folded his hands behind his back.
“Hello, Topan,” Cicatrice said, his voice utterly deadpan, “so nice to have you home after all this time.”
Topan strode forward but stopped just short of laying hands on his patriarch.
“That’s my get. I sired her. She is my gift to the ages.”
“I am neither yours nor anyone’s property,” Idi Han said.
“Quiet, little one, or this will not go well for you after you’re back in my hands.”
“Do not call me that.”
She glowered at him. He wheeled back, taking another look at her.
“You think you’re someone special? Stop hiding behind your nursemaid’s coattails, then, little one.”
“I told you not to call me that anymore.”
“Yes, she’s chosen a name for herself,” Cicatrice said, “One you taught her, in fact, Topan.”
Topan’s eyes narrowed. Cicatrice put his hand on Idi Han’s shoulders and brought her around in front of him.
“Tell him,” he said, tapping her shoulder.
“My name,” she said, “is Idi Han.”
“Idi…” Recognition dawned on his face. “The giant? From the story? I think you misunderstood the point.”
“No. It’s you who missed the point, Topan.”
Topan
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