Day 164
 
"No sacrifice is too great; no treachery too small."
 
Erlinson just stared at me after that.  I'd just spat the code of the Heartbreakers back at him.  His own damn fault for, for whatever it is that makes someone keep judging a man after he's had his mind fucked with.
 
I take another pull from the cheap beer in front of me.  How should I know who did it to me – what one of the things around me wouldn't want one less paladin in Min?
 
The manticore walks up behind the counter and slides another beer into place next to the half-finished one I'm working on.
“Getting me drunk won't get you anything.”
It smiles.  “Actually, it will.  The other girls have been drinking more than they usually do.  I guess it's seeing a pretty boy looking miserable, and knowing that they can't do anything.”
I turn, slowly, catching a handful of gazes before the things return to their own drinks.  One of the millipede ones continues to stare back openly from where it rests taking up almost all of a booth.  Someone asked me once if looking should be illegal for them.  I still think the answer is yes.
 
“So what's on your mind?”  I turn back to the thing and stare, unblinking, as I take another drink.  It doesn't seem to mind, though.  “I do more than just pour drinks, you know.  Come on, say what's troubling you.  It doesn't cost you anything.”
“I'm not going to rely on on of you.”
“Who said anything about that?  Just talk – you might feel better.”
“Do I look like I came in here to feel better?”
“Do they?”
 
It's silent for another long moment.  “You could've just bought a couple bottles if all you wanted was to be drunk.”
That sounds like it makes sense, but that doesn't mean much when it comes to monsters.  They're all liars.  Damned, disgusting liars.  “I lost a friend.  My oldest friend.”
It feigns all the signs of empathy.  “Oh.  I'm sorry to hear that.  Is your friend,” it trails off.
“Dead?  I don't know.  By now he might be.”  If he was surrounded by monsters, he might slit his own throat to avoid getting taken.  I finish one of the glasses, hoping this one will finally let me stop thinking about that.
 
It leans forward, resting an elbow on the counter as it glances away.  “That's a damn shame; there aren't half enough men in town to satisfy demand, it seems.  Ironic, I think, considering it's named Min.”
I continue to stare at it as I get started on my next drink.  “He wouldn't have been any use to one of you.”
“All the same.”
It probably thinks that it could've corrupted a Paladin.  The fact that they keep trying is why the Heartbreakers are still an active order.
 
“Tell me about him.”
 
I don't know where to begin.  I can't just summarize people.  “He was a lot of things.”
“What's the first thing that comes to mind?”
“He,” I start, and then I wonder why he did it.  “He always smiled.  All the time.  It wasn't humor or happiness, or confidence.  I don't know.”
It tips its head slightly.  “Maybe he was trying to cheer everyone else up.  A smile'll do that.”
“That would've been like him.”
“He sounds like a nice guy.”
 
I start to nod, but I can't.  I can hear the pop of an ear being twisted the wrong way.  The pained cry.  
 
“Well, you're free to stay here as long as you like.  Not many men come in here and last long enough to take a seat before they get talked into walking someone home.”
I'll remember that for my next report.
 
“I just wonder if things had to end the way they did.”  I'm not really sure what I'm saying anymore.  My glass is half empty, but I don't remember drinking any of it.  “If I couldn't have just ignored everything.”  She just kept clutching at his arm, like if she asked nicely he'd let go.  “I don't know why.”
 
“I can't say I understand,” the manticore begins slowly, “but I know you have to say what's on your mind.  If you do nothing but hope that the people around you understand what you really mean, you're just going to suffer.”  It lifts its tail, as though gesturing with it.  “I had my spines removed trying to fix the fallout from that one, and all I got out of it was him going 'a day late and a copper short,” it says, lowering its voice to that gruff tone that all women make when they're trying to imitate a male voice.
 
That reminds me.  I nod my head toward the menu and ask, “What's the 'broken tail special,' anyway?”
I think it must be the first time I've ever seen a monster look embarrassed.  “Oh, that?  Yeah,” it looks away from me for a moment before continuing.  “I don't know where it started, but it's real popular in some places.  Zipangu, probably.  Anyway, it's where you pour a drink in your tail and drop a straw in it.”
Isn't that, I start to think, and then stop.  And then start again, in spite of myself.  “Isn't that-?”
“Yeah, it is.”
 
I'm gonna be sick, and I don't know if it's because of the drinks I had, or the one I'm hearing about.  I pull a handful of coins from my pocket and set them down on the counter.  “If it's too much, that's fine – at this right I might be a regular.”  
I make it all the way to the door before I'm stopped by its voice.
 
“Folks call me Tish.”
“Victor.”
“See ya around, Victor.”
 
---
 
“Wow, someone's-”
I spin at the sound of the voice, and end up falling onto my side on the road.  Nothing's there.  I remember this voice, though.
“Ooph, sorry.  Didn't mean to scare ya.”
It was the one that led me to the baphomet, the first time.
“You all right?”
 
Or did it?  Did I just have a hunch, and some form of insanity that manifest itself as a voice that drove me forward?  Did I hear the ritual, and yet voices echoed in my head?
“Hey, mister?”
What in the hells is wrong with me?
“Mister paladin?”
 
“Show yourself, dammit!”  I haul myself to my feet, fumbling for my sword.  I don't manage to find either.
“All right, all right,” the voice says, calmly.  “No need to get all angry.”  The first thing I see is a mouth.  “Just having a bit of fun, is all.”  Followed by the outline of a figure around it.  “No harm intended.”  And then, as though it ought to be accompanied with a pop, I see the cat-eared figure floating in front of me, dressed in a far-too-short dress, white on the top and black from the waist down.  It tips its head as it grins widely down at me.  “See?  Nothing to worry about.”
A cheshire.  It was nothing more than a cheshire.
 
One of them was nothing more than a cheshire.  What are the other two?  Are there another two?  Or am I actually mad?
Did I send James away because I'm insane?
Is James dead because I'm insane?
Pain radiates through my mouth as I grit my teeth.  
I kept thinking that, but one of the voices is right here.
“Hey, are you all right,” it asks.
 
No.  He's gone because of them, and if he's dead it's because of these goddammed fucking monsters.
“Stay the hells away from me!”  My throat aches from the sudden scream.
 
For a second it hangs still in the air after recoiling from me.  “Wow,” It says, before fading away to nothing but a mouth.
 
“Rude.”