The Glassbreaker Goes Home (The King Henry Tapes), page 1
The Glassbreaker Goes Home
The King Henry Tapes #6.75
By Richard Raley
Copyright © 2018 by Richard Raley
http://richardraley.blogspot.com
www.twitter.com/richardraley
richardraley@gmail.com
Edition: 2018
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and events are fictitious and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, places or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
NOVELS BY RICHARD RALEY
THE KING HENRY TAPES
The Foul Mouth and the Fanged Lady
The Foul Mouth and the Cat Killing Coyotes
The Foul Mouth and the Troubled Boomworm
The Foul Mouth and the Headless Hunny
The Foul Mouth and the Mancy Martial Artist
King Henry and the Three Little Trips (FM 5.5)
The Foul Mouth and the Pit of No Return
Assault on Dread Fortress Paine (FM 6.5)
The Glassbreaker Goes Home (FM 6.75)
The Foul Mouth and the Runaway Rumble (forthcoming)
STANDALONE NOVELS
Gush (forthcoming???)
Sky-Island 1827-E
The Betrothal: Or How I Saved Alan Edwards from 40 Years of Hell
NOVELLAS AND SHORTS
Prime Pickings: An Eater Short
Little King Henry: A KH Short*
Conquering Hero: A KH Short*
Friendship is Madness: A KH Short*
Second Take: A KH Short*
Griefing: A KH Short*
Meet the Bonnies: A KH Short*
King Henry Short Pack One (*included in)
List of Mancy Types
King Henry’s Class
Post Eureka Blues
Greetings and Salutations, Mancy Fans
Daddy Issues 101
Babies, Still the Worst Idea Ever
Valentine’s Revenge
JoJo vs King Henry: Round Whatever-the-Fuck
Won’t You Be My Neighbor?
King Henry Price, Witness for the Prosecution
The Shithole Hits the Fan
Show and Tell, Supernatural Style
About the Author
List of Mancy Types
Mancy Type – Element (Ultra Title)
Necromancy – Death (Bonegrinder)
Pyromancy – Fire (Firestarter)
Geomancy – Earth (Artificer)
Aeromancy – Air (Winddancer)
Hydromancy – Water (Riftwalker)
Electromancy – Lightning (Stormcaller)
Cryomancy – Ice (Winterwarden)
Sciomancy – Shadow (Shadeshifter)
Spectromancy – Light (Beaconkeeper)
Floromancy – Plant (Forestplanter)
Faunamancy – Animal (Beasttalker)
Mentimancy – Mind (Mindmaster)
Corpusmancy – Body (Facechanger)
King Henry’s Class
Student’s Name (Mancy Type)
King Henry Price (Geomancer)
Heinrich Welf (Necromancer)
Valentine “Boomworm” Ward (Pyromancer)
Asa Kayode (Hydromancer)
Miranda Daniels (Aeromancer)
Estefan Ramirez (Electromancer)
Debra Diaz (Electromancer)
Curt Chambers (Spectromancer)
Malaya Mabanaagan (Spectromancer)
Quinn Walden (Spectromancer)
Ronaldo Silva (Cryomancer)
Raj Malik (Cryomancer)
Hope Hunting (Cryomancer)
Miles Hun Pak (Sciomancer)
Eva Reti (Sciomancer)
Naomi Gullick (Floromancer)
Preston “Pocket” Landry (Floromancer)
Tamiko Lewis (Floromancer)
Nicholas Hanson (Floromancer)
Sandra Kemp (Floromancer)
Patrick “Rick” Brown (Faunamancer)
Jesus Valencia (Faunamancer)
Jessica Edwards (Faunamancer)
Robin White (Faunamancer)
Athir Al-Qasimi (Mentimancer)
Isabel Soto (Corpusmancer)
Samuel Bird (Corpusmancer)
Yvette Reynolds (Corpusmancer)
Jason Jackson (Corpusmancer)
Nizhoni Sherman (Corpusmancer)
Post Eureka Blues
Being he was King Henry Price, he wouldn’t get to drive to his own funeral.
Means he surely didn’t get to drive now either.
So, what you’re thinking is: who gets to drive to their own funeral? They’re fucking dead, dumbass!
You, sir or madam or blood tentacle beast, are lucky enough to not know any necromancers, ain’t ya?
Also . . . seriously, one fucking hobo gets his knee bruised and suddenly King Henry’s banned from the steering wheel for a month? Did he ask the hobo to dive out of the way like that? No!
Plus, he didn’t give a shit if they have photographic proof otherwise or not, that Asylum-issued Borg Fleet car already had all them scratches when he rented it out!
Being he was King Henry Price . . . Glassbreaker, Maximus of the Earth, Learning Council Member Assuming He Ever Passed Orientation, the Hero of Eureka, Slayer of the Curator, Wielder of the Only Fully Functioning World-Breaker On This Here Planet Earth, Honorary Member of the Guild of Artificers, the Foul Mouth, the Curse Word Dude, Lord of the Fucktards, that Guy Who Everyone Says Burned Down the Mound, and worst of all: Vamp Enemy Number One . . . being all that, he was told in no uncertain terms, by the fucking Lady of the Lake herself, that this would be his last bit of freedom for the foreseeable future.
One night to say goodbye, he thought from his place in the passenger seat. One night for ‘see ya later.’ One night to go home again, place you supposedly ain’t able to return to.
Shithole Price.
Those still standing giving one last college try to fix the unfixable.
Last time they tried . . . well, was quite a bit of screaming between Old Man Price and not so ol’ Jordan Josephine.
Would be tonight too, King Henry imagined.
Inevitable between those two. Had been since JoJo hit puberty, maybe even before, so why stop now even after she popped out a grandkid?
Inevitable. Might even be worse. Lot more spectators to cheer on the death match this go around. Can’t believe she’s bringing Vega. Vega meeting Dad. What the fuck she thinking? Thinking the only way Vega would let his new pride and joy out of the Coyote Compound is if he came with, that’s what. Of course, Vega didn’t go anywhere alone . . .
Bunch of mancers in a house surrounded by a bigger bunch of werecoyotes. What could possibly go wrong?
Couldn’t guess JoJo’s mind—King Henry gave up after the first time she duct-taped him to a chair and forced him to join her tea party—but he knew his own. Thinking he wanted Old Man Price to finally meet Valentine Ward.
The Girlfriend upgraded to The Woman I Love.
Yup, still a little sappy.
Two weeks had passed since him and Val had gotten back together. Try Number Only as they called it. Still going strong. Still going sappy too. If not as bad as it had been at the Guild . . . or the Geo Realm . . . or the few days they spent locked in her apartment.
It was Val in the driver’s seat. Of course. Asylum trusted her just fine. It was only one hobo, really! It wasn’t even like a war veteran hobo you feel bad for either, more like a crack-fiend hobo you caught jerking off in the bushes!
King Henry couldn’t blame the Powers That Be much, being how much he trusted Val too, but the woman could do with driving a little faster. Maybe not King Henry Price Hide-Your-Children-and-Pets Style, but at least I-Got-Four-Meetings-Today-in-Three-States Ceinwyn Dale Style. Time spent traveling just seemed like such a waste these days.
That trip most of all.
The Asylum to the Central Valley.
Same trip.
Over and over.
His whole life.
Over and over.
Not a fan of repetition, King Henry Price. Can’t you tell?
Here’s hoping that when we drive back tomorrow I’m too psychologically damaged to be conscious.
Odds were he would be.
Even with Val around to bring the best out in his pugnacious self. Makes me into a . . . well, not a decent one, but at least a human being.
Couldn’t help but glance at her then.
He’d done a whole lot of it during the trip.
Did a whole lot of it any time he could really, but Val was about the only thing making the trip bearable. Wasn’t like there was much in the Central Valley that could compete with her.
Seen one cow fart, seen all the cows fart. Seen one beige building filled with Chinese knock-offs, seen all the beige buildings filled with Chinese knock-offs. Seen one cracked-out whore walk down G Street with semen dripping from her overused coot coot to the pavement below . . . even I considered celibacy after that shit, so hopefully you would too.
He didn’t consider celibacy while glancing at Val, that’s for sure.
She’d chosen her ‘young lawyer ensemble’ as King Henry liked to call it. Maybe not reserved-table-at-a-fancy-restaurant, or even full on dinner-party-with-polite-society, but still quite a bi
Them things should be illegal! Not fair, not fair at all.
Was designed to impress, not to entice, but damn if the thing didn’t make King Henry have some very naughty thoughts every time he saw her wearing it. Gold earrings, a single large ruby hanging around her neck, dipping down to brush a hint of cleavage. Had on the SDR ring King Henry made for her a year or so back too, the one that screamed ‘Firestarter’ to anyone in the know, what with the topaz and rubies arranged as eternal flames.
Joke’s on him. She wasn’t a Firestarter, she was the Purifier. Hell, never was a Firestarter, just like King Henry had never been an Artificer. Born to this shit. Fated to it and with how well he knew the Bitch-Queen, he didn’t think it was about to simplify their lives. Especially with all that Chosen One prophecy bullshit getting flung about. But as long as they were together, he supposed he’d bear it.
Just like I’m bearing this long ass boring trip without getting all worked up about how I want to strangle the Lady and it’s not like Ceinwyn’s been any help either. I should—
“You promised,” Valentine teased him with some singsong, better than anyone else on the planet at picking up King Henry’s descent into a sour mood.
“Yeah, yeah,” he grunted out an apology, trying not to brood on where his victory had landed him. Out of the shithole and right up the dragon’s anus, that’s his life for you. Watch out for the yellow circles, cuz those ain’t gold coins!
“This is the turn off!” the second passenger in the Asylum-issued car prompted abruptly.
Thought they were alone? Nope. They were alone and King Henry would be doing a whole lot more than just looking at Val . . .
Nah, three people in that car. “I haven’t seen it since . . . has it really been that long?” Had herself a voice like butter mixed with cognac, all smooth and sultry. Voice just like their mom. “Oh, King Henry, we’re so close!”
Unlike all the attention Val got, King Henry had been trying to ignore Susan. Susanna Belle Price as the full name went, his eldest sister. Preferable to JoJo since Susan didn’t yell or threaten to kick him in the shin, but just barely.
His barely sane sister.
Nothing he could do for her at the moment, nothing he could say or act upon to make today a ‘Good Day’ or a ‘Bad Day.’ All he’d learned of the Mancy, all the artifacts he’d crafted, all the people he’d killed and still . . . still it was out of his power.
Need to fix that, need to fix her.
Susan wasn’t . . . right. Anima Mad they called it. Not all the way consumed, but . . . enough. Enough for it to be noticeable. Didn’t manifest quite like his mom’s Madness had either. Different. Very different. At least for the Good and the Bad . . . thankfully, he had yet to meet the Ugly.
His mother’s Bad Days had been overwhelming, one after another, especially near the end. With Susan it was more a sudden spike out of nowhere. A sudden spike of complete insanity where Susan wasn’t the one in control of her own mind or body no more. Since King Henry had saved her from Obadiah Paine she’d only had the one, lone Bad Day.
That one lone day was enough to make him fear them more than he ever did his Mom’s.
His mom had been mostly normal during those Good Days, maybe a bit too cheerful and flirty, but outside of that . . . normal. A human fit nice and snugly among all the other humans. Susan would never be that. Being she was a necromancer, Susan spoke to the dead. Or the necro-anima that was left over or . . . it was fucked up, okay?
According to Heinrich Welf, massive douchebag that he was, some of what Susan said and reported to those around her wasn’t even Madness, just some freak innate ability of the Mancy manifesting itself. And some of it was Madness. So who knows if she’s really talking to your granny passed last Christmas or if her mind just made it up on the spot?
No one.
Not Susan.
Not Miss Strange.
Not Heinrich von Welf.
No one!
Best to just pretend they were all fake, King Henry had decided, especially . . . especially when Susan talked about one of her favorites.
Mom’s dead and burned, Ceinwyn told me so. She wouldn’t lie about that. Susan’s just imagining . . . has to be.
So that was the Good Day Susan, catching up with nice, dead people, real or imagined.
Bad Days with Susan, them delusions took over.
Or maybe it’s the necro-shades actually taking over, Miss Strange wasn’t quite sure.
Fucked up. Very fucked up.
That one lone Bad Day . . .
They ended up sedating her eventually. All through the night. Before that they’d tried tying her to the bed Exorcist style. No green pea soup, but they sat with her as she yelled and screamed and even threatened. The pleading had been the worst. Val stayed with him. Helped. Helped so much. He wouldn’t let himself cry around Val, masculine bullshit and all that, but for once emotions almost overwhelmed pride.
Finally, they knocked her out and then the next morning Susan had been . . . well, as normal as Susanna Belle Price got these days.
King Henry had been dreading another Bad Day the very moment he witnessed the first. So far . . . nothing. But it would come. How he hoped it wouldn’t. At least not today of all days. Or tomorrow. Troubling enough that King Henry had to keep reminding Susan to not . . . not talk about certain things once they were around Dad. If she forgot, if she said half the weird ass things that came out her mouth these last couple weeks . . .
Susan reached across the car seat separating them just so she could pat the top of King Henry’s head. Same way she had when he was in elementary school. “I know, Little Bro. Relax! This will be fun. You don’t even have to worry about hugging Dad, I call dibs all night, okay? Have years of hugs to catch up on after all, so it’s only fair. You can be all manly and stoic in the corner. I’m King Henry, I don’t feel anything! I’m a BAMF, yes I am! Look at these muscles and see how I glare at you!”
Val chuckled, the traitor.
King Henry did force himself to relax a little. Odds were with Susan and Val and especially Vega around, he wouldn’t even have to talk tonight. Not like the last time where he had to chat up Marge just to keep the conversation going. What the fuck I know about crochet or gardening? Only garden he ever took care of had a bunch of sand and some stone statues for fairies to live in, and he sucked at that too!
King Henry Price: master gardener, he ain’t.
King Henry Price: master of small talk, he ain’t either.
Long as the house is still standing at the end of this and no one is too bloody or bruised, I suppose we’ll call that good enough.
Win condition: set.
* * *
Off the highway they went.
Down into Visalia proper, such that it was. Visalia wasn’t even directly on the highway. Instead it grew off to the side of the artery . . . like a tumor. Or a pimple. Me, I’d go with a stanky ballsack. But you go ahead and pick your favorite biological analogy, cuz us meatbags are full of ‘em.
Susan did some picking too, of sights from her childhood. Was odd to see her so excited over it. She was the first one to run away after all. King Henry supposed that being locked up in a cell for a few years makes you appreciate what you once dreaded most in your life. Shit, give me a couple years in the Pit and I might even relish a conversation with Welf about proper manners in polite society.
Ran away and yet there was Susan smiling over familiar street signs. Maybe it was an unfair thought, at least with Susan. Letting his memories override hers. She had six years where he wasn’t around, plus she escaped before the worst of it, didn’t she? Susan had a full and normal childhood in this place and was barreling through puberty before the Bad Days started piling up.
Can’t see what you see, Suze. Made him a little jealous, he had to admit. Could do without hearing the dead people and all that, but the golden hue of nostalgia? King Henry had never felt that for Visalia. Look at your face, Big Sis, part of you loves this place, doesn’t it?
Wasn’t just that she missed out on the worst, Susan had a full eighteen years of it too. Lot more than the other Prices. King Henry got sucked up by the Asylum after a week of high school and JoJo disappeared somewhere in the middle of it. Susan did a whole four years and graduated like a normal cog of humanity. Square hat and a paper degree ain’t worth shit, yeah, but . . . friends and boyfriends and plays and sporting events. Normal memories. Good memories. Hanging out with her friends at the mall, not beating on some kid in an alleyway cuz he called you a midget.
