The hat fell away with a swipe of my hand. Remy almost seemed to try to duck the move, perhaps thinking I was actually attacking him, but my goal was simply to reveal whatever kind of toupee-themed nightmare he was hiding.

  Instead, he was collapsing to his knees. Ratty paws came up in front of his snout, and he began to babble.

  “I’m just a minion! You can’t hurt me! It’s like kicking a puppy!”

  Without his hat, the truth was revealed.

  “I’d expected you to be a miniature human hiding under his hat and controlling your movements. I’ve seen films.”

  “What the fuck is that?” Alicya demanded, stopping at my side and sinking her claws into my arm. At least she tried to, god-forged-scale tier ARM stats are good for many things.

  “It looks like he’s growing a Richard out of the top of his skull. A Richard with a face. What kind of nightmare fuel are you, little guy?” I asked.

  “Not so little! I’ve scanned your body, dragon!”

  “Can I just kill it?”

  Remy’s face had sagged like he’d suffered half a dozen strokes, his eyes were dead and vacant. It was as though someone had flicked a switch and turned the rat-king off.

  “I don’t want to touch it, to be perfectly honest, Bob. Maybe just burn it?” Alicya suggested. “You’ve got the range attack options here, not me. I’m immortal, but I’ve never been infested with a head-dick before. I don’t… hey, whatever you are, could you infect me?”

  “I’m not infecting this asshole! He agreed to it! He needed power and made the bargain of his own free will. I’m as much a victim here as anyone!”

  “What’s your name, brain snake?”

  “Hurgathleplip.”

  “You know someone called Nyarlothotep?”

  “Oh, that bitch! She’s a goody two-shoes little twerp—”

  There was a vibration in reality, the like of which I had never experienced. It felt like the entire world was viewed through a heat haze for a moment. When things returned to normal, the cranial phallus had suffered a sudden bout of whisky dick.

  “I think she might be watching?” I offered.

  “She? It is a fucking—lovely demon who only wants what’s best for her contractees,” the tiny monster hurriedly corrected itself.

  “You sure? She seems a mite invasive to me?” For once, it was nice not to be the one treading on eggshells around some god-like asshat or the system.

  “She’s lovely and benevolent if you’re into that kind of thing,” Hurg said, glancing around nervously.

  “I heard she likes to torture people in their dreams, in, erm, weird ways. Really sick shit.” My face did not break into a grin as the brain snake started sweating.

  “All part of the contract and fully explained in the terms of service and small print. They know what they’re signing up for.” Hurg glanced around nervously.

  “And what did Remy sign up for?” Alicya asked.

  “The power of dairy. He needed to boost cheese production and quality, so he agreed to me… playing co-pilot for a while.”

  “Demooonic mooonster!” bellowed the lady cow I’d removed the mask from earlier. Glancing back, I saw a lot of bovine eyes rolling in fear and anger. Thick, muscly limbs were straining at the chains that held them in place.

  “Missa Somnambulis!” I called, sending the cows off to Nyal’s world. I hoped she’d be nice to them; they’d been through a fair bit and didn’t need inappropriate touching in their dreams.

  The mooing, lowing and thrashing at restraints fell away. Aside from the quiet humming and slurping of the automated feeding and milking machines, the place was quiet. Except for a frightened snake-brain-thing. Hurg was hissing softly in what I took to be a blend of anger and terror.

  “If you’re taking a fear-dump in that guy’s head, we’re going to have words.”

  “I don’t excrete like you creatures!” Indignation lit a fire in his belly, if that was the right word. Did the thing even have a belly?

  “More importantly, why are you sticking out of the top of the head of the king of the local ratkin clan?” Alicya asked. Whenever she used that tone, most of my sphincters puckered in some residual mammalian response.

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  “I already told you! Remy needed some skills, and I was able to provide them. There’s nothing underhanded going on here!”

  I reached out, fingers shifting slightly to end in pointy claws instead of neatly trimmed fingernails. It’s the little things you don’t notice. Since I got my mammal suit, I hadn’t had to trim my nails once. They were always just the perfect length.

  Remy’s head jerked back, taking Hurg away from my outstretched hand.

  “Easy there, big fella! No need to get handsy. We can discuss this like civilised immortals.”

  “How many more of you are there among the clans?” the werewolf growled.

  “Not many.”

  I’d never seen a tentacle-wang growing out of the crown of a rat-dude’s head look shifty until that moment.

  “Cut the bullshit.”

  “No shit! I told you I can’t do that! Look, there’s bigger wheels turning here than you know. This is one of those you’re better off walking away kind of things.” Hurg waggled back and forth knowingly.

  “Oh, hey. You heard him, Alicya. We should just walk away.”

  “Yep. I guess that settles the matter completely to my satisfaction. Bob, you’ve had run-ins with demons before. What happens if they get yanked from their hosts unexpectedly?”

  I raised a hand to my chin in thought, shifting my fingertips back to normal as the claws scraped across my cleanshaven skin. I hadn’t shaved in months either. Shapeshifting was weird.

  “I’m honestly not sure. The ones I’ve dealt with have been kind of self-sustaining.”

  “Pff. Bull. They were summoned. Either a summoner is feeding us mana, or we have a host. The rules are simple enough even for someone like you to grasp.”

  A furry hand was laid on my arm again. Alicya had hard little pads across her palm like a dog's.

  “Wouldn’t that make your kind of demon more like a parasite?” I asked, wrangling a burning Balrog inside my brain.

  “No.” His tone suggested he was about to call me stupid again, and I could feel Alicya’s claws digging into my bicep. “We’re more like… You know how you creatures have navies?”

  “We’re aware.”

  “Well, when a ship needs to navigate a difficult approach to a harbour or up a river or whatever, you have pilots. People who know the way and where the dangers are. We’re more like that.”

  “So you’re just here to help guide stupid mortals past something that’s beyond their abilities.” I smiled broadly at him and nodded encouragingly. The brain weener bobbed up and down in agreement.

  “Exactly! I knew you could understand.”

  My jaw muscles tightened involuntarily. “Beyond our abilities like… making cheese?”

  “Hey, if it wasn’t too tough, old Remy wouldn’t have made the bargain.” Hurg bonked his chin on the rat king’s forehead. Was there a flicker of light in the dull eyes? Maybe Remy wasn’t completely lost.

  “And all you did was set up this in exchange?” I waved a hand behind me at the somnolent bovines. The occasional fart broke the silence, but otherwise it was just the gentle hum of the feeding and milking machines that didn’t care that the minotauresses were unconscious.

  “They signed the contracts!” Hurg objected. Remy twitched.

  “What was the contract they signed?” Alicya asked before I could speak. She pulled me back and stepped closer to the brain-Kwato.

  “That’s privileged information.” The worm looked between us. “It is! You can’t force me to share that.”

  “I love it when people tell me I can’t do something.”

  “How does it usually work out for them?” Alicya asked.

  “Not terribly well, as a rule. Look, whatever you are. I can head back and get a warlock and do this the hard way, or I can do it the easy way.”

  “You can’t hurt me! You’re the leader of these people, and he made the deal on his own.”

  “I won’t be the one dealing with this situation,” Alicya said.

  Remy lurched to his feet and bolted for the doorway. Fucker was fast when he wanted to be. I shot after him, slamming aside the door he tried to close in my face.

  “Get them!” Remy squeaked, holding a hand to the top of his head.

  “Who?” squeaked one of the ratkin as Remy shoved the creature toward me.

  Dragon Fu was largely focused on lethal moves, but there were a number of options for taking down a target without killing. I made liberal use of them, blows to the side of the skull, pulled just enough to render them unconscious or disoriented as we ran past. At the next door, the one to the curd room, a pair of the giant rat guards appeared to block our path as Remy sprinted through.

  “Stop-stop!” The left one bellowed before folding around my fist as it slammed into his gut. Guile-was-the-best sent the other flying with a vicious kick to the chin.

  “Can you go any faster?” I snapped as Alicya bounced off me. She did take the opportunity to put a hairy, high-velocity foot that would have given Tolkien a strange sense of arousal into the head of the one I’d punched in the stomach before hurrying ahead of me.

  “Keep up, Bob!” she called cheerfully as we chased after the rat king.

  “Una Somna!” I bellowed, catching sight of Remy just before he disappeared around the side of a vat of milk. “Why didn’t that work?” I snarled, breaking into a sprint once more.

  “Can’t sleep a demon, dumbass,” she replied. I made a note of it, but now was not the time to take issue with her insult.

  We stumbled out into the throne room to find a small army waiting for us. Dozens of ratkin, large and small, stood in rows with weapons in hand. Maces, swords, and some halberds, they had a decent array of gear. It was rusty, badly maintained and looked to be positively ancient in some cases.

  “Conjurare Barnaculum!” All of their eyes were immediately covered by barnacles. “Just give it up, Hurg. I promise we won’t hurt you.”

  “You promise?” he asked, the snake-thing peeking out from behind the plywood throne.

  “Of course. No worries, dude. I just want to talk.” Talk about what demon tastes like after I tested it for myself.

  “Well, you see, you’re in a bit of a bind.”

  “He just blinded your troopers, devil.” Alicya stepped forward slowly, picking her way through the terrified and screeching rats that were bumbling about blindly and bouncing off each other.

  “Oh, that’s not the problem. The problem is you knocked out all those dairy cows.”

  “So what? We’ll free them when we’re done with you.”

  “But Bob, you didn’t turn off the feeding machines. Right now, they’re drowning in grass paste, and you need to decide whether you want to save them or not.” He cackled madly and sprinted away.

  “You get him. I’ll go save the beef,” I muttered, turning to run back the way I’d just come. I needed the karma for a good deed, and it had been me who put them to sleep.