Not Mal, though. Mal was built different. He couldn’t be destroyed. Couldn’t be contained. Couldn’t be controlled.
Mal was the culmination of the greatest fear of all. He was what the things that go bump in the night were afraid of. An unstoppable force able to find, catch, and eat anything he wanted. The apex predator of all predators.
Possibly the most terrifying thing to come into being and escape the Dreamscape, Mal had been created from the deepest fear of a nightmare and was born fully formed as a remorseless killing machine.
One who was currently frozen in the face of a little girl waiting to see if he would survive poisoning by mushroom loaf. One whose neck was being made soggier by the moment by a half-asleep little boy using him as a tissue.
Mal didn’t feel like an apex predator. He felt like a conscripted nanny.
He could eat his way out of the awkward situation. He could gorge himself on the revolting, sickly-sweet essence of children and the potentially delicious old man, and his equally potentially delicious daughter, before moving on to Clayton to have the best meal of his life.
He could probably get away with it too. As long as no one caught him, Mal’s job as defender of the benighted would be secure.
But for some unfathomable reason, he didn’t.
It happened sometimes. For reasons unknown to him, Mal wouldn’t go for the easy kill when he needed to refuel. Wouldn’t use brute force to solve a problem when the alternative was dealing with a massive pain in his ass.
It didn’t happen often, so he didn’t think about it much. After today, he had a feeling he’d be investigating the phenomenon further.
However, he was still absofuckinglutely eating Clayton the second he got the chance. That was non-negotiable. It was officially a point of pride. Mal had been horribly inconvenienced today, and someone had to pay.
“Are you okay? Did it make your tummy hurt?” Merry asked as she crept cautiously up to Mal to tug on his hand. Her eyes were massive and trusting. Far too large for human eyes.
At the touch of Merry’s hand, Mal realized he’d been clutching his stomach. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t feel normal, either. It was… tingly?
Mal wasn’t used to having things inside his stomach, so he didn’t know if it was normal or not. He shrugged and kneeled down until he was eye level with the girl.
“I wouldn’t eat it if I were you,” Mal said honestly.
Children got lied to far too often, so Mal didn’t bother with it. Besides, it wasn’t going to affect him if something happened as a result. It wasn’t like he was going to stick around.
“Mal!” Grampy chided him disappointingly. Mal ignored him and worked to unload Tommy onto his sister. He failed miserably because Merry latched onto his other side and snuggled in. Instead of shedding one parasite, he’d only gained another.
“Can you find us something good to eat, Mal?” Merry asked sweetly.
What. Was. Happening?
Mal stood up, hoping to lose at least one child, but Merry clung tightly, and she came with him.
He looked to Grampy for help, but the old man snorted. “I think you’re doing just fine on your own, my boy.”
Mal was about to start forcibly removing his new fan club, since in his current state, he was likely to start snacking without thinking. He’d been half out of his mind with hunger when he arrived; he should only be getting worse as time went by.
Except… he wasn’t.
The tingling in his stomach intensified, and… was it Mal's imagination, or was it getting easier to hold himself together?
“Grampy, what was in that?” If Mal didn’t know any better, he’d think the godsawful mess Grampy had stuffed into him was actually nourishing for him.
“Mushrooms! One hundred percent, locally sourced mushrooms, harvested and prepared by yours truly. Would you like more?” Grampy snatched up the serving spoon, shoveled some onto a plate, and stuck the brown, shriveled mess in Mal’s face.
Mushrooms?
Mal stared at the food warily. It had tasted worse than it looked, and that was saying something, but he had to check to see if his suspicion was correct. He’d lived long enough to know that anything was possible. Just because he’d never found food he could digest didn’t mean it was impossible.
Mal sat down so he could balance both children on his lap to free his hands enough to eat, but he needn’t have bothered. As soon as they realized he was about to eat Grampy’s food on purpose, they both abandoned him. Their expressions of betrayal showed that they considered him to be a defector of the lowest sort.
The first few bites were even worse than Mal remembered, but as he gained steam, the flavor mattered less as his energy returned. It wasn’t a huge amount of essence, but it was enough to take him out of the red zone.
