Truffle Hunter
Summary: When Ruth Fleming enters the Honey Queen Pageant, Steph Lauter prays to a neutral god to protect her friend. The Young Voice considers this the perfect opportunity to crash his uncle's summoning.
(Eight days later than I'd meant to post this, but I finally finished it. Enjoy!)
“Honey Queen? Are you fucking nuts?”
It was a normal night at the second-most-okay burger joint in Hatchetfield. Stephanie Lauter was back in town for the summer and chatting with a friend she’d accidentally made her senior year. But of course, there was no such thing as a normal day in Hatchetfield, as Ruth Fleming of all people said she wanted to participate in the Honey Queen Pageant.
“Steph, think about it! Everyone who’s ever won the Honey Queen Pageant has made it out of Hatchetfield, on to bigger and better things. This could be my break! And even if I don’t win, it’s experience!”
Steph studied Ruth. She’d been working on killing her acne-picking habit, and an incident a few months ago had led to her headgear being swapped for modern, in-the-mouth headgear. And she’d been getting over her stage fright; acting in a few shows at HFCC. She could be a Honey Queen. But there was always a cost to this sort of thing. “Listen, I’ve heard some horror stories about what goes on behind the scenes. If you want to preserve your peace, you stay away from that pageant.”
Ruth pouted. “You’re just saying that because you don’t think I’d win.”
“No, I’m saying it because you’d be eaten alive.”
“Oh, c’mon I can handle a little backstage drama, plus, it’s the competition for the sweetest woman in Hatchetfield!”
Steph shook her head. “That’s a slogan, not the truth. Listen, can we just change the subject? I heard you guys just did some sort of Harry Potter parody? How’d that go?”
As Ruth began to babble on about the latest theatrical production she was in, Steph only half-listened. She needed to keep her friend safe, and she wouldn’t be simply talked out of this. But she knew someone who was incredibly good at getting what he wanted, and had a particular interest in keeping people alive.
🍯🍯🍯
Steph trekked through the Witchwood, her feet almost moving on autopilot. She knew this path like a choreography that was ingrained in her muscles. She didn’t even need the wedge of moonlight that was peering through the trees. When she arrived at the grove, she fell to her knees. She shrugged off her backpack and pulled out a three-ring binder full of notes and sheet music. She opened to the first page and started chanting in a language more foreign than any of the tongues of Earth, and yet there was a small but loud part of her that knew what it meant:
“Come, Coda’al, Young Voice,
Foremost of the Lords in Gray
Protector of children scorned
Keeper of living voices
Leader of the chorus
Answer your disciple
And hold an audience, though only with one.”
For a while, there was only the sound of the wind, the crickets, and the frogs. Then, the wind picked up, blowing through the trees as they heralded the coming of…something? Or was it someone?
Blue spores blew through the grove, filling Stephanie’s lungs and calming her slightly at the sound of a familiar song. He appeared before her, the one who had been summoned, not quite in his true form, but not bothering to fully disguise himself as he took the form of a being with stone skin, cracked, with the blue spores of his essence seeping out from them. In a gentle, flute-like soprano, the Young Voice spoke,
“Steph, as much as I love a show, we’re friends, you don’t need to come all the way here and do the whole song and dance, you can just invoke my name. Especially because it sounds urgent.”
“Well, I thought you’d appreciate the pageantry.”
“I do,” the Young god said with a chuckle. “But get on with it. What do you need, Steph?”
“It’s Ruth, she’s got it in her head that she wants to participate in the Honey Queen Pageant.”
Coda’al’s eyes widened. “What?!”
“Yeah, and kept telling her that she’d be eaten alive, ‘cause I’ve heard some horror stories about what have happened to the runner-ups-”
“Oh, it’s not the runner-ups that get eaten alive.”
Steph paused. “Sorry, what?”
“Never mind.” The Voice sighed and paced around the grove. “On one hand, there’s a fair chance she’s dead meat….on the other, I’d hate to crush a dream…” He paused, a mischievous smile forming. “How badly does she want to win?”
“She said winning would be nice, but it sounds like she’d be fine just participating-why? What are you gonna-don’t tell me you’re gonna do what I think you’re about to do.”
Coda’al nodded. As the idea formulated in his mind, it passed through the psychic link between him and Steph. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep her safe.
🍄🍄🍄
Days later, what appeared to be a young adult with completely normally-textured clay-brown skin with small scars covered by bold blue and silver makeup walked up to the Hatchetfield Community Center, his nose and mouth covered by a KN95 mask. Inside, volunteers ushered a crowd of women through the process of submitting themselves for the Honey Queen Pageant. One of them gave a wide, fake-friendly smile towards the newcomer. “Hi! Are you here to sign up for the pageant?”
“Mhm, yeah, where’s the back of the line?”
She gestured the way. “Right over there.”
“Thank you!” He said in a singsong tone.
At the sign-in desk, another volunteer took down his information. “Okay, Coda Grey. And what’s your talent?”
Well, Coda was a man of many talents. He loved to dance, and the flute was one rarely heard of for a Honey Queen contestant. But this wasn’t just for fun. He had a mission. He had to win.
“Singing.”
Just then, a girl in the adjacent line recognized Coda’s Voice and turned. “Coda!” Ruth Fleming gasped. “You’re back!”
“I never left, I just made myself scarce,” Coda said, not caring that those two phrases technically meant the same thing.
“Well, why are you signing up?” Ruth asked. “Isn’t Honey Queen, you know, for women?”
The volunteer who was noting down Coda’s information hesitated.
Coda scoffed. “My dear friend, gender is a social contract, and if I can be Phyllis’s understudy in Barbecue Monologues and Sophie in Mamma Mia, both in the original key, I think I qualify, hm? And while Queen isn’t exactly my preferred title, it doesn't exactly make me feel…what’s that word again? Oh, dysphoric!”
The volunteer tilted her head. “Oh, so you’re…”
“A soprano!” Coda said with a condescending tilt of his head despite his smiling eyes.
Ruth giggled. “Alright, if you say so…” Then her brows furrowed as she remembered who Coda’s best friend was. “Hey, Steph didn’t put you up to this to scare me off, did she?”
Coda laughed. “How the hell does that work? ‘Hey, I want to stop my friend from entering the Honey Queen Pageant, why don’t I convince my friend to enter the Honey Queen Pageant!’” He looked around at the other entrants. “Honestly, I think I’m your only competition.”
Ruth looked sheepishly. “Well, gee, you’re really good at singing…you’re so good that everyone on stage looks better when you’re there…”
Coda patted Ruth’s back. “Including you. Hey. May the sweetest of us win.”
🎵🎵🎵
Several weeks later, Ruth and Coda sat with all the other contestants in the Starlight Theater. “Alright, ladies..” Henry Hidgens, the volunteer director, hesitated as he made eye contact with Coda, who shrugged and gestured for him to continue. “This is your pageant. Your moment in the spotlight. But! As you know, I am an experienced director-” this earned small applause from Ruth and an eye roll from Coda.
“Seasoned with the mildest pinch of salt,” the Young man mumbled.
“And I will have your respect and attention!” The professor continued with a glare at both of them. “The show begins with a spotlight on me: the master of ceremonies. I warm up the crowd with a bit of banter. I sing the Honey Queen song.”
Coda began humming a completely different showstopper to himself.
“The audience is on their feet cheering my name!” Hidgens continued. “Then you all come out and…whatever. Stand there. But: this is very important! I want the eventual winner to be placed directly to my right! So….” he paused and looked out at the house. To him, a few nobodies, the obnoxious girl who made Workin’ Boys absolutely insufferable, and a gender-confusing weirdo who was worse at sitting still than Ren McCormack from Footloose. “You know what, scratch that part for now, we’ll workshop it. Right, from the top!”
🌑🌑🌑
Several nights later, thousands of citizens filled Main Street for the town’s most anticipated event of the year. Live music and sweet smells filled the air. Strands of twinkling lights shone down on a hundred local vendors.The Hatchetfield Honey Festival was in full swing. At the corner of Main and Third, a crowd streamed into the historic Starlight Theater for the night’s main event: the Honey Queen Pageant. Inside, people filed into their seats noisily. Stephanie Lauter was next to the aisle in the back row, muttering to herself, a prayer that she hadn’t even noticed wasn’t even in English. “Lord, don’t fuck it up, Cody, don’t fuck it up,” Over and over again. A simple prayer, but hopefully an effective one.
A man who happened to be walking past paused at the sound of a few words he recognized. “Excuse me-” He said, doing a double take as he saw who it was. “Stephanie Lauter! What a lovely surprise! I was under the impression that your father told me you wanted nothing to do with this pageant.”
Steph raised an eyebrow. “And which one of the rich douchebags who he associates with are you?”
The man cleared his throat. “My name is Roman Murray, and I am the head judge of the pageant, and head of the festival planning committee.”
“Oh.” Steph shrugged. “Well, you guys did great with everything that’s not happening in this building, which I’m only inside because two of my best friends from high school are competing, and I’m hoping my moral support will keep one of them from going into deer-in-headlights mode.”
“Ah, yes, Miss Fleming and Miss Grey, if I’m not mistaken, hm?”
“...yes?” Steph asked, not sure whether she was more thrown off by the feminine honorific for Coda or the fact that this man who was a complete stranger to her knew exactly which contestants she was connected to.
“Well, if gossip is to be believed, those two are actually our most promising contenders!”
“Really?” Steph tilted her head. “I mean, Coda breathes life into every show he touches, but Ruth?”
“That’s just what I’ve heard, Miss Lauter.”
“Wow…” Steph laughed nervously, remembering her Lord’s throwaway comment about something bad happening to the winners.
“In any case, I should return to my responsibilities. Have a wonderful evening.”
“Yeah, you too, I guess…”
Sooner than later, the house lights dimmed. The curtain rose and a spotlight fell on Henry Hidgens.
“Welcome, everyone, to the seventy-seventh annual Honey Queen Pageant.”
The audience applauded.
“Yes, yes, thank you! And now, without further ado, let’s get to know our contestants with a bit of Q and A.”
Hidgens made his way down the line of contestants. As they finished answering their questions, they exited the stage.
“And now, you may recognize her from…Hatchetfield Community College’s last few productions, it’s Ruth Fleming!”
There was scattered polite applause, and some whooping from Ruth’s small but incredibly loud group of friends.
“Now, Ruth, are you ready for your randomly chosen question?”
Ruth nodded, giving a nervous smile. “Um, yeah! Sure…”
An obnoxious young man handed a notecard to Hidgens.
“Remember, there is no wrong answer, we just want to get to know the real you,” Hidgens said, trying to mask his disdain for this particular contestant. “Alright, Ruth. If you could have any superpower, what would it be, and why?”
“X-ray vision!” Ruth piped up immediately. “Because…because….” Aww, dammit, this wasn’t exactly the kind of place where she could admit that she wanted to look at everyone’s titties and cocks through their clothes, was it? Improvise, Ruth, improvise! But she couldn’t think of anything. She instead dashed offstage, most of her friends attempting to shout words of encouragement while Steph simply heaved a sigh of relief.
Hidgens gave an awkward laugh in an attempt to diffuse the tension as he made his way to the last contestant in line. “And now, musical theatre enthusiast who is back from…their disappearance off the face of the Earth, it’s Coda Grey!
There was thunderous applause from the younger members of the audience. Coda had endeared himself to Hatchetfield’s youth back in the autumn of 2021, even though most of them couldn’t quite remember exactly what had happened during that incredibly eventful time.
When the cheers died down, Hidgens turned to Coda. “Coda, are you ready for your question?”
“I sure am!”
Hidgens nodded. “Right, then. What does the title of Honey Queen mean to you?”
Coda, who was not the world’s biggest pageant enjoyer, but had spent a decent fraction of his youth with the deity with whom the festival took its roots immediately replied, “Hunger. Hunger as in ambition, you know. Not accepting anything less than the best.” His eyes scanned the audience before he smiled. “From yourself, I mean!”
The audience's applause was scattered. What was that answer, even? The Honey Queen was the sweetest woman in Hatchetfield, not the most “hungry”. But a few people took notice. Roman Murray took notice. That was exactly the correct answer, more correct than the vast majority of Hatchetfield citizens knew.
👄👄👄
As the talent portion started, Coda rushed to the dressing rooms, where he found Ruth sobbing.
“Ruth, sweetie, your makeup is running.”
“I don’t care!” She said, “I’m quitting!”
“Quitting? C’mon, you haven’t even sung your song yet!” He sat close to her, reaching over to grab her makeup.
“Did you see how badly I fumbled that question?”
“Oh, c’mon, I just gave the weirdest answer to mine, too.”
Ruth sniffled and looked up at Coda’s face. As she breathed in the space which he had exhaled, she felt her muscles relaxing, a little tune beginning to play in her head. She didn’t know what it was, nor had she connected the dots between the feeling and the fact that Coda was currently unmasked. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”
“I didn’t, I’m a weirdo, okay? You know this about me.” He started to fix her makeup. “Listen, you’re going to go out there, and you’re going to kill it.”
“But what if I fuck up? In front of everyone?” “The show must go on! No matter who wins tonight, just getting through the song is a personal win! Remember 2021 Ruth? Ruth who couldn’t even step on stage without sweating like crazy and running off crying? Ruth who wouldn’t even have gotten to this point? Now look at you!”
Ruth smiled. “You have a way of making everything make sense, Coda.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re just saying that because Apotheosis is upon you.” Coda muttered.
Ruth giggled. “Is that what your weird answer to your question was?”
Coda laughed as he finished fixing her makeup. “No, but close. Hey. Break a leg. Break every bone in your body while you’re at it. Die on stage, okay?”
Ruth hugged Coda tight. “You too.”
💧💧💧
Later, Hidgens walked onto the stage. “Alright! Now, let’s hear it for Ruth Fleming, who will be performing a song from The Barbecue Monologues!”
Ruth stepped on stage, feeling weirdly euphoric. She cleared her throat as the click track began to play. She started performing Just For Once, hitting every line with the perfect comedic timing she had rehearsed and a Voice she didn’t know she had… until the bridge. Just as she was about to hit the highest note, Coda coughed in the wings. Somehow, an overwhelming urge to cough came over Ruth. She coughed a few times, too embarrassed to notice the blue spores that shot out of her mouth with every violent exhale. She didn’t know what force moved her to stay on stage and finish the song with every ounce of perfection she had started it with, but she did, giving a grateful curtsy before speed walking off. Tears welled in her eyes as she walked past Coda, barely acknowledging his thumbs up.
🗣️🗣️🗣️
Hidgens stepped back through the curtains with a flourish. “And now, the lovely voice of Coda Grey!”
Coda made his way center stage. He didn’t need a click track or an accompanist. Most of the audience would simply have to deal with him singing a capella, but his targets, the judge’s panel, was close enough that he could make them hear the orchestra that he always did. He knelt down, his dress pooling around him as he took a deep inhale:
I don’t know how respiration got its start
I don’t know which architect designed the heart
I don’t know who built the bridge between listening and hearing
But I know I was put on this Earth to sing
I don’t know why my Dad though my life was a good idea
I don’t know why tyrants choose to rule with fear
All these things and many more I just don’t know
But I know I was put on this Earth to put on a show
And it must go on no matter what goes wrong
No matter how many saboteurs are hell-bent
I will say yes, and so long as I have breaths
I will pave this road to Heaven with your ill intent
I don’t care if you call it worthy sacrifice
I don’t care if you want to turn this world to fire or ice
I don’t care how many curses you invoke
You may call it a comedy, but it’s no joke
I don’t care if you think I’m a little boy
I won’t have out here breaking all my toys
I don’t care if I’m the seed of your apple tree
I won’t be silenced, let them both hear and see
The show must go on no matter what goes wrong
And so what if I’m hellsent?
I will say yes, and so long as I have breaths
I will pave my own road with my own intent
The crowd exploded into applause, the panel giving a standing ovation. Coda smiled. Having that particular group of people eating out of his hand was a rather satisfying feeling. He stood and bowed deeply before heading for the wings.
🎭🎭🎭
As Coda headed to the dressing room to change, Ruth stood at the doorway. “Why do I get the nagging feeling that everything that happened tonight happened for a reason?” She asked, her heart desperately wanting to thump out of her chest, her stomach unnervingly calm, her mind refusing to panic like she would’ve any other time this had happened.
Coda sighed and turned towards Ruth. “During sign-ups, you asked if I’m doing this to scare you. I’m not. I’m doing this to save your ass.”
🫂🫂🫂
After the talent portion and a brief intermission for the judges to pretend to deliberate, all the contestants lined the stage. Ruth looked down at her feet, somewhat ashamed, yet at peace with what she knew was about to happen. Coda smiled serenely, catching Steph’s eye and giving her a head tilt of acknowledgement. Hidgens stepped forward. “And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The judges have rendered their verdict. The envelope, please.” The obnoxious young man handed him the envelope with the soon-to-be Honey Queen’s name. “The winner, the contestant who best embodies the spirit of this town, the sweetest woman in Hatchetfield, this year’s Honey Queen is…Coda Grey!”
The audience burst into applause, an “Oh, thank God!” escaping Steph’s lips. Ruth was fine. Cody could handle himself. Her friends were safe.
👑👑👑
Coda was backstage, fiddling with the crown and making sure it was securely nestled in his hair as he awaited the inevitable. Roman Murray eventually approached him. “Miss Grey, I must extend my congratulations.”
“Please, call me Coda,” he replied. “But thanks. For the compliment and for voting.”
“Beautiful song, by the way, who wrote it?” Roman asked.
“Oh, I did. On the spot.” Coda laughed. “Not my best work, but-”
“It was beautiful,” Roman interrupted with the same serene smile Coda had seen a hundred times in the mirror. “Come with me. We have one last celebration in your honor, Honey Queen.” Coda nodded and gestured for Roman to lead the way. “Why, of course.”
🐽🐽🐽
Later, Coda sat across from Roman in the back of the latter’s Rolls Royce. The car drifted down an empty road. They’d left downtown far behind. Outside, the night was pitch-black. The Rolls Royce pulled off the main street and onto a dirt path. They bobbed gently as the car headed into the Witchwood. Coda hummed to himself, and Roman couldn’t help but hum along. “What’s this song?” He asked.
“A lullaby my uncle used to sing to me,” Coda replied.
“May I ask how it goes?”
“You shall not receive. It’s not in English. And the words are weird, I just like the melody.”
A short lapse into quiet, before,
“You seem oddly calm for someone who’s being led into the middle of nowhere. Most Honey Queens had questions by now.”
“This may be my first rodeo, Mr. Murray, but I’ve dealt with bulls before. Or pigs, I should say.”
Roman was taken aback. But it was too late now…oh well. A willing sacrifice was new, but not against any rules.
The car rolled to a stop. “Ah, here we are.”
The chauffeur opened Coda’s door and he stepped outside. Standing around the car were a dozen figures. They wore black robes and silver masks. They bowed to Coda, who gave a little chuckle at the delicious irony.
“Always thought these masks were cute,” He said to himself, earning another look of confusion from Roman.
The cloaks figured parted. Beyond them was a clearing, lit by a ring of torches. Illuminated by the firelight was a mound of mutilated pig carcasses. Their eyes were blank, mouths agape, flies swarming around spilled intestines and congealed blood.
“I assume you know the reason you are being offered up to Nibblenephim?” Roman asked as Coda’s eyes lingered on the intestines.
“I know plenty,” Coda replied with a self-important shrug.
“And you wanted this…may I ask why?” Roman inquired.
“I’ll tell you later.” Coda waved a dismissive hand.
“The best time is now, Miss Grey,” Roman insisted.
“I’ll say my fucking line when it’s my fucking cue!” Coda snapped at Roman. “Just get on with it.”
The cloaked figures moved to secure Coda’s hands, but with an eyebrow raise from Coda, Roman said, “No need for that,” in a voice that wasn’t his own. He then gasped, putting his hand to his throat as the few dots he had began to connect. “Poko-”
“I SAID! GET ON! WITH IT!” Coda interrupted as he walked towards the pile of gore.
Roman took a deep breath. “Farewell, Honey Queen, blessed she be…Thank you for this bountiful harvest.”
Coda rolled his shoulders and his neck. “Showtime, bitches,” he murmured in his native tongue.
And in his native tongue, the masked figures began to chant. Coda hummed to himself, rocking on his toes and occasionally correcting a pronunciation in sync with Roman as the dead pigs writhed with terrible undulations. Some internal heat made the pigs’ eyes burst in their sockets. Their skin bubbled, their bodies collapsed. Then the flesh molded into a new shape. A creature, a furry pink nightmare, hundreds of pig teeth coalesced at the end of its worm-like neck to form a grotesque smile. The mouth tore open and the Lord in Black roared into the world. Nibblenephim licked his huge lips, then paused, tilting his head, if you could call it that.
“Cody? What’re you doing here?” Nibbly asked in English.
Coda grinned. “Hello Uncle,” He said in his native tongue. Roman and the masked figures watched, some in awe, some in confusion, some in horror as Coda’s skin peeled away, rolling up to reveal the cracked stone of his intermediary form, coalescing, drying, and hardening to form his eye mask.
“Lord-” Roman began to stammer again.
“Coda’al,” Cody finished his sentence for him. “Foremost of the Lords in Gray, the Young Voice, sent here to protect Miss Fleming,” He explained in English.
Nibbly’s massive lips pouted. “Cody, I’m happy to have you here, but you starve me? How cruel,” he spoke to his nephew in their native tongue.
Cody sighed. “I did what I had to to save someone I care about. And don’t you talk to me about cruelty.” He sighed and adjusted his crown. “But, since it is your feast day and you’re my favorite uncle, I will make an exception to my rule.” His eyes headed towards Roman, who stepped forwards of a volition that wasn’t his own. “Roman, what did it take for you to get to this position…”
Roman swallowed, his Adam’s apple bouncing. “My lord,” he said with pleading eyes towards Cody as he found himself kneeling before Nibbly.
“Don’t give me that look like you’re part of my Chorus. He’s your lord.” Cody titled his head towards Nibbly. “You know, if your daughter is a piglet, what does that make you?”
Nibbly laughed. “It makes him yummy, that’s for sure!”
