by M. D. Massey
34
I spent the rest of the afternoon letting my hands heal while I prepared for nightfall, when I suspected that Kiki would return for round three. I’d already sent Roscoe and Rufus to the Grove for safekeeping and I’d sent the staff home early, so we had the junkyard to ourselves. Dusk had arrived by the time I’d nearly finished. I only hoped the precautions I’d taken would be enough.
As I finalized my preparations, Larry followed me around in silence, nodding and making inane, mostly supportive comments as I worked. “So, ya’ think this is gonna work?”
“It’ll have to, or else Austin is going to be overrun with zombie wildlife pretty damned quick. But if your friends don’t show up soon, we’re screwed, because I don’t think we can spring this trap effectively ourselves. Now, if I could shift—”
“—you’d just tear through her minions and rip the bitch’s head off. You’ve said that a half-dozen times already.”
I eyed the alterations I’d made to my wards and shrugged. “Yeah, well—I don’t like how I nearly got my ass handed to me earlier by a couple of fossils.”
“Like I said, I got some muscle coming. So, relax. All you gotta do is handle the magic side of things. I got the rest covered.” Larry cocked an ear. “Speaking of which, I think I hear them coming now.”
I couldn’t hear anything at first, then I detected a familiar, yet somewhat disturbing, noise. It was the whooshing sound of a huge pair of leathery wings beating in the distance. As it grew closer, I started to get nervous. The last time I’d heard that sound was when I’d dealt with Camazotz, and I’d nearly been killed by a 3,000-year-old nosferatu the time before that.
“Larry—” I warned as my eyes scanned the dark, cloudy skies overhead.
“Sshh. Quiet, or you’ll spook him. He’s shy like that.”
“Who’s shy?”
Suddenly, the gibbous moon above was blocked out by a massive dark shape. I flinched involuntarily, then remembered that my wards would keep anything out of the junkyard that I didn’t want to enter. But when that dark shape swooped down to land atop the peaked roof of the warehouse, I practically shit my pants.
I’d already started muttering the words to my fireball spell when Larry placed a paw on my foot. “Ixnay on the ell-spay, uid-dray. You wanna scare him off? Give him a moment to get used to us while we wait for the others to arrive.”
It took a herculean effort of self-control to not attack this creature who’d so easily invaded my sanctum, because every cell in my body was screaming at me to blast it into the aether. Instead, I quickly cast a cantrip to enhance my senses so I could get a good look at it. As my eyes adjusted to the advancing dark, I took in every detail of the strange-looking beast on my warehouse roof.
The creature was tall, at least seven feet from head to toe, muscular, and humanoid in appearance, with a powerful build, rubbery gray skin, and clawed, webbed hands and feet. If I had to describe it in a word, I’d have called it demon-like, or perhaps gargoyle-like, although it was dissimilar enough to those species to indicate it was neither.
Of all its bizarre features, the thing’s face and eyes were the most bothersome. For some reason, I couldn’t seem to focus my eyes on its face. When I tried, all I saw was a large black blur. Even though I couldn’t make out its facial features, its large, saucer-sized eyes shone bright red in the night, two glowing orbs that seemed to hypnotize me and draw me into their gaze.
I watched for several moments longer, mesmerized. Then it snapped its wings wide, folding them around its body as it crouched and settled into stillness.
“Druid. Druid. Drew-it!”
“Huh—what?” I said, shaking off the creature’s spell. “What just happened?”
Larry clucked his tongue. “You can’t stare at his eyes, or else you’ll get hypnotized. He can’t help it, that’s just the way they made him. Moe’s actually kinda self-conscious about it, so if you can avoid it, don’t do that again.”
“Trust me, I won’t.” I rubbed my eyes, waiting for the strange stoned feeling to pass. “Mind telling me how ‘Moe’ bypassed my wards?”
“Same way I do. I’m a cryptid, right? Well, so’s Moe. Sure, we got some supernatural DNA, a little alien DNA, and other stuff the mad scientists back at the lab threw in, but it’s all mixed up and not enough to trigger your defenses.”
I blinked and rubbed my head. “Ah, gotcha. Wait a minute, did you say ‘alien DNA’? Because I distinctly thought I heard you say something about aliens.”
“Did I say that? Hmm, that’s weird. Hey, I think the other guys are here.”
At that, Larry sped off like a bullet for the front gate. I took one last look at the dark figure above me, wondering what the hell it was. Then, it spoke. Not audibly, but directly into my brain.
-Say, is there a bathroom around here?- a sibilant, hissing voice said inside my head. -We got tacos at this Mexican dive just outside of Houston, and now my stomach is a wreck.-
I rubbed a gauze-covered hand across my face.
Ah, what the hell.
“Sure, through the door below you, down the hall, and to the right. If you go through the unmarked door right next to it, that’s my old room. There’s bottled water and Cokes in the mini-fridge, and coffee for the espresso machine. Help yourself.”
The creature failed to respond, so a moment later I followed after Larry, turning my back on it against my better judgment. I was almost to the front office when I heard those massive, leathery wings unfurl with a snap, and it was all I could do to resist spinning to face it in a defensive crouch. As I slipped through the gate, I snuck a glance over my shoulder just in time to see a dark shadow slip silently into the warehouse.
Fucking hell, but my life is weird.
35
When I exited the front gate into the parking lot, an old, beat-up motorhome was pulling in front of the office. The damned thing was a dead ringer for Cousin Eddie’s jalopy, the one from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. In fact, I half-expected Randy Quaid to jump out in boots and a bathrobe and loudly proclaim, “Shitter’s full!” at any moment.
As the RV came to a stop, Larry bounced up and down with his tongue hanging out, wagging his tail furiously all the while.
“They’re here, they’re here,” he squeed. “Druid, the gang’s all here!”
“Great,” I said under my breath.
Curious as to who—or what—might be behind the wheel, I tried my best to identify the driver through the windshield. But all I saw was someone in an oversized gray hoodie wearing dark sunglasses and a hospital mask. The driver must’ve noticed me looking, because he—or she—gave me a sort of half-wave, half-salute before they ducked back into the RV’s interior.
“Oh, man, has it been a long time since I saw these guys,” Larry said. He’d stopped jumping around, but his little rat tail was still swinging a mile a minute. “You’re gonna love these guys, druid. Salt of the earth is what they are, salt of the earth. Just don’t play cards with Vinny. He don’t like ta’ lose, and he’s been known to rip a guy’s arm off once or twice.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, sucking air between my teeth.
At that moment the door swung open, and a voice with a strong Jersey accent spoke from the dark interior. “Izza’ coast clear?”
Larry gave another of his wheezing laughs. “C’mon, Dez, this is me you’re talking to. Would I let my best friend get caught by those fuckers at Cerberus? Besides, this is Austin. People see weird shit here—they just think it’s a shroom flashback or sumthin’.”
Another voice echoed from the RV, a deep baritone that reminded me of Michael Clarke Duncan. “Hey, if Larry says it’s cool, it’s cool. Grab your shit and move, Dez, cuz’ I gotta take a leak.”
“Okay, I’m goin’, I’m goin’.”
When Dez—or rather, the one I assumed to be Dez—hopped out of the vehicle, my jaw hit the ground.
He was roughly five feet tall, with a kangaroo’s lower body and hind l
egs, but with cloven feet like a goat and a thin, forked tail. His torso was more ruminant-like, but with leathery bat-like wings, stubby little T-rex arms that ended in clawed hands, and a head that was a cross between a goat and miniature pony. To top off his genetic-experiment-gone-horribly-wrong look, velvety, reddish-brown fur covered him from head to toe, and he had two short, pointed horns on his head that gave him a decidedly evil look.
That’s the fucking Jersey Devil. Dez is the Jersey-fucking-Devil.
The cryptid clenched his cigar between his horse teeth, switching his can of Bud Light to his left as he extended a clawed hand toward me. “Desmond Cross, but you can call me Dez—everybody else does. Pleased ta’ meet’cha, druid. Heard a lot about you.”
To my credit, I only stared at his hand a moment before shaking it. “Colin McCool, welcome. I—haven’t heard much about you, but I know Larry has been looking forward to your arrival.”
I released Dez’s hand, and he turned to give Larry a fake punch across the jaw. “This fuckin’ Benny? He’s probably already turned out your pockets for the debt he owes Vinny.”
At that, Larry jumped and put his paws on Dez’s chest and began licking his face. Dez pushed him away, laughingly.
“Alright already, I’m happy ta’ see you too.” Once Larry had settled down, Dez looked back inside the RV. “Hey, Vinny, you comin’ or what?”
“Coming to whip your ass if you don’t stop talkin’ to me like I’m five,” the deep voice boomed.
A second later a tall, hulking figure appeared in the bus doorway. He wore a hoodie over a black t-shirt, dark sunglasses, a hospital mask, white jeans, and the biggest pair of Nike Airs I have ever seen. Now that I was up close, I could just make out the pebbly, scaly texture of his skin, expertly hidden under thick, flesh-colored makeup.
I had a pretty good idea what Vinny was, but I wasn’t going to let him know I knew unless he chose to reveal his identity. So, I put on my best poker face and pretended I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary—no small feat considering I was standing next to a chupacabra and the Jersey Devil. Stooping to exit the vehicle, the huge cryptid stood to his full height as he cleared the doorway, a full head-and-a-half taller than my 73 inches. Free from the confines of the RV, the fourth member of Larry’s squad stretched his back with a loud groan, then he looked at me and nodded.
“Thanks for helping Larry out,” he rumbled. “Not many folks would go out of their way to help someone like that. Especially not for one of us freaks, never mind going up against a crazy, dangerous bitch like Kiki.”
Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I was getting comfortable with the idea that Larry’s friends were all urban legends come to life. Maybe it was the fact that, despite how weird they looked, they spoke and acted like normal people. All except for Moe, that is. That fucker creeped me out.
“Don’t mention it. By the way, the bathroom is in the big building to your left when you go through the gate. But fair warning, I think Moe got to it first.”
Vinny hissed. “Son of a bitch—he’s gonna stink the place up, and nobody’ll be able to go in there for a week. Told him not to order the tripas tacos, but the stupid fucker never listens.”
I covered my mouth to hide a smile. “There are some port-a-potties out in the junkyard. I can’t vouch for how sanitary they are, though.”
“Gonna have to powder your face later, Vin,” Dez said as he pointed his cigar at the sky to the north. “Looks like the Queen Bitch of Crazy is about to make her entrance.”
36
Dez must’ve had much better eyesight than mine, because I couldn’t make out a thing in the night sky except for clouds and the moon above. However, my plan depended on us being safely ensconced inside my wards, before Kiki attacked. Visible threat or no, we needed to be inside the junkyard before she arrived.
“C’mon, everyone—let’s head inside and I’ll fill you in on the plan,” I said, trying to avoid sounding bossy as I did so.
Vinny chuckled as he addressed the chupacabra standing in front of him. “You hear that, Larry? The kid has a plan. How refreshing.”
“Hey, I had a plan the last time, didn’t I?” Larry replied. “How was I supposed ta’ know we set up our ambush on a Native American burial ground?”
Dez scratched his upper lip with a claw, snickering. “Coulda’ been the burial mound you picked out ’cause it was ‘high ground’—just shootin’ in the dark here.”
While they razzed Larry, I kept my eyes on the sky. Soon, my magically-enhanced vision allowed me to pick out a tiny dot flying over downtown Austin and moving quickly in our direction. As the object grew closer, its shape became more distinct—and disturbing. It appeared to have a long torso, two heads, and huge wings, with one head being misshapen and elongated, and the other small and round.
What the hell is that?
“Fellas, I don’t know what that thing is, but it’s moving fast,” I said nervously. “Maybe we should get inside.”
The trio ignored me, instead remaining focused on the discussion at hand. Namely, how Larry had almost gotten them killed the last time they’d faced Kiki.
“Next time you can plan the ambush!” Larry said loudly.
“Maybe I will!” Vinny replied.
“Just like you planned this trip?” Dez asked, looking askance at Vinny. “You booked us a camping spot at an RV park in Honobia. Frickin’ Honobia, home of Oklahoma’s largest annual Bigfoot festival! We hadn’t even finished setting up camp when those wannabe cryptozoologists came sniffing around. If it hadn’t been for Moe hypnotizing them, we’d all be on the front page of next week’s National Enquirer.”
By that point Kiki was almost upon us, and as it so happened, she wasn’t flying a two-headed bird. Somehow, she’d managed to find a mostly-intact pterosaur carcass, reanimating it to serve as her ride. The thing was huge, with a 40-foot wingspan, teeth like daggers, and claws like railroad spikes. When it saw us, the creature’s cry pierced the night, sounding like a cross between the roar of a lion and a woman’s scream.
And even that failed to get the cryptids’ attention.
As Larry and his friends argued, the zombie corgi necromancer sat astride the pterosaur’s back like a valkyrie riding into battle, barking up a storm with a maniacal look in her glowing green eyes. Incongruously, she had a pretty pink bow tied in a top-knot between her ears, and she wore a pink and gray turtleneck dog sweater that matched her bow perfectly. For an undead animal, I noted that she was remarkably well-preserved. And agile as well, riding the pterosaur like a surfboard as it quickly banked and dove straight at us.
“Guys,” I warned, “you might want to duck.”
I hit the deck, Larry slipped under a car, and Dez simply took a knee. Their scaly pal, on the other hand, ripped off his mask, sunglasses, and hoodie, revealing exactly what I’d suspected,
Vinny was a lizardman.
“Hah—I knew it,” I said to no one in particular.
Vinny looked like a darker, greener version of Killer Croc in the original Suicide Squad movie. Personally, I’d thought it was a shitty depiction of the super-villain, and that the Arkham Origins Croc was the best animated version of the character. However, proportion-wise, Vinny filled the role nicely—and honestly, he could’ve stood in for the creature on film and no one would’ve been the wiser.
Dez gave me a withering look. “Oh really, Sherlock? What gave it away, his silky-smooth complexion, or the mouth full of needle-sharp teeth?”
As the pterosaur and the diminutive canine necromancer nose-dived right at him, Vinny calmly tossed his sunglasses to Dez.
“Hold these, will you?” he asked, squaring his shoulders and looking straight up at the plummeting mass of zombified reptile and dog.
Dez gave me a horse’s grin. “Watch this, kid.”
“I can’t look,” Larry said, covering his eyes with his paws.
“I can’t look away,” I said, spellbound by the spectacle unfolding right before my eyes.
> The pterosaur spread its massive jaws wide, clearly aiming to cut Vinny in two as it crashed into the lizardman. But at the last second the tall, heavily-muscled cryptid crouched and sprang to his left, raking the giant flying reptile’s wing as he did. Then he leapt atop a nearby car, well out of the pterosaur’s reach, leaving the reptile’s right wing in tatters.
Rather than staying out of the winged lizard’s way, Vinny attacked, circling while darting in and out to swipe at its face, wings, and torso. Grounded now, the pterosaur was awkward and out of its depth on the ground. Although it could quickly dart out and snap at the lizardman with its beak, its opponent was that much faster, and clearly never in danger.
This all served to infuriate Kiki, who screamed obscenities at both Vinny and her flying lizard. “You stupid fucking piece of shit, good for nothing pterodactyl, what the hell did I bother raising you for if you can’t even kill one measly mistake of science? And you, Vinny—I’m gonna turn you into a fucking set of luggage by the time this is done!”
Clearing my throat, I pointed at Vinny. “Um, do you think he needs help?”
“Nah, he’s fine,” Dez replied, giving a nod at the gate. “You got this fence warded, kid?”
“Does Iron Man wear a bulletproof codpiece? Of course I have it warded,” I replied.
Dez gave the chupacabra a wink. “I’m startin’ ta’ like this punk, Larry.”
Larry crawled out from his hiding spot. “Yeah, I suppose he’s handy to have in a pinch. Ready to go see if Moe’s done destroying Colin’s bathroom?”
“Let’s,” Dez replied. “Then we can deal with Fatal Attraction over there, for good.”
37
As we ducked through the gate, Dez leaned his head out to yell at his pal. “Yo, Vinn-ee! Finish that up, will ya?”
“Coming,” the lizardman yelled in reply.
