“MUFFINS GOODUH. SHOW GOODUH,” he explained.
Dallas didn’t let up. “But you knocked on my door. If you’re so scared of humans, why come here?”
“YOU LIKE MEUH,” Kevin explained after letting Herb’s can slide to a stop.
“Here we go again. Look, I might be… whatever the hell I am now. Werewolf, whatever. That don’t mean I just turned in my ‘human’ card. I’m still human, too. I mean, look at me!”
Kevin obliged, his sad, brown eyes looking deep into Dallas’s own.
“It’s gotta be harder for you than it was for me,” Herb said softly. “I mean, I got turned, and suddenly every day was different. You get to be almost human for like twenty seven days out of thirty. But Dallas, you have to accept that you aren’t human. Not anymore.”
Dallas looked down at his hands and studied them for a while. Skin, knuckles, nails, and fingerprints, all the requisite parts to be considered human hands. Completely normal, completely human, except that just below the skin, something else ran through his veins.
“I know, Herb,” he sighed. “I know.”
Chapter 34
“This stinks of Randall,” Dallas complained. “I don’t think Colton and Aletia are the sort to use dirty tricks. They confront stuff head-on. Randall, though. He’s a sneaky little shit. If it ain’t a taser, or taking a cheap shot with a paintball gun when you’re eyes are closed, he’s dropping poisoned muffins in the woods. What a jerk.”
Lois had made some herbal tea for Kevin, explaining that combined with a simple healing spell, it would make him feel much better. While she tended to the ailing Sasquatch, Dallas, Herb, and Stanley tried to figure out a plan.
“M-maybe we poison him back. You know, get some brats from Cecil’s, soak ‘em in the castor oil, and leave ‘em out in the t-trees.” Stanley rubbed his hands in an earnest but ineffective attempt to look devious.
“Sure, Stanley, because I know I would definitely stop and eat a random bratwurst I found lying in the woods.” Dallas sniffed. “Next.”
“I say we keep it simple. If he’s been tracking Kevin, he should be getting close. Why don’t we just wait, jump him when he shows up, and, um,” Herb faltered. “Tell him to leave Kevin alone?” he finished lamely.
Dallas interlaced his fingers, stretched his arms, and bent his hands back, thick knuckles popping as he stretched.
“I like parts one and two, but I’m going to make a minor adjustment to part three and add a part four. We tell him to leave all of us alone. If he argues, I’ll beat the holy crap out of him. That’s what we’ll do.”
“And Colton? Aletia? If Randall’s on Kevin’s trail, his friends won’t be far behind,” Lois pointed out.
“So? There’s three of them. There’s five of us.” Dallas looked at Stanley. “Four of us.” He looked at the little can holding Herb. “Three.” He shrugged. “Okay, three of us, but Kevin there is frickin’ huge. That’s advantage monsters, right?”
Kevin shook his head while trying not to spill the tea cup he held gingerly in his massive hand.
“NO FIGHTUH.”
Dallas threw his hands up, exasperated. Of course the four-hundred pound gorilla would be a pacifist. Why could nothing ever be smooth?
“Uh, guys? I don’t mean to be a downer, but we don’t really have any more time to plan. Randall’s here.”
Dallas sprang to the window.
“Where?”
“Well, not here, here. Maybe a mile, mile and a half away, approaching from the north. It’s about as far away as I can see, but it’s definitely him. He’s on his moped and is heading this direction.”
“You think he knows Kevin is here, or is he just coming to talk to me?” Dallas wondered out loud. “Okay. Decision time. Lois, grab Herb and Stanley and head to the basement. Kevin, you, um. Crap. I dunno. Where do you hide a giant gorilla?”
“Garage?” Lois asked. “Do you have a tarp or something?”
“Good plan. Kevin, you head to the garage and hide under a tarp. Everyone else, get downstairs.”
While everyone hurried to their respective hiding spots, Dallas did his best to undo Lois’s cleaning fit and make his place look like a messy bachelor pad again. Soon, his sensitive ears heard the high-pitched whine of a two-stroke engine. Herb was right. Randall was definitely heading his way.
Flipping on the television, he cracked another beer and settled into the couch, doing his best to portray a casual nonchalance that was at complete odds with what he was actually feeling. The tell-tale sputter of the moped’s engine crescendoed in his driveway and then stopped. A moment later, boots crunched on the gravel, and a hand rapped on his front door. A quick sniff put a final nail in the mystery. Cheap hair gel, mild B.O., a whiff of bacon. Definitely Randall.
Dallas opened the door, feigning surprise.
“Randall! Buddy! What are you doing here? Gonna try and tase me again?”
“Dallas,” Randall said by way of greeting. “Not a social call.”
Dallas held the door for the other man and walked into the kitchen to grab a fresh beer. When he returned, Randall had pulled a chair up to the table.
“How’s that werewolf situation?” he asked without preamble.
“You drove all the way from wherever the hell you were to ask me about that? Geez, Randall. One of these days, I’m gonna teach you about that crazy thing they call a phone.”
“You didn’t answer the question. What’s the status on the werewolf? Still a problem, or were the Hero of Trappersville and his stuttering sidekick actually able to do something all by themselves?”
Dallas crossed his arms across his broad chest. “Werewolf situation is fine, thanks for asking. Now why don’t you answer my question? What the hell are you doing here, Randall? Doesn’t seem like you to run off by yourself. I think you’d find the experience of not having your nose all the way up Colton’s ass too scary.”
Randall stood abruptly, knocking over the chair, and went chest to chest with Dallas.
“Where do you get off?” he stammered, face going red.
“Bedroom, normally, but I confess I’ve rubbed a few out in the shower,” Dallas said with a grin.
Randall smirked. “Whatever. Look, Colton and Aletia will be this way soon enough. I went ahead because that ‘squatch we were tracking doubled-back this way. I hit town yesterday and started looking into things.” He sized Dallas up for a moment before continuing.
“Let’s just say some of the things I looked into don’t add up to you taking care of that werewolf problem.”
The knife was out before Dallas could blink. He did blink though, and when he was done, the knife was still there.
“And there’s ‘squatch scat in your yard. So now I got a real conundrum. I don’t think the werewolf situation has been handled, and now I’m starting to think the newbie is getting cozy with another monster. Makes me nervous, and when I get nervous, I tend to cut things,” he finished menacingly.
Dallas was shocked. “Kevin! You shit in my yard? Not cool, dude. Not cool.”
The door to the attached garage cracked open, and a massive head partially covered by a grease-stained tarp peeked in.
“WHAT’CHOO TALKING ‘BOUT, DALLAS?”
Randall’s jaw dropped. His eyes shifted in disbelief from Dallas to the Sasquatch and back, the knife following.
“I knew it. I frickin’ knew it,” he gasped. “Why would anyone harbor a monster, unless that someone is a monster too? Something stinks in Denver, that’s what I say. So you got exactly three seconds to start explaining before I gut you like a fish.”
“I’m a werewolf,” Dallas stated matter-of-factly. “And that there Sasquatch in my garage is Kevin. Oh, and there’s a witch and a vampire in a beer can in my basement.”
This time it was Randall who blinked, which was all the opening Dallas needed. His hand lashed out and knocked the knife aside. A fist followed, catching Randall under the chin. The blow sent the hunter reeling into the table. Closing in, Dallas was caught o
ff guard by a low kick, and he tumbled to the side.
Randall pounced and landed heavily on top of Dallas, driving the knife downward. Dallas managed to grab Randall’s wrist and deflect the blow, but the blade still slid down the side of his shoulder, opening a bright line of red across his skin and a barrel of rage in his stomach.
Thrusting his hips and twisting, Dallas flipped Randall onto his side. Still lying on the ground, he drove a knee up and landed it squarely in Randall’s groin.
“Urgh,” Randall gasped in pain while simultaneously boxing Dallas’s ear with his free hand. The blow was hard enough to stun Dallas, giving Randall time to squirm away and regain his feet. Dallas was quick to follow, and the two men squared off for round two.
“I knew you were trouble from the start,” Randall growled. “Told Colton, too. I think having Tia around all the time is making him soft.”
Dallas barked out a laugh. “Aletia might be guilty of many things, but making a guy soft ain’t one.”
Launching a series of jabs, Dallas drove the attack and forced Randall backward into the small kitchen. The knife flashed and flashed again, always close to finding skin but never quite connecting.
“Your little toy ain’t doing you much good, huh?” Dallas joked between punches.
“Yeah? How’s that shoulder feel?” Randall countered.
Dallas stopped swinging. Relaxing his posture, he looked at the bloody fabric of his sliced flannel. Reaching across, he poked experimentally and pulled the fabric open to expose the skin.
“I’ve had paper cuts that were worse,” he commented. “So I guess I can’t complain.”
Randall set his shoulders and dropped back into a half-crouch.
“You won’t be alive long enough to complain,” he said and attacked.
Dallas and Randall had tangled a time or two, and Dallas thought he had the man’s measure. Reality sank in quickly though. Randall really was a tough son of a bitch and actually had been holding back. Now that he knew Dallas was a werewolf, Randall was in full hunter mode and fought like a man possessed. Despite his increased speed and strength, Dallas found it harder and harder to block the man’s attacks. The knife found his stomach and scored a fresh, bloody line across his flesh. Randall’s other fist and feet connected so many times Dallas was starting to lose count. As the tide of the fight swung, Dallas was driven back into the living room. He wasn’t accustomed to losing a fight and was starting to get a tad concerned when a beer can hit Randall square in the forehead.
“Bonsai!” Herb yelled as his can connected.
Dallas didn’t hesitate. Springing forward, he side-stepped Randall and grabbed his knife hand. Swinging his leg back, he caught Randall behind the knees and knocked his feet out from under him. Pivoting, Dallas bent Randall’s arm and fell forward, his full two hundred and ten pounds driving the knife down like a sledgehammer. He felt the blade scrape a rib and plunge straight into Randall’s heart.
Randall gave a surprised yelp and was still. Dallas fell to the side panting and stared at the blood welling up around the knife’s handle and soaking Randall’s shirt. When he looked up, he saw Lois standing across the room, a look of revulsion on her face.
“Can you try not killing people for a change?” she asked, staring at the dead hunter.
Herb’s tinny voice broke the ensuing silence.
“Well, I’ve always felt people should do what they’re good at. Now, could I get a little help here? My can’s getting a little worse for wear, and I think we’ve found my new body.”
Chapter 35
Dallas had never seen Lois look so nervous. It had taken a few days for Stanley to help her gather the necessary ingredients, which was longer than she wanted. The Society and the next full moon were both getting closer by the minute. Lois worried that if they didn’t get it done right that night, she’d have her hands full with werewolf Dallas and people trying to kill werewolf Dallas. Also, each passing day meant Randall was getting more and more dead.
“He’s in the freezer. What’s the worry?” Dallas had asked.
Lois squeezed the bridge of her nose, frustration plain in the gesture. “The longer the host body is dead, the harder it is for the soul to take hold. If that wasn’t an issue, I could’ve dug up any old body for Herb. It’s supposed to be a freshly dead body. I just hope we’re doing this soon enough.”
Following her instructions, Dallas and Kevin cleared a patch of earth in his back yard and dug a shallow grave. Night had pulled its dark curtain across the horizon by the time they were done, adding to Lois’s concerns. Since Herb was a vampire, he had to be safely back before the sun rose. It’d be a cruel joke indeed to resurrect him only to watch the poor guy burn in the morning sun.
“How long do you think it will take?” Dallas had asked, earning a terse reply that it would take as long as it would take, and could he please just be a good dog and do what he was told. He shelved the rest of his questions and followed her list of preparations.
Soon, a folding table held a small collection of herbs, the heavy book of spells she’d shown him, and Dallas’s electric crockpot. A bright orange extension cord snaked its way back to the outdoor outlet. It had taken him close to half an hour to scrub the chili and goulash grime from the inside, but Lois had demanded that it be spotless. While Dallas was up to his elbows in dish soap, Kevin and Stanley had painstakingly recreated the intricate pattern Dallas had seen on Lois’s coffee table. When they had finished, a strange latticework crossed over and around the shallow grave like a six-foot wide dreamcatcher made of salt and colored sands.
Preparations finally complete, the witch, werewolf, Sasquatch and alien abductee stood in a circle around the grave containing Randall’s corpse. An air of expectation made the already quiet evening seem unnaturally silent.
Lois gently set the Milwaukee’s Best can that held Herb in the center of the pattern directly above the corpse that rested below.
“Are you sure about this, Herb?” she asked. “I mean, I think I can do it. It’s just that, well, if I screw something up, I have no idea what will happen.”
Even though he sounded like a busted little transistor radio, Dallas was touched by the genuine emotion he heard in Herb’s reply.
“Lois, you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever know. From the first day I saw you walk into Ronnie’s, I knew you were special. I love you no matter what, but I’m really not worried. You’re going to do great.”
Heavy tears welled up in Dallas’s eye. His ignorance had sent his best friend to an early grave, broken the heart of a wonderful woman, and thrown him into a sixty-proof quagmire of guilt. Now though, there was a chance that the things he had broken could be made whole.
“He’s right, Lois. Randall’s just another beer can. You did it once. You can do it again,” Dallas said, voice gruff with uncharacteristic emotion. Stanley’s head bobbed in agreement, and Kevin gave a hearty thumbs up. Lois took a deep breath and nodded. Then things got weird.
First, she raised her arms up over her head. Tipping her head back, she looked up at the darkening sky. Her eyes shifted back and forth like she was imploring each and every awakening star to fall so she could wish for luck. The moon had already risen, its pale, cratered face a silent witness to the events far below. Dallas’s eyes traced along the dark sliver on its edge, a sickle shadow holding the wolf at bay. He could feel the moon in his bones and for a moment understood why entire oceans would rise and fall at its whim. Maybe Stanley had the right of it. Maybe that strange orb really was a god holding an invisible leash looped around Dallas’s neck. It gave him a strange sense of comfort. The thought of being inexorably tied to the whims of some ancient god was better than having his life turned inside out by a hunk of dead rock endlessly floating through space.
Coming out of his reverie, he returned his attention to Lois. Her arms were still raised, and her head was still tilted toward the night sky, but her eyes were now closed, and her lips were moving. Even with his preternatural h
earing, Dallas couldn’t make out any words. Listening harder, he realized he couldn’t hear anything except the sound of his own breath. Even that sounded impossibly distant.
For what seemed like an eternity, that was all there was. The soft sighs of his far-away breath and Lois, statuesque in the starlight and silhouetted by the moon. All of creation seemed focused on those two things. Then a new sound emerged, a meandering hum so low in tone that Dallas wondered if purely human ears would even register it. The hum seemed to come from all around him, but some part of him recognized its source. When he looked at Kevin, he saw the mild-mannered Sasquatch smiling and swaying gently from side to side.
Lois’s eyes opened as she noticed too. Her lips continued to move through their silent mantra, but a gentle smile pulled at the corners, and the worry that had furrowed her brow started to dispel. Without warning, Stanley began humming as well, a surprisingly sweet alto that caught the cadence of Kevin’s tune and complemented it. The two threads, deep melody and lilting harmony, unraveled the silence around them. It was haunting and beautiful, thawing parts of Dallas he’d never known were frozen, shining light onto the parts he’d never known were shrouded in shadow. It was also, he realized, incomplete.
He took hold of his self-consciousness and set it aside. Softly clearing his throat, Dallas added his own song to theirs. At first, his wordless tenor ran against the grain of the tune. Soon though, he found his song moving along with Kevin’s and Stanley’s, the hopeful harmony weaving a warm blanket around the group.
Lois’s arms seemed to gather up the song and pull it close to her chest. Holding it there, it radiated warmth and vitality. A softly glowing, shapeless pillow of life. Slowly, so slowly, she opened her arms. The radiance dispersed, rolled down across the fresh grave, and sank into the upturned earth.
Lois turned to look from Dallas to Stanley and finally, to Kevin. “Thank you. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.”
Her hands wove an intricate pattern while she spoke softly. “Suthlan mo kalpussen ra. Life, we affirm you and celebrate you with song. Be here with me, be strong in me, be mine to hold, and mine to give.”
Monsters in the Midwest (Book 2): Northwoods Wolfman Page 21
