Strays

by Remy Wilkins

  “Shhh, Mordecai, shhh.”

  “It is not Mordecai,” Pinwheel said. “The demon told me his name is Toadglue.”

  Lucasta looked at him sternly. “He is Mordecai. Toadglue is merely a spy I have played from the beginning. But it’s time to send the fool back.”

  Mordecai craned his neck back at Lucasta, “What do you mean, you airy lump!” spoke Toadglue from inside. “You cannot draw me out, you haven’t the power.”

  Lucasta knelt, easing her hands up Mordecai’s neck, pressing him to the cool concrete floor. Mordecai growled and barked and squirmed.

  “Pinwheel, could you get me something?”

  Pinwheel nodded.

  “Go into the back room over there,” she indicated the northern wall with a tilt of her head. “There’s a ladle on the wall. Dip it into one of the barrels and bring it to me.”

  Pinwheel dashed to the far door and pulled it open. It was a small room with three great wood barrels. He snagged the ladle from the wall and climbed atop a barrel so that he could pull off the lid of another.

  With a shove the lid fell and he looked down into a dark, thick liquid. He dipped the ladle into it. It was heavy like oil and oozed into the cup of the ladle slowly. “What is it?” he called to Lucasta.

  “Honey,” she said while petting her dog.

  Pinwheel froze holding the ladle above the mouth of the barrel, long tendrils of brown-golden goo descending. “Uh, I can’t . . . uh . . . ”

  “It’s not going to hurt you, Pinwheel, don’t be silly. Everything in here has been treated with honey.”

  Pinwheel carefully walked into the other room holding out the honey like it was toxic.

  When he reached Lucasta, she took the ladle from him and held it over Mordecai. The animal writhed and whined. “Shh,” she cooed again into his ear.

  “If Toadglue goes so does the beast!” shrieked the demon.

  “It’ll be okay, Mordecai,” she said.

  “The dog will be Toadglue’s steed to the darkness!” Toadglue’s panic came through the warped dog’s howl.

  “Shh,” she said again and poured the rich liquid onto Mordecai starting at his head and then running a trail of the gold on his back. “In the name of the Name above all names.”

  Toadglue shrieked, the sound coming unhinged from the body of the dog. Mordecai convulsed and shivered at the touch of honey. A steam rose off him. The scream of the demon faded. Lucasta lowered herself over the dog and stroked him. “There’s my good dog, what a good dog, a strong dog.”

  Pinwheel stood stunned.

  Rodney sat up and looked around, his face pale in the white glare of the fridges. “Eggs? What the heck?” he said. “What happened? Where are we?”

  Pinwheel looked at Lucasta. “Toadglue?”

  “He’s gone,” she said without looking up. Mordecai gave a satisfied growl, a pleased rumble at the attention he was receiving from Lucasta.

  “Why didn’t the honey . . . ” Pinwheel cast a quick look at Ray and Rodney. He lowered his voice. “Why didn’t it hurt me?”

  Lucasta looked up at him. “Because honey doesn’t hurt angels.”

  Pinwheel stumbled back and slouched against the wall.

  Rodney raised his voice. “Hello? What’s happening? Where are we?”

  “Easy there, bucko.” Ray answered and walked over to Mordecai. He went down on his knees and scratched the dog’s jaw. “Feel better, Mordy? Yes, yes you do.”

  Rodney stood and gingerly felt the back of his head. He cringed as his fingers brushed the welt. “Will somebody please say something?”

  At that moment the roof thundered like an avalanche was falling on it. It was followed by howls of anger. The commotion continued for several seconds before it fell silent again.

  “Testing the roof,” Ray said while looking up. He looked back at Rodney. “You took a nasty blow to the head. A low-hanging branch nabbed ya and shuffled you off to lala.”

  “Where are we?”

  Ray stood and walked over to a sink set in the back wall. “Lucasta’s shed. This is our armory.” He began washing his hands, getting the honey off.

  “It’s full of eggs.” Rodney motioned at the row of refrigerators and the cartons upon cartons beyond the glass.

  “That’s right. And honey.”

  “Where are the demons that were chasing us?”

  “Outside, trying to figure out the best way to get us.”

  Rodney turned to look at the heavy wood sliding door. “So why haven’t they burst through?”

  Lucasta rose as Mordecai leapt to his feet and shook. Globs of honey were flung to all parts of the room. Lucasta laughed. “Mordecai, sweetie, come here. I’ll rub the honey in. It’ll protect you.” Mordecai obeyed. Lucasta spread the honey evenly across Mordecai.

  “Alright, Rodnesia,” said Ray wringing his hands dry. “It’s time to flesh things out for ya. Lucasta, as I mentioned earlier, is an angel.” Lucasta bowed her head and smiled. She ran her hand down Mordecai’s tail, stripping off a handful of honey. She redistributed it down a leg. The dog was energetic, wagging his tail and woofing, but was otherwise well behaved.

  Rodney held his hands up. “Wait, wait, wait. You didn’t tell me that.”

  “Sure I did.”

  “Well, I mean, not like an angel angel. Like a real one. Like an actual, real angel.” He saw the look he was getting from Ray and Lucasta and decided to let it drop. “Keep going.”

  “So she’s been in charge of amassing our weapons, and I was in charge of laying the trap.”

  Pinwheel rose from his spot on the floor and drew nearer to listen.

  Ray stood and wiped his hands across the front of his tie-dyed bee suit. “Oh, and hey,” he said as he spun around and grabbed a wood bucket from beneath the sink. “Fill this with honey, would you?” He handed it to Rodney.

  Rodney took it, but stood confused. Ray was about to turn away when Rodney threw the bucket down, it clattered loudly on the concrete floor. “No. I’m not doing anything until you tell me what the hell is going on.”

  “Rodney,” he said in a calm tone. “We need to act fast because Hell, indeed, is going on.”

  “Seriously, Ray. Tell me what’s happening. If this is a trap where are the weapons? What kind of trap is this? What have you gotten me into?” He clenched his fists and stared down the man in the multi-colored bee suit.

  Ray picked up the bucket and walked into the back room where the three barrels sat. He dipped the bucket into a barrel and let the honey seep in. Ray returned with the laden bucket and dipped his hands into it. “I admit the plan is a bit thrown together. But I had to do something. The town was being ripped apart.” He lifted his hands and began spreading the honey up his arms. “So I came up with something.”

  “You used me as bait.”

  “What?” Ray said in disbelief. “That’s not true. I wasn’t planning on you being here, but I didn’t think it was a problem since you’re under the Name.”

  “And that makes me safe?”

  Ray stopped coating himself in honey and looked at Rodney. “No, it doesn’t make you safe. Just the opposite in fact.”

  “It puts me in danger?” Frustration and anger rang hot in his ears and he balled his fists. Rodney stepped forward and threw a punch at Ray, the blow landing against his paunch, sticky with honey. He threw two more blows before Ray scuttled back, wincing, his hands raised defensively.

  “Hey, whoa, stop. That’s not what I meant.” Rodney stopped, but he kept his fists up and his jaw set. With a smile Ray added, “Being under the Name doesn’t put you in danger, it makes you the danger.”

  Pinwheel intervened. “There’s no time for this.”

  “Pinwheel’s right.” Ray said. “We need to prepare for battle. Here, put this on.” He handed Rodney the bucket of honey.

&
nbsp; Rodney looked at it and then up at his uncle. “We’re in so much trouble right now and all we’re doing is getting sticky!”

  “I admit that I’m winging this plan as we go. It’s hard to outsmart Hell, but I’ve got Heaven at my back.”

  “At some point,” Lucasta said, joining Ray at the sink.

  “At some point, Heaven’s got my back.” Ray added. “But as it turns out, everything has worked like a peach. We’re all here and we’ve got the means to dismantle the little rapscallions outside.”

  Rodney’s eyes bulged. “With what? Eggs? Really?”

  “Yes,” said Lucasta beaming with pride. “Plus, I’ve put a honey glaze on all the eggs.”

  “This is crazy,” Rodney said. “Like, really. Totally, totally crazy.” He looked around for agreement.

  Ray grew serious. “What do you know about the Easter Bunny?” He dabbed some honey on his face like he was applying camo face paint.

  The tone of Rodney’s voice sharpened. “Why? Is he going to help us? Are you the Easter Bunny?”

  Ray smirked. “Ever wonder why bunnies and eggs are the symbols of Easter?”

  “Yeah, that never made sense.”

  Ray smiled. “Make sense now?”

  Before Rodney could answer there was a loud roar from outside followed by a thunderous bang on the wood door. Rodney jumped in fright and backed away. The door held firm.

  Ray scratched his beard. “Ah, a battering ram. So they’ve figured out how to attack a honey protected building.” Ray pointed to the barrels. “Rodney, Pinny, y’all should honey up.”

  Pinwheel took a step back, but Lucasta rushed over. “It’s okay, Pinwheel. You’ll be fine.” She turned Pinwheel around and began applying honey to the rough skin of the former demon. Pinwheel flinched as the first threads of honey rolled down, but was soon smiling and chuckling under Lucasta’s touch.

  Rodney watched with slanted eyes. “Great,” he said. “The demons are coming, and all we’re doing is making ourselves tasty.”

  Once Ray finished anointing himself with honey, he started unloading a pallet of eggs from the fridge. “Roddy, if you’re not going to slather yourself in honey you could at least dip that broom in it.” He gestured to a broom leaning in the corner. The door sounded again with another blow from the outside.

  Ray talked over his shoulder while unloading more eggs. “The reason an egg-laying bunny is the symbol of Easter is because rabbits are like bloodhounds for demons, and eggs are, essentially, demon bombs.”

  Rodney dipped the broom in a barrel of honey. “Demon bombs and bloodhounds? Sounds superstitious.”

  “Naw, just the opposite. Salt makes slugs melt, metal is wiggled by magnets, Mentos can make Diet Coke jump.” He gave Rodney another wompy-sided smile. “It’s science.”

  “I thought it was just, like, a symbol.”

  Ray held up three fingers like he was taking the scout’s oath. “Symbols are real, and reality is symbolic.”

  Rodney turned, shaking his head. “Demon bombs, huh?”

  While Rodney had his back turned Ray grabbed the bucket and snuck up behind him. “Yup, eggs make demons blow up. S’what I hear, at least.” He raised the bucket over Rodney and doused him in honey.

  “What the!” he sputtered under the outpour. “Jeez, Ray.” He wiped it from his eyes, and Ray helped guide the excess down his shoulders and back.

  “Trust me, Rod. You’ll want to have some armor.” The door rang again with a blow from outside.

  Rodney gave in and scooped more with his hands and spread it across his chest and legs. “This is so dumb.”

  The door rumbled and shook. “Ray,” Lucasta called. “The door is about to break. We need to act soon.”

  “Grab your bat, Rod.” Ray nabbed the broom and took a position in front of the door.

  Pinwheel dipped a couple of rags into the honey and wrapped them around his hands. Lucasta tied a rope around the bucket and approached the door as well.

  Rodney noticed a faint glow all about them. The honey emitted a warning of demons.

  Ray appraised their little troop. “It’ll do,” he said with a tight smile. “Alright, Pinwheel, I want you to yank back the door on my say so.”

  “Got it.” Pinwheel put his hands to the handle and waited for the word.

  “Rodney?”

  “Wait, wait. This is happening too fast. Those demons can bust rocks and rip up trees. We have a broom, a bucket, and a baseball bat.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just throw eggs until they get close. Then whap ’em with your bat.”

  He turned to the angel. “Lucasta, I want you to go out first. Show ’em your flame and the big sword.”

  “But I can’t hit them with that. They’re out of the realm of my angelic weapons.”

  Ray smiled again. “Yeah, I know. But you think they’ll remember that when a charging angel in full fire appears before them?”

  Lucasta chuckled. “I suppose you’re right, St. Raymond.”

  Mordecai moved next to Lucasta and crouched, ready to spring forward. A low growl rolled in his throat.

  “Lucy will drive them away from the door. Take positions just outside the shed. We’ll take out as many as we can and then retreat. Don’t get grabbed, and, above all, remember,” he caught Rodney’s eye, “have fun.”

  Lucasta placed herself at the mouth of the door. Her blue dress seemed to move in wind. “I’m ready.”

  Rodney shook his head. “No, no, I’m not ready.”

  “Too bad.” Ray said and gripped the broom with two hands like a broadsword, its straw head near the ceiling. “Pinwheel?” he said.

  Pinwheel nodded.

  “Now.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  TREMBLE NOT

  Smugbog was shoved to the ground by Cankersoot, a senior demon with a frighteningly long tongue and thin fingers. He stood outside the shed where the traitors of Heaven and Hell had fled. The horde congregated around the brick building.

  The biggest demons fought over who should lead the charge. Spit-thicket, with the long, twisted fang cutting into his face, grappled with Rotsnogger, the demon with blood-stained teeth and eyes. Cankersoot leapt into the fray with a frightening cry.

  Daylight lessened, and the pain of light faded. The chill of darkness, its numbness, was the envy of the demons after they’d endured the long hot needles of the sun. The demons watched the three great ones fight. It was a vicious match of biting, striking, and tearing with teeth and claws. Rotsnogger was in the center of the melee, punishing the challengers. He carved a deep X into Cankersoot’s chest, and Spit-thicket lost an eye to the vengeance of the conqueror.

  Before the gore had stopped dripping from Rotsnogger’s fingers he issued orders. A thousand demons to all sides and another thousand on the roof. A wall of demons shot up into the air. Smugbog was thrown back by the gust from their wings.

  As the demons alighted on the roof, they began screaming and cursing and leapt again into the air.

  “It burns!” one demon called.

  “Damnation!” howled another. Others echoed it. The vain script of their curses clouded the dusk.

  “Poisoned with honey,” commented Yuckjoy to Rotsnogger.

  The demons hovered over the roof in the dying light still sputtering their curses. Rotsnogger snarled at the building. “What of its walls?”

  Yuckjoy turned to the horde, “Rotsnogger commands that one of you touch the walls.” The group of demons shuffled back, muttering.

  Rotsnogger seized Yuckjoy by his fuzzy forehead and dragged him to the building. “Rotsnogger asked you, Yuckjoy.” With that he ground Yuckjoy’s face into the brick. The smaller demon howled and struggled against Rotsnogger. His face smoked where it scraped against the brick. Finally, he dropped Yuckjoy and turned to the others. “The building where the traitors h
ide is tarnished with honey, therefore the diaboloi must build siege engines. Break down their walls!”

  The host of demons broke out in jeers and anguished hoopla. Rotsnogger appointed his chiefs and broke down their duties. Smugbog was listed among the group to stand guard at the shed’s single door. Fibditch, the demon above them, marched along, riling them up, striking the demons that looked weak, driving the others to wrath.

  Smugbog watched the demons rip down trees in order to build siege engines. Others set out on tasks kept secret from the peons. All were careful to avoid the chicken coop.

  “Slimestub cares not for waiting,” said the demon next to him. The one-eyed Spit-thicket, still aching over his recent shame, picked up the complaining demon and hurled him headlong into the shed. Slimestub rocketed into the brick wall and splattered messily. Spit-thicket murmured and limped away.

  Smugbog turned to the demon next to him and recognized Damperknob, a tempter just senior to him. His evil was the envy of the lower hordes. “What happens when a diabolos leaves its husk?”

  Damperknob appraised the lifeless pulp of Slimestub at the foot of the shed then said, “They wing back to the Outer Darkness. To the Lake where the diaboloi fan the flames of their own hatred.”

  The bustle around them increased as a large tree was felled behind the shed. It was now being slowly dragged to the door. They watched the battering ram get stripped of its branches. Smugbog let his malice pull his face into a wicked grin. “Pity the adams; the arm of Heaven cannot touch us now.”

  Damperknob shivered. He glanced around, then whispered to Smugbog, “But there is an angelos loose.”

  A bolt of terror shot through the grinning tempter as he deciphered that terrible word. “What? Here? Smugbog thought this forsaken Gomorrah was bereft of angeloi?”

  Damperknob shook his head with frenzy. “No, Damperknob saw it. The stray was caught. Damperknob was guarding it with six others when a flaming sword caused the pit to collapse. The stray was taken.”

  “If Heaven is involved, then where is the army of Heaven?” Smugbog cried incredulously.