Strays

by Remy Wilkins

  “Fibditch says it must be a stray angelos, like the saint has strayed from the path and dealt with diaboloi.”

  “Is it the eve inside?”

  Damperknob shook his head. “She was not resplendent. Cannot be.”

  “But can angeloi hide their glory like diaboloi can be rendered unseen?”

  Damperknob shoved Smugbog to the ground and sneered. “Accuse Damperknob of knowing orthodoxy? Accuse Damperknob of supplications to the Name?” He gave Smugbog a harsh kick to the ribs.

  Smugbog sniveled and held up his hands. “Heretic, you are heretic!”

  Damperknob accepted his apology without a word and turned to watch a group lift the battering ram. “It begins,” he muttered.

  Rotsnogger stood on a newly erected platform and held up his hands. “Vanguard of Hell! Prepare to defy Heaven!” The demons roared as the battering ram surged forward and struck the door. It held firm.

  Smugbog rose to his feet. He noticed another tower being erected behind the shed. Trees were being filed to points by a group of demons. Fibditch went down the rows of demons, preparing them to charge once the door broke. The ram was hauled back and thrust forward again. Yells and curses were intermixed with the crash and clatter of the siege.

  He felt a rage boil up inside him. He set his eyes on the door and snarled. The door rattled again. A crack in the wood was revealed when the battering ram was withdrawn. If the demons could touch the door, it could easily be ripped off and the slaughter could begin.

  Smugbog found himself shoving aside the demons in front of him. “A chain!” he crowed. “A chain to rip down the doors!”

  Rotsnogger roared a command and a rapid search for a chain began. Demons were already tearing apart the nearby house, and a flurry of activity was sparked by the order. Other demons dug through the clutter already piled up in the yard. Glass shattered, walls fell, howls rang out when a demon touched something glazed in honey.

  One demon pulled out a garden hose from under the great pile. He was gleeful and snide until he backed into the chicken pen. The watchful chickens flew into the wire barrier and clawed the demon mercilessly. He howled and jumped back as the surrounding horde mocked his pain. The chickens shrieked and pawed at the earth like bulls about to charge.

  Rotsnogger pointed to Smugbog, “You, tie the hose to the door.” He was handed the hose. Smugbog cursed his words. He snatched the hose and bolstered his fear with hate. He slowly approached the door.

  A row of demons lined up behind him, taking up the rest of the hose and preparing to rip the door off its hinges. Smugbog looped the hose through the wood handle and began to tie it. His hands trembled. Without warning the door was pulled back. A bright light flashed and seared his eyes. He screamed as the whole world went blindingly white. A roar of terror ripped through the army of darkness.

  Smugbog stumbled back. He then felt his head disintegrate, and his spirit was sucked back to the Outer Darkness.

  * * *

  Rodney fell back. Lucasta had disappeared in a white light. Screams erupted from the demons outside the door. Ray rushed forward and struck a demon with his broom, wielding it like an axe. The demon burst into a cloud of darkness and dirt. Mordecai rushed forward and sank his teeth into the arm of another demon.

  Rodney looked again into the light where Lucasta was and gasped. Lucasta had six wings and an enormous flaming sword. She spun and slashed air, driving back the demons. The night, too, was driven back in her shine. She was a bold spotlight in her backyard. The demons were fleeing to the trees.

  “Rodney! Boyo! Get out here!” called Ray as he beat back the hordes with his broom. He laughed as he smacked demonic heads. Mordecai frolicked in their midst, sending the demons he struck into black puffs. Armless and legless demons were the lucky ones, screaming and cursing.

  He moved forward and brought up his bat. He chose an immobile demon sputtering his hatred unintelligibly. He brought his bat down upon his head, ending his complaint mid-howl. He looked up at the scattering horde and saw Ray open the chicken pen. The chickens rushed out, chanting their bok-bok-boks over the din.

  Rodney felt emboldened with a demon brought to dust at his feet and leaped upon another wounded enemy nearby. He heard Ray call Mordecai. Rodney just happened to look backwards and saw a hovering cloud of demons descending behind them.

  Rodney struck another lame demon. “They’re behind us!”

  “Whoops!” called Lucasta. “They figured out that my sword can’t hurt them.”

  “Fall back,” Ray cried, whirling his broom.

  The demons had indeed grown wise to Lucasta’s bluff. Rodney took position at Ray’s side. Lucasta hovered above them, a beacon of light, but unable to harm the demons physically.

  Sweat streamed from Rodney’s forehead and arms. “What do we do?”

  Ray looked over his shoulder toward the shed and yelled, “Anytime now, Pinwheel!”

  At that, Pinwheel rushed out of the shed, throwing eggs into the demons barring their way. The demons, caught by surprise from behind, turned to face their new attacker.

  “Charge!” Ray bellowed. Mordecai shot into the wall of demons. Rodney followed his uncle into the fray.

  Eggs spattered, and demons exploded. Rodney took an egg to the face and fell. Ray grabbed him and helped him into the shed, then dropped to the floor. “Grab some eggs, Rodster.”

  Ray took a handful from the stacks and began lobbing them into the oncoming crowd. “Lu!” he screamed above the battle roar. Mordecai entered the shed and skidded into Rodney, who fell into a stack of egg crates.

  Lucasta, with a mighty thrust of her six wings, flew through the demons and into the shed. Pinwheel rushed to the door handle and pulled it shut.

  Rodney wiped egg yolk from his face and spat. “That’ll make ’em think before busting in here again.”

  They all sighed in relief, but they could still hear the army of Hell outside the shed.

  * * *

  Rotsnogger snarled and barked. “Cowards! Do you not know that Heaven is powerless against us now?”

  “But eggs!” a nearby demon screamed in disbelief. “Eggs harm the diaboloi? First honey, now eggs!” It had been hundreds of years since the last fight between mankind and cruentated demons.

  Rotsnogger thrust a hand through the panicked demon. He twisted and wrenched out the guts. The demon fell. Rotsnogger roared. “Of course Heaven cannot play fair. The Name is full of trickery and games! But their delays will give the sons of Hell the victory.” He clenched his fist then raised it. “Ready the second wave!”

  The night air deadened the command. No hoopla or cursing from the demons, only cold determination. Silent envy ate at the horde.

  Screaming erupted from the trees. Demons scattered into the air; some stumbled out of the woods. “Chickens!” some screamed. “Rabbits!” screamed others.

  Rotsnogger snarled. He saw Fibditch approaching him. The smaller demon was trembling. Rotsnogger smiled to see his inferior’s dread. “Speak, worm.”

  “You are to send back the army to Saint Ray’s house.”

  Rotsnogger scoffed and snorted and blew air angrily out of his mouth. “At the edge of victory? Nay, send back the wounded. Let the limping drag back the lame.”

  Fibditch hesitated. He bent down to stuff his mouth with dirt. Once weighty enough to speak again he rose. “The command comes,” he swallowed, “from En-ki Ab-zu.”

  Rotsnogger wavered and nearly knelt down in fear at the name. “His envy?”

  Fibditch nodded, unable to say the word again.

  “Speak!”

  His words tumbled out, a confluence of fear and sibilants. “The Prince demands that you send back all but three hundred. You are not to shed blood until dawn. Then, once the strays are overrun, return immediately to the Honeycomb House.”

  “Choose them, and send back the rest.” R
otsnogger barked. Fibditch scuttled off. The demon shivered. “En-ki Ab-zu has risen,” he said to himself. He flicked his wings and shot into the air. “The strays will be brought to their knees before dawn, and Rotsnogger will arrive in the blood of the Prince’s enemies.”

  * * *

  Al Walden leaned back in his chair and hung up the phone. “Marianne Marleena Holstrum?” His voice was a great thundering in the small office. There was a stirring outside his door. Through the frosted glass he could see the wide form of his secretary, Marianne, whose full name he sang throughout the day.

  Marianne peeked into his office, “Yes, Al?”

  “Made a mess a’ things.”

  Marianne’s face stayed the same. “How’s that now?”

  “Called the boy’s momma. Might’ve let slip that Ray hadn’t been seen in a couple days.”

  Marianne winced. “Didja say that the boy’s gone, too, or that he was home alone?”

  Al made a painful grin, his eyes retreating into slits. “Said I seen him, but not Ray.”

  She entered enough to lean against the door frame. “Either way I suppose it’d rile up the momma.”

  “More’n a tad,” he said and scratched behind the badge on his chest. “She comin’ down to get the boy, I gather.”

  “Tonight?”

  “First thing tomorrow.”

  “Ya gonna arrest Ray now that he won’t have to watch the kid?”

  Al smiled. “I haven’t checked the books yet, but I don’t think arresting comes from being Inconvenient to Fine.” He kicked back from his desk and stood. He reached for his broad hat hanging on the rack behind him. “I’m gonna see if I can find that kid.”

  “Want me to call Neddie, tell her you’ll be a tad late?”

  “Marianne Marleena Holstrum, would you call my beloved and tell her I’ll be driving the whole of my district from one end to the other?”

  “Yes sir, I will,” she said primly.

  “It’ll give me time to think up a sermon for Sunday.”

  Marianne shuffled out of the way and followed Al into the main room of the police station. “Whatcha talkin’ on this week, Al?”

  Al turned and rested his hand on the butt of his gun. “I was thinking same as last week. Justice.”

  Marianne shook her head and gave a gentle laugh. “And the week before.”

  Al stood at the threshold of the outside world and hitched up his pants. “Marianne Marleena Holstrum,” he said without looking at her, “when you got a message that needs hearin’, you don’t stop until every last cell in every last soul has heard it three times slowly.” He looked back and smiled as he saddled his sunglasses on his nose, and, for dramatic effect, eased them up with a finger.

  Al followed the bend to Ray’s strange house as darkness fully fell on Twin Rivers. He looked at his watch and saw that it was just after eight. Worst case scenario, Ray is gone, and the boy needs to be taken to the shelter. No, worst case would be both Ray and the kid are gone. He should call Ms. Katie at child services just in case.

  He thumbed up the number of Ms. Katie and called. “I hope I’m wasting your time, Ms. Katie, but I need to ask if you got an extra bed available tonight. Uh-huh. Okay. Well, I’ll call you if I’m bringing someone in. Alright, goodnight.”

  He slid the phone into his shirt pocket and slowed as he reached Ray’s gravel driveway. He followed the loop, crossed over the Second River, and descended into the clearing. He pulled up to the stairs and opened the door. The hot night was cut by a crisp wind. A slow wind that hardly moved the trees. He stood squinting into the darkness. The car hummed.

  Now the kid was gone or else hiding in this dark old house alone. Looking at the quiet house, not a single light on, Al realized that the boy wouldn’t be here. Ray must’ve swooped back in and split with him. Visit his sister or something while the heat was on.

  Al slapped the roof of his car. “Dang.”

  He felt movement behind him. He turned to see nothing but darkness and farther back the trees. He felt movement on both sides. Al ducked in fright and turned, first left then right, finding no one and nothing.

  “Hello?” His voice was high and wavy. “Ray? That you?” He felt watched on all sides. He spun around, keeping a hand on the door of his car. His other hand went to his belt to touch the Glock 9mm holstered there. He had secretly named his gun Shadow, but it failed to comfort him.

  He felt a blast of warm air on the skin of his neck, a breath blown from somewhere soggy. The hairs went stiff and his shoulders hunched and tightened. He jumped into his car and slammed the door. Something pounced onto the roof. The car shook.

  Al started the car and screamed as the wheels spit rock. He accelerated wildly into the grass and cut a shallow ridge in Ray’s front yard as he cut back onto the gravel. He pressed the gas down and the engine roared. The front of the car dipped and the hood dented, like some invisible boulder had been dropped on it.

  The patrol car shot into the woods, and limbs smacked the light bar on the roof. From behind him he heard glass shatter, and there was a howling from somewhere.

  The car lurched around the long curve and fishtailed as it approached the bridge over the river. It leapt across, bouncing hard into the gravel on the other side. Al braked wildly, spun, banged into a tree, and mashed the gas pedal again.

  He couldn’t keep from screaming, and he couldn’t tell if the car was being clawed by some invisible attacker or if it were the low hanging tree limbs.

  His car jumped from Ray’s driveway across the road and into the ditch on the other side of the highway. The airbag deployed, and the world went dark.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ARMED WITH CRUEL HATE

  Rodney looked up from his pillow of empty egg cartons. Lucasta and Ray were setting up caches of eggs as barriers. The war was on; no need for further refrigeration. Pinwheel was in a deep sleep nearby, his mouth hanging open, emitting soft whiffs of breath. The demons had been quiet since the retreat back into the armory. The door was not tried, the roof was not assaulted, even the howls and cursing had ceased. The silence was unnerving.

  Rodney was too wired to sleep. He could still feel the weight of his bat in his hand. His fingers tingled, his hair pricked up in chills. Ray seemed every bit as fiery, but without the fear that had contracted his own muscles. He huffed and rose, stiffly, to his feet.

  “Not able to nab some shut-eye?” asked Ray.

  “No.” He joined them in shifting crates of eggs for easy access.

  Ray had outlined a strategy for the next attack. A high and perilous wall of stacked egg crates was built against the bricks nearest the door. Eggs for throwing were arranged concentrically opposite the wall of crates. Once the door was breached, they were to take out the first wave with the nearest row of eggs, then retreat and pull down the wall of eggs on the second wave. Lastly they were to throw eggs from the stacks they now prepared.

  “What happens after we use up all of these?” Rodney asked, while reaching into a fridge for another flat of eggs.

  “Well, then I think at that point the demons will surrender.”

  “Really?” he said, surprised by the hope in his voice. Then he noticed Lucasta frowning at Ray.

  Ray clenched one eye shut like he was wincing in pain. “Probably not.”

  “Definitely not,” added Lucasta. “Hell doesn’t stop. They either think they win or get crushed trying.”

  “So what happens when we’ve thrown all these and they’re still coming?”

  “We retreat to the Honey Hold,” she said.

  Rodney looked at the back room. The wood door looked solid. Another door built by Ray, no doubt. “And then what? Starve?”

  Lucasta looked at Ray. Ray’s lip muscled into his left cheek. He shrugged. “Don’t you worry, Roddy, there’s more to the plan. Just haven’t figured it out yet.”

&nbs
p; Lucasta walked to the back fridge. “And we won’t starve, at least not today. Look.” Ray and Rodney walked to the back row where Lucasta had gone. She began pulling out items at the bottom of the last fridge. “Bread, butter, jam. Even ice cream. I brought it out here just yesterday.”

  “You knew this was going to happen?” asked Rodney.

  “I’ve known something like this was going to happen. Yes. I just wasn’t sure of the timing.”

  They went back to their mini fort and had a midnight snack. Rodney buttered up a thick slice of bread and then drizzled honey on it. The honey was dark and slow-moving, but seemed to grow bright once it touched his bread. He let it drip onto his shirt and hands.

  Lucasta and Ray were chatting about the town. He heard them mention Otis.

  “Oh,” he blurted through a full mouth. They turned to him.

  “Something on your mind, Roddo?”

  “Otis and Sheriff Al were looking for you. Are you in trouble?”

  Ray laughed. “Oh yeah. I’m definitely going to get a fine. Been burning Alvariums. Otis thinks I burn piles of leaves recreationally. Probably thinks I burn other things recreationally too.” He gave Lucasta a wink.

  “Otis seemed mad when he stopped by this morning.”

  “Me and Otis, well, he’s had some struggles. He puts some of his difficulties on me, and that’s fine too. Me and Otis’ll get along someday, I think.”

  “Otis is a fine man,” added Lucasta. “Misguided sometimes.” Lucasta picked up a pint of ice cream, chocolate, and pried it open.

  “I will say this,” Ray said, holding a finger in the air. “The man hates the tie-dye.”

  They all laughed.

  Rodney cleared his throat. “Yeah, what’s the deal with you and tie-dye?”

  Ray was picking the strawberries out of the jam. He licked his fingers. “I always fancied myself a Rainbow Warrior.”

  Lucasta snorted in mirth.