Shield Skin

by F. E. Arliss

  Next she tried simply collapsing like a sack of potatoes. That worked. Arnie couldn’t keep a hold of her limp form and take all of her weight on one hand. Emery dumped to the ground, then rising to a sprinter’s position, took off into the night, fleeing as though the hounds of hell were on her heels. As far as she was concerned, they were.

  Rounding the corner of a building farther down the alley, she could hear the two stumbling men in hot pursuit. Suddenly, there was a high-pitched shrieking cry and the sound of pounding boots died away. Pausing to hide behind a woodpile, Emery tried to control her breathing. She could still hear one of the men sobbing and begging.

  Slowly, Emery crawled to the corner of the pile and peeked back the way she’d come. In the light of the full moon she could see a very odd shape dangling one of the men from a lamp post. He was kicking his feet and begging his captor to let him go home to his wife. The large figure sniffled out a whimpering laugh. “Drunk men no good,” it whispered. Then leapt down to grip the other man around one ankle.

  In the strange light of the moon, with shadows dancing wildly from the street lantern and the struggling man already swinging by his belted waist from one of the wrought iron decorations, Emery didn’t have a clear view of her rescuer. All she could see was something that looked a bit like a small cow with large horns and a long spiked tail. Instead of hooves on its front legs, it appeared to have articulated digits with long claws. As it reared up on its back legs, Emery could see that it did have cow-like hooves on its back legs. Whatever it was, it had saved her, on purpose or not. Still, she was outta there.

  Scrambling to her feet, she fled back to the town square. This time when she flung the door of the pub open, Max took one look at her disheveled hair, dirty face and terrified expression and stumped quickly towards her. “What happened?” he rumbled, for once his domed forehead crinkled with something besides bad humor.

  “Two men tried to manhandle me. Drunks. From this pub!” Emery spat at him, fury beginning to take hold over the fear. “Then something that looked like a cow with a tail and hands with claws, tied them to one of the lanterns and I was able to get away!” She yelled this out in rage, trembling from head to toe. “Where were you? Drinking! That’s where you were!” With that Emery flung back out the door and stomped towards the Land Rover.

  Max toddled after her, though she could hear shouts of, “Bahkauv! Bahkauv!” Suddenly, the entire contents of the small pub was pouring out into the street. “Where, girl?” came a litany of questions. Uncaring, Emery simply pointed to the alley where the two drunks dangled by a belt and shoelaces from the top of the street lantern’s iron decorations.

  Max thumped into the driver’s seat of the Land Rover and they rumbled, with a great clashing of gears, out of the small town and onto the blacktopped road towards home. Emery crossed her arms over her chest and said not a word.

  Max, for once unsure of what to do, simply drove as Emery’s anger simmered like a low hum topped by the rattle of the clap-trap jeep.

  Once they’d turned onto the muddy track into the woods, the slipping, sliding earth, damp and slimy from the recent rains and lack of penetrating sunlight, forced Max to concentrate on every inch of the drive. Suddenly, as though the evening hadn’t been crappy enough, a loud, gut-wrenchingly menacing howl broke the night air.

  The Land Rover, never terribly air tight to begin with, did nothing to muffle the chilling sound.

  Emery sat up straighter, glanced at the now swearing Max, and said, “What was that?”

  “Beerwolf,” Max said, small beads of sweat beginning to gather on his upper lip. Emery could see them shining against his rough skin in the lights from the dash.

  “You mean werewolf?” Emery asked, disbelief lacing her tone.

  “Yes,” Max answered, not even bothering to look at her.

  “What do we do?” Emery asked, voice cracking with tension.

  “Hope he doesn’t come for us,” came back the muttered answer.

  Emery simply stared at the small man in disbelief. If that wasn’t the stupidest thing she’d ever heard. Hope he didn’t come for them. Seriously? Idiotic!

  Without a hint of warning besides the bone-freezing howl, a large scruffily-furred object suddenly leapt onto the hood of the ancient Land Rover. Ragged claws made a horrible screeching sound as the beast dug into the heavy metal of the hood. Max, trying to ram it off, stomped on the accelerator. Instead of sending the beast flying, the rickety jeep slid into a long, spiraling slide of demolition-derby-worthy chaos. A second later, the back-end of the jeep thumped hard into an unforgiving tree.

  Black, filthy claws slashed at the windows. One massively large, pointed tip caught a small gap at the top of Max’s window and with a show of incredible strength, sent the manual handle on the door swirling in a lazy circle as the beast pulled the glass panel slowly down. Adding a second, then third claw into the gap, the knob swirled faster. Emery scrambled out her side of the jeep, grabbing Max’s knobby hand and hauling him with her. She had no idea what she’d meant to do except get away from the thing that was clawing its way inside the Land Rover as though it was opening a can of tasty food.

  Now, standing clear of the wreck, the moonlight flooding down on them, she could see the beast clearly. It had stopped trying to open the door and now faced them in all its terrifying reality. It didn’t really look like werewolves were supposed to look. Or at least, it didn’t look like werewolves from the movies.

  It looked more like a zombie apocalypse survivor having a bad hair day and wearing a really tacky set of press-on nails from Walmart. It wasn’t huge, now that she could see it clearly. It was a normal-size person. It appeared to be bigger because of the gnarled-muscle, long claws and toe-nails. A badly matted long mane of hair ran down from the top of its head to just above its naked-ass butt. Something that looked like a hairy fanny-pack was clasped around it’s waist. Darn, it was ugly.

  Sniffing the air, it took three steps towards Max and Emery as Emery let loose a snort of humorous disbelief. She would never understand why she started to laugh, she just did. She’d been so angry about the men in town and the intent they’d had. She’d been angry with Max for drinking instead of watching out for her, and now here was this ugly-ass thing that thought it was going to eat them, or maul them or whatever in the hell werewolves tried to do. It just made her laugh. Men could rape her, but this creature with its long claws and dirty, spoon-like toenails couldn’t hurt her a bit. Emery was Shield Skin. She’d been so mad she’d just rip this thing apart with her bare hands.

  The laughter, still erupting from her throat, stopped the werewolf in its tracks in confusion. Max quickly rolled in an acrobatic ball towards the cover of the Land Rover. Emery kept laughing.

  Waving her hands in front of her face, she gasped out, “Whew! Sorry! Just can’t seem to stop laughing. Maybe a little hysterical! It’s been a rough night and then here you are. All ugly-assed and threatening to eat us! I just can’t get over how funny that is!” she whooped. Waving her hands some more.

  The creature shuffled towards her, nose twitching. “No, stop!” Emery cried, laughing harder. “Oh, my gawd! You should see your face!” she shrieked. “You look like you’ve...well, I don’t know what you look like. You’re just ugly and a little disappointed looking. Poor guy! Are you a guy?” she asked, laughter halted as she bent her head at an angle trying to get a good look at the creature’s crotch.

  To her astonishment it crossed its hands over its privates. She started to laugh again. “Ok, I think you ought to go home now, man. You are a man. No boobs!” she stated matter-of-factly. “If you’re worried about your junk showing why don’t you put the fanny-pack thingy in the front?”

  The creature growled, fangs dripping. “Oh, please. Get over yourself,” Emery demanded. “I’ve had enough of this day. So unless you want me to tear you to pieces with my bare hands, YOU WILL LEAVE! NOW!” she shouted sternly at the beast. Then drawing herself up as tall as she possibly could, sh
e pulled energy from the woods. It was all she could think of to do. Maybe some bats or frogs or snakes would come to her aid.

  A rustle, then a firm thump, thump, thump came behind Emery. She was afraid to turn around as she didn’t want to lose sight of the now very confused, very pissed off werewolf. In her peripheral vision she could see a gaggle of Wolpathugas emerging from the undergrowth, pointed fangs gleaming in the moonlight. To her left, a hunch-backed old woman appeared and to her right, something that looked like a giant bear thumped into sight.

  The old woman held up a hand towards the werewolf and said, “Be away with you now, changeling. You will have no luck here tonight. There are forces afoot that you cannot master. Away with you!”

  To Emery’s astonishment, the beast stumbled onto all fours and sprinted into the night, the fanny-pack whacking against its side as it loped away..

  Max allowed his domed head to peek around the corner of the battered Land Rover. Emery turned to the old woman and said, “Thank you for coming to our aid.” A Wolpathuga stood on its hind-legs and Emery bent, scooped up the heavy rabbit and stroked its antlered head. “Thank you, too,” she whispered, kissing one flopped-over ear.

  The old woman came nearer. “I am uncertain if you are insane or brave or powerful,” she said to Emery, gazing at her in a most disconcerting way as her eyes had taken on a greenish glow that cast itself out over the clearing and illuminated Emery in its luminescence.

  “I‘m Emery. Also known as Shield Skin,” Emery said, sticking out one hand, awkwardly, while still supporting the Wolpathuga. “I suppose I’m a little of all those things. But my power comes from animals and the earth, I think,” she added hesitantly. “Who are you?”

  “The woodland calls me Pertchta. I am the guardian of beasts. I do not consider the beerwolf part of my domain. He is something other. Though he will often do as I bid. The wolf part of him respects me,” the old woman nodded sagely, as though agreeing with her own words.

  A loud grumbling sound came from behind Emery. Turning cautiously, she suddenly remembered the shadow of the giant bear and spun on a heel to confront whatever was behind her. To her amazement, the large shadow cringed back.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Emery said. “I didn’t mean to startle you!” She made sure not to use the word “scare”, that could come with all sorts of baggage-added if people took it the wrong way.

  A loud harrumph, answered that statement. “Seriously, I’m sorry,” she added. “Thank you for coming with Pertchta to help us.”

  Slowly, the huge shadow shambled into the moonlight. It was not a bear. It was...well, honestly, Emery wasn’t sure what it was. It looked a bit like Shrek, except it wasn’t green and its ears didn’t stick out. It was dirty, shirtless and shoeless and wore a pair of baggy brown pants tied with a vine around its thick waist. Massive shoulders were a platform for a huge, squarish-head topped by a mop of moss-like hair. Emery could see lumps in the hair that looked a bit like mouse nests or bird nests, or some other sort of hidey-hole nest.

  Overall, his face looked kind. He had large, rounded eyes and a broad, flat nose. Seriously, he needed a nose-hair trimmer, she thought irrelevantly, as wiry nose-hairs bristled from the end of it. A large mouth was turned up in a slightly hopeful smile and a row of huge, white teeth could be seen in the glow of the moon.

  “I’m Mash,” he rumbled shyly, ducking his huge head. “I help witches.”

  Pertchta came to stand beside Emery and whispered, “He’s shy.”

  Emery patted the Wolpathuga she held once more, kissed it on its furry forehead - being careful not to poke herself in the eyes with its twisted horns - and placed it gently on the ground. Striding forward she held out a hand to the enormous Mash and said, “Pleased to meet you, Mash. I’m Emery. Thanks for your help.”

  The massive man gently took her hand, shook it slightly and then dropped it and covered his mouth, a high girlish-giggle muffled behind the huge filthy hand.

  “He’s happy,” Pertchta said, shaking her head at the continued giggles that erupted from the hulking Mash. “He’s an ogre. They giggle when they’re happy. No one has probably ever shaken his hand before. He’s a great help. Aren’t you, Mash?” Pertchta asked. Mash stopped giggling, smiled widely and nodded his head enthusiastically.

  “Now, come out, Max!” demanded the old woman. “You’ve been drinking again, haven’t you?” The small man waddled out from behind the wrecked Land Rover, head hanging.

  “You’ve endangered your charge. If she wasn’t up to taking care of herself, she’d be dead. We’ll talk about all of this tomorrow. For now, you go on home,” the old woman waggled her fingers in the direction of the path and Max stomped off out of sight.

  “We’ll get you home far before him,” Pertchta said, a sly grin lighting her face. “Mash, bring the groceries.” The big man banged and slapped at things in the rear of the Land Rover, then appeared with an enormous sack slung over his shoulder.

  Two enormous red deer with hugely wide-spread racks of antlers appeared from the woods. The old woman stepped up onto a log, then gamely flung herself onto the back of one of the big deer. Her legs flapped for a moment and Emery hurried forward to help her upright. “Well, girl, thank you for the help. Up you go!” Pertchta cackled, waving one wrinkled hand towards the other large deer. “He won’t hurt you.”

  Emery climbed onto the log, then slung one long leg over the buck that had sidled up next to her. In a moment, they were away. Bounding through the woods towards Albertina’s cabin. Mash brought up the rear. His hugely loud thump, thump, thump of gigantic feet echoing through the woods.

  Emery was so tired when they reached the cabin that she simply hugged the big red deer that had carried her and whispered, “I’d like to ride again when I’m feeling better and can appreciate the marvel that is you.” Then she hugged Perchta tightly, thanked her, shook Mash’s hand again, and clambered up the narrow, ladder-like stairs to her loft. Snugging her antler hat down firmly onto her head, she pulled up the thick woolen blanket and shut out the world.

  Chapter Nineteen

  What the Heck?

  When Emery woke the next morning she knew it was late. The light from outside was slanted in a different direction and the dust motes seemed to ride the light backwards. Struggling to her feet, she dusted off the clothes she still had on, trying to smooth a few wrinkles, then plodded outside to use the tilted outhouse.

  Back inside, she sat painfully down at the table and realized for the first time that her throat was sore and swollen where the drunkard from the night before had hoisted her off her feet. Her joints ached and she supposed that was just from the tension and fear of the events the previous evening.

  Once she’d gotten into the straight-backed, woven rush-seated chair, she seemed unable to get up. Looking around, she spied Albertina through the window as she hurried across the yard. “Are you alright?” the older woman asked, concern lacing her tone, as she seated herself across the table from Emery. “I thought it best to let you sleep. Though I would like to get the events of last evening from your perspective.”

  Emery groaned softly, as she swallowed and tried to speak. For the first time Albertina could clearly see the swelling and bruises around Emery’s throat. “Oh!” Albertina said, her face crinkling with dismay. Quickly she bustled around the cabin gathering creams and potions and setting the kettle to boil over the fireplace.

  Gently lifting Emery’s hair away from her neck and tucking it all up under the antler hat to keep it out of the way, Albertina bathed the bruised skin with an herbal tincture, then dried it gently with a soft cloth. Rubbing the cream into the bruised area, she then bound Emery’s neck with a roll of soft gauze and knotted the ends into place. Then, pouring the now boiling water over a mixture of herbs in a mug, she shoved the steaming tea into the girl’s shaky hands and said, “Wait till it cools a few minutes, then drink it all. We have time for the events of last evening later.”

  Emery blew on the tea and slowly
sipped the warming liquid. It tasted awful, as usual. Still, she knew enough to drink the entire thing and within a few minutes of finishing the tincture, she felt an immense relief of pain. She could also tell the swelling at her neck was beginning to recede.

  Finally, she tried to speak and got a whisper out. Albertina rushed to her side, clasped both of her hands around Emery’s slightly shaky one and said. “I’m so sorry that this happened to you, Emery. You have my deepest apologies.”

  Emery nodded, then rasped out. “I was waiting for Max. We’d gotten the groceries and he’d met a friend. I could see them through the window of the pub as I waited in the jeep. It should have all been fine, but then too drunks came out, saw me and stumbled over to me. They were trying to put their hands on me and I ran down an alley. One of them grabbed me and lifted me up against the building,” the girl gestured at her swollen throat.