by Debra Dunbar
No such luck. He bit down on my tongue and raised his hand to stab my face. Now that was something I wasn’t going to tolerate. I blocked his knife with my arm, skillfully wedging the blade between my ulna and radius, then twisted to lock the knife in place. It hurt like fuck, but I’m used to that sort of thing. With my other hand, I stabbed him in the wrist with the steak knife, cutting the tendon and pinning the chewed ear to his skin. This infuriated him further, and he shrieked again, twisting the knife in my arm and grinding it against the bones. Throughout this whole skirmish, Boomer watched with interest from his stealthy position behind the door.
“Boomer, you dumb fuck, get over here and help me!” I shouted at him.
Boomer’s idea of help was to lope over and shove a slobbery head in my assailant’s face, licking him thoroughly. Great, he liked this idiot. I guess I shouldn’t be so critical since I’d kissed the guy. Boomer probably figured affection was the help I was requesting. It did have a positive effect though. The guy took one look at my two headed dog and screamed in terror, scrambling off me and attempting to make a break for it out the door.
Boomer, for once, did something proactive and headed the guy off, blocking the door and wagging his tail in a friendly manner. While I was trying to fix the worst of my stab wounds and repair the chipped bones in my arm, Boomer and the guy did a complicated game of rush-and-block across the basement. Boomer was winning. By the time I was on my feet, he had the guy pinned in a corner and was assaulting his crotch with a very large nose.
“Call off your dog-thing, call off your dog-thing,” Ear-man shouted in a high-pitched, panicked tone. At least he seemed to be regaining use of his thinking processes and some control over his emotions.
“Boomer, hold him,” I commanded my hellhound, hoping he’d obey. “And get your nose off of his dick. Don’t bite it off or anything.” Boomer’s other head looked disappointed. “At least not yet. Maybe later.” He wagged his tail.
I walked over to the guy and yanked the steak knife out of his arm. He grunted and looked at me warily as blood seeped from the wound. I pulled the ear off the steak knife and proceeded to finish eating it. Hopefully he’d get some clue as to what I was from that very pointed action. He must have made the connection because his eyes widened and traveled from my ear chewing down along my smooth, un-sliced abdomen, and across my healed arm.
“You’ve been a naughty boy,” I told him, waving the last bit of ear in his face before shoving it in my mouth. “Poaching in my territory. Killing off humans that are under my protection. What have you got to say for yourself?”
The guy swallowed a few times, glancing from Boomer to me, then back again.
“I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I’ll hunt somewhere else.” He was careful not to look me in the eye.
“How could you not know?” I asked. “You seem a meticulous kind of guy. The sort that plans these things out. I’m sure you checked out gang activity and drug territories so you don’t run across any other predators. Didn’t you notice the big, clear area you chose to hunt in and wonder why they steered clear? You hunt my humans, thumb your nose at me, and when I come here to discuss the situation, you attack me. That sounds pretty disrespectful to me.”
“You look like a human,” he whined. “Where is the red skin, the horns, and tail? They told me a bad-ass woman owned most of the downtown rentals, but no one said anything about Satan. Look, I don’t want any trouble from you. We’ve got a lot in common. Maybe we could come to some kind of understanding.”
The more I spoke with this sniveling idiot, the more pissed off I got. I’d hoped for Ted Bundy and got this bumbling fool. How dare he presume to take what belonged to me, to kill my humans? Worthless sack of shit. And there was the issue of that deplorable ear sculpture. I might be able to overlook disrespect and the attack on my people, but a lack of artistic sentiment was something I could not accept.
“Tell me about your sculpture.” I waved a hand toward the lump of ears. I figured I’d give him one last chance to make a poetic statement before I killed him.
He scrambled for words, obviously put on the spot. “Well, they’re ears. Like, you know, like Van Gogh or something.”
“Yes, well why do you use both ears from your victim and not just one? Why ears and not something else,” I prompted.
Was he planning on sending them to a girl he was in love with? Someone whose rejection cut him off from the divinity within himself? Throw me a bone here buddy, I thought.
“Well, because if I take both ears, then I have more ears to make a bigger display. And bigger is better, you know. Because big is…. well, big is larger than small. And ears are a cool shape. They have lots of stiff stuff in them, so they don’t fall apart when you cut them off, and they preserve well. They look cool.”
“Because they look like shells?” I prompted again.
He frowned at his lump of ears on the table. “No, they look like ears. Not like shells at all.”
This was going from bad to worse. “And why did you arrange them like this? With the wire, on the wood, in that particular shape.”
“Well, I thought that since people pierce their ears, wire would work well. If they weren’t pierced, I could easily poke a hole in them. I put a lot of ears at the bottom, kind of like a pyramid with less at the top.” He looked at his sculpture as if it would help him better articulate his vision.
“Oh, a pyramid.” I finally felt a glimmer of hope. Of course. The dehydrated ears were a type of mummification, displayed as a pyramid in keeping with the Egyptian theme; a process of rebirth, of reuniting with the Ba-soul. Very intuitive.
“Yeah, because then it won’t fall over, see? Because it’s wide at the bottom and narrow at the top. So the ears don’t topple over with weight.”
“And?” Almost there, buddy.
He floundered, searching for the right words. “And. And, because then I can add to the bottom of the stack as I add to the top, so I can have a really tall display of ears and not worry about it falling over and getting dirty or bending one of the ears. Because tall and big is cool.”
I was crushed. Just fucking crushed. What had the world come to? I’d been so excited to read about Bundy and that Gacy guy, had such high hopes, and this is what I got. Beavis the serial killer. He wasn’t worth any more of my time. He wasn’t even worth the effort it would take to kill him.
“All yours, Boomer.” I went upstairs, too devastated to stay and watch the fun.
Upstairs, I raided the closets until I found a reasonably sized shirt and put it on over my bloody one with the holes in it. I’d stashed my jacket in the basement, so I headed back down. I was sure Boomer had made quick work of the guy. Sure enough, he’d finished Beavis off quickly, containing the blood and gore to the small corner of the basement where he’d trapped the guy. One of Boomer’s heads looked up at me with an expression of doggie guilt, a foot half out of his mouth. The other head was busy crunching up an arm.
“Yeah, yeah, you can eat him. Go ahead and clean up. I’ll just grab my jacket and watch TV a bit until you’re done.”
I watched early morning infomercials to the accompaniment of crunching and slurping sounds. Honestly, it made me think twice about ordering that Panini maker the well-manicured woman was urging me to purchase. I hadn’t had dinner, though, and I was so hungry that the sounds of Boomer’s meal weren’t putting me off my thoughts of bacon and eggs. I wondered if that diner a mile or so down on the main road would be open for early breakfast. Either way, I wasn’t relishing a ten mile walk back to my car. Boomer looked to be almost done, so I called Wyatt, who had clearly been sound asleep.
“Hey. Come meet me for breakfast. I’m way out of town and really need a ride to my car.”
“Hmmm? Where? When? Oh, sheesh it’s almost six in the morning. Are you still there? What took you so long?” he asked, shaking off the sleep.
“The guy was out until early morning, so we just waited for him. Wyatt, it was awful. I�
�ve never been so bored in my life. And the killer was just terrible, too. Stupid, inarticulate. He couldn’t even dehydrate an ear properly. Meet me at that little diner on the way out here, please?”
“Mmmhmm,” he mumbled as he hung up. I had a strong feeling he’d drop right back off to sleep and I’d be at the diner all morning by myself. I resolved that if he wasn’t there by seven, I’d call him back and make sure he hadn’t forgotten me. Wyatt took a while to get going in the morning unless there was sex involved.
Boomer did an excellent job of cleaning up, and we left the house pretty much as we’d found it except for the hacked-up easy chair and the sculpture missing the top ear. Boomer looked longingly at the ears.
“You’ll puke if you eat those,” I told him. “I’ll bet the ones on the bottom have mildewed horribly.”
He continued to look at them with one head, and motioned to the door with the other.
“You’re fucking kidding me. It’s got to be almost thirty miles from our home. You seriously want to come back and eat these ears and the guy’s victims?”
Boomer looked at me in reproach. It’s not like I’d allowed him to do anything much the last forty years. This was a big part of his nature. I sighed.
“Okay, sweetie. Just don’t get caught, and make sure you don’t leave any open graves for people to fall into. Put the dirt back like a good boy.”
He wagged his tail in joy. Such a simple thing to bring him so much happiness.
We’d made it almost to the main road when I saw Kitty walking towards us pushing a grocery store shopping cart with various bags and blankets in it. I was surprised she was still around the area since we’d been inside for such a long time. I also wondered where she’d picked up the grocery cart. It was from an old downtown store that had closed over twenty years ago.
“It’s done,” I told her.
She looked surprised. “Oh, I know. I watched.” She glanced down at Boomer, who had returned to his canine, Plott hound form. “Such a good boy!”
Boomer wiggled in response to the compliment.
Kitty dug around in her shopping cart and I saw a small green feline head pop up for a few seconds before submerging back into the blanket.
“Thanks, by the way.” She waved at the cat with her hand. “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” Rearranging her blanket, she headed down the street with a rattle-rattle of her shopping cart.
“Yeah, well keep away from Batman, if you know what’s good for you,” I called after her. She gave me the finger without pausing a step, and then vanished from the road, grocery cart and all.
Chapter 29
Wyatt arrived before seven, unshaven with bed head. I was just happy he’d not fallen back asleep and forgotten about me. I’d been hanging out, eating breakfast, and playing Angry Birds while I waited at the diner.
“It’s raining, so I stuck Boomer in my truck,” Wyatt told me as he slid into a chair and smiled gratefully at the waitress pouring him a cup of coffee. “He was outside trying to hump everyone’s legs as they came in or out. Not that I normally notice this kind of thing, but he seems to have a sexual organ that would be more proportionate on an elephant.”
Great. This was the kind of thing I’d need to look forward to now that Boomer was unrestrained.
“Thanks for coming to get me. I’d kiss you, but I think my breath is worse than Boomer’s. I ate a badly dehydrated ear and I don’t think it was washed properly before preservation. It was kind of gritty. And moldy, too.”
Wyatt grimaced. “You should have told me to bring a toothbrush and some mouthwash.”
I threw a twenty on the table and stood to leave.
“Let’s just go home and I’ll get my car later. Do you think I can get a nap in before I have to kill Sobronoy? Seriously, I’m so tired I’d probably just yawn on him.”
“We don’t have that kind of luck,” Wyatt replied, getting to his feet.
We didn’t have that kind of luck. Just a few feet past Wyatt’s driveway, Boomer snarled and snapped into his hellhound form.
“Stop,” I shouted, jumping from the car as Wyatt slammed on the breaks.
I held the door while Boomer wedged his massive body out from the backseat. Wyatt threw the truck into park and made to come out also.
“No, no. Just head back to your house and sit tight until I let you know all is ok,” I told him.
Wyatt gave me a furious look. “We’ve discussed this, Sam. I’m not going down a foxhole while you fight this guy. I can help.”
“This guy isn’t Labisi,” I warned him. “We’re at a disadvantage here, on the defensive. I don’t know where he is, what kind of trap he may have planned. If he grabs you and holds you hostage, he’s got me. He’s smart enough to have figured that out.”
Wyatt hesitated. “Please Wyatt,” I pleaded. “This doesn’t have anything to do with your skills, or my trust in you. He could be anywhere, and I can’t fight him effectively, with deadly force, unless I know you’re out of the equation.”
“Okay,” he said, reluctantly, putting the car back in gear. “I love you, Sam.”
“Love you, too.” I wasn’t lying, for once.
I raced through the tree line beside the road with Boomer right on my heels. Thankfully, the rain was coming down hard enough to mask the noise of our approach. Especially because Boomer sounded like a herd of elephants in this form. The hellhound halted as we reached the edge of the woods before the stretch of lawn in front of my house. He lifted his head, sniffing. I gave him space to do his work and looked around. Nothing. If I hadn’t had Boomer with me, if he hadn’t been unlocked to his full potential, I would have never suspected Sobronoy was here. My house looked just like I’d left it.
I followed Boomer as he made his way around toward the back of the house. There the cover of the trees ended and I was faced with a long stretch of open fencing between my pool area and the pasture. In the summer, the fence line was hidden by patches of tall, feathery grasses, sunflowers, and zinnias. Everything had been cut down for the winter, and now there was nothing to give me cover. I looked longingly at the barn. Diablo was safely in his stall. I hoped he could use his mysterious Houdini skills to break out if I needed him.
Boomer motioned behind the pool, at a big plastic tub-like bench I used to store the lounge cushions. I’d need to cross the open pool area, clearly visible to him if he was behind the bench. Pulling up my energy, I crept around the right of the pool as Boomer circled to the left. Sobronoy wasn’t behind the bench, but his arm was.
I stared in shock. The guy had actually cut off his own arm, branding it deep with his energy as a lure. He’d done his homework, knew I had a hellhound with me. I’d fallen right into a trap.
Before I could react, something huge landed on me, flattening me to the ground and pinning me with its weight, digging long talons into my shoulders. I heard a shriek, then a lessening of the weight, and I rolled to the side, pushing Sobronoy off of me. Boomer had jumped on Sobronoy’s back when he’d attacked me and was busy ripping at him with both heads. Sobronoy had assumed the black dragon form that he favored back home. My dog managed to rip off a wing and a chunk of his torso before the demon launched him backward with a shot that ripped his foreleg off at the shoulder. Now I was really pissed. Nobody hurts my dog.
I grabbed the barrette out of my hair and dove at Sobronoy swinging as it transformed. A red gash appeared on the dragon’s leg before he leapt out of the way. Sword play is not a skill I have. I hacked at him like I was chopping wood, and he easily avoided my blows. Three swings, and Sobronoy blasted the sword out of my hand, sending it flying through one of my glass patio doors. His next blast took off one of my legs at the knee, and I fell to the ground, totally missing him with the ball of energy I’d launched.
I rolled to avoid his next attack and came to my knees just in time to see Diablo appear from nowhere and kick Sobronoy soundly, launching him across the patio. The horse dashed after him and kicked him repeatedly, tramp
ling him as he fell again to the ground. Sobronoy missed Diablo with two bolts of energy, but hit with the third. Diablo squealed and then vanished into thin air. I don’t know if I was more shocked that my hybrid horse could teleport or that he ran away to save his sorry ass.
Diablo’s attack had given me time to repair my wounds. I ran at Sobronoy and launched myself at him, popping into a more sturdy form just as I hit him. It was a huge tiger that I’d modified, enlarging it to three times the normal tiger size, and exaggerating the head and jaws. I pummeled him with a blast of energy, and simultaneously bit down on a wing at the shoulder joint, ripping the limb right off his body. Sobronoy screamed, which bought me enough time for another blast before he recovered. Unfortunately, he did recover and shot me so hard it threw me two feet back to crash into a lounge chair.
My tumble with the chair took me out of the line of fire of two of his blasts and gave me time to gather the raindrops, in puddles all over my patio. I froze them and launched them, little arrows of ice, at Sobronoy as I charged. He fell under the rain of hail and I jumped on him once again. I felt a slap of something on my front leg and jerked, just as Sobronoy activated the portable gate.
“Glah ham, shoceacan,” he shouted. The last word came out just as the button bounced on one of my lounge chairs. In a flash, both the chair and the button were gone. I had a moment of amusement thinking of Haagenti’s shock when a large deck chair appeared before him.
Sobronoy was not so amused. He screamed in frustration to have lost his easy way of getting me back to Hel. This was clearly now a fight to the death. We grappled, both of us shooting blasts of energy into each other that tore through flesh and dissolved bone faster than we could repair. Sobronoy, though, had a special skill. Suddenly I was blind and deaf, my energy unfocused and unusable. If I only fought like a demon, I’d be done for, but I knew how to fight like a human. And a tiger. Opening my huge jaws, I wrapped them around his head and crunched. Bone broke, and the squish of brain filled my mouth as I pulverized his head. He jerked in surprise, and I felt his spirit flutter before dissolving in death. As with Labisi, I claimed his store of raw energy as mine, pulling it inside.
