The Hitwoman and the Exorcism

by J. B. Lynn

  For a split second, I wondered if it had something to do with the RV, but then he asked, “I heard you went to visit your mom. How did it go?”

  I wasn’t a big fan of a crime reporter asking about my mother, who lives in a mental health facility. So I just shrugged and said a non-committal, “Okay.”

  If he was looking for more, Jack didn’t push. “There’s a guy missing from the area,” he said. “I don’t suppose you know anything about that?”

  “Why would I?” I asked.

  “I didn’t think so,” he said. “But it’s a professional obligation to have to ask.”

  “Well,” I told him, “you’ve done your duty.” I tried to sound disinterested, so that he wouldn’t start looking into any connection I might have with the Concord family.

  Matilda waddled up to us and announced, “DeeDee is hungry.”

  Jack stared at the oinking pig in bewilderment. “Maggie Lee and her ever-growing menagerie.”

  “You haven’t met Matilda?” I asked.

  The pig, thinking she was being formally introduced, waddled up to him and grunted. “A pleasure.”

  Jack jumped back, alarmed.

  “Don’t worry. She’s not dangerous.”

  “DeeDee’s hungry,” she repeated.

  “The slobbering hairy beast is always hungry,” God complained from my chest.

  Jack, hearing the squeaking, just rolled his eyes and gave up. He got back into his car and drove away. I watched him go then glanced back into the woods to see if Patrick was there, watching our interaction. I didn’t see the redhead, so decided for the moment that I was alone.

  “What do you think he was looking for?” I asked God.

  “I don’t know,” the lizard said. “But that man has a nose for the truth, and you cannot afford to have the truth come out.”

  12

  “You’d better come quick,” a voice squawked from above.

  Startled, I looked up and scanned the trees for Mike, the crow. The black bird was circling overhead. “Quick,” he said, “back to the house.”

  Alarmed, I broke into a run, sprinting back toward the house as Matilda trotted behind me.

  God, holding on to my bra strap, started complaining. “You really need to develop a smoother stride,” he said as my feet pounded against the ground. “I bet RV has a beautiful stride.”

  “Is it Katie?” I asked Mike, not slowing down.

  “Sort of,” the bird said.

  He wasn’t terribly helpful, and his lack of communication made me panic even more. I ran as hard as I could, ignoring how much it hurt my legs, and the fact I was gasping for breath.

  Matilda, even more out of shape than me, quickly fell behind. As I reached the base of the driveway, I could see what the problem was.

  Zippy was facing off against DeeDee, both dogs growling. DeeDee, being the protector that she was, made a point of keeping herself between Katie and the little white monster.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “He tried to bite her,” Piss accused. Her back was arched, her hair standing up, and her tail was straight.

  “What happened?” I asked, moving slowly now, trying to regain my breath.

  “Zippy’s mean,” Katie complained.

  I walked over to my niece and scooped her up. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No,” she said. “DeeDee saved me.”

  “Good girl,” I said, patting the back haunches of the Doberman, who was still growling at the little white dog.

  “I need you to go inside,” I told Katie, putting her down on the ground carefully.

  “Kill!” Zippy snarled.

  “You need to stop this,” I said, advancing on him. Behind me, I motioned for Katie to go into the house, she ran past me, up the stairs, and in through the front door.

  “Go with her, Piss,” I requested.

  Before I could say anything else, the one-eyed cat sped into the house after the little girl.

  “I was gonna tell her to send out Herschel,” I complained to no one in particular.

  “I’ll do it,” Mike offered. I heard his wings beating, then he zipped past in my peripheral vision.

  Matilda, breathless, finally arrived on the scene. “What’s going on?” she asked as the two dogs circled each other like rabid beasts.

  “Zippy,” I said, trying to get the little mutt’s attention.

  The dog looked at me and snarled, “Kill!”

  “Just for clarification,” God said, from his place on my shoulder, “are you threatening to kill Katie or Maggie?”

  The little dog didn’t answer, instead, he attacked my ankle. The little bugger has sharp teeth and they broke the skin almost instantaneously. Instinctively, I kicked out, not trying to hurt the dog, just trying to get him off me.

  He went flying through the air and landed with a thud and yelped in pain.

  “Don’t hurt my dog!” Herschel bellowed, running out of the house.

  “I didn’t mean to,” I said.

  “You just kicked my dog,” Herschel screamed at me. He dropped to his knees and carefully and tenderly picked up Zippy.

  The dog, who had just attacked me, decided to play the victim. He whined pathetically.

  “What did you do to him?” my grandfather accused.

  “I didn’t do anything,” I said.

  “I saw you kick him,” Herschel said, getting to his feet, fury etched on his face.

  I took a step back, never having encountered that from my grandfather before.

  “I didn’t kick him,” I said. “He attacked me, and I was just trying to get him off of me.” I bent down, yanking my jeans leg up and my sock down so that he could see the teeth marks that punctured my ankle. Blood was oozing out.

  I saw Herschel’s hesitation as he tried to figure out which one of us to believe.

  Zippy whined, playing the victim again.

  “Liar,” DeeDee growled.

  “That’s not your dog,” I told Herschel, pointing at the bundle of white fur he held. “We had this discussion. You know who that is.”

  As though remembering our talk, Herschel held up Zippy in the air and examined him. “Is that you?”

  The dog didn’t respond. My grandmother didn’t, either.

  Herschel gave him a shake. “Answer me.”

  Instead, Zippy bit Herschel’s thumb.

  Startled, he dropped the little dog.

  Zippy quickly ran away.

  “Fetch?” DeeDee asked.

  “No, stay,” I ordered.

  I looked to Herschel, whose hand was already bleeding from the bite wound.

  “We’ve got to get you some medical attention.”

  Unfortunately, Doc, our resident paramedic, wasn’t available because he was currently auditioning to perform as an exotic dancer at Loretta’s lingerie shop.

  I would have to be the one to provide the emergency care.

  “Inside,” I ordered everyone.

  “I’ll keep an eye on Zippy,” Mike promised, and winged away.

  The crow wasn’t always around, but he did seem to show up at the most useful times. I was grateful for his presence. The dog couldn’t hurt him and he could track his movements.

  Hustling Herschel inside, I brought him straight to the kitchen.

  Griswald was sitting there, doing a crossword puzzle. He looked up as we walked in, his eyes widening at the blood dripping from Herschel’s hand.

  “What happened?” he asked, getting to his feet.

  “The dog bit him,” I said.

  Griswald reached for the butt of his gun and, for a second, I was afraid he was going to shoot DeeDee.

  “Not DeeDee,” I said. “Zippy bit him.”

  Griswald relaxed a little, dropping his hand away from the butt of his gun. “I’ll get the first-aid kit,” he offered.

  I nodded my thanks and led Herschel to the sink. I washed his hand off completely under the tap, and by the time I was done, Griswald had returned with the first-aid
kit. He had more experience than I did, and he quickly applied an antibiotic cream and then bandaged up my grandfather’s hand. DeeDee sat quietly, watching the whole exchange.

  “We have to get rid of her,” Herschel muttered.

  Griswald glanced over at the Doberman. “Why?”

  “Not her,” Herschel said.

  I caught my grandfather’s eye and gave him a warning look. U.S. Marshal Lawrence Griswald was not the person we could tell about Herschel’s ex-wife possessing his dog. That just wouldn’t go over well.

  Herschel gave me a brief nod of understanding.

  “There’s never a dull moment around here,” Griswald complained. “I’ve spent my professional life chasing bad guys, but I swear, I never had as much drama in my life since meeting this family.”

  “But you make my daughter happy,” Herschel said.

  “And Aunt Susan deserves happiness,” I agreed, haphazardly smearing medicated cream on my injured ankle.

  Griswald nodded, packing up the first-aid kit. “You’re lucky that she’s worth it,” he muttered under his breath. Gathering up the kit, he left the kitchen, leaving me alone with Herschel.

  I glanced over at DeeDee. “You were a very good girl,” I told her.

  “Hungry,” she whined, reminding me that was the reason that Matilda had come to get me in the first place.

  “We have to get rid of her,” Herschel repeated as I went and got food for the dog.

  I nodded. “Apparently, we need a witch for that.”

  13

  “We must be more cunning than our prey,” God reminded me.

  I’d gathered the troops, God, Piss, DeeDee, Benny, Matilda, and Mike, as we set off on our safari to catch the wild beast, Zippy. He’d disappeared into the woods, but according to Mike, he hadn’t gone far.

  Our goal was to catch the little guy.

  “Catch and kill,” God cried, trying to rally the troops.

  “We’re not killing him,” I said sharply. “It’s not his fault.”

  “Technically, if he hadn’t stolen the skull, he probably wouldn’t have gotten possessed,” Piss pointed out.

  “We’ve all made mistakes,” I said. Sure, the little white dog had made a doozy, but it really wasn’t his fault. Before this had happened, he’d been very loyal to Herschel. “Don’t forget,” I reminded the animals. “He’s the one that DeeDee found on the side of the road, when Herschel was hurt. If he hadn’t gone looking for help, Herschel could be dead. And we would all not have a place to live.”

  “I always have a place to live,” Mike cawed from above.

  I shot him a dirty look. He was not helping my argument. As though he knew he’d misspoken, he hurriedly added, “But it’s very nice you’re all in one place, so I don’t have to go flying around, checking on all of you.”

  “We find will,” DeeDee barked.

  “But we’re not going to hurt him,” I reminded her.

  “Hurt no,” she repeated.

  I carried a large blanket, figuring the easiest way to trap the little dog would be to cover him up and just carry him like a bundle back to the barn. While we were hunting Zippy, Herschel was rummaging around, trying to find an old crate, so we had something to contain him in.

  Griswald, I assumed, was helping him, even though he didn’t know what was going on.

  “I’ll go find him,” Mike announced. With a flap of his wings, he disappeared from sight. I walked through the trees with the rest of the animals.

  “He’s a stealthy foe,” God intoned. “Capable of camouflaging himself against the—”

  “He’s bright white,” Piss said. “Unless it snows, he can’t camouflage himself anywhere.”

  “Oh, like you would be able to see him, with your one eye,” God snarked.

  “Cut it out,” I told him.

  Piss hissed her annoyance at him.

  “I really don’t understand why I can’t call where my mom lives a nut house, but you find it perfectly okay to pick on the physical disability of the cat,” I said to the lizard.

  For once, he didn’t have a smart aleck answer to come back at me with.

  “It’s because he’s cold blooded and cold hearted,” Piss accused.

  “Are you going to eat him?” Matilda asked, bringing up the rear of our little caravan.

  I glanced back at her. “No, nobody is going to eat anyone.” I made sure to give DeeDee an extra hard look when I said that.

  “This way,” Mike cawed.

  We looked up and saw him zipping between the higher branches of the trees. We all broke into a run. Well, Matilda broke into a waddling trot, and God and Benny, each perched on one of my shoulders, hung on for dear life, as the rest of us raced to keep up with the fast flying bird.

  It wasn’t an easy course to take. Roots threatened to trip me at every step. Branches tore at my skin and clothes.

  “I hope he’s worth all this trouble,” God muttered, diving into my bra because of the relative safety that it offered.

  DeeDee was leading the pack, and she was the first to spot the little fur ball.

  “There over!” she barked excitedly, picking up speed.

  “Don’t hurt him,” I yelled, trying to keep up with her. Piss zipped past me. I could hear heavy breathing, and for once it wasn’t my own, it was Matilda bringing up the rear. It was kind of nice to have somebody more out of shape than I am as part of the team. For once, I wasn’t going to come in last place.

  DeeDee charged at Zippy, who began to growl. He tried to run away, but Piss came up the other side, blocking his exit. Deciding that charging toward me was his best route to escape, he stampeded. Teeth bared, ears flapping, he ran as fast as he could in my direction.

  “Blanket, blanket, blanket,” Benny urged from my shoulder.

  I flicked it open, forming a wall with the cloth.

  But the dog easily dashed around it, looked back at me and said, “Unimpressive, as usual, Margaret.”

  I gasped as he echoed my grandmother’s favorite way to insult me, confirming her presence.

  The dog was so busy making fun of me that he didn’t see Matilda. He bounced off the pig’s side and landed with a grunt. Stunned by the impact, it took him a moment to recover.

  “Throw it! Throw it! Throw it!” Benny screamed in my ear.

  I threw the blanket in the direction of the dog, hoping it would cover him. Miraculously, it did.

  “Pin it,” God urged, having climbed back on my shoulder. “All of you climb on a corner. Maggie, DeeDee, Piss, Matilda, pin it! Pin it! Pin it!”

  He can be a real pain in the butt sometimes, but having him along on this adventure proved helpful. With his perspective, he was able to order all of us into the right positions.

  I jumped on the corner of the blanket nearest to me, Matilda stomped onto the section she was closest to. DeeDee charged up and landed almost in the center of the blanket, just inches from the lump that represented Zippy, and Piss, jumped on another corner.

  The lump began to stir, and we knew Zippy was trying to make his escape. We all closed in, weighing the blanket down enough so he couldn’t get any traction underneath it. He was trapped. DeeDee, Piss, Matilda, and I slowly made the circle we formed smaller, as we all shuffled forward closer to the squirming lump.

  When we reached the center, God ordered, “Now, you pick him up, Maggie.”

  I hesitated. I’d seen how sharp the little guy’s teeth were, and felt them, too. If I messed this up, I was sure I was going to get bitten.

  “You can do it, sugar,” Piss urged.

  “Strong be,” DeeDee barked encouragingly.

  “Let me out!” Zippy screamed, his little dog voice sounding like a shriek of agony. If anybody was within earshot, they probably thought we were torturing him.

  “Be still,” I shouted at him.

  As though those words were some unreasonable demand he couldn’t stand, he began to jump around crazily. Fed up with his shenanigans, I reached down and scooped up a big
pile of cloth and dog in my arms.

  To my surprise, I managed to trap the squirming little beast. “Stop it,” I shouted as he fought against me. I increased the pressure I held him with, crushing him against my chest.

  “Don’t let go,” God warned.

  As though he was afraid the dog was going to escape and bite him, he ran up and perched on the top of my head.

  “Kill!” Zippy screamed. “Kill!”

  “Was she always such a drama queen?” Piss asked.

  I nodded. My grandmother had always been a particularly unpleasant human being. She made for an equally miserable dog.

  Finally, the little guy wore himself out and stopped struggling.

  I looked around at Matilda, DeeDee and Piss and said, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, toots,” Mike cawed from a treetop.

  “Let’s get him back,” I told him.

  Gathering some more of the blanket closer to me, so that I wouldn’t trip on it, we all began the trek back to the barn.

  That’s when we heard them. Footsteps. They were coming toward us. Fast.

  14

  “Hide!” God yelled, panic making his voice shriller than usual.

  “Where?” I asked. It wasn’t as if I could just go and hide behind a tree.

  “Help!” Zippy barked. “Help! Help!”

  I gave him a firm shake. “Shut up.”

  The footsteps were growing closer. DeeDee, Matilda, and Piss all formed a shield around me as we waited to face our unseen enemy.

  The footsteps were almost upon us, and now they were accompanied by heavy breathing that wasn’t coming from the pig. “We’ve got your back, sugar,” Piss told me.

  Considering my hands were full, and I had no way of defending myself, I was grateful.

  I clutched the squirming bundle of dog tighter to me, refusing to let him go.

  And then the owner of the footsteps burst through the trees.

  RV skidded to a halt as she saw us. “I heard screaming,” she said breathlessly.

  “Help!” a muffled Zippy barked.

  RV stared at the bundle in my arms.

  “We caught him,” I explained.