by Shaun Meeks
“I’m not here to fight,” it whispered and finally the orange street lights found it and I saw what it was that had called me. “Come here.”
Normally, I would have been a lot more cautious, especially when I saw it was a creature not of this world calling me into the dark, hidden space. Only I knew this one. The creature was a Gargar, one I’d actually let stay here on Earth when I’d first encountered it.
Years back, I was called by parents who believed their child was being hurt by a ghost or some other spirit haunting their home. When I got there, I found the Gargar in the room, but also realized he wasn’t the one cutting the kid. He was trying to protect it. Another monster, a vicious little blood sucker called a Daaf, was the real issue. I let the Gargar stay there to protect the kid.
That’s another rule broken.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as I stood at the mouth of the alley looking down at the short creature.
“I’m trying to hide. Something came through the breach in Sammy’s room.”
That’s not good.
“What was it?” I asked, checking over my shoulder to make sure nobody was curious enough to come over and see what I was doing. Luckily, not a single one of them wanted to lose his or her place in line, so we were good.
He explained things to me as best he could. He described a fiery smell when the creature came through. He said it wasn’t like a fireplace smell, but something more like what followed Sammy’s only nightlight sparking and frying out. I imagined he meant it was an electrical fire smell, which helped to narrow down what it could be.
I asked him if he saw it when it came through, and the way he told it, the thing exploded into the room, more than just seeping in the way many will when they crossover. He told me it damaged the wall around it, used the fallen chucks to build up his very big body. It was an oddity, but not unheard of. Bigger and more vicious monsters could do that. So could demons. “What about Sammy?” I asked, trying to think what kind of creature might have crossed over into the kid’s room.
“Sammy is off to college, and the parents are away, which is a good thing because I think this thing would’ve hurt someone.”
“Maybe,” I said, still not sure what it could be. “Where did it go?”
“No idea. I got scared and ran. That was three days ago. I was just sitting by the coffee shop drinking some puddles when I saw you. I wasn’t even looking for you, but here you are. It must mean something.”
Doesn’t everything? Still, what could be big and mean and smell like an electric fire? There was something there, kind of familiar, but with all the species in this and surrounding universes, it was hard to come up with right away. Yet there was something about it, an idea right on the edge of coming to me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“You have anything else about it that might help me figure out what it was that crossed over?” I asked, hoping something might click.
“Big, mean, smelled like an electric fire, and it yelled out the word Zarn three or four times when it came through.”
“Zarn?”
“Yeah. Does that help?”
I nodded. It did help. Zarn is a curse word, like saying shit. It’s from a planet where creatures called Volteer live, and if that’s what it is, everything else the Gargar says made sense. These things are big assholes. They feel as though they are the perfect being, that all others are bugs in comparison to them. They go across the universe enslaving any monsters or creatures they find or just trying to wipe them out completely. If that’s what came into Sammy’s room, I couldn’t blame the Gargar for running.
“Are you going to go hunt it down?”
“I’ll try and stop by the house when Sammy’s parents get home, but if it’s not there, I’m going to have to wait for it to pop up and show itself.”
“Wait for it to pop up? But you’re a hunter. Aren’t you supposed to hunt things like this down?”
I shrug and was a little surprised by the tone he took with me. The last time I saw him, he was a small, timid thing. I guess that’s what happens when you spend too much time in the company of a teenager. That kind of attitude is contagious. “That’s not really how I do things. This city is too big for that. There are way too many hiding spots for me to just hunt down any and everything that might go bump in the night. But, you can go back to Sammy’s to see if it’s still there right now, and if it is, let me know and I’ll go deal with it. If not, well, it’s a waiting game.”
“I don’t want to go back there alone. Please, can you come with me?”
“Can’t,” I said plainly, and looked back at the venue doors. “I have something I need to do right now, but you go ahead and if there’s any news, come back here and let me know. I’ll be here for about four hours.”
“You suck!” the Gargar cursed me and sank back into the shadows. There was that teen angst again. They grow up so fast.
Maybe he was right. Maybe I do suck. I know most other hunters hide in the shadows, stay out of the view of the public and hunt down monsters, demons, and spirits on a much stealthier level than I ever had. They actually track monsters down, and never make contact with people who are being affected by them. I, on the other hand, prefer people to find me. This way it’s easier and I get paid for my services. So even though I have a great monthly quota, I don’t go out of my way to be some great creature tracker. I’d rather suck and do what I do than live in the sewers and creep in the shadows, although I’m sure those other hunters aren’t being featured on YouTube the way I am.
Pros and cons, I guess.
At the thought of the video, my stomach started to do backflips. I did my best to shake it off, walked into the venue, and headed to the backstage area to drop Rouge off her bagel, tea, and Timbits. The people at the door knew who I was and let me in without a hassle. I sent Rouge a text to let her know her food had finally arrived and within a minute she came out, looking glorious with her Victory Rolls, her face in full performance make up. She was wrapped in an amazing deep green velvet robe. She smiled and kissed me on the cheek, and I wished I was the robe.
“Did you get lost on the way here?” she asked, taking the food.
“No. I, uh, got held up just a little.”
“Coffee servers hitting on you, or was it the parking attendant?” she laughed.
“Neither. It was, well, work related I guess. No big deal, though. Nothing I have to worry about.”
“Are you sure? I mean, if you have to go, I’d understand. Jason isn’t even here for this show. He sent his boyfriend to do it, and Justin is as sweet as a mountain of Gummi Bears.”
I shook my head. There was no way I was going. I’d missed her last two shows, and I had no plans to miss this one. It was a thrill to watch her perform, but I also loved being there as her personal cheerleader. Nobody could beat me at the hoots and whistles when she was up on that stage. And there was no certainty that the Volteer was still at Sammy’s house. No point in wasting my time chasing my tail, or its. I’d wait and see if the Gargar came back with news.
“I have a job tomorrow, but for now, I’m all yours.”
“For now? More like forever,” she whispered as she leaned in and kissed my neck. Her touch sent a wave through me and I suddenly wished we were somewhere private. “Now, I’m going to go get ready. Your V.I.P. table is right over there. Hope you enjoy the show.”
“As long as you’re in it, it’d be impossible not to.”
The show was amazing and when we walked out, I was happy to see that the Gargar hadn’t returned. I assumed it meant the Volteer was long gone. I wasn’t jazzed with the idea of something that big and bad running wild in the city, but I knew I’d get a call about it one of these days. The mean ones never stay hidden for long. All good things come to those who wait, patience is a virtue, and so on. It was fine, and nice that we had the night to ourselves.
“Are we going bac
k to my place?” Rouge asked as I put her bag in the trunk of my car.
“I think it’s a better choice than my place,” I laughed. My place was more of an idea of an apartment. It was a messy museum of the weird and unearthly, little more than trophies and oddities with a bed and a couch thrown in there amongst the bizarre. One of these days, I might have to just give it up and move in with Rouge, but I figured we’d get to talking about that eventually. “But I do have a job to go to tomorrow afternoon.”
“Yeah, you were saying. Anything exciting?”
I pulled out of the parking lot and moved at a snail’s pace in the late night club traffic towards her house.
“Not sure. Some real estate guy thinks he’s haunted. So I’m heading to Niagara Falls to see what it’s all about.”
“Niagara Falls? Maybe I should come with you. Some people think it’s kind of a romantic place. I bet now it’s autumn, it’ll be beautiful.”
“What would you do while I’m at the meeting?”
“It’s a tourist town, honey. I’m sure I can keep myself busy. Maybe we could even get a hotel room there. One with a rotating bed or a heart-shaped tub. It’s the perfect place to curl up all cozy like and watch Superman 2.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. I like your way of thinking. Nothing says romance like cheap gimmicks and ’80s Superman movies.”
“I’m all kinds of fucking fancy,” she laughed, and went ahead and made us reservations at a hotel. I thought about how much fun it would be. I’d meet this guy and then have a great night with Rouge. And it’d all be a tax write-off.
Romance can be practical too.
Friday
The drive to the Falls was pretty uneventful. A little over an hour and a half of nothing to see but steel plants in Hamilton, plazas with the same six or seven stores in them, and little else. Rouge told me there was also an area called Niagara on the Lake where Ontario’s wine region was.
“There’s a cute little town there, one of those picturesque places with a Main Street straight out of a painting. They even have a big old clock tower right in the center of town, and horse drawn carriage rides.”
“So why aren’t we going there?” I asked.
“One thing at a time, Dillon. Since you have a job in the Falls anyway, we can stay there and tick that off our romantic-ass checklist. There’s always another day for the other.”
We drove the rest of the way and talked about other things we wanted to do. Rouge had a few ideas on the list she was really excited for and always wanted to go to. Disney World was on top of her list, but there were also chalets in Quebec, the mountains in Alberta, and glamping (glamorous camping) in Algonquin Park. She was so excited about some of those things she managed to get me equally as jazzed. Seeing as all this was so new to me, having never dated anyone before her, I had no real ideas of romantic places to go. Everything I know about romance I’ve learned from books and movies. Since I prefer horror movies and bad comedies, my ideas of romance are slightly warped.
My aim is to get better at that.
We arrived in the Falls with twenty minutes to spare before I planned to head to Chance’s office. Rouge asked me to drop her off down by the hotel so she could check in and told me to text her when I was done. I watched her walk away and for a second had thoughts about just ditching the appointment and going up to the room with her. It would be way more fun than anything Chance Anderson, Niagara Falls’ number one choice for your future, could provide me. There was a much more enticing adventure to be had in our cheesy room, which I’d been assured had a heart-shaped tub, than in the lame office of some suit and tie guy.
“Are you looking for valet parking, sir?”
The voice at my window pulled me from the picture perfect view I’d painted in my head, and I looked over at a kid who had more zits on his face than years on this planet. I shook my head and expected him to walk away. He didn’t, though.
“Just dropping someone off,” I told him, and yet he still lingered there.
“Oh shit! You’re the monster guy from Toronto, aren’t you?”
Oh no. Not here too. My heart started to race a bit at the recognition, and I felt like maybe staying here was going to be a mistake. I wondered how many people in the hotel had seen it. Was it getting shared all over Facebook and Twitter, so everyone and their grandmother watched as I battled that earthbound creature?
“Sorry, I think you got the wrong guy,” I said as convincingly as I could manage.
“I’ve watched that video fifty times, bro. Ain’t no way I’m wrong. This is so cool.”
“No, it’s not. And maybe you should spend a little less time on the internet and a little more on reading or figuring out a haircut that doesn’t make you look like you use your hair as a paper towel when you eat your greasy-ass french fries.”
It felt mean the second it left my lips, but I was seriously stressed out. When he’d brought up the video, the stress I’d been feeling was born anew, and my stomach rumbled uncomfortably. The worry washed over me, fear of being in more trouble than I ever had in my life. I drove away as fast as I legally could and tried to focus on getting to the meeting and potential work.
Traffic was almost non-existent. I turned on my radio, the car was instantly filled with the rough voice of James Hetfield, and I began to talk to myself. It was going to be okay. It had to be. I was a good, if not great, hunter. I’d managed to kill a Hellion not all that long ago, which is not an easy feat. Hellions are the worst kind of demon, vicious and bent on destruction. If it had managed to get completely through to this world, nothing would have been left untouched. That alone should allow me some leeway, in my opinion. I’ve never heard of a hunter or any other being come face to face with a Hellion and walk away unscathed, let alone the planet they showed up on being unharmed. It had to count for something. The Collective should turn a bit of a blind eye to some of the things I did, right?
So why was the hunter in Godfrey’s? Why hadn’t he introduced himself to me? Why, why, so many more whys. I was looking at questions and coming up with hypotheticals I had no real way of knowing, and it was eating me up. I needed to stop. Hopefully the meeting would help distract me. Work would have to be the great distracter once again.
I arrived at his office with nearly ten minutes to spare. It was one of the biggest storefronts on a street called Lundy’s Lane. Along with it there were the usual small town shops: a Money Mart, a smattering of variety stores, a liquor store, more bars than anything else, a sketchy tattoo place with a poorly spray-painted sign over the door, and just around the corner from it was a not-so-classy-looking strip club called Mints. I thought I might have to swing by there with Rouge, just for the fun of it. Not so romantic, but one thing I knew about Rouge was her love of touring clubs she’d never been to. Sometimes, the grimier the dig, the better they were. And Mints certainly did have a certain air about it. And a strip club next to a funeral parlour: could you ask for something classier?
I think not.
I parked right in front of Chance’s Realty and tried to walk in, but the door was locked. I peered inside, but saw no one. Most of the lights were off, too. I double-checked the time and saw I was a little early, but I figured someone would be there. I knocked on the plate glass, but nothing. I tried again, and when nobody appeared I pulled out my phone. I took a deep breath and ignored the forty missed calls from unknown numbers. Instead, I dialed the same one I had yesterday. From inside the office, I heard the phone ringing and figured I would wait there another ten minutes and if nobody showed up, I’d call it quits.
“Hello?” the woman I spoke to yesterday said, and I looked back into the dark store and saw nobody there.
“This is Dillon. I’m here for that meeting with Chance Anderson.”
“Who is it?” a small, unfamiliar male voice said from the other end.
“It’s him,” she said, clea
rly not talking to me. “He’s here, Chance.”
“Thank god!”
“Sorry, we’re in the back. I’ll come out and let you in.”
I said okay, and then hung up. The woman I’d spoken to came out a few seconds later and unlocked the door for me. She was a short, compact woman, with a tight perm and big glasses on her heavily made-up face. She wore a tweed jacket with a matching skirt and reminded me of some of the teachers I’d worked with over the years, ones that looked more like a movie producer’s idea of how a teacher should look than how most did. The smile she gave me as she opened the door didn’t seem quite genuine. She reminded me of a mother forcing a smile while she deals with a screaming three-year-old in full temper tantrum mode. Clearly, she had more of a sense of what she was about to let me walk into than I did.
“Something happened a little while ago, and Chance is a little freaked out. I’m so glad you’re here. I really hope this is all going to be over soon.”
“That bad?”
“I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.” She shook her head and put her hand over her face after she relocked the door. “Oh that sounded so horrible. I’m not a mean person, it’s just-”
“Don’t worry about it. These kinds of things aren’t easy for the best of us to deal with. Always assuming this is something at all.”
“Oh, it is something. I’ve known Chance for fifteen years and I’ve never seen him like this. He’s a mess. It’s scary.”
She led me to the back office. She knocked on the door three times and called out that it was just us. Inside, I could hear a whimper, like a dog whining for food or from fear. Slowly, she opened the door and peered in.
“It’s just us,” she said. “You can put that down now.”
She opened the door fully and I followed her inside. First thing I noticed was a cot and blanket on the far side of the room, and a smell that was as stale as a college kid’s room during midterms. It smelled hot, and sweaty. I didn’t need to ask if he’d been sleeping there. If there had been windows in the back office, at least he would’ve been able to air the place out.