I knew it wasn’t there, but I reached for it just the same. I pushed past the borrowed jeans, chafing underwear, and uncomfortably warm flesh. Typically, there was a reserve of power down there, more than enough to help me bend a little reality, and barring that, at least coax it into something a little more amenable.
That well was dry.
“Gene!”
I tried to blot out the junior Demon Hunter’s voice and closed my eyes to scrape at the walls of my reserves. There had to be something, anything, down there. Little Ed and I were ill prepared for dangling over a roaring bonfire—we needed help, and fast.
“Pluvium…” I whispered, desperately hoping whatever vestiges of Magick the Darkling had left me with would be enough.
We need rain.
“Pluvium!” I squeezed at my soul like an old tube of toothpaste and pushed whatever was left into a final butt-saving act.
Nothing happened.
My arms went limp as the Alligator Men hoisted my pole onto the spit. “Sorry, kid.”
Maybe this is for the best.
A large and cold raindrop hit me smack between the eyes.
What the?!
That one was followed by another, then another still, and in seconds the splattering rain had become a typical summer downpour. I don’t care how good your fire is, none of them survives a Florida rain.
“You did it, Gene!”
I did? Just go with it.
“Yeah, I did…”
“No, you didn’t,” Kaylee of the Green Swamp shouted from her perch atop Stinkstone. The Troll-riding Witch appeared at the edge of the Alligator Men village, an old and torn umbrella in her hands. Rain poured through the holes in that umbrella, soaking the ginger-haired woman beneath it. You didn’t have to be an expert Magician to feel the Magick coming off that largely ineffective rain gear.
“Mom!”
Kaylee whispered something to Stinkstone before being gently placed down beside the monstrous Troll.
The Alligator Men appeared unsure of what to do, and turned their attention to the Bull Gator. It was difficult to read Alligator Man body language, but I was pretty sure he was pissed—really, super pissed, truth be told.
“Thanks for the help,” I said, using my head to gesture to the straps holding my arms. “Any chance you could get these undone too?”
Kaylee ignored me and instead focused all of her attention on the Bull Gator. She said something in what I assumed was her very high-pitched version of the guttural grunts of the Alligator Men.
The Bull Gator hissed, the sound of which set the un-singed hairs on my arms at attention.
That can’t be good.
The large reptile then responded to her with a series of grunts and clicks.
“What is he saying?” I asked, shaking the rain from my face.
Kaylee frowned. “He’s saying you stole his children.”
“I’ve done some pretty terrible things, but kidnapping baby alligators isn’t something I’m known for.”
“Was it your Darkling?” Little Ed asked, reminding me of my lesser half.
Kaylee’s attention never wavered from the Bull Gator. She took a few steps forward, then changed the tone of her unintelligible words.
“What did you tell him?”
Kaylee closed the umbrella, the rain coming to a gradual stop. “I told him you could not have kidnapped his children, because you are too weak and spineless.”
“Works for me.”
The Bull Gator growled and pulled the grimoire from his belt. He held the book in the air for Kaylee and the rest of his tribe to see.
“Is that your book?” Kaylee asked, her words taking on an edge I hadn’t noticed before. Her fingers tightened ever so slightly against her staff.
“Yes, but it was stolen from me. Tell him a junior Magician took it and—”
Kaylee cut me off with her hand. “The person who snatched his eggs carried that book, and it smells like you.”
I twisted my head around to get a good look at the Bull Gator. “Of course it smells like me. It has been in my house since college. How could it not smell like me? I bet it smells like Tristan too. Tell him that’s the smell he should be looking for. Once he finds that twerp, though, he needs to get in line, because I have first dibs on the cord-cutting, book-stealing, Defiler-serving weasel.”
“Gene,” Kaylee said, her voice now certainly far less commanding than it was before. “That’s not how Alligator Men work.”
“Oh yeah? How do they work?”
I was too busy paying attention to Little Ed’s mom to notice my captor slice through my bonds and drop me on the rain-soaked ground. The sudden impact took the air right out of my lungs.
Son of a bitch.
Kaylee waited for me to stand before answering. “If you won’t accept responsibility for the thief’s actions, then you must fight.”
I shook out my sleeves and pushed them up again. “Wait, I must what?”
One of the Alligator Men that had been carrying the pole shoved a rickety spear into my hands.
“I warn you. I have decades of spear experience. Decades!” I shouted, hoping to set my opponent on edge, but, given my undersized capris and oversized flannel that plan had little chance of success.
Angry bubbles broke the surface of the water not far from the now extinguished barbecue pit.
“I don’t know how to translate it,” Kaylee said, backing up. “I believe they call it Grundel?”
Bright orange eyes broke the surface, big as basketballs and set atop a head that would have no problems swallowing me whole.
Oh, great.
17
Dino Dive
What had been a few bubbles quickly turned to a frothing torrent of choppy swamp water, and I was reminded of my wife’s take on hot tubs.
‘Oh no, Gene. Not gonna happen. God only knows what lives in there, and you want me to get in it knowing the only thing between me and that slime is a thin slip of spandex? Hell no, you’ll need a new wife for that.’
I didn’t have a new wife, but I didn’t have Porter either. What I did have was a slightly annoying spirit eavesdropping on my thoughts, a crude spear, and my winning personality.
Yep, I was clearly ready to face whatever was rising up from the algae-choked depths.
Private Petty? You there? Any chance you know how to use a spear?
Once again the young, dead soldier displayed an exceptional prowess for disappearing at just the right times.
Ah, to be a kid again.
Glowing golden eyes broke the surface of the water, riding high on the head of the largest alligator I’d ever seen. Even without the benefit of a roaring bonfire to light up the water it wasn’t hard to guess the sheer enormity of this prehistoric reptile. Its head alone was certain to provide nightmare material for months to come.
A snake-like and whipping tail propelled the beast forward, cutting a sharp line through the thick swamp water. Its white teeth shone like steak knives in the filtered moonlight. They jutted out along the creature’s closed jaws, clearly visible against the dark scales.
“Uh, is that a Grundel?”
A not-so-gentle shove to the back gave me my answer.
“I think so,” Kaylee the Swamp Witch said, leaning against her staff. “Gene, are you feeling that?”
I tightened my grip on the spear. “The overwhelming sense of soul-crushing defeat and disappointment at a life unfulfilled? Completely.”
“No,” Kaylee tilted her head as if she were tasting the air, “there, do you feel it now?”
“I don’t feel any—”
A lancing cold sliced straight through me, cutting off my words mid-sentence. Even mostly dried out from the previous fire dangling experience, I wasn't ready for the wildly unpredictable Magick of a Thinning.
Florida’s precarious position at the geometrically perfect center of the real world and the supernatural one made it an excellent home for all manner of non-native flora and fauna, and we
weren’t talking transplants from New York either. Only in the Strange Shine State could a single night include Alligator Men, Bridge Trolls, Midnight Riders, and even a late-nineties-era Mailstation—but there was something else Florida had in abundance: Thinnings.
Those supernatural bald patches served as a bridge between our world and the great beyond. They appeared at random and had a habit of flooding the surrounding area with Wild Magick. Sometimes they’d go completely unnoticed, appearing and disappearing just long enough to eat a sock from your dryer or run a cold chill down your spine, but other times they’d appear at the most inopportune moments, such as when you were face to snout with a mythological super-gator you’d only just discovered was a thing.
“Crap, that’s so not what I need right now,” I said, pointing to the advancing dinosaur. “Dance card is kinda full and all.”
Another poke to the ribs pushed me closer to the water’s edge and refocused my attention on the throwback opponent from the Cretaceous period. Grundel would have made even the largest of alligators question their place in the food chain. He was bigger than the Dad Wagon and most likely did not leak oil.
The monster hissed and took the wind right out of my already drooping sails. I tightened my grip on the spear and tried to remember those episodes of American Gladiators I’d watched when Cathy was little.
How do they swing these things?
“Use the pointy end, sir.”
Private Petty’s spectral form appeared next to me, his fatigues traded out for a more Rambo-like black tank and red bandana.
“Sly? Really?”
“It was a favorite movie as a kid.”
“Great. Listen, I’m all for hearing about your childhood—I really am—but right now I’m trying to keep us alive.”
Petty shrugged. “I’m already dead.”
The Grundel opened his massive jaws and hissed again, this time sending the Alligator men into a tizzy—they’d clearly bet on the home team.
“Don’t be smart with me, Private.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” the ghost said with a very visible smirk.
“Do you know how to do a possession?”
“A what?”
“A possession,” I said, holding the spear between myself and the oversized gator. “You know, where you go into my body and take over my consciousness to fight off this Dinosaur World showpiece.”
Grundel’s tail flicked in the water, sending a wake rolling toward the far shore.
Private Petty frowned. “That sounds immensely dangerous.”
The prehistoric alligator reached the banks and pushed his bulk forward. Massive claws cut deep grooves in the muck.
“For me maybe, but not for you. You’re dead, remember?”
“Jump!” Private Petty shouted, scaring the crap out of me just in time to kick on my survival instinct and send me lunging out of the way of Grundel’s snapping jaws.
The assembled Alligator Men hissed and growled in what I assumed was high praise for their champion.
“Faster than it looks,” I cried, slipping in the soft mud and scrambling to my feet before the beast’s claws prematurely ended my evening.
Petty pointed to Grundel’s bright golden orbs. “Go for the eyes.”
“Could you find a harder spot to reach?”
I jabbed the off-balance spear at the beast’s head, but instead of catching one of those glittering eyes, the spear missed badly and bounced off its rock-hard scales.
“I think they gave me a bum spear,” I said, high-stepping back to avoid the beast’s jaws.
“I would recommend an M4, or at worst a decent sidearm, sir.”
I jabbed with the spear again, missing badly. “This from the kid who carries a saber.”
Kaylee’s high-pitched voice cut through the guttural chants of the Alligator Men. “Who the hell are you talking to?”
I dodged another swiping claw, but not before it sliced a few crisp lines through my borrowed flannel.
“Private Casper!” I shouted back, not willing to take my eyes off the scaly beast. “I’ll explain later.”
“Eye, sir. Jab now!”
“You’re State Fencing Champion and the best you can come up with is ‘go for the eyes’?“
“Sir!”
“On it.” I tucked the Alligator Man’s spear under my arm and drove it forward like a lance.
What the hell am I doing?
One thing became very clear immediately—I was not the State Fencing Champ, nor was I apt to become one any time soon.
The spear tip missed Grundel’s eye entirely, and instead slipped between its open jaws, bouncing off those ferocious teeth like a pinball before careening out the other side.
“Don’t let him pull you—” Kaylee shouted, but her shrill voice didn’t survive my sudden and graceless splash into the dark water. The butt of the spear had hooked itself on the tail edge of her ex-husband’s flannel shirt, and that borrowed clothing had now tied me to a living boat anchor.
“Gene!”
I couldn’t tell who shouted that one; with the swamp water swirling around my ears it was impossible to discern much beyond the frothing bubbles. Thankfully, I did have the foresight to grab one very large gulp of air before being dragged under.
And this morning had started out with so much promise…
If I’d thought Grundel on land was scary, in the water the beast was a force of nature. He pulled me toward the bottom with brain-bending speed while I fought to dislodge the spear. Sadly, the hooked flannel held fast, so I switched gears. I yanked at the buttons of Ed’s evil shirt before it became my burial shroud. I had the first few undone when the massive beast took a hard turn, most likely avoiding some obstacle, and failed to account for the Gene Law hood ornament riding shotgun.
I crashed into what felt like a tree trunk with spear-snapping force, leaving me with a splintered stick and no idea which way was up.
I really should have watched those nature shows with Kris when I’d had the chance.
I blinked my eyes and tried to adjust to the dark water. A small amount of moonlight filtered down, but I was still too disoriented to trust it; plus, if I swam for the surface I was sure to die a horrible death at the business end of Grundel’s crushing jaws.
That’s a pleasant thought.
Then again, if I stayed clinging to this trunk, I was certain to pass out from lack of oxygen, then be crushed by those massive jaws.
Way to stay inspired, Gene.
A rush of water roared past my dangling feet, and I pulled them in tight. What air I’d grabbed before being yanked in was starting to run out, the painful thumping in my chest telling me as much.
Come on, damn it. If you are going to eat me just get it over with.
Another whooshing current sent my short hair streaming to the side, and I ducked down just in time for the massive alligator to shoot past my head.
Now you’re just playing with your food.
My lungs burned—evolution’s handy way of reminding me I did not have gills—and I tightened my grip on the broken spear shiv.
Come on, one more pass. You can do it.
A rush of water hit my chest just as two bright orange eyes lit up the murky water. With my legs tucked under me, I kicked out like a kid at the summer camp pool, using my meager muscles to propel me up and over its wide jaws.
My legs cleared the snout scant inches before it would have shattered me like old china, but somehow the trailing cuff of Ed’s too-short jeans ended up caught on Grundel’s teeth. The monster chose that exact moment to dive for the bottom, throwing me chest first against his head and costing me the spear shiv as well as a few more precious air bubbles.
No, go the other way!
Monster truck Grundel didn’t hear me, nor would he have cared if he had. The prehistoric alligator and I had a date with freshwater version of Davey Jones’ Locker, and he wasn’t interested in showing up late.
My ears popped and my lungs screamed as the dark water r
aced past, and in my oxygen-deprived haze I wondered if borrowed pants were going to do me in. I’d survived countless clashes with supernatural monsters, Demons, and the Restless Dead, but it certainly appeared for all the world that I would meet my end thanks to some annoyingly undersized denim.
Stupid pants.
18
Stand in Me
We hit the bottom—hard.
Grundel wasted no time going into a spectacular death roll. Traditional alligators have a tough time with large prey, and while there was very little about me that Grundel would find large, it was safe to assume basic instinct had taken over. The death roll was aptly named in that it was the moment the gator took you to the bottom and rolled, effectively pinning you to the ground until you ran out of air and promptly drowned.
That last part I was keen to avoid.
Grundel spun, slamming me against what felt like an old metal car door. A flash of reflection as the mud washed away from the side-view mirror confirmed my suspicion.
My lungs were quick to remind me they’d been working overtime and were just about at empty, when something appeared in the mirror.
That something was small, purple, rubbery, and all together annoying.
Stewart!
The Imp’s words echoed in my head as if we were talking.
“Boss, what are you doing? Oh, wow, is that Deinosuchus? I haven’t seen one of those since the late Cretaceous period. Would you look at that? I mean, had to be Florida, am I right?
Stewart, this isn't the time.
“Yeah, I can see that. Did you go for his eyes?” the tiny Imp asked, his reflection pointing at Grundel’s bright, orange reptilian pupils.
Again with the eyes! I swear you and Private Petty are going to be the death of me.
“Who’s Private Petty? You didn’t get another Imp, did you? Oh I’ll be so—”
Stewart! Can you get me out of here or not?
“Oh, yeah, no. I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m just using this lovely Thinning to make it a little easier to talk to you. Listen, so, I’ve got some great news.”
I fought to hold on to the last bits of precious oxygen.
Beaten Path Page 10