Monstrous- The Complete Collection

by Sawyer Black

  He held up his nubbin, more scarred and twisted in his human form. “Like this shit. If I can make clothes, why can’t I make a hand? And if I make clothes and then take ’em off, do they disappear? Did I just take off a piece of myself?”

  Boothe sighed. “I don’t know, Henry. These are things that just are.”

  Henry slid his nubbin into his pocket.

  Better keep it there.

  “You’re saying I should probably get a good long look, so I can do it again when the closet’s not around.”

  “That is exactly what I’m saying, Henry.”

  “Then I’ve seen enough.” Henry turned away and headed back into the living room.

  Aela’s were the only eyes watching for his return. She sat on the arm of the couch with her arms crossed. The look he remembered from the attic back in the Forgotten. Careful consideration and mistrust.

  Ramiel stood with his arms extended to his sides. He looked at the ceiling with patience while Maria and Nadia flitted around him like moths. Tugging and adjusting, pinning his suit into a perfect fit.

  Charlie stood from the table in the kitchenette, pulling a brass phone away from his ear and sliding it into his shirt pocket. He looked at Henry with a nod of approval. “I said what you told me to, and you were right. He said No. So, I mentioned our Tracker friend here, and that got his interest back. Not as much as the offer for double time, but either way, he said he’d be here.”

  Nadia glanced back over his shoulder. “You and Adam did destroy his car. He was very angry.”

  He had turned into the monster with Adam in front of the Burg City Credit Union.

  “Francesco’s just being a baby,” Henry said. “He loves this shit.”

  Nadia grinned. “He really does. He said the limo business hasn’t been the same since Mandyel left.”

  Boothe placed his hand on Maria’s back, and she turned to offer him a kiss. “Good luck, my darling.”

  Henry turned for a little luck of his own, but Aela still stared with narrow eyes. “I like the other Henry better.”

  “Well, I can’t really walk around outside a police station looking like Paradise Lost, can I?”

  She shrugged and continued to sit with her arms crossed, like a teenager being forced to join the family party.

  Boothe’s arm fell across his shoulder.

  Henry looked at him from the side of his eye. “Do you need my memory of it, or what?”

  “No, thank you. I’ve actually been near there.”

  The room compressed to a pinpoint. Henry folded in on himself, and light burst into his eyes. In an instant, they spread through reality to stand across the street from BCPD 6TH Precinct. In the shadow of an awning in front of Desoto’s Donuts. The sun burned a line on the horizon as morning raised its head.

  Boothe dropped his arm. “What is your next move, dear Henry?”

  “I don’t know. Charlie said he went from nights to first shift.”

  Probably to spend more time with Sam. I can’t fucking blame him.

  “And your plan is to just stand here? Wait for him to notice you, your eyes locking across the distance like fate?”

  “I don’t know! You get a bunch of monkeys in a room, the one that sounds most confident is almost always the one in charge. This is as far as I thought ahead. It was your fault for listening to me.”

  “It’s true. You are the most confident primate I have ever known.”

  Henry tried to tell Boothe to fuck off, but Stone’s brown sedan pulled into the spot right in front of him. Henry’s jaw dropped, and he flapped his hand in Boothe’s face. He squealed, like a cheerleader freaking out because the quarterback was walking her way. “He just fucking pulled up!”

  Boothe shook his head, his face slack with awe. “Hablando del rey de Roma.”

  “Free will can eat it,” Henry said.

  Mike Stone stepped out of the driver’s side wearing a gray suit. Casual with a black tee underneath. The car rocked as a big square-jawed corn-fed blond man got out on the other side. Stone buttoned his jacket as he shut the door and pointed at the passenger over the roof. He opened his mouth to say something, but Henry interrupted him with a shout.

  “Detective Stone!”

  Henry had seen enough Hollywood douche nozzles who wielded personality as a weapon. He knew how it put people off their guard. The type of guy that everybody recognized. Loud and full of themselves. Ready to sell.

  Stone’s head snapped around, but Henry grinned with an artificial joy that reflected the sunlight and stuck his hand out in a Cary Grant shake. Stone’s forehead wrinkled, his brain working under the confusion, his feet carrying him up on the sidewalk. His hand rising to return Henry’s greeting.

  His face lit with recognition, “Serafino, right?” But it was too late. Henry pumped his hand, jerking Stone off balance, and the blond met them at the front of the car with his face clouding in uncertainty.

  Boothe touched the blond’s upper arm like he was guiding him to his table, and his other hand latched onto Henry’s sleeve.

  Space and time folded, and the brown sedan twisted away. The apartment sprang into existence around them, and Henry released Stone’s hand as the detective fell to the floor, holding his stomach and retching.

  The blond recovered much faster, reaching under his jacket with wide eyes and confused terror.

  The point of a black sword scraped the skin under the big man’s chin, and he froze. His eyes followed the blade up to the fist, then finally up to Ramiel’s face. The angel’s eyes swirled with light. The blond dropped his hands and stared.

  “Don’t you dare spread your wings,” Maria shouted. “You’ll rip the seams.”

  Blondie looked at Maria, and his jaw dropped even more.

  Stone pushed himself to his knees, and his hand darted for his gun.

  The air blurred next to Henry’s head, and Charlie Mara streaked by. Stone’s jacket blew open from the stiff wind of Charlie’s passing, and his hand came out empty. Stone stared at his open fingers, his eyes nearly crossing with the effort to make sense of what was happening.

  “This is bullshit!” Frank’s voice carried in the sudden silence, and Stone leaned sideways to see past Henry’s hip. By the change in his expression from dazed to comically incredulous, Henry knew what he’d see when he turned around.

  He cast a look over his shoulder, and Frank stepped into the kitchen. He looked just like her. Down to the smallest detail of Henry’s memory. Instead of a pink sports bra, she wore a little black dress stretched tight across her bulging chest and thighs. Black leather boots rising above her swollen calves. Muscles, tattoos, and glittering nails. “I look like one of the Power Puff Girls ate a female Romanian weightlifter.”

  Frank tossed his head in disgust, and the thick yellow braid looped around his neck like a scarf. He pointed across the room. “Who are those guys?”

  Charlie came out of the corner, holding Stone’s pistol. He aimed it at Blondie and shrugged in apology. “Can you put your gun on the floor or something? Please?”

  Blondie blinked as if coming awake. “Yeah.” His hand moved into his jacket as if underwater. “Sure.”

  He held the gun out, dangling between his thumb and index finger.

  Henry looked at Boothe and shrugged. Boothe copied his shrug, and Henry pointed to the gun. Boothe pulled it from the cop’s unresisting grasp and set it on the coffee table like it had dirtied his hands.

  “Okay.” Henry stepped back and swept his arm toward the couch. “You two want to take a seat?”

  Stone stood, eyeing Henry like he didn’t understand English. Blondie edged away from the sword at his neck, holding his hands up at his shoulders. He crossed between Henry and Stone as Henry eased clear of Ramiel’s swing.

  Stone lifted his hands and followed Blondie to the couch. They dropped in unison, and Henry jumped with a yelp when a cellphone split the air. A heavy metal song full of drums and screaming. Henry thought it was Blondie’s. He looked like he migh
t have been a metal head in his life before being a cop, but Stone pointed to his hip pocket. “You want me to get that?”

  “Yeah, just … be cool.”

  Jesus, Henry. Real fucking smooth.

  Stone kept one hand held high while he leaned over and dug into his pocket. He swiped the screen then raised it to his ear with a deep breath. “Yeah, this is Stone.”

  His eyes darted from face to face. “Nah, I decided to take Scott down past Bledsoe into the market. Kind of a teachable moment.”

  Stone rolled his eyes. He was probably taking shit from his boss. That shit was universal.

  “Yeah,” Stone said with a nod. “No problem.”

  He pulled the phone from his face with a bitter twist of his lips, then shook his head and slid the phone back into his pocket. “What a cocksucker.”

  Blondie leaned toward him. “That Murphy?”

  Stone nodded. “Of course.” He looked at Henry, and he no longer seemed frightened and confused. He raised one eyebrow and pursed his lips. “The fuck do you want, anyway?”

  “Hey, don’t take your shitty job out on me.” Henry pointed to Blondie. “You said you were taking Scott to the market. Is he Scott?”

  Stone nodded.

  “Detective Scott?”

  “Sergeant.”

  “Ah, like a new partner? Showing him the ropes?”

  “Yeah, pairing and sharing.” Stone leaned forward. “Like I said, what the fuck do you want?”

  “Either of you know anybody in Harbor Patrol?”

  Stone sat back, the uncertainty returning to his eyes. “Yeah, maybe. So?”

  The jacket fell from Henry’s shoulders and he reached up to unbutton his shirt. “I’m about to tell you a pretty crazy story.” His nubbin bumped his chest, and he looked at Boothe. “I’m not gonna be able …”

  Boothe waved his apology away. “Just get on with it.”

  “Okay.” Henry let Mike Serafino go, and the demon burst out of the suit in his place. Henry remembered to make sure he was wearing the black tee and jeans, and he smiled when he saw the coffee can over his wrist.

  And that’s how you get to Carnegie Hall.

  The detective took it pretty well. The sergeant did not.

  His terrified shriek pierced Henry’s ears, echoing off the walls. Rebounding from the ceiling. It took him a half hour to stop hyperventilating.

  It took Henry what felt like hours to tell his tale.

  By the time he got to the second Dark Auction at the Burg City Pen, Stone was leaning forward, his gaze intense and staring. The detective had definitely seen enough to be a believer, but Henry’s details about Sam won him over.

  Their phones started ringing an hour into the story. An hour later, they were vibrating constantly. Shortly after that, they had to power them down.

  Henry leaned back and waved smoke from his face. Nadia had filled the room though only he seemed to notice. Henry jumped up to open a window, and he felt like everyone’s eyes were glued to his back. He hadn’t tried to make himself look good. In fact, he had probably gone too far in the other direction.

  He knew how to tell a story, and even though it was the most important one of his life, he was still waiting for the laughs. Watching their faces and gauging their reactions. Even now, he was performing.

  He slid the window open, and a gust of fresh air blew by, sucking the smoke out. It swirled away, and Henry imagined being in an airplane with the clouds flowing by as he ran away to … anywhere. To someplace where he could hide. Where nobody knew him or cared if he lived.

  He tore his eyes from the street below and headed for the kitchen. He wasn’t thirsty, but he could hide behind the work of filling a pitcher.

  “You know, I got suspended because of you,” Stone said.

  Henry turned with the pitcher in his hand. “Because of me?”

  “Yeah. The Hooded Angel. I couldn’t let it go. I was obsessed with finding you.”

  “What happened?”

  “I was on a fast track to Lieutenant before you showed up, and when my son died …” Stone cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes, but true to his name no tears appeared. “My wife was already long gone. Went to her mother’s in Kansas. So, I dove into finding you. They passed me over for promotion after promotion. Made me see a bunch of different kinds of therapists. Divorce counselors. Grief counselors. PTSD counselors. Then I met Samantha, you disappeared, and things got better. Kinda returned to normal.”

  “Yeah, well. I guess I’m sorry.” Henry filled the pitcher, lifting it to take a drink.

  “I asked her to marry me.

  The pitcher fell from his numb fingers, bouncing off the floor and splashing his feet with cold water. He remembered her moving in with him. All of her stuff had fit in the back seat of his Dodge Neon. Even with his TV and shitty laptop, it had still been more than he owned.

  They had been in a slow line of cars, waiting to pay the toll so they could cross the South Enon bridge, and he looked down with his stomach dropping out. He didn’t have the money to pay. Not a single coin.

  He had sat up straight, holding the wheel until he thought his knuckles were going to explode. Sweat burst out in the folds of skin over his gut, and he blurted it out. As unprepared to say it as she must have been to hear it. “Hey, you think we should get married?”

  Samantha tilted her head like she needed time to think, then nodded, her face glowing with a brilliant grin. “Okay.”

  Henry stared at the pitcher rocking back and forth. Spilling a little water with each change in direction. “So soon?”

  “It’s been over two years, Henry.”

  The pitcher blurred as his eyes filled with tears. “What did she say?”

  The silence stretched until Henry wanted to scream. Stone sighed, and the couch cushion creaked beneath him as he sat back. “She said ‘yes’.”

  “Congratulations.”

  The shadow under the dishwasher stretched across the floor. Henry dipped his toe into the darkness, and then he was gone. Screaming through the black that felt emptier the faster he ran.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  There was nowhere in the city safe from her memory.

  Everywhere Henry went, staring out from the shadows growing smaller with the rise of the sun, he saw Samantha’s face.

  His vision turned to the hazy red of rage, and people shied from his hiding spot, even though they couldn’t see him. A wide berth from a feeling, a gut reaction that continuing in his direction meant danger.

  His breath steamed, heat rising up to make the shimmering mirage of a distant road in the summer.

  She had been his cheat code.

  What was he without her?

  Nothing.

  Without him, she was still Samantha. A beautiful woman. A beautiful person.

  To share her love with him, so unselfish …

  He kept going until he couldn’t stand to see the faces of the city anymore. To hear the voices, washing out all the other sounds in a murmuring blur of noise. Pain and sorrow under the joy, like a dark undertow dragging surfers down into the waiting jaws of sharks that circled the freezing depths.

  His chest expanded with his heaving breath. Heat shot from his mouth like jets from a grate in winter.

  Boothe’s apartment was the only place that was clean of her touch. He pressed his fist into his eye. The ridge of the coffee can into the other. He felt the street fold away, turning inside out to become the white living room.

  I’ll be damned.

  He stood leaning in the doorway leading to the bedroom. Everyone else was gone.

  “Hey, sailor,” Henry said.

  Boothe smiled, sympathy and anger. “Hello, Henry.”

  “The fuck am I supposed to do?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head.

  “But you know how I feel, don’t you?”

  Boothe looked down at the floor. “I do.”

  “Why me?”

  “I’m so sorry, Henry. I
did what I had to …”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  Boothe looked into Henry’s eyes and stood straight. “Then, what do you mean?”

  “Why am I the one to save fucking anybody? I’m just a dead guy too full of hate and selfishness … too blind to …” Tears filled his eyes, and the heat of his anger turned them to steam, sizzling as they rolled down his cheeks. “She was the last of my humanity.”

  “No.”

  “Yes! Everybody pushing me to make a fucking decision. Make a choice, Henry. Just so’s I make the right one. But the right one for who? Samantha deserves it. She deserves to live a new life. A good life with a good man, but I even fucked that up!”

  “I understand.”

  The red in Henry’s vision deepened. Rage swelled in his chest and brought a dark energy in its wake. His skin was going to burst. He wanted to fly.

  Boothe’s heartbeat pulsed with glowing light. His energy swirling in and out from his center to his fingertips.

  Henry was a Paladin. He didn’t know what that even meant, but if he unleashed that power into Boothe, he had a sudden certainty that the angel would fall. The realization of his dominion over the being that had been his superior since they’d met brought Henry no pleasure. A quiet sadness dressed like regret.

  Henry realized that he had always been better than Boothe.

  He had only ever lied to himself.

  Henry compressed his rage into a ball, pushing it down to his navel. It spun and twisted, pressing against the confines of his will, and he drew a deep, calming breath. “I believe you, Boothe. At least, I think you think you understand. The Order From Chaos has something to do with this Dark Auction nonsense. I’m going to go there, and I won’t even ask any questions. I’m going to kill every single fuck that answered that invitation. And then, I’m going to follow Pastor Owen into Hell, and I’m going to save my daughter.”

  “And then?” Boothe asked.

  “I’m going to disappear. Let everybody go on without me, and hopefully, I’ll never be asked to make a decision ever again.”