by Ann Charles
“No.” I took a steadying breath and bent my knees, planting my feet. “Scharfrichter blood.”
In a blink, the creature sprang at us, coming fast and hard. Its lips were pulled back, and those sharp-toothed jaws opened wide in a howling screech.
A loud “pop” exploded next to me, followed by a sizzling hiss as a flare flew through the air toward the thing. I tried to see if it hit the creature or not, but a close grouping of trees blocked my view for a second.
The Nachzehrer cleared the trees but then stumbled before losing its footing entirely. It tumbled down the hill toward us with sparks shooting out every which way. I stepped aside as it rolled past me, gangly arms and legs flailing, and watched it slam into a downed, dead tree.
I turned to Reid, who was holding a bright yellow flare gun out in front of him. “Where did you get that?”
“I grabbed it from my truck before I came to find you.”
The Nachzehrer was still shooting sparks, putting on its very own fireworks show. It rose up onto its knees, its saggy skin draping like an apron over its thighs, and clawed at its throat as flames shot out of its mouth.
“You nailed it right in the kisser. That’s impressive shooting, Tex.” I wasn’t joking either. That thing had been coming at us fast.
“I was aiming for the eye,” he said, cutting me a quick grin. “Thanks, though. I’ve spent lots of time at the shooting range with Coop. I guess it paid off today.”
We eased closer as the Nachzehrer fell backward, its jaw opening and closing as it thrashed in the snow.
Another breeze swirled around us. Even while its throat was burning, the creature picked up on the scent of my blood and reached for me, making desperate swipes at my legs with its long, bony fingers.
I stared into the creature’s dark eyes, searching for signs of the human that used to be in there, but they were like two black pieces of obsidian. I moved my hand back and forth in front of it. Those black eyes followed the movement.
“Apparently, this one can see okay.”
“It certainly seemed to have a bead on us when it raced down the hill.”
“Can you whistle loud?” I asked him, dodging its attempt to kick me in the midst of its struggles.
“Uh, sure.”
“I mean really, really loud.”
“Well, I’m no match for a train, but I can certainly get attention when I need to.”
“Good. Do it.”
He gave me a look as if I had a train smokestack growing out between my eyes. “Right now?”
“Yes. And hurry, the flare is dying out.”
He licked his lips and then let out a loud, piercing trill that left my ears ringing.
The Nachzehrer didn’t even flinch or glance Reid’s way.
“I don’t think this one can hear either,” I said more to myself than him.
He pulled another shell from his coat pocket and loaded it into the chamber of the flare gun. “Stand back, Violet.” He pointed the gun at the creature. “At this close of range, it can’t possibly live through another hit.”
“Don’t shoot, Reid,” I said as the sparks fizzled out. “Another flare might kill it, but it won’t finish off the body so that we leave no trace of this thing behind. Then we’ll have to figure out how to hide the carcass so Cooper doesn’t end up with another bizarre murder case on his desk.” That would surely result in him putting a cap in my ass out of sheer frustration.
He lowered the gun. “Then how do we put it out of its misery? And ours?”
I raised the ax. “Like this.”
* * *
“You closed your eyes again, didn’t you?” Natalie took a bite out of her peanut butter and honey sandwich, giving me and my freshly showered hair that know-it-all look.
“Only the first time.” I dished up some leftover berry cobbler from the refrigerator. After the morning I’d had, I needed a whole casserole dish of sweetness to make me feel better, but my hips could only handle a plateful.
“Was that green stuff on your pants blood from the Nachzehrer?” Aunt Zoe asked. She sat across from Natalie at the kitchen table wearing her work shirt and jeans, but both were clean so she must have been sketching out new designs in her shop instead of getting her hands dirty.
“I thought they turned to dust when you executed them,” Natalie added, her voice slurred from the peanut butter.
“That wasn’t its blood,” I said to Aunt Zoe. “And they do turn to dust when I kill them,” I added for Natalie as I took a seat at the table. I stuck a forkful of sweet berry yumminess in my mouth, swallowing before explaining, “The ax missed its mark on the first swing, landing an inch deep in its shoulder, partly because it tried to dodge my swing.”
Natalie pointed her sandwich at me. “But mostly because you closed your eyes again.”
“Shut up, Paul Bunyan,” I grumbled and scooped up another bite of cobbler. “Before I have Babe the Blue Ox jam one of his horns up your ass.”
The cobbler was missing a key, uplifting ingredient. I returned to the fridge, carrying a can of whipped cream back to the table.
“What was that green sticky stuff then?” Aunt Zoe asked.
“Some kind of vomit.” I sprayed the whipped goodness on my cobbler, making an upside-down cone with it.
“Oh, gross.” Natalie pretended to gag a little. At least I thought she was pretending.
“After I missed its neck, I was struggling to yank the ax free from its shoulder. But it was really stuck in there. I pulled hard enough that the Nachzehrer came up off the ground some, and that’s when it spewed that green vile stuff on my pants and boots.”
I didn’t mention the bits of fur and chunks of its last meal that had come out along with the green slimy gunk. The memory of that moment almost made me lose my appetite, but then I added a final spritz of whipped cream to my cobbler and I was good to chow down again.
“It threw up on you,” Aunt Zoe noted and then frowned down at her magistra notebook, which she’d brought downstairs after I’d finished my Silkwood sterilization shower and started the tale of my open house nightmare.
Thankfully, the couple I was supposed to take through the open house flaked out on me. Or, I should say they “snowflaked” out. According to Mona, who had texted me while I was trying to clean the green gunk off of my pants and boots with snow and pine needles, Jerry’s clients had called the office to cancel today’s visit. They’d claimed that last night’s snowfall had them nervous about driving up into the hills on the slick roads and rescheduled for tomorrow afternoon, when Jerry would be back and able to show them the place.
Considering the state of my pants and boots at that moment, which were going to have to be burned, not to mention my urge to smear green Nachzehrer vomit all over Tiffany’s pristine white outfit, not having to play real estate agent was a relief. I’d informed Mona that I was going to take a long lunch and headed home, careful not to let my pantlegs touch my vehicle during the drive.
I’d called Doc as soon as I made it home but got his voicemail, so I’d just told him I missed him and to call when he had a moment free. Some stories were better told in person with a lot of animated body language and a few angry gestures, so he’d have to wait until I could stop by his office for this one.
Aunt Zoe looked up at me. “Was vomiting on you a defense mechanism, or a reaction to pain from the ax blow?”
It was funny how much Reid and she thought alike. He’d asked the same thing while helping tug off my boots. Between the sharp-toothed human spider and vile-smelling vomitocious ferocious, the fire captain had stood solid by my side. I owed him big time, which I’d told him when we reached his pickup. He’d nodded and asked for one thing in return—my help softening up my aunt. A handshake had settled the deal.
“Reid thought it might have been some sort of defense. Like when a skunk sprays its enemy.” I thought back to that moment when the green stuff had gushed from its mouth and cringed. “Only the smell was more like rancid meat and spoile
d cabbage than the acrid stink of rotten eggs that comes from a skunk’s blowhole.”
Aunt Zoe returned to her journal. “So, this creature was deaf, like the first one you killed, but not blind.”
I nodded even though it wasn’t a question, and then filled my mouth with berries, cobbler, and whipped cream.
“And you believe it picked up the scent of your blood in the air, same as the way the first one was drawn in by the cut on your hand.”
I nodded again, mumbling around my mouthful, “The bloody handkerchief.”
“How is your hand?” Natalie asked.
I showed her my palm. A fine white line was the only evidence of yesterday’s cut.
Aunt Zoe scribbled something on the page. “And you weren’t supposed to begin menses for another week.”
“Right.” I swallowed. “And I had cramps, which I normally don’t thanks to the pill I’ve been taking. But all of that stopped after I killed the creature.” I paused, fork in midair. “It was as if it were Groundhog Day and my uterus looked out and saw its own shadow, then returned to its burrow for another six weeks.”
Natalie snorted. “You’re such a dork.”
“Said the world’s biggest goob,” I shot back, flashing her a purple-toothed smile.
After sticking out her peanut butter–covered tongue at me, she asked, “Zoe, are there other stories from your family’s history about the hoo-hoo flu being used by a Scharfrichter to lure a bloodthirsty enemy?”
“Hoo-hoo flu?” I chuckled. “Where did you hear that one?”
“Grandma Ford used to call it that.” Her smile grew melancholy. “ ‘You’re biting at flies today, Natalie,’ ” she said in a high-pitched voice, mimicking her grandma. “ ‘What’s wrong, sweetie? The hoo-hoo flu cramping your style?’ ”
“I always liked your grandma,” I said, swirling my cobbler and the whipped cream into a purple work of art. “She made the best monster cookies, hands down.”
“Yeah, she was something,” Natalie said, but a shadow passed over her face.
Before I could ask about that shadow, Aunt Zoe piped up. “There was one story I remember about a Scharfrichter who was able to somehow stop her heart for several minutes when needed in order to play dead long enough to fool her enemy.”
“Like an opossum.” I took another bite of cobbler. “That’s not the coolest superpower, but if it works, so be it.”
Aunt Zoe chewed on the tip of her pen. “I question if she actually stopped the organ, or just ingested a natural herb that slowed her heartbeat dramatically, and then others mistook her for dead.”
Natalie popped the last of her sandwich in her mouth, swallowing it before continuing. “If these suckers are lured by the scent of your blood, then why did that three-limbed one go on a rampage in Jones’ Taxidermy? You’d never been there before, right?”
I shook my head.
“So there was no chance of your blood being there. Yet the thing took bites out of all sorts of stuff, including Dorothy the camel.”
“How do you know about the camel getting bitten?” I hadn’t mentioned anything about that.
“Coop told me.”
“He talked to you about the camel?”
“Sure, why wouldn’t he? It’s not like Dorothy is a top-secret agent on loan from INTERPOL, here to capture taxidermy terrorists.”
“Because it’s police business and Cooper tends to hoard those kinds of details. Especially from me.”
“Well, that may be true for you.” She leaned back and crossed her arms, a small smile playing on her lips. “But I have a leg up when it comes to interrogating the dreamy detective.”
“Cooper is not dreamy.” I stabbed at the last of my cobbler. “I find him more of a nightmare most days, especially when he’s barking at me from the end of his chain.”
“Just one leg up, Natalie?” Aunt Zoe asked with a twinkle in her eye. “Or two?”
Natalie screeched. “Zoe Parker! What a dirty mind you have.”
“I may have been around a bit longer than you girls, but sex isn’t a new sport. Women have been winning gold medals in it for a long, long time.”
Chuckling, I pushed my plate away. “Speaking of hot fireman sex,” I started, staring at Aunt Zoe.
“We’re not going to go there, Violet,” Aunt Zoe interrupted. “So don’t even mention his name.”
“Fine, but don’t you want to know why he-who-will-not-be-named joined me today at that open house?”
“No.”
“Yes, you do, and you know it.”
“I want to know,” Natalie said. “So, tell me. Zoe can listen if she wants to or not.”
I made a point of focusing on Natalie and only Natalie. “He wants Aunt Zoe to meet someone very important to him, but he’s nervous about it. So, he asked me to help clear a path for this meet-and-greet.”
Natalie and I both looked at Aunt Zoe, who was working furiously at drawing little circles in the margin of her notebook. Or maybe they were bullet holes.
“Oh, really,” Natalie played along, resting her chin on her hand. Her eyes were extra wide, as if my story was sure to make tomorrow’s headlines. “And who is this VIP that Reid is super excited to introduce to your aunt?”
“His son. He is the reason Reid didn’t come to supper last night.”
Natalie pursed her lips. “I wonder what his son is like. You think he looks like Reid?”
“If he does, he’s sure to break some hearts around town.”
Aunt Zoe slammed her leather notebook shut. “I do not want to meet Reid’s son.”
“Why not?” Natalie beat me to the question.
“Because I don’t want to give Reid any big ideas on a future together, and meeting his kid feels like a step closer to commitment.” She sighed, settling her frown on me. “I told Reid a couple of weeks ago that I was willing to be friends at this point, but that’s it.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No ‘buts,’ Violet. Reid and I skipped over friendship when we were together years back. We went straight from strangers to bedfellows and then basically back to strangers again after I kicked him out. I’m of the age when having someone to help warm the sheets is great, but true friendship is more important.”
“Yeah, but—” I tried to get a word in on his behalf again.
“No ‘buts,’ and I mean it.” She rested her forearms on the table. “I don’t know if I like Reid, you see. I know I can love him because I did before, but that’s not enough anymore.” She glanced at Natalie and then returned to me. “Does that make sense?”
I nodded slowly. “But won’t seeing Reid with his son show you a side of him that has nothing to do with you loving him? You’ll be able to see the kind of father he is and determine if you like that side of him.”
“You two are getting in deep now,” Natalie said, rubbing her neck. “Much further and we’re going to need some tequila therapy to climb back out of this.”
I grinned. “Lord knows I could use some after the morning I’ve had.”
“I’ll think about it,” Aunt Zoe finally said to me, giving an inch.
Unfortunately, I needed a mile at this point. “Well, you have only a few hours to make a decision.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Violet Lynn, what have you done?”
I rattled out really fast, “Reid-and-his-son-are-coming-to-supper-tonight.” Then I cringed and waited for the mushroom cloud to form over Aunt Zoe’s head.
The walkie-talkie chirped instead, drawing all three of our gazes to where it sat on the counter.
“Come in, Violet Parker,” Cornelius’s voice rang out from the speaker. A slight crackling sound followed it, then another chirp, then, “Do you copy? Over.”
I pushed back from the table, rushing over to the walkie-talkie. I pushed a button on the front. That didn’t feel right, so I pushed it a few more times. “Hello? Can you hear me, Cornelius?”
“That’s the channel button, spudnut,” Natalie said, joining me. “Here, pus
h this one.”
I pushed it and held it in.
“Now talk,” Natalie whispered.
“I’m going to, sheesh. Hold your horses. I’m trying to decide what to say.”
“Just answer him and then let your thumb off the button.”
“Stop bossing me around, cheese ball,” I said to her. I held the walkie-talkie close to my lips. “What do you want?”
“That’s not how you talk into these things.” Natalie took the walkie-talkie from me. “Go ahead, Cornelius. Over.”
“That’s basically what I said,” I muttered.
“Quit your bawling, baby.”
“Where did you learn walkie-talkie talk?” I poked her in the side. “Trucker college?”
“Your timekeeping apparatus appears to be functioning, over,” Cornelius said abruptly.
“Functioning over what?” I asked, frowning down at the gadget. “Is that code for something?”
“Not ‘functioning over,’ ” Natalie explained. “He means functioning, then a comma, then over.”
“I knew that.”
“Your nose twitches when you lie, Vi.”
I poked her again, making her laugh.
“Do you copy, Violet?” Cornelius said through the speaker. “Over.”
“Yes, I’m copying. But I don’t understand what you mean. What the hell is my ‘timekeeping apparatus’?”
“You’re supposed to say ‘over’ after each transmission,” Natalie said.
“I’m gonna knock you over after each transmission,” I growled back.
“I think he means your clock is working.”
“Oh! What’s the code word for ‘I get it’?”
“Are you serious, woman?” She smacked her forehead. “It’s ‘10-4.’ ”
“Oh, yeah.” I pushed the button. “10-4, good buddy.”
Natalie burst out laughing.
Wait a second. My clock was working. I pushed the button again. “Do you mean the Hellhound clock is now ticking?”
“Say ‘over,’ ” Natalie reminded me between giggles.
“Shut it.” I threatened her with my closed fist.
Natalie laughed even harder, fanning herself as tears filled her eyes.