by Scott Eder
Cassidy stepped into a pair of flip-flops, grabbed a jacket for herself and one for Wren, and eased onto the ice.
Ice? In September?
In Florida, winter didn’t bother to appear until late January. And when it did, it only hung around for a couple of weeks. After frosting a few lawns and sending the blue-hairs into a tizzy, it traveled north to colder climes.
Cassidy knocked several icicles from the swoop of the ladder leading down into the in-ground pool. So much for that swim. Frozen solid, her favorite place in the world had been transformed into a skating rink.
Wren had already disappeared down the back slope of the yard towards the water and hollered for her to hurry up.
Within three steps, Cassidy’s toes were numb. Thank goodness she brought a jacket.
Wren bobbed up and down on her toes in a circle of charred grass. Cassidy tossed her the other jacket and bent to inspect the area. Still warm. Steam rose from the burned grass. It looked like someone had started a fire, but there were no ashes or wood or remnants of anything else that might have burned.
Through chattering teeth, Cassidy asked, “What do you think?” Her breath misted in the cold.
Wren looked to the water. “I think Dev came ashore, rested here then dragged himself….” She pointed to a trail of brown grass that led away from the circle, around to the side of the house, “There.” She took off.
What’s this got to do with Dev? The wicked cold air bit Cassidy’s cheeks, but at least the warmth of the path kept her toes from freezing. I’m such a wimp. Wren’s barefoot and barely covered in that skimpy dress and she doesn’t even look cold.
Cassidy wrapped her jacket tighter and jogged after the girl who had already disappeared around the side of the house. She caught up to Wren, who looked down at a figure on the ground.
Cassidy stopped dead. No way.
Wren hovered, wrung her hands, bit her lower lip.
The closer Cassidy got to the body, the hotter it seemed. By the time she got close enough to recognize his face, sweat beaded on her forehead. She took off the jacket.
“Is he…?”
“Yes,” Wren bit back a sob, “but not by much.”
Oh. How did he get here?
Dev lay face down in a circle of blackened earth, the grass having already burned away. Yet outside his hot zone, the frost reached out in all directions.
In Cassidy’s expert opinion, he was broken—legs shattered and bent at unnatural angles, one arm dislocated, skin a sickly pale white except for the extensive purple and black bruises that generously coated his back and chest. There could be massive internal injuries. His shallow breathing whistled in and out like a punctured bellows.
She wanted to touch him, probe his torso to feel for other injuries, but his skin was too hot. Heat shimmered and rose off his body in waves, making it impossible to get close. She’d never seen anything like it.
Wren couldn’t get close either, but continued to circle.
“He needs a fire.” Wren said.
Cassidy’s stomach knotted. “Are you crazy? He’s burning up. We need to cool him down, not add more heat. I’ll get the hose.”
Wren didn’t listen and mumbled. “We need to move him.”
“Move him?” Cassidy sputtered. “That could kill him.”
Lost in her own thoughts, Wren continued. “Get him away from here and onto the patio. We’ll build the fire there.”
“No way. I’ll call an ambulance. They’ll have the right equipment to stabilize and move him safely.” The heat made her eyes water so she took a step back. Her skin felt tight, like she’d spent too long in the sun, and thought of the pool again. Oh wait, it’s frozen solid. Sweet.
“Are you crazy? We can’t call anyone,” Wren said.
“But they can help.”
“We don’t have time.” Wren spun Cassidy toward the neighbor’s house. “Look.” She pointed to the frost climbing up the privacy fence a few feet away. “He is sucking the heat out of the ground and the air to stay alive. If he stays in this spot much longer, it’ll spread to the neighbor’s yard.”
Cassidy scowled at Wren. “He’s doing what now?” Sucking the heat…what kind of voodoo is she selling? She hadn’t noticed the frost on the fence before and, as she watched, it climbed another inch.
“Trust me. Please,” Wren said.
There she goes with that whole ‘please’ thing again. Something had to be done, but this seemed…reckless.
Wren stepped closer. “We need to move him now. If we don’t, in a little while the neighbors will wonder why their pipes are frozen and their backyard is covered in frost, like yours. They’ll make some calls and, before you know it, we’ll have lots of company.”
“Fine.” Cassidy met Wren’s stare. “Kill him if you want to.”
“He’ll be fine. He’s tough like that.” She reached down to grab what looked to be an uninjured arm, but yanked her hand away before she made contact and blew on her fingers.
“Too hot.” Wren stepped back. “I can’t touch him. We need something to push or pull him.”
Cassidy could tell he was too heavy and awkward to push through the grass, but since she didn’t have anything better to offer, kept her silence.
What can we use? Cassidy looked around for a solution. She spied the hose connected to the spigot.
“No hose?” Cassidy asked.
“No hose.”
If we can’t cool him down, how do we move him hot. How do you handle something hot? Gloves? No.
Wren paced. The frost rose. Dev roasted.
“I’ve got an idea.” Cassidy raced to the house, taking it slow on the frost, and ran into the kitchen. She grabbed the Hello Kitty oven mitts from the drawer next to the oven. But there were only two and both she and Wren needed to work together.
She rifled through the remaining drawers and scoured the pantry, shifting stacks of cans and boxes until she knocked a large box off the top shelf. It dropped to the floor with an ominous crash.
There go my Christmas plates.
She had to know the extent of the damage and opened the box. The top three plates had shattered into several big pieces, but the rest of the set looked okay.
Hey, forgot about these. From between the bowls she extracted two Christmas potholders. One a jolly Santa, the other a Christmas tree. Tools in hand, she ran back to Wren.
I hope this works.
Chapter 9
ALEXANDER RESTED HIS ELBOWS ON HIS desk, steepled his fingers in front of his face, and willed the stabbing pain behind his left eye to vanish. He had played this wishing game several times today, but to no avail. Whatever hold his father had on him was beyond his power to defeat.
Bastard.
He rubbed his temple. Resorting to more mundane remedies, he had turned off the fluorescent lights and had lowered the blinds against the harsh intrusion of the sun. The blasted sunlight still leaked around the edges to contaminate his darkness.
Click. Click. Click.
Curse that woman and her infernal heels. Perhaps I should not have killed the last temp. At least she was quiet.
The stench of spring flowers, deodorant and her obvious attraction preceded her person by three feet.
“Mr. Gray.” She leaned over him, flashing her ample cleavage.
“What?”
“The gentlemen from Deep Services are here for the meeting.”
The damp heat of her whisper tickled his ear. Silk brushed against the back of his hand.
Move away, vermin.
“Thank you.” Alexander snapped his arms to his desk. The move cost him as the needle behind his eye sunk deeper into his optic nerve, but it was worth it. She jumped back. Fear washed the sexual confidence off her heavily made-up face and compressed her thick lips into thin red lines.
“See them in.”
“Ye…yes, sir.” She doubled-timed it out the door, her steps clacked like chattering teeth.
Alexander grimaced and rose to greet his ne
west visitors.
Two short, round men in brown jumpers and steel-toed, hard-worn boots clomped to the desk. Bald, pale, and stinking of filth, they stood at rigid attention.
Alexander pinched the bridge of his nose. The humans have declared war on my olfactory senses.
The men could have been twins except the one on the right had more lines around his squinty eyes and, with the hard set of his jaw, carried himself with more confidence. Older and younger brothers, then.
“Sit.” Alexander’s civil façade had chipped and cracked two meetings ago. All that remained was a conscious decision not to eviscerate everyone who walked into his office. A decision he re-evaluated on a minute-by-minute basis.
“Do you know why I bought your extermination…company?” Alexander hesitated calling two men with a few spray cans of insecticide a company.
“Yes, suh.” The older one took the lead.
Ah, the fabled southern gentleman. This should be good.
“Explain.” Alexander eased himself into his seat.
“Well.” The elder brother licked his lips. “We been in tha business for generations.” His words came out in a slow drawl. “My gran’da, he started killing rats and bugs and things when he was a kid and just kept doin’ it. In fact, my little brother Enos here, he spends more time down below den he do in the sun.”
Enos nodded and smiled.
“I do not have time for your family history. I own you now.”
Two bald heads nodded.
“How long would it take to deploy a new pesticide through the sewer system?”
“Well, we ain’t nevah put new stuff through tha entire line at one time.” He looked to Enos, who shrugged.
“How long?”
“Well, we don’ know.”
Alexander’s temple throbbed with each slowly uttered word. He yearned to jamb his hand down the older brother’s throat and yank all the words out at one time.
“Can you figure it out?” Alexander barked.
“Well, suh, I—”
If he ‘Well suhs’ me again… “Yes or no.”
“Yes.”
“Bring me the answer in twenty four hours.” Alexander turned his back on them and listened for their clopping exit.
The older brother cleared his throat. “Excuse me, suh, but why?”
“Do you see those?” He pointed to a huge stack of paper in the far corner of his desk. “Those reports detail hundreds of vermin and insect problems throughout the city.”
He stood up and paced to work off his aggravation. His head pounded with each step, but if he sat there any longer, he would leap across the desk and throttle both men.
“Roaches, rats, snakes and other nasty creatures are escaping from the sewers. This must be stopped.”
The brothers looked at each other then back to Alexander.
“But, Enos was jus down there yestuhday and he didn’t see no critters. Didja Enos?”
Enos shook his head.
“Are you calling the Mayor a liar? He told me himself no less than an hour ago.”
Both brothers, eyes big and shiny, shook their heads in unison. “No, suh. We ain—”
“Of course not.” Alexander’s words took on the sweet texture of honey. “I have a new type of pest control that I want you to spread through the sewers.” The nice approach made him gag, but he gutted it out. “No one knows the sewer system like you two, so you are perfect for the job. I need to know how long it will take. Can you figure it out by this time tomorrow?”
Egos properly inflated, chests puffed out, the brothers stood. “We’ll figure it for you.”
“Good. Until tomorrow then. Good day, gentlemen.”
Enos waved, his brother lifted his fingers to tip an imaginary hat and they scuffed their way out. Alexander followed right behind and shut the door in the face of the receptionist as she shifted her breasts to maximize her cleavage before speaking to him.
With the deadbolt fastened, Alexander strode to his desk, pushed his chair out of the way and faced the portrait of his toad-faced brother. He hated Thargen, hated all his brothers, but he needed the grotesque’s help.
He concentrated on those tiny, black eyes and felt his body stretch and thin. The colors deepened and swirled to form a gray curtain over his vision. He sent his awareness through the paint and canvas, over the leagues, to the lair of his brother.
A woman’s terrified scream greeted him at the other end and dug that needle into his eyeball. The suddenness of the assault almost made him cry out, but he held strong. Trapped within the confines of a painting, Alexander stifled his sudden feeling of entrapment.
Must not show weakness. Calm. Emotionless. In control.
“Ahhh, Thargen, I see you are entertaining. How…nice. Might I steal a moment of your time?” You disgusting pile of vomit. Alexander felt flat, two-dimensional, and pushed harder on the barrier holding him in place.
“Keep still. You’ll tear the canvas with your wriggling.” Thargen’s raspy warning came from outside Alexander’s line of vision.
Grateful for the canvas separation, Alexander surveyed his brother’s house and decided he did not want to visit in person any time soon. Grime and dirt coated everything except for a blood-stained stone table in the corner of the room. Atop the table squirmed the source of the scream. A naked young girl with wide, terrified eyes jerked her head from side to side, struggling futilely against her hemp restraints. Her spastic movements did nothing but tighten her bonds and jiggle her breasts. Thargen liked that.
Whatever you do, girl, do not flip your long hair. He’ll play with it for hours, pulling out strands and clumps like he was picking weeds from a garden.
She flipped her hair. Bad move. Alexander chuckled and sought his brother in the dark recesses of the room.
“I see you have a nice day planned,” Alexander said.
An old-school torturer, Thargen believed the simple tools of the trade were best. Give him a rope and a sharp knife and he was a happy psychopath. Alexander did not agree with his father on much, but keeping Thargen out of the public eye was a smart move.
Where is that maggot? Alexander watched the corner and the girl. His brother would not leave his plaything alone for long. A dark shape fluttered over and landed on his portrait. He blew at it, but it only ruffled its semi-transparent wings.
Bugs. Alexander hated bugs. Always had. Having one this close, crawling across his painted image, made his skin crawl. He scrutinized the insect’s hairy mandibles and spiked legs while it skittered over his nose.
He froze, imagining the clawed legs catching hold and digging into the creases of his skin, inching down his face, looking for a way in. Long antennae caressed his painted lips, traced the artful outline and illusion of depth.
Get it off. Alexander held his breath.
The roach slid down, planted its six legs across his mouth.
“What do you want, brother?” Thargen’s bent form dragged a wooden crate into view, leaving greasy black smears on the floor.
Alexander wanted to respond, needed to get his brother on the case, but moving his lips to speak was out of the question. His body craved air, but he refused to draw breath.
Killed by an insect. How ironic.
His sight dimmed. His heart hammered and strained in his chest.
“Alexander?” Thargen looked at the portrait and doubled over in laughter. “Some things never change.” He coaxed his little friend from Alexander’s mouth. “Come here, baby.”
On command, the roach climbed onto Thargen’s palm. As soon as he took it away, Alexander sucked in great lungfuls of air.
Thargen left him in peace to recover, occasionally glancing over and chuckling to himself. He pulled the crate next to the girl on the table. She watched his every move and screamed when he placed Alexander’s tormentor near her pierced navel. The roach scurried up her body, covering the distance quicker than Alexander believed possible.
Her screams echoed off the stone walls. She did
not understand, would not keep her mouth closed. The more you scream, my dear, the more he likes it. Besides, the noise attracts the bug. As she opened her mouth to scream again, the roach jumped in. She coughed and gagged, but eventually swallowed.
“Good,” Thargen patted her arm then licked his fingers. “Mmmm.”
Alexander sympathized, having been on the receiving end of one of Thargen’s little friends in the past. But the emotional anomaly lasted only a moment before he moved on.
“I need your friends.”
“Oh?” The hunched man turned and focused his dark gaze on the portrait. “That seems odd considering…”
“I want you to unleash your worst in Tampa’s sewers.”
A wild, toothless smile spread across Thargen’s squat face.
“It can be done, little Alex. Oh yes.” He rubbed his hands together. “When? When?”
“Now.”
“Some today, yes.” He patted the girl’s chest between her breasts and a bump appeared under her skin like it had been summoned. It slid across her ribcage and disappeared into her abdomen. “But more tomorrow…many more tomorrow.” Business concluded, Thargen turned toward the crate and opened the lid to get on with business.
This favor would cost Alexander. Thargen never did anything for free. But, whatever the cost, he’d pay it. With that thought in mind, he imagined his office and closed the connection to Thargen’s vile place. Satisfied that his plan was in motion, he leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head and took a deep breath.
“Well, what do you know?” Alexander said aloud. “The pain is gone.”
Chapter 10
AT ANY OTHER TIME, SKATING ACROSS the winter wonderland of her backyard would be a wonderful experience. There wasn’t much chance of a white Christmas in Florida, so when it did drop below forty degrees and thin-blooded Floridians donned their flannel pj’s, Cassidy’s dad had dragged the old wood-burning fire pit out of the garage and lit it on the patio. She and Amy, who was no more than three at the time, had singed marshmallows while her mom and dad shared an ancient bottle of Merlot. Every year Amy asked to see snow and every year Cassidy promised to take her next year.