A Date with Death

by Scott Colby

  Wherever she was, he knew that Kylie probably disagreed. And he finally decided that he didn’t give a shit what she thought.

  The only thing in the room that seemed even remotely useful was the tiny window beside his cell. About the size of the Pussy Hatch in his own basement bedroom, the window was set into a notch in the foundation and appeared to open down and outward. Kevin could barely peer through it if he stood on his tiptoes. If he craned his neck while standing as tall as possible, he could see his own bedroom window up the driveway and to the left. As Rotreego tried and failed to conceal his pathetic sobs, the beginning of an incredibly stupid plan began to congeal in Kevin’s mind.

  “Do you do any magic?” he asked.

  “I already tried forcing the lock, melting the cage, and making a fissure open in the floor,” Rotreego whined. “None of it worked. I can’t affect anything inside of this damn wire.”

  “Could you break that window?”

  “Yes!” Rotreego snapped in a tone usually reserved for small children who’ve missed their naps.

  Kevin waited a few seconds, but nothing happened. “Will you break that window?”

  “Why?”

  “Because that window breaking is an indescribably big part of my plan to get both of us out of here.”

  Rotreego hesitated, shaking like a leaf in the breeze. “We’re not getting out of here.”

  “Not with that fucking attitude,” Kevin snapped.

  The elf looked up at him, his lip quivering below stone cold eyes. “Really, human? You don’t think I haven’t already thought of and tried every possible option available to us? You really think you can get me out of this when I couldn’t do it myself?”

  Kevin had pretty much decided that Rotreego deserved to be trapped in his cage, but he needed the elf’s sorcery. “I think we can do it together.”

  “Hmmph,” Rotreego growled, putting his head back between his knees.

  “Even if it doesn’t work, Rex is going to be really pissed that someone broke his window. It’ll probably cost a fair amount to get it fixed.”

  That did it. The sharp crack of shattering glass made Kevin jump. He looked over his shoulder and found a pile of tiny shards where the window used to be. Rotreego hadn’t moved a muscle.

  “Will you shut up now?” the elf mumbled.

  “Thanks,” Kevin replied, rolling his eyes. He stepped as close to the side of his cage as he dared, took a deep breath, and yelled with all his might. “Gnomes!”

  “Oh, what the fuck?” Rotreego moaned. “That’s your grand plan?”

  Kevin was sure as shit that no human would be able to open Mr. Gregson’s cells, and magic cast from inside the cages obviously had no effect on their prison. That meant he needed sorcery from outside, and the closest magic assholes he knew of were the sneaky little bastards that had been tangling his cords, hiding his keys, mismatching his socks, and turning his toilet paper roll around—assuming they even existed and Driff hadn’t been fucking with him, of course.

  “Gnomes!” he bellowed again.

  “That’s not going to work,” Rotreego grumbled.

  “Better than doing nothing.”

  “Sure about that? A few minutes ago, I thought you were probably an all right dude. Now I think you’re a raving idiot.”

  “Story of my life,” Kevin muttered. “Gnomes!”

  “Whaddaya want?” a surprisingly gruff voice replied. A tiny face peered around the window frame to look down into Thisolanipusintarex’s basement. The gnome had the chubby cheeks and dark, scrubby beard of a low-level professional bowler. A pointy red hat sat atop his head at a jaunty angle.

  Kevin’s jaw dropped. He really hadn’t expected that to work. “Um…hi.”

  “Eloquent,” Rotreego grumbled.

  “Hi yaself,” the gnome said. “Whaddaya doin’ in that cage?”

  “Screaming for help. Rex is going to shove a snow globe into my chest and take up residence inside. And he’s been chewing on Rotreego here.”

  The gnome did not look impressed. “So?”

  “So, we were hoping you might be able to give us a little help.”

  “Like asking the termites chewing on your woodwork if they’ll take the trash out,” Rotreego muttered.

  The gnome scratched his chin, considering. “I saw what happened to you this morning. Woke me up from my nap. Tough break, kid. Me an’ mine have always enjoyed messing around with you an’ yours. Yer mother always gets so deliciously pissed when I change the settings on the VCR. I’ll talk to the missus, see what we can do.”

  “Thank you,” Kevin replied, bowing his head. When he looked back up, the tiny man was gone.

  “Like asking a tapeworm if it’ll wipe your ass,” Rotreego grumbled.

  Kevin turned to face the elf. “What exactly is your issue?”

  “My issue,” Rotreego spat, “is that I’m the fucking Pintiri and I’m about to be rescued by a useless human and the disgusting vermin that have infested his shithole of a dwelling.”

  “If you’d prefer, we could just leave you here.”

  “No way. Just…don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation.”

  So, it was a matter of pride, then. Kevin could kind of sympathize, at least to a small extent. He’d spent most of the day lamenting his own stupid decisions, but he liked to think he hadn’t been as annoying about it as the supposed hero of Evitankari.

  “But seriously, this is like asking the bacteria in your athlete’s foot to paint your toenails.”

  “Beyond the minor annoyances, what’s so bad about gnomes?”

  “You don’t find the idea of a creature that gets its rocks off purely by fucking around with everybody else to be inherently repugnant?” Rotreego asked, incredulous.

  Kevin scratched his chin. “Well, when you put it that way… these gnomes don’t sound all that different from you pain in the ass elves.”

  “Ooooooh, clever.”

  The gnome returned a few minutes later, this time accompanied by his equally tiny wife. The two of them floated gently down to the floor as if riding an invisible escalator. Squat, portly creatures with solid frames, their matching sky blue jackets and red slacks strained against their wearers’ bulbous curves. The woman wore her long blond hair in an intricate braid under her pointy red hat, her cheeks flush with rouge. Kevin couldn’t believe that something that small could have tits that big.

  “I’m Yagor,” the male said. He wrapped a loving arm around the woman’s shoulders. “This is my wife, Iassonia.”

  She smiled a crooked, gap-toothed smile that immediately made Kevin forget the size of her chest. “Pleased to officially meet you, Felton. You’ve a lovely home, even with all the…um…changes, lately.”

  “My mother’s having a bit of a midlife crisis,” Kevin replied, blushing. “Thanks for coming.”

  Iassonia took a few steps toward the cage, rubbing her hands together awkwardly. Her eyes darted back and forth across the cage like she was watching a game of table tennis. “Interesting,” she muttered, mostly to herself. “Your captor used a Parlava Cross overlaid with a Generian B-film to hide an underlying Red Quill. A rare combination, but not unheard of.”

  “Uh…what does that mean?” Kevin asked.

  The female gnome closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and strode right through the chicken wire. She looked up at Kevin and smiled brightly. “It means he isn’t as smart as he thinks he is.”

  “That’s my girl!” Yagor crowed, waving to his wife. “Love ya, hon!”

  “Love you too, sugar dumpling!”

  Kevin gasped. “Can you…can you help me do that?”

  “And me,” Rotreego moaned, “but please don’t tell anyone.”

  Iassonia nodded. “Easily.”

  “That may not be the smart thing to do in this case,” Yagor added.

  Confused, Kevin crossed his arms over his chest. “Why’s that?”

  “Have ya ever pissed off a pixie before, boy?” Yagor asked.

 
“Just this one.”

  “They’re rabid, merciless animals,” the gnome spat. “They don’t forgive and they never, ever forget. You walk outta here and that little fucker will stop at nothing to find you, ‘specially with what you seen him doing to poor Rotreego over there.”

  Kevin’s blood turned to ice. “That…sounds like the last thing I fucking need.”

  “But don’t worry,” Iassonia chirped. “I’ve got just the thing.”

  — CHAPTER THIRTY —

  Lying on his back on the cold stone floor, Kevin stared up at the ceiling and tried not to scratch his chest. The complicated sigil Iassonia had carved into it itched like a motherfucker.

  “You’re sure this is going to work?” Kevin had asked, wincing as the gnome dug the swirling pattern into his skin with a tiny but impressively sharp knife. He found himself wondering where people that small shopped for clothing and equipment. Was there a gnome store somewhere? Did they deliver by pixie? The world just kept getting stranger.

  “Um, no, I’m not…completely sure,” Iassonia admitted. She paused to drop a handful of herbs into the gently bleeding wound, as she had every few steps across his chest. “I’ve never done this before.”

  Kevin looked up at her in shock. “Never?”

  She hesitated, looking a bit nervous. From his perch atop Kevin’s left shoe, Yagor explained. “Iassonia is studying the gnomish dark arts as part of an online certification program. She’s at the top of her class.”

  His wife blushed. “Thanks, kissy-berry.”

  “You’re welcome, snugglepuss.”

  When Iassonia finished, she and Yagor promised to stay close and levitated back up through the shattered window. Iassonia weaved a quick spell over the gaping hole to make it appear as if nothing were amiss. From just the right angle, the fake window shimmered in a way that made its density suspect. Kevin hoped Thisolanipusintarex would be in such a rush that he wouldn’t look at it too closely. Yagor had cleaned up all the glass shards from the real window.

  Which meant all Kevin had left to do was wait and hope to hell that whatever Iassonia had done to him would have some effect on Rex. All he needed was a chance to get his hands on the little bastard. Even if the magic on his chest misfired, it might still be enough of a distraction to get the job done.

  “That’s never going away, you know,” Rotreego muttered. He’d propped himself against the wall. His head hung between his legs, his long blond hair pooling over his kneecaps.

  “What’s never going away?”

  “That little tattoo the vermin gave you. It’s going to scar.”

  “I’d rather have a scar in my chest than a tiny winged asshole.”

  “Whatever.”

  Kevin still wasn’t sure exactly what Iassonia had done, but there was no question she had done something. He could feel the power coursing through the winding line like some sort of parasitic worm roving back and forth under his skin. To Rotreego, he supposed, the analogy couldn’t have been more appropriate. He kept it to himself.

  Time passed, though Kevin couldn’t tell how much and didn’t care to guess. Hours, at least. The light streaming in through the fake window had lessened considerably when the rumble of Mr. Gregson’s van signaled the pixie’s return. Taking a deep breath, Kevin steeled himself for what was to come. The sigil, Iassonia had explained, was keyed to the beating of Rex’s wings. He’d have to remove Kevin’s shirt—or part of it, at least—to perform the operation necessary for implanting the glass container. When that happened, the gnome’s magic would trigger, and then… well, Iassonia hadn’t been particularly clear. She’d only recently completed her second lesson in gnomish blood scrawl and didn’t quite have all the particulars down as of yet.

  Regardless, Kevin couldn’t have been more grateful for her help. For all the ridiculous ways they’d subtly annoyed him and his mother over the years, the gnomes infesting his home had turned out to be all right in his book. If he got out of this, he’d promised them he was going to buy five new extension cords for them to have their mischievous way with, which pleased Yagor a great deal.

  Kevin cringed at the sound of the front door swinging open and then slamming back shut. Happy whistling trickled down through the floorboards. He couldn’t quite place the familiar tune, but his pounding heart kept time anyway.

  Something heavy came tumbling down the basement stairs, clanging dully against the old wood. The crystal ball ricocheted off the far wall and bounced toward the cages, finally rolling to an ominous stop against the front of Kevin’s cell. Slender golden filaments spread through the glass orb like veins through flesh.

  Rex zipped down into the basement and up to the cages, a brown paper shopping bag hovering behind him. “How’s my new favorite outfit?” the pixie asked.

  Kevin rolled his eyes.

  “Yeah, it’s always awkward at first. We’ll get used to each other.”

  The shopping bag turned onto its side and dumped its contents onto the floor. A variety of tools, blades, and clamps Kevin had never seen clattered down to the stone, along with a loaf of bread and a plastic jar of peanut butter.

  “I thought you might need a snack,” Rex said.

  “And that’s the best you could do?”

  “You could have some Rotreego if you like.”

  “I’ll pass. Elf gives me the shits.”

  The cage door swung open and the pixie flittered inside. That familiar grip took hold of Kevin’s body and lifted him up off the floor, rotating him forward to face Thisolanipusintarex. Kevin swallowed in a suddenly dry throat, mentally crossing his fingers that Iassonia’s magic would work. If it didn’t, he was about to lose some very important pieces and parts.

  “Why’s there blood soaking through your shirt?”

  Kevin’s heart skipped a beat. Though Iassonia had cleaned up her work when she finished, the wound must have reopened somewhere. He couldn’t move his head to check.

  Luckily, Rotreego stepped in. “Hey, pixie dick! Why are you so interested in that waste of meat when you’ve got a filet fucking mignon standing right over here? How typical! I’d forgotten that your species isn’t exactly known for its intelligence or its attention span. Something to do with the size of your brain, you think? Can’t fit too much gray matter in that tiny melon of yours, huh?”

  The pixie frowned and his little wings beat faster. He sent Kevin flying into the hard stone wall with a wave of his tiny hand. Pain flared through Kevin’s spine and skull as he collapsed onto the floor, the room spinning around him.

  Rex zipped back out of Kevin’s cage and into Rotreego’s. The elf rose up off his feet, his body suddenly rigid as his captor’s magic took hold. Hovering less than an inch from Rotreego’s nose, the pixie crossed his arms and scowled.

  “Don’t worry, my pointy-eared entree!” he crowed. “Once I’m done with Felton’s minor procedure, my new skin and I are going to throw one hell of a dinner party—and you’ll be the main course!”

  Shaking his head in a vain attempt to clear the stars from his eyes, Kevin fumbled awkwardly for the hem of his shirt. Iassonia hadn’t been too clear about the range of her sigil, she’d merely said that Rex would have to be “close.” Kevin suspected she didn’t really know what that meant. Hopefully the eight or so feet between his cage and Rotreego’s counted as “close.”

  “I think I’d rather be dessert,” Rotreego deadpanned, stalling. “I’d make a great mousse. But what would a little shit like you know about gourmet cooking, anyway? Whaddaya got, maybe six taste buds?”

  Sitting with his right shoulder against the wall and contorting his torso toward the other cage, Kevin’s fingers found purchase on the bottom of his shirt. He yanked the thin fabric up over his face triumphantly, ready to enjoy the end of the evil neighbor who had tormented his family for so long. Nothing happened.

  “Ah, fuck,” he swore under his breath, defeated.

  Attracted by Kevin’s cursing, Rex turned and flitted to the near side of Rotreego’s cell to
get a closer look. “What the hell—”

  The pixie’s question was drowned out by the roaring blast of hot white light that erupted from Kevin’s chest. It sounded like a tidal wave colliding with a cliff face and burned as if someone had lit a fire in Kevin’s skin. Gritting his teeth, Kevin fought the urge to scream and watched over the hem of his shirt as Rex’s tiny form writhed in agony amidst the storm of magic. Beyond, the spell collided with the far wall of the basement and stopped.

  “Holy shit,” Rotreego muttered, his eyes wide. He stepped away from the roiling maelstrom and pressed himself into the corner of his cell.

  It was over a few seconds later. The light stopped as if someone had closed the valve responsible for holding it back. The searing pain in Kevin’s chest faded to a dull ache. Rex plummeted to the floor, wisps of gray smoke wafting up from his body.

  “My wings!” the pixie moaned, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “You took my wings, you motherfucker!”

  It was true. Nothing remained of Thisolanipusintarex’s pretty little wings. That wasn’t exactly the end result Kevin had expected, but all things considered, it wasn’t too bad. He couldn’t think of anything worse that could happen to the puny son of a bitch.

  Rotreego laughed, scrambling forward to snatch up the wingless pixie. “And without your wings, you’re without your magic.”

  A look of pure fear twisted Rex’s face. “Put me down, asshole!”

  His eyes glinting maliciously, Rotreego smiled. “No wings and no magic. You must feel downright impotent right now, huh? But don’t worry, friend! I haven’t forgotten all the fun you and I have had together the last few days. It’s time I returned your hospitality.”

  Before Thisolanipusintarex could protest, Rotreego shoved the pixie’s head into his mouth and bit it off at the neck. Kevin winced at the sick crackle of crushing bone and tearing sinew as Rotreego yanked Rex’s body out of his teeth like a piece of beef jerky. Bright red blood streamed out through the pixie’s neck and dribbled down Rotreego’s hand.

  “That can’t taste good,” Yagor called out. The phony window illusion had disappeared and the two gnomes stood in its place.