by Tim Marquitz
My gun out, I waited until Katon gave the signal, then shot out low. As I entered the room, my spidey senses gently tickled my neck. Near the far end of the chapel I spotted an elaborate marble sarcophagus raised on a short dais, its stone lid open and leaned against its side. Hunched over it was big, dark, and furry, his paw digging around inside the crypt as though it were a cookie jar.
“ Hey, Boo Boo. What do ya think is in that pic-a-nic casket?”
Grawwl spun around and snarled. His voice rumbled like thunder in the acoustics of the chapel. He looked at Katon and Scarlett before the reddish glimmer of his eyes landed on me. He rose up to his full height and smiled pointy.
“Eek, you caught me. Whatsoever will I do?” A guttural chuckle rumbled up through his throat as he raised his muscular arms in mock surrender. “Guess you’re not as dumb as you look.”
Maybe I was. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why Grumpy Bear was there looking for the key to Heaven. Outside of the chaos factor, I had no idea what the shifters and vamps had to gain by helping overthrow Heaven. Maybe Gabriel made them an offer too. It was all I could think of.
My brain on overload, I watched as Scarlett and Katon advanced slowly and I matched their pace to keep from being left behind. I was missing something. It was gonna nag me until it kicked me in the ass.
“Why don’t you step away from the crypt and we can discuss your peaceful reintegration into polite ursine society.”
His smile grew wider, his teeth brilliant white in the dimness of the room. “No need to worry about the key piece getting damaged, mutt. We’ve already taken steps to make sure it’s safe and sound.” He gestured over his shoulder.
Through an archway on the far side of the chapel, a werewolf strolled into the room, its reddish-orange eyes glimmering. It had a whitish streak of fur shaped kind of like a lightning bolt running vertically across its forehead. Though nowhere near the size of Grawwl, the new arrival had the same shit-eating grin stretched across its lupine face, which made them look like twins; at least as much as Danny DeVito and Arnold Schwarzenegger did. Cradled delicately in its clawed hands was a human skull, the empty-socketed face turned toward us.
“I’d like you to meet Rumble.” The werewolf winked and held up the skull. “The little guy there is Adam, the first of his oh-so-tasty kind. No pictures, please.”
Grawwl took a step forward, his smile resolving into a snarl. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to hand over Eve, we can get on with our business. Make it easy for us and we’ll go easy on you.”
A cold chill wriggled down my spine as it became quite obvious the we he referred to wasn’t limited to just him and pooch holding Adam.
From the same alcove Rumble had waltzed through, a pack of similar looking lycanthropes spilled into the chapel. All toothy smiles and sharpened claws, I stopped counting at around fifteen. Really, all the ones beyond that were just overkill.
Behind us, the multitudinous click of claws coming down the stairs and spreading out across the tile floor made it clear we were probably looking at about the same number of puppy dogs at our back. Grawwl had stacked the deck in his favor.
More of a cat person, I looked out over the sea of furry bobble-heads and sighed. Someone was gonna end up with fleas, no doubt about it.
I glanced at Katon and he shook his head when our eyes met. To his left, Scarlett had dropped into a defensive stance, a fierce grimace on her face. She was ready to go out with her boots on.
Me…not so much.
While I’m always up for a good scrap, and don’t even mind racking up a few bumps and bruises along the way, I’m not really the martyr type. I have sensitive skin and there’s nothing that irritates more than nails being driven through it.
Besides, with only one obvious exception, martyrdom isn’t exactly the ideal route toward longevity beyond the mythological ideal. As a realist-he who runs away, lives to screw another day-I never saw the point in playing odds like that.
Grawwl glared at me and huffed, waiting for an answer. I huffed back as I mulled over my options and realized I really didn’t have any. It made my decision easier, for what it was worth.
“I’ll take Fuck the Big Brown Bear for $200, Alex.” If I’m known for nothing else, I hope people can look back on my life and see me for who I truly was: spiteful to the end.
His muzzle rippling around his dagger-filled mouth, Grawwl growled low in his throat and shook his furry head. “You’ll regret this, mutt.”
For anyone keeping score, I already did.
The werewolves loped forward, all gnashing teeth and bad attitude. No room to go up, Scarlett spread her fiery wings and dropped low. Everto Trucido was a malevolent blur in her wake, hacking through the ankles of the wolves that were too slow, or too dumb, to get out of her way. They hit the floor howling, thrashing about as they clutched at their oozing stumps. They were pretty lucky that was all she cut off.
Katon, smooth as ever, stepped in to reenact the Matrix movies. Minute shifts in positioning helped him avoid the legion of flashing claws that whipped toward him. He lashed out lightning fast to counter. The air around him exploded in a crimson rain. The rich scent of blood filled the room within seconds.
Not to be outdone, I turned my attention toward the sea of werewolves behind us. Given the width of the chapel, its wide open spaces, I was at a tactical disadvantage as well as a numerical one.
So, in essence, it was pretty much the same as every other fight I’d ever been in. Good times.
Still exhausted, and pretty sure I didn’t have the energy to just napalm their ranks like Rahim would, I had to be subtle. Too bad I don’t do subtle well.
Fortunately, magic is all about imagination and I have that in oodles. So, before any of the werewolves got close enough to rip me a new one, I pictured thousands of tiny little spheres, like mystical ball bearings, and focused my energy into creating them. In an instant, they came to life, hovering in a coalesced, glowing bunch before me looking like a bundle of ugly grapes. The pack slowed when they saw them, the line spreading out, wary. They didn’t know what the spheres were, but they had to know they weren’t good; for them.
I just smiled and waved. “Boom!”
I’ll leave out the part where I nearly shit myself worrying if my trick would work. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long to find out.
At my command, the spheres exploded outward like an anti-personnel mine. Tiny projectiles of pure energy ripped into the ranks, penetrating through until they ran out of steam. Red dots appeared on the werewolves as though they’d contracted chicken pox. Those closest dropped instantly. Those behind them stumbled as the tiny red holes began to bleed, then gush. Crimson waterfalls sprung up in abundance, bathing them all in their own, thick red blood.
The wounded critters howled and screamed and stumbled about on the slippery floors, the puddles beneath them growing fast. Those who avoided the blast, or were wounded less gravely, struggled past their injured and dead companions and renewed their charge as best they could. Feeling generous, I rewarded them with bullets.
More tired from my magic act than I would have expected, I moved back and picked my shots to give me time to recover some. My ammunition just as effective on lycanthropes as it is on angels or demons, I put a bullet into the head of every wolf that got within clawing distance. They dropped fast. Unfortunately, the clip emptied even faster.
As I ejected the first and reached for another, there was a loud crash to the left, and just behind me. Instinct took over and I leapt to the side…right into the statue of the Virgin Mary that had been swung at me like a baseball bat.
Stupid instinct.
The marble statue crashed into my face and chest and I heard all sorts of things crack and pop-most of them probably belonged to me. The world went white and I felt a second, dull thud, followed by a third as my head went from a full gallop to a lazy trot. Something warm and wet spilled down my face and into my throat, choking me.
Gagging, my al
ready opened eyes reengaged somewhat, I realized I was on the other side of the room from where I was just a moment ago. Grawwl trundled toward me, surrounded by a bunch of bloody and pissed off looking werewolves. Nothing left of his makeshift bat but the legs, he tossed the remnants of Mary aside. There was a merciless grin on his snout.
Suddenly remembering the Wonder Twins, I looked for Katon and saw him just past Grawwl, being borne down by a dozen lycanthropes. A whirlwind of teeth and sharpened claws tore at him as he was hauled to the ground. He was making them pay for it but he wasn’t winning. Every blow was answered in stereo, and then some.
Nearby lay Scarlett, her blond hair dyed red from spattered claret. She lay on her back with a pile of critters pinning her down. Her one free arm lashed out vicious, but it wasn’t more than a few seconds before the werewolves got a hold of it, her resistance drowned in a furry wave of violence.
My heart pounding to the rhythm of an early 80’s Slayer song, I hopped to my feet to go to her. At least that’s what I told my body to do.
What really happened was I twitched and fell over onto my side in what amounted to slow motion. The broken shards of the statue embedded in my face were ground in deeper as my cheek smacked the ground. It was a little unpleasant.
While my face stung and my skull throbbed like I’d been out all night with the boys, and it was a little hard to breathe, I really didn’t hurt too much. All that being pretty minor considering the shit I’ve been through, I couldn’t figure out why I was having such a hard time getting up. Nothing made sense.
I raised myself up with the one arm that would still somewhat listen and took a second to survey the damage. Interestingly, I was looking down over my left shoulder and could see my ass sprawled out kind of Playboy-esque behind me. A bit disconcerted, I turned my head and bolts of lightning shot through my eyes, obscuring the world in a sudden flurry of snow. My head filled with static, the white noise between radio stations. When it finally cleared, I was laying on the ground, my hand twitching under me like Pee Wee Herman’s in a dark theater.
Without moving my head, I pieced together the images that were flooding into the murky swimming pools of my eyes. Though I recognized what I saw, it still didn’t make any sense. Flat on my stomach, I was able to look past my shoulder blades and watch over my heels as Grawwl came stomping towards me. It was really quite disconcerting.
That’s when it clicked. My neck was broken.
I like to think I’m a pretty tough guy. Busted into more pieces over the years than most modern mathematicians can count, I’d seen just about every injury imaginable. No matter how many broken bones, punctured lungs, or exploded rectums I’ve experienced-you don’t want to know-there’s nothing that says helpless quite like a broken neck or spine.
You can fight through the rest, drag a shattered leg behind you, shove a roll of toilet paper up your ass, but there’s not shit you can do when the drive shaft is broken. You just flop about like a landed fish until things knit back into place.
As a demon, I was fortunate; it’d happen after a while as it hadn’t been a magical weapon that hit me, all dogma aside. Though from the snarky look on Grawwl’s face, I wasn’t gonna have that kind of time.
“Aaaaaah, the poor little mutt fell down. Ooh, that looks painful.” A snide laughed grumbled from him.
He hovered over me, his eyes glistening with the kind of excitement you only saw at Christmas and in the prison shower. I tried to tell him where to go, but my inner GPS must have been on the fritz; I only blew a spit bubble.
Grawwl chuckled as the bubble popped and cold spit splattered across my face.
“You look like you’re having a real hard time. Here, let me help.”
His massive paws reached for me and I screamed, but I don’t think anyone but the voices in my head heard me. Though in their defense, they’re usually more helpful getting me into trouble than out.
Undeterred, he sniggered as he latched onto my skull, his claws clacking together as they settled into position. Then one good twist later, WWII was reenacted in the span of an instant within the confines of my head. In that instant, my consciousness disappeared like the concept of French pride.
Poof.
Chapter Twelve
Through the blackness, which pressed down on me more uncomfortably than a Tyler Perry marathon, I became aware of a steady, whooshing breeze that blew against my tingling face. It carried with it a fetid stench, which brought to mind chicken gizzards dipped in unwashed ass.
The stink invaded my nose and settled in my throat as though I were a porn shoot fluffer. Choked into a full and painful consciousness, I opened my eyes to see Grawwl’s wet snout just inches from my face.
“Guess that answers the question of where bears shit.”
My eyes watering, I didn’t dare move my head for fear of the pain that’d accompany it. Through my peripheral vision, I could see my crotch was once more in its proper position with respect to the rest of me, and that was a good thing. I still felt nastier than a used tampon though.
Grawwl grumbled and leaned back, his paws on his hips as though posing for an anthropomorphic calendar. The worst part was that he wasn’t a Ken werebear, he was a fully developed fuzzbucket who happened to be in frightening proportion. The furry thing was jiggling about like a cat toy as he laughed and I was feeling rather self-conscious, not to mention a little inadequate.
“Welcome back. Feeling better?” He stepped away and I had to admit I was as the chapel came into view once more, sans bear penis.
A ways behind him sat Scarlett and Katon, their arms and legs trussed up mummy-like. They’d been beaten ugly, blood leaking from between the ropes. Both of their faces were puffy and battered and their eyes were almost invisible behind swollen, black eyelids. I could feel the little daggers of their gazes as they glared at me through the tiny slits. Something fun must have happened while I was out.
“It’s nothing personal, mutt, but I can’t seem to get any answers out of your friends, so it’s your turn in the hot seat.”
I think I whimpered, though I won’t swear to it. “If you wanted to play Trivial Pursuit, all you had to do was ask. How’s next Friday sound?”
He grinned vicious and moved in close once more, the rancid stink of his breath washing over me again. “I don’t have time for this, demon. Where is Eve?”
Right then, the circular train of illogic rolled into the station once more. His reddish-orange eyes pulsing right in front of me, I just couldn’t make any sense of his need for the key or why he would be working with vampires to get it. Neither race had a stake in Heaven now that God was gone. Their lives wouldn’t be benefited or harmed should The Kingdom fall. Then what Longinus had told me wiggled to the fore.
That’s when it all came together like a bukkake birthday cake.
“I’m not telling.” My chin stuck out as far as my wobbly neck would allow, I told him where he could go; detailed directions followed.
Grawwl roared and stomped over to Scarlett, lifting her into the air by her throat. She clenched her jaw and snarled at him through gnashed teeth, but I could see fear in the slivers of her eyes.
Dying in battle was one thing. It was part and parcel of the supernatural world we inhabited. Being torn limb from limb, or worse, while tied up and helpless was an entirely different kind of death to face. There really wasn’t any way to take that with dignity or honor.
“Tell me or I’ll start tearing pieces off.” His massive claws settled on her breast, their points making tiny indentations in her shirt. Tiny dots of blood welled up underneath.
My stomach seized and filled with weighty bricks of disgust as I made up my mind to stay the course. While I would forever regret-forever likely only gonna last a few seconds-being the cause of Scarlett’s death, the alternative would be far worse.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Scarlett. I can’t give it to him. If he gets the key, not only is Heaven lost, but all of humanity will end up laid out on a dinner plat
e for him and his bloodsucking, asshole vampire buddies. No offense, Katon.”
Grawwl stomped his foot and tightened his grip on Scarlett. Her eyes bulged from her face. “Do you think I’m bluffing?”
Fighting the urge to shake my head, I met the fury of his gaze, doing my best not to look at Scarlett dangling in his paw. “I have no doubt whatsoever that you’re telling the truth. For the humans to stand any chance of making it out of all this in relatively one piece, you can’t have it.”
The muscles of his arm flexed beneath his fur and I narrowed my eyes to keep from seeing my cousin used as a scratching post. Katon cried out, his wordless scream pure murderous rage. Grawwl screamed back and slammed Scarlett into the floor. There was a moist cracking sound and she lay there in a heap, unmoving. Blood began to pool around her head.
A pitiful groan slipped from Katon as he struggled to get up. A number of the werewolves piled on and held him in place.
Grawwl, foaming spittle dripping from his maw, dropped to all fours and barreled to a stop right in front of me. Our noses touched. “When I’m done with you, you’re going to wish you were dead.”
I met his stare without flinching. I’d like to think it was because I was brave, but being mostly paralyzed helped. “I’m already dead. All of us are.” My eyes flitted toward Katon and Scarlett. “It took me a while, but I finally figured out why you want the key so badly. It has nothing to do with the Nephilim or Gabriel’s rebellion against the angels. It’s all about the Tree.” The look on his fuzzy face told me I was right. “Take out the Tree of Life and all the angels and demons become mortal. That leaves the vamps and the shifters at the top of the food chain.”
With a rancid huff, Grawwl backed away and dropped down on his haunches. He continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “I know your human friends have it, mutt. You don’t really think I’ll have any problem killing them until I get it, do you?”