And the Creek Don't Rise

by R. M. Gilmore

  She nodded. “You’re no monster. I can’t tell you what happens next, how to live, how to be the beast you’ve become. I missed that part. All I can do for you now is be here when you need, love you for what you are, and have breakfast on the table in the morning.” She nodded.

  “What if I hurt someone I love?” Again.

  “You are part of Earth’s balance. That bit around your neck will keep you safe. Your pure soul will keep safe those you love.”

  I held the black stone in my hand. “Where’d this come from?” How’d Percy survive without it?

  “A magic scroll in a chest in the attic.” She grinned, her silver tooth shined. “Blood of my blood, you are Cu Sidhe. Your life will be lived keeping the balance of justice. A bringer of death to those deserving. You are not a beast. The beast is you. Existing in unity for the greater good.”

  Jiggedy-Jog

  Hattie’s feet bounced against the hand-me-down wicker chest that doubled as a coffee table. “Hey, Lynn, where you been?” Garret clanked around in the kitchen, his new favorite place to let out aggression. Channel 12 News played quietly in the background.

  “Vistin’.” I nodded, no energy for anything else. Summer nights shortened by the day and with each one the beast sank deeper into my soul. It made interacting like everything was normal horrendously difficult.

  “Lynn,” Garret said, stopping in his tracks to stare at me, two icy bottles clutched in his hand. The sight reminded me of the night of my birthday and my gut fell to my toes. “You staying for dinner?” He swallowed loud enough to hear.

  My brother could’ve busted my nuts for being gone, for not keeping up my end of the bargain to make sure he was fed and his house was clean in exchange for free rent. He didn’t. My protector.

  “Yeah,” I choked, gulping back the idea of Rusty and the memory of that night. “Sounds good.”

  He grinned, pushing his eyes into crescents. “Great. What’cha makin’?”

  “Hilarious.” He handed Hattie her beer and me the one meant for him. “I’m really not all that hungry.” My stomach rumbled, setting my lying pants ablaze.

  “Yeah.” He eyed me. “Sandwiches?” It was too damn hot to get the stove going anyway.

  I nodded once. He grinned all the way to the kitchen. I sat next to Hattie on our itchy, dated couch. “Thanks for keeping him company.” I clanked my bottle to hers.

  “Y’all are family.” She swigged her beer. “Of course I’d be here.”

  I raised my brows, a sly smile tugged at my mouth. “Family,” I joked. My heart soared at the idea that Hattie could one day be my honest-to-goodness sister. Even if I wasn’t around to see it.

  “If it were me on the dead end of things, Rusty’d be right here where I’m sitting doing the same thing.” Always trust Hattie to be brutally honest. No matter how much it hurt. The world could use more people like that. “We’re all we got, pumpkin. It’s how it’s done.”

  My cleaned plate sat on the edge of our makeshift table. Hattie laughed at something Garret said. Their voices warbled, a station coming through from another dimension. My head trapped in the world of beasts and magic and dead things.

  The day had almost passed, and oncoming night stirred inside me. Ancient blood filled my heart with purpose. Sitting in my mostly secondhand living room with the people I loved most in the world, my skin danced with the need to run. Hunt. Kill. A deep yearning to fulfill the one task I was on earth to do.

  Gut churned, spine straightened. Purpose tugged at every cell in my body. Yanked my soul to its feet.

  “Authorities are still searching for two missing girls last seen near Cove Lake early this morning…” I sat forward. “…leaving a campground with what witnesses say was a park ranger.” Panting breaths puffed out my nose.

  “Lynnie,” Garret said, sitting up, brows pulled tight in the middle. “You okay?”

  Hattie stared at me like I’d just grown a long wooden nose. “You don’t look right.”

  I turned to look at her. Blinked. Blinked again. Their shamrock faces blinked right back. I shook my head, desperate to rid myself of the beast’s vision. “Fine.” There’s that wooden nose. Heart punching its way from my chest, I took off into a full sprint from the couch. “Not now,” I breathed.

  “Where you going?” Garret called after me.

  I snatched my keys from the table by the door. “Out,” I said without turning around. “Not. Fucking. Now,” I growled when the door slammed shut behind me.

  The truck door rattled back at me when I heaved it closed. Garret’s old brown trailer washed in mint. “Damn it.” I slammed my hand against the wheel. “How am I supposed to drive like this?” I pleaded with whatever would listen.

  You must, a stronger version of my own voice echoed in my head. “Where do I go?” My real voice shook. Drive.

  Knuckles white, wrapped tight around the wheel, I drove as fast as I could up the 309, deep into the hills. Trust was a dangerous thing. Under the right circumstances, it could get you good and dead. Trusting the instincts of the mythological creature stuck inside me brought sweat down my spine. Any more nights like the ones I’d been having and it’d bring shit to my britches if I wasn’t careful.

  Fear rolled off my skin. I talked to it like it was a living thing. “We’re doing this. Scared or not. Scared keeps you safe,” I repeated Nana.

  Blinding lime-colored sunbeams poked through thick treetops that covered the narrow access road off the highway. A police helicopter whirled somewhere overhead. They wouldn’t find them. They couldn’t. Not in the thick of those trees. Even the search crew that I knew what was out in those woods hunting wouldn’t. Not that I wanted the job, I really didn’t. But I knew like I knew how to breathe, I could.

  Would.

  I parked off the road as much as possible, mostly hidden from view by bushes. “All right, girls, where are you?” I whispered.

  No beacon shined from the deepest parts of the forest calling me, pointing the way to them. Electricity danced on my skin, standing tiny hairs on end. It wasn’t the girls I was there for. It was him. I wasn’t the savior. I was vengeance.

  I closed my eyes, listening. Not to the birds or the bugs or the wind. I listened to the earth, the universe, the magic that sat inside me anxious to break free.

  Run.

  Without thought, I tore off, kicking through decaying leaves and twigs underfoot. Supernatural senses picked up the sweet smell of lilac soap among the trees. Followed by the sticky, sweaty stench of a man, a predator. I pushed my legs to move faster, stronger.

  Get there. “I’m coming,” I panted.

  Blood, a coppery scent I could taste on my tongue. A low growl rumbled in my chest. My beast flared to life. The sun still shined, but she clawed her way free. Determined to complete her mission. Our destiny.

  I’d find those girls. I’d kill that man.

  I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t slow. Not one second could be wasted. Sharp pointed claws stung my insides. I swiped my shirt over my head, letting it fall to the ground as I ran. Boots slid off easily, slowing only long enough for one swoop each.

  A grin curled the corners of my mouth. Crackling over peach fuzz, a vibrant current of magic rolled through to my fingertips. Skin, and hair, and teeth, and bone burst free in one slick slop, spattering the nearby trees with bits of me.

  Heavy paws hit, sending debris into the wind. Huffed breaths puffed from my snout. I was death and it felt good.

  We ran. Close. So close.

  I smelled her blood before I saw it, emerald and coagulated along violet arms. A small body lay in the leaves at his feet. An older girl cried, huddled against a tree, waiting for her turn to die.

  Lime drips of blood hit the forest floor. Still as the dead, the girl laying in the dirt smelled like the man more than the blood drying on her little body. He’d been all over her before his
blade did its work.

  He turned slowly, the shiny tip of a long, sharp knife glinted at me. If my beast had the means to laugh, she would’ve. Lilac skin stood out like a beacon in the sea of green. My target. Sights set. Fight initiated. My lungs filled and three sharp howling barks shook the earth to its core. Death’s come calling.

  Heart steady. Even breaths. Focused. We stalked. Pacing around him. The true monster. His hand was steady, prepared to kill. Soulless eyes locked onto mine, reflecting back my raging fire. Piss trickled down his leg, soaking through aged-denim jeans.

  Strong legs heaved my heavy body from the earth, colliding before he had the chance to turn and run, taking him to ground. He flailed, desperately trying to free himself. Two large front paws stood on his chest. I snarled, snot and spit sprayed into his face. Terror sent his heart into somersaults. Crackling waves of magic drew squiggly olive lines over his skin. Could he feel judgement coming?

  One last rally of strength, one moment to save his life. Strong and steady, he slid his knife into my side. I yelped, pain seared through to my core, but the beast didn’t waver.

  My massive paw swiped across his face, blood spurting feet away. Gurgling screams bellowed from gnarled lips, echoing the agony of the damned. I roared toward the sky, rearing back on powerful hind legs. Long, deadly teeth sank into his throat. Copper filled my mouth.

  Not Percy, or the witch women, had tasted so sweet. So sinful.

  In that moment he knew pain. We hovered over him—my beast and I—fiery eyes piercing through to his soul. All the deaths before were practice for this moment. What I was born to do. Vengeance.

  Blackness, pure as the night sky, poured from his mouth, his eyes, through the hole I’d ripped in his throat. Like a swarm of flies in a vat of oil, slick and endless.

  All that darkness pooled into a swirling black cloud above him, dripping sins in long gooey strings. We reared again, one long, piercing shriek. Magic crackled around him, zapping the ends of each of my murky green hairs. His cloud of sin, that filthy black soul, shivered and shook and sucked in on itself. A sickening slurp and pop. It was gone. Sent to hell or limbo or wherever we shipped assholes like him off to.

  I am vengeance. I am justice. I am death. I am Cu Sidhe. I am the beast and the beast is me.

  Saving Grace

  Soft footsteps moved quickly beside me. Fearless, angry.

  The older girl—maybe ten with long brown hair—clutched his knife in her small hand. Her eyes met my beast’s golden flames. She didn’t look away. Didn’t run. I wasn’t the monster she’d feared.

  Steady, true, the girl held the knife with two small hands, raised it high above her head, and plunged it hilt-deep under his sternum. Her scream, a cleansing, pure thing, rattled heaven itself.

  The man was dead, I’d seen to it, but she didn’t know that. She needed to see it through.

  A tiny heart thumped, faint chugging only I could hear. The little engine, unmoving, but still alive. Save her.

  We scooped up her limp body in gentle teeth. Let out one snotty huff, preparing our legs and the wound at my side, for the run. We were off.

  Dangling from my mouth, the girl’s soft, chubby legs dragged along the earth beneath me. There was no choice. Even if I had the power to change back, use human arms to carry her, I’d never make it to the road in time.

  It was worth the risk of scraping up her legs. Of getting caught, being seen. To save an innocent. In my soul, I knew that was me—little ole Lynnie Russell—running the show. Saving the innocent.

  The older girl kept up as best she could, but her breaths were ragged, legs wobbled. We passed my boots, spread feet from each other. My shirt and what was left of my shorts. I’d need them, wanted to stop and add them to the bundle in my jaws. No time.

  Instincts sharp, the girl slowed and scooped up my things. We acknowledged her spirit and trudged on, leaving the little one trailing yards behind.

  Boots. Voices. Guns clanking in holsters.

  I stopped, heart at a full gallop. They’d find her. If I left her right there, they’d come. I’d be gone. I’d be safe. And so would she.

  Gently, I lowered the girl to the ground. My wide, rough tongue swiped across her face. Nudged her legs with my snout. Blood still swooshed through her veins, but she didn’t move.

  Go. Hide.

  Brut and shoe leather wafted from not too far off.

  Escape.

  I huffed, searching the forest for the men who’d come for them. Back arched, ready to run.

  Little Miss Fearless caught up, running to the body on the ground. She dropped my stuff at my feet, sliding on her knees. “Don’t go,” she begged, holding the girl’s head in her hands.

  Run.

  “Don’t leave us.” She looked up at me, eyes wet. “Stay.”

  I couldn’t leave them. The beast couldn’t get caught. Men with guns would come. Someone would die.

  Way down deep inside, I lit the match. Change. Churning, rolling, forcing myself from the beast. She’d clawed herself free, I’d do the same.

  I’d accepted my fate as death incarnate. I’d done my job. Night would come soon, her time to walk, but it wasn’t now. This was my time. And I’d take it by force.

  Energy charged through the earth, up my limbs, crackling in my center. The fire inside me roared to life. My turn.

  Claws, and teeth, and bones, and fur slurped and cracked and popped. The poor girl watched in horror as my shaggy green beast slopped into a naked blonde girl.

  I panted, hands gripping the earth, clenching twigs and dirt in my fists. Sharp pain shot through my ribs. I hollered and fell to my side, clutching my ribs. Skin stitched itself together, healing the bone-deep knife wound from the inside out.

  Hands shaking, I lifted them from the once gaping hole. Blackened purple speckled a fresh, deep bruise over my kidney. I could’ve died. Should’ve.

  Day changing. Healing fatal wounds. Questions piled one on top of the other and not a soul in godforsaken Havana could answer them.

  “What… are you?” asked the tiniest voice.

  I laid on my back, watching fluffy summer clouds float by. Death. “I’m a warrior,” I finally answered.

  “A warrior,” she whispered, soul ignited in strength. The girl would grow to fight her own battles, the demons that would follow her out of the woods and those that’d cross her path later. She’d fight, survive, and win. Without a green beasty to tie her down.

  I slid into what was left of my shorts after my change and pulled my shirt over my head, wincing just once when the pain in my side hit hard.

  With wimpy human arms, I lifted the little one from the ground and slung her over my shoulder like a bag of dog food—easiest way to carry fifty pounds running.

  “Keep up,” I said over my shoulder.

  We shuffled as quickly as I could manage through the woods. They’d find us. The men. They’d find us and they’d save her. It was a hope, a prayer, more than a knowing.

  A man hollered, “Grace?” It echoed, shaking birds from the trees surrounding us. “Hope?”

  Breaths heavy, almost not enough to shout. “I’ve got them,” I said. “We’re here.”

  White speckles filled my vision. I needed my beast, her strength, our power. Help. I fell to my knees, cradling the lifeless body in my arms. “We’re here,” I panted.

  The older girl shoved through, disappearing into the bushes toward the sound of their footsteps. “Help,” she shouted. “My sister is dying.”

  Dying. Not dead. Not yet.

  They barreled through, two men and the strongest little girl I’d met in my life. “Oh my… Lord have mercy.” The men stared at us for a heartbeat. Two.

  “She’s alive,” I breathed, the world turning gray.

  The guy in the Brut plucked the girl from my arms. Free from her weight, they reached for
her. A motherly instinct I didn’t know I possessed. He left us there, running as quickly as his boots would allow, shouting to whoever could hear him that he needed help.

  I fell to my hands, sucking in air, willing myself to stay conscious. Adrenaline was fleeting, leaving me spent, half dead myself.

  “You’re a hero,” the man said, resting a hand on my shoulder.

  The little girl squatted down beside me, looked up at him and said, “She’s a warrior.”

  Hope Restored

  Machines beeped from rooms down the hall. Dehydrated. Worn and tired and ready for sleep. Sunset was only hours off and there I sat, yet again, alone in a cold hospital bed.

  “You’re lucky you’re not dead.” The officer’s radio squelched and he turned it down.

  I looked out the window at the evening sun. “Yeah.” Heard that before.

  “You’re a hero. Hope survived because of you.” He shook his head. “A downright superhero. Little thing like you overpowering a grown man.” His head shook over and over, trying to make sense of it.

  It wouldn’t make sense. Not really. Not without the cold hard truth and I wasn’t about to hand that over. I needed to get out. I needed a lie. A hideout. Anything. Eventually someone would realize I was the very same girl they’d plucked from the woods bloody and dirty and lucky to be alive—not unlike another young woman sixty-odd years ago. Questions would come. I’d need to drudge up some answers.

  “Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if God Himself came down from heaven to shake your hand.” Highly doubted that. “You’re no hero. You’re an angel come right down from heaven. Saving the innocent. Smiting the wicked.”

  Damning the unjust, all in a hard day’s work. I’m no angel. I’m death, baby. Ain’t no doubt about that.

  “I’m really fine.” I sat up, thinking twice about yanking the IV from my arm like they did in the movies. “I don’t need to be here.”

  The officer stepped forward with his hand out. “Now, miss, you need to stay right there until the doc comes in. You’ve hardly been conscious since they found y’all out there in the woods.” He watched as I eyed my arm, ready to yank. “Just calm down. You’re not in any kind of trouble.”