by Brian Harmon
“That’s why I’m generally not in a hurry to tell people about her,” explained Eric.
She nodded. “I can see that now.”
Poppy fixed her gaze on Holly. “What’s going on?” she asked. “I saw the look on your face out there. Something bad happened, didn’t it? Just tell me.”
Holly sighed. “The magic man’s been hunting us down. He… Oh god.” She couldn’t bring herself to say that he was killing their sisters.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to. Poppy was a smart girl. She understood. She simply asked, “Who?”
“Regina. And Marie. And Sylvia.”
Eric could tell that Poppy had been bracing herself for the news of one death, but three… It was visibly jarring. She paled. She almost seemed to wilt into the chair. “Oh god! No…”
Holly nodded, her face twisting into a miserable grimace as fresh tears filled her pretty eyes. “We just saw Sylvia. We were too late…”
“Oh no…”
Eric stepped quietly out of the room to give them some privacy. This was none of his business. He was a stranger. He’d never even met the three dead girls.
But now he found himself in the awkward situation of lingering like a creep in the hallway of a shelter for battered and abused women. Although he’d never lifted a hand against any woman in his entire life, he felt utterly unwelcome in this place.
“Need something?” said a voice to his right, startling him.
Clara stood in one of the doorways, her formidable form half-concealed in the shadows.
“No. Thank you. I’m just…giving them a minute.”
“I hope everything’s all right.”
“It’s fine,” Eric assured her. “I mean… A little bad news. A death in the family.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Eric couldn’t tell if she was really sorry or not. He couldn’t see past those accusing eyes. He found himself wondering what had led her to devoting her life to rescuing abused women and despising any man who dared set foot on her property.
Or perhaps it wasn’t men in general so much as men with blood stains on them…
He’d forgotten just how rough he looked. He still had bite marks on his arms, his hair was tousled and his tee shirt had a rip in the side. If he hadn’t let Holly tend to some of his wounds on the way over here, he realized he would’ve looked even worse.
All things considered, he was lucky she hadn’t already called the police.
A young woman with long, black hair covering most of her face appeared at the end of the hallway, passing through from one side of the house to the other, and froze when her one visible eye fixed on him.
“We missed you at dessert, Lizzy,” said Clara. “Did you get any pie?”
Lizzy’s eye twitched only briefly toward Clara then returned to Eric. Slowly, she gave a slight shake of her head.
“Help yourself, Sweetie. Don’t be shy about it.”
Lizzy stood staring a moment longer, then hurried on her way. As soon as she was gone, Clara turned her accusing gaze back to Eric.
He wasn’t really that scary-looking, was he? “I’ll just wait here for a minute or two. I won’t bother anyone.”
Clara didn’t take her eyes off him.
Eric wasn’t sure what else he could say, so he glanced around instead. “It’s a beautiful house.”
“Thank you.”
The doorbell rang, saving him from more uncomfortable small talk.
Clara looked around, surprised, then fixed her eyes on him once more. “Are you expecting company?”
“Me?” stammered Eric. “No.”
But as Clara walked away to see who this new visitor was, it occurred to him that he was expecting company. The magic man had arrived at the club shortly after him and at the motel shortly before. He was just as likely to show up here as well. Was this him now?
Would the magic man use the doorbell?
He made up his mind to follow her to the foyer, just to be certain, but at that moment the door behind him clicked open and Holly peered out at him. She looked concerned. “I was worried you’d wandered off,” she said.
“Just giving you some privacy.”
Swinging the door all the way open, she said, “Poppy says she has a bad feeling.”
“About what?”
Before she could answer, Eric heard a frightened shout from the front door.
“Clara!” cried Poppy.
Eric turned and ran for the front of the building, passing through the living room, where the timid-looking woman with the bruised arms watched him with huge, startled eyes.
Holly was right behind him.
From the front door, they heard Clara’s voice again. This time, she was screaming.
Eric cursed under his breath. That was stupid. He should’ve expected this. He should’ve warned her about the magic man. She probably wouldn’t have believed for a second that there was a dark wizard lurking outside, but he could’ve warned her that there was a bad man looking for Poppy and Holly. She would’ve responded to that. She at least would’ve answered the door with her guard up.
But it wasn’t the magic man who was at the door. Not in person, anyway.
He raced into the foyer to find her struggling to hold the door closed. An imp had wedged itself between the door and the jamb and was reaching for her with one of its freakish claws, snarling viciously at her.
Eric wasted no time wondering how the little monster had known how to ring the doorbell or why it would even bother. He dismissed the thought at once and ran down the hallway.
It saw him coming. He actually glimpsed a flash of panic in its huge eyes just before he threw all his weight into the door and slammed it closed, separating the ugly little thing’s head and arm from the rest of its body.
Clara forced the locks closed and then staggered backward, her wide eyes fixed on the smoking head and arm that lay oozing onto her rug. “What the holy hell was that thing?” she demanded.
“Back away from the door,” said Eric. “There’s probably more out there.”
The words were barely out of his mouth when the frosted window at the top of the door shattered. A second imp crashed to the floor in a shower of broken glass and then hurled itself at him, knocking him back against the wall.
Holly cried out for him.
Clara screamed.
Throughout the house, he could hear shouting as the residents of the Wordsley House scrambled to see what the commotion was about.
But all of this was merely noise in the background. With one fist clamped around the nasty little creature’s oversized ear and the other wrapped around its skinny leg, he struggled to hold it away from his body. But it was strong and nimble. It sank its claws into his arms and slashed at him with the sharp nails of its free foot.
“Don’t let go!” yelled Holly.
“I’m trying!” Eric yelled back.
The imp wrenched its head around and bit him on the wrist. He cursed loudly at it.
He twirled around and slammed the creature against the wall, but although the impact was hard enough to knock a picture off the wall, it didn’t even faze the little beast. Apparently, its head was even harder than his.
They weren’t by any means indestructible. He’d strangled one with his own two hands back at the motel. But this one wasn’t going to let him get his hands around its throat.
Desperate, he turned again, this time letting go of the creature, throwing it against the opposite wall. But the thing only bounced off the paneling, struck the floor and then leapt at him again, this time sinking its claws into his arm and its teeth into the flesh of his hand as he tried to hold it off.
He tried to shake it free, even tried smashing it against the wall, but it held him with surprising strength, refusing to let go of him even when he grabbed its ear and tried to pry it off of him.
Then Clara appeared in front of him, screaming and wielding a bright pink umbrella that she’d seemingly produced out of thin air. Eric w
ould later appreciate the attempt to help him fight off the imp, but in the panic of the moment, he could only seem to comprehend that he was now being attacked by a small, sharp-toothed monster and a large, screaming woman with a cheerfully-colored umbrella. Half of her swings missed the creature altogether and connected instead with Eric’s head and shoulders. Those that did strike the imp only enraged the little beast further.
He staggered backward, trying to escape the woman’s brutal onslaught, and tripped over a small table, spilling a vase of colorful, silk flowers onto the floor.
Holly was still screaming at him, begging him to be careful, to protect himself.
He was vaguely aware of a crowd gathering, watching his less-than-heroic battle with the little devil beast.
The umbrella struck him square across the head as he spun around, trying to gain his balance. He fell to his knees as stars danced before his eyes, and let go of the monster’s ear. It immediately took the opportunity to release his arm and lunge at his face.
For a split second, Eric thought he was done. Claws sank into his shoulder and he saw the beast’s hideous face darting toward him, teeth barred.
But the umbrella slashed downward one last time, smacking the monster hard on its ugly head and then bursting open. A wall of bright pink vinyl exploded outward, knocking Eric aside and startling and confusing the imp. It let go of him and leapt backward, snarling at Clara as she held the now open and battered umbrella in front of her like a shield.
Eric twisted around and thrust his foot outward, kicking the monster against the wall hard enough to crack the paneling.
Now that he had its attention again, it uttered a loud, swine-like squeal at him and then threw itself at him.
He scrambled to his knees, his hands raised to protect himself, and its jaws snapped shut on the middle and index fingers of his right hand. Pain shot up his arm like an electric jolt.
Cursing bitterly, he thrust the imp against the floor and pressed his knee into the naked flesh of its swollen belly. Blood flowed from his hand, filling the nasty creature’s little mouth and dripping down its face to the rug beneath it. If its teeth were any bigger, or its jaws any stronger, he was sure it would’ve snapped his fingers completely off.
Eric wormed the fingers of his free hand around its spindly neck and squeezed. He could see its huge eyes rolling around in their sockets.
Finally, the thing opened its mouth to gasp for air and Eric seized its throat with his other hand. Immediately, the thing redoubled its efforts, kicking and clawing and squirming, trying to wriggle its way free.
His blood was lubricating the thing’s vile skin, making it difficult to hold on. It was going to get free.
“Hold it still!” he heard an unfamiliar voice say. Before he could register what was going on, a long, black gun barrel appeared and pressed down on one of the imp’s bulging eyes.
With a deafening boom, the struggle came to a sudden and definite end.
As the overpowering smell of gunpowder settled around him, he looked up and found a frightful-looking woman with strikingly masculine features standing over him, holding the smoking weapon.
“Thanks, Danni,” said Poppy.
“Yeah, thanks…” said Eric, his eyes washing over the rifle.
The woman nodded. “What was that thing?”
Eric looked down at his hands. They were covered in blood and monster gore. Little wisps of black smoke were starting to rise from his fingers. “It was…um…an imp. I think.”
Danni looked at him as if he were crazy. “Did you say imp?”
“Strangely enough, I think I did, yes.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Who are you?”
“A friend of mine,” Poppy said from the doorway of the living room.
Danni glanced up at her, uncertain.
A small crowd of women had gathered in the doorways. Among them, he saw Stacy, who had called down from the top of the stairs to ask Poppy if everything was okay, and Lizzy with her black hair still covering most of her face. All of them were staring at the bizarre scene in the cramped foyer, many of them muttering to each other and pointing at the strange little corpse on the floor.
It was smoking now, slowly vanishing without a trace. The same smoke was rising from his hands in greater quantities now. Soon the monster blood would be gone, leaving only his own.
By the doorway, the first imp’s head and arm had already almost completely dissolved. They were little more than frail, ashy-looking bones.
“What’s happening to it?” asked Clara.
Eric looked up at her, saw that she’d traded the battered pink umbrella for a new one, this one navy blue, and quickly jumped to his feet and backed away from her as if she were trying to hand him a venomous snake.
His aching skull couldn’t stand any more of her help.
“It’s vanishing from this plane of existence,” replied Poppy.
Clara turned to look at her. “What’s going on here?”
“It’s a long story,” said Eric, wiping his hands on his already-soiled shorts and looking back toward the broken window. “And we might not have time to tell it right now.” He turned and looked back at Holly, who was still standing over Poppy. “The first time, there was only one of those things. Then there was two. What do you want to bet there are three this time? Or even four?”
Holly’s eyes grew wider.
Before they could discuss it further, they heard a cry from the living room.
Poppy wheeled around to see what was going on. Several of the women followed after her. Holly and Eric rushed into the room behind them.
The frail woman with the bruises on her arms had finally left the chair and was backing away from the windows, where a small, familiar figure was scratching at the glass, its hideous face pressed to the pane, its bulging eyes staring back at them.
“Stand back!” Danni pushed past Eric and aimed her rifle at the window. She fired the weapon and the creature vanished in a spray of broken glass and black, smoking gore.
But as soon as the window was gone, an entire swarm of angry, snarling imps began pouring into the house.
Chapter Thirteen
Eric said a very bad word.
It was hardly an invading horde to rival the marauding orcs of Middle-earth, but he counted eight of them, and that was at least seven more than he thought he could handle at one time. Especially given the fight that last one put up.
Fortunately, they were not the most intelligent of beasts. Several of them appeared confused and seemed to wander aimlessly for a moment once they were inside. One charged straight at them, but couldn’t seem to decide who to attack first and weaved back and forth until it collided with a chair and fell flat on its back.
But two of them did not hesitate at all and raced directly toward them, snarling and snapping their sharp, little teeth.
Eric seized a small end table and swung it at them, knocking one of the ugly little things back and forcing the other to dive out of the way.
“What do they want?” cried Clara.
“They want me!” shouted Poppy.
“What? Why?”
“Long story. I’m so sorry.”
“We’re all sorry,” said Holly. “We didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
Eric stepped forward and landed a well-aimed kick at the nearest imp’s bloated belly, sending it flying backward. It was extremely satisfying…until the awful little beast landed safely on the plush cushions of the couch.
Maybe he should offer the stupid thing some lemonade while he was at it. That’d really show it.
Danni fired her rifle again and instantly reduced the number of invading imps by one. She was an excellent shot. Eric had no idea what this woman was doing here, and he didn’t care. Right now he was only happy that she was on their side.
A very plump woman in a vast, flowing nightdress came charging into the room from the direction of the rear hallway, brandishing a large kitchen knife. But as soon as she s
aw the invading imps, she promptly let out a terrified wail and fled back the way she came, knocking aside a small, dark-haired woman who’d run in behind her to see what the commotion was.
So much for reinforcements, he guessed.
Danni fired another shot and another imp was promptly disposed of.
Eric heard Holly shout and again he felt a warm wind rush past him. Before his eyes, the imp he’d so kindly offered a seat leapt onto the coffee table and was promptly relieved of the lower half of its body. It thumped heavily onto the table and, with its last brief moments of life, looked down at itself with huge, befuddled eyes, trying to understand what had just happened.
Holly stood in front of Poppy, shielding her, and holding out her closed fist.
“What the fuck was that?” yelped Danni.
“Does it matter?” asked Eric.
“Nice!” said Poppy. “Somebody’s been practicing.”
“It was kind of a necessity thing,” explained Holly.
A third report from Danni’s rifle dropped another imp, but didn’t kill it. Snarling viciously, it continued crawling toward them.
A second shot put an end to its determination.
“I don’t know if I brought enough bullets to keep this up!” she shouted.
Holding the table out in front of him, Eric charged forward, shoving it into one of the remaining imps and pinning it against the side of a sofa.
Another imp leapt onto his shoulder and began tearing at his hair with an unnervingly vicious squeal.
Another gunshot boomed and the attacking creature dropped dead, taking a few locks of his hair with it to the floor.
“Whoa!” he yelled.
“Don’t be a girl!” Danni scolded.
Eric didn’t think being startled by a bullet fired at a moving target right next to his head quite qualified as being “a girl,” but he decided it was better not to argue with the scary woman with the gun.
A scream filled the room. It was the timid little woman with the bruised arms. Eric had nearly forgotten about her. She was backed against the wall. One of the last two imps was running toward her, its claws spread and its needle teeth barred.