Badass and the Beast: 10

by Shrum, Kory M.

  “I know,” I tell her. “I hear it too.”

  The sounds of the night have disappeared, and all that is left is this plea for help.

  “Doe, I have a unit about two minutes from 27,” Bernie’s voice comes from my phone on the dash.

  “Tell them to keep going straight. I can see flashing lights ahead. Are there any other units on this road?”

  “No. Just the one behind you. Be careful, Doe,” she repeats.

  I pull my vehicle up behind the car with the flashing lights. Another car is in front of it. Willa scratches at the door handle until it releases and she springs from the seat, throwing the door wide open. I grab my phone from the dash and follow her.

  I come around the front of my car to the right side. There’s a ditch a few yards off the road and the edge of a cornfield is about ten yards past the ditch. The grass is about knee-high on the side of the road. Headlights from the pretend cruiser are shining on the car ahead of it. One of the doors on the passenger side is open and a man is leaning halfway inside.

  Willa jumps on him, knocking him into the door. He bounces off and lands on the ground. The man struggles to get up and push Willa off. She bites down on his ankle and pulls him into the ditch.

  “Willa has him,” I say out loud as I reach the car and put my phone on the roof.

  A woman is sitting up, her face badly beaten, her shirt torn open, and her arm is broken.

  I recognize her immediately, even with the swelling and the blood. Her name is Emily. She was a witness about two years ago. Her roommate was in a very abusive relationship, and Emily saved the girl and helped put the man in prison. She is a protector.

  “The police are right behind me,” I say to her. “Bernie, we need an ambulance,” I shout at my phone.

  I hear a bark and look back at Willa. The man is trying to sit up. His pants are unbuckled and unzipped and he reaches to try to remedy that. Willa puts a paw on his chest and pushes him back down. Then she moves to his side and wraps her mouth around his neck. When he moves his arms again, she gives her head a little shake and he drops them to his sides.

  “I wouldn’t move if I were you,” I yell to him. “She can sit like that for hours, but it’s a lot easier on her if she just bites down and gets it over with. Don’t give her an excuse.”

  “How did you know where to find me?” Emily asks and I really don’t have a good answer.

  “I didn’t,” I say, honestly. “It was Willa.” We look over at Willa and her tail starts wagging. Business in the front, party in the back.

  The real police make it there much faster than I thought they would. They drive past the three cars in a line and pull over in front of Emily’s car.

  “I’ll be right back.” I gently touch Emily’s leg and stand up. I grab my phone and start walking toward them.

  “They’re here, Bernie. Who should I be meeting?”

  “Officer Reynolds. She’s petite with dark hair and a sailor’s vocabulary. Officer Shepherd is tall with dark skin and he’s the absolute sweetest man.”

  Both doors to the police cruiser open at the same time. From the driver’s side, a short, skinny woman steps out and says something obscene to her partner. Standing on the passenger side is an unusually tall man with a huge smile on his face.

  “Of course. He’s all yours,” he says looking at her.

  Officer Shepherd walks to me and introduces himself and his partner. Officer Reynolds draws her weapon and her flashlight before moving behind the cruiser and into the ditch.

  I hear a string of unique expletives as Officer Reynolds comments on what a big dog Willa is. She looks at me with her eyebrows raised in question. Is that dog going to eat me? If Willa stands on her back legs, she might be taller than Officer Reynolds and she certainly outweighs the woman.

  “She’s harmless,” I say, waving my hand dismissively. Willa has never actually hurt anyone. Even Travis back in middle school was just scared into believing he was in pain. She uses strength and intimidation to manipulate situations, but she has never caused an injury. Not that she isn’t capable. I’m sure she’d like to rip out Mr. Fake Cop’s throat.

  “Where is your friend?” Officer Shepherd asks me. I lead him to the car and the injured woman in the back seat.

  He kneels in front of her and takes off his jacket.

  “I am Officer Daniel Shepherd.” He wraps his jacket around her shoulders, careful not to nudge her or shift her in any way. Emily pulls the jacket over her broken arm with her good hand. “You can call me Daniel. I will not leave your side for the rest of the night unless you prefer another officer to accompany you.” Emily shakes her head and Officer Shepherd nods.

  “Where are your shoes?” he asks, looking up at me. I look down at my socked feet and shrug.

  “In the car.” I leave to retrieve my shoes and my jacket.

  When I return, Officer Reynolds calls me over.

  “How do you get it to let go?” she asks. She has her hands around Willa’s body and she’s trying to pull Willa off of the man’s neck.

  “You’re basically just hugging her right now.” I look at Willa’s tail dancing back and forth. “She loves hugs.”

  “Please get this thing off me,” the man says in a strained voice. I fight the urge to stomp on his face.

  I bend down and touch the man’s wrist and a scorpion appears on the back of his hand. When it disappears, Willa lets go of his throat and sits down next to him with one paw on his chest. His neck is wet with saliva.

  “I’m going to get the camera,” Officer Reynolds says, returning to her cruiser. I leave Willa with the man and return to Emily who is recounting the events to Officer Shepherd. He has a small notebook out and is standing next to the car writing everything down.

  “…and he asked me how fast I was going. I told him thirty-five, because I don’t speed. I got some tickets when I was younger and I’m extra careful now.” She has trouble forming the words due to the swelling and it sounds like her mouth is stuffed full of bubblegum. Officer Shepherd nods and tells her to continue.

  “Then he asked me if anyone else was in the car and if I had any weapons. I told him no and he asked for my license and registration. I gave them to him and he went to his car for several minutes. When he came back, he seemed distressed and said there was a warrant out for my arrest. He told me to get out of the car.” She was shaking.

  “When I stood up, he grabbed the back of my head and slammed my face into the car.” The road was filled with the sounds of sirens as an ambulance arrived, followed by another police cruiser.

  “I kicked him in the leg and elbowed him in the head. I tried to get back in the car, but he grabbed me by my hair.” Her right eye was almost swollen shut.

  “He dragged me to the other side of the car. I tried to fight him off, but he wouldn’t let go. He kept ramming my face into the side of the car. I must’ve passed out. The next thing I knew I was in the backseat and he was tearing off my shirt and rubbing his hands all over—” Officer Shepherd steps to the side just before Emily heaves into the grass.

  “Sorry,” she says, wiping her mouth and averting her eyes.

  “It’s quite all right. Do we need to stop?” Officer Shepherd asks.

  Emily shakes her head and continues. “He pinned my right arm down and I put my left hand on his throat to keep him off me. I squeezed as hard as I could and dug my nails in. That’s when he broke my arm.”

  I turn and look at the man lying in the ditch. I want so much to tell Willa to rip out his throat or call an army of scorpions over to him. But I don’t have an army, and I don’t have any control over when the scorpions come or what they do. To my relief, a small, white shape appears on the man’s wrist and slowly makes its way up his arm. I watch as the man’s eyes grow wide with pain, then close. He will wake up and be permanently scarred.

  Two more patrol cars arrive and clutter the small stretch of road.

  “Is he out?” I hear Bernie’s voice and I turn to see her wal
king toward me.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Officer Shepherd is taking a statement.” I gesture toward him, “And Officer Reynolds is watching over the bad guy.” We look at Officer Reynolds who is leaning down talking to Willa and petting her head.

  “She’s probably teaching Willa some bad words,” Bernie says in mock warning.

  As promised, Officer Shepherd remains by Emily’s side as she is put on a stretcher and taken into the ambulance. He gets into the ambulance with her and she reaches out her good hand to hold on to his as the doors close.

  Mr. Fake Cop is unconscious when he is put in the back of the police cruiser. One of the officers on the scene climbs inside the man’s vehicle and drives it to the station. Another officer gets behind the wheel of Emily’s car and follows.

  Willa comes to stand beside my car and Bernie approaches me. The ambulance is still in the roadway several yards ahead with its lights flashing.

  “Thanks for calling,” Bernie says, leaning in to give me a hug. “We’ve been after this guy for months.”

  “Happy to help,” I say, squeezing her back. “Thanks for sending someone so quickly.”

  “I owe you one,” she says, before turning away and walking to her vehicle.

  “You owe me about a thousand,” I say with a smile, and Willa jumps into the passenger seat of my car. I close the door behind her and walk around to the other side.

  When I get in, Willa gives me a huff. I start the car and roll down my window.

  “I got another one,” I yell to Bernie before I turn the car around and head back to town. Before long, I see headlights behind me and I know Bernie is following. Our night isn’t over yet. Someone else needs us.

  If you can hear her, help her.

  Willa and I will be there soon.

  Hair of the Hellhound

  Angela Roquet

  If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.

  —Will Rogers

  I’ve never been a morning person. I sleep like the dead, and I wake like the undead—eyes glazed, hands numbly grasping, mouth agape and moaning hostile nonsense. A bit of drool and foul morning breath. Hair like an electrocuted squirrel. Sleeping Beauty, I am not.

  I never thought it possible, but over the past week, my mornings have redefined cruel. They eat away at my insides, a little at a time, with each soul-crushing dawn. Today was no better.

  There was a warm arm draped over my back. A warm manly arm. My heart sang for a split-second, stretching me back in time like a slingshot. Then a massive wing fluttered above me and a white feather drifted down to land on my shoulder. The slingshot released, hurling me into the present. My brain reeled from the shock, and then it throbbed against my skull. I could have sworn I heard the six empty Ambrosia Ale bottles laughing at me from my nightstand.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and blinked a few times, pushing Gabriel’s arm away. He groaned and rolled onto his other side. There was a couch with his name on it in the living room, and he had his own condo here at Holly House too—just a few floors below mine—but lately, I needed him closer. The booze didn’t hurt either. Well, not going down anyway. It certainly didn’t make mornings easier, but at least I was able to sleep again.

  My hellhounds, Saul and Coreen, were bundled together in a mountain of sleek black at the foot of the bed. I wedged my feet out from under them and stumbled toward the private bath attached to my bedroom, tripping over Gabriel’s sandals, left in the middle of the floor like a booby trap. I cursed under my breath and rubbed my twisted ankle. Saul whimpered in his sleep and tucked his muzzle under Coreen’s shoulder.

  I crept into the bathroom and gently closed the door behind me. Morning light filtered through a wall of frosted glass. It was just enough to find my way to the shower. I didn’t need to see myself in the mirror to know how bad it was. I made sure there was a clean towel on the wall hook, and then I stripped out of my flannel pajamas and stepped inside the giant stall.

  The showers were a prime feature of the condos at Holly House. They were big enough to make an angel feel like a pigeon in a birdbath. A waterfall ran over a ledge set high on the marble wall, and chrome jets sprayed from every angle. The water came out of the faucet hot. There was no blast of icy misery to zap the senses awake like there had been at my last apartment. It was a little luxury I had always appreciated, but now it didn’t matter. Little luxuries weren’t going to fix what ailed me.

  Steam quickly filled the space, and my pale skin protested, turning rosy pink. My hair gave up its curls to the heavy water and unfurled to my shoulders. I leaned my head against the marble wall and hugged myself, trembling in spite of the heat. Then I silently dissected my reality.

  Eternity is at war. My lover Beelzebub has been marked a traitor. My best friend Josie is dead.

  This was the hardest part of my day. Not braving the unkind streets of Limbo City. Not reaping souls or fighting demons. Not looking my boss Grim in the eyes and wondering how long I had until he found out what I’d done.

  I knew things I shouldn’t. I’d done things that—if revealed to the Afterlife Council—would earn me a swift execution. It was a very long fall from the top of the totem pole at Reapers Inc. Everything had happened so fast. And now it all felt pointless and foreign. I couldn’t bring myself to care about anything beyond my own pain. It was selfish, but I didn’t care about that either.

  I turned the water off and stood in the dim stall until the steam faded and I began to shiver.

  Limbo City was slowly waking beyond the frosted window. A car alarm went off. The six a.m. gong at the Pagoda Inn parried with the bells of Our Lady of Immaculate Reception, where Mary made herself available to the souls under contract at the Three Fates Factory. It didn’t matter. All souls were stripped of their memories before being sent back the human realm. More lessons in pointlessness.

  As I combed through my tangles, my mind drifted to Josie’s pixie haircut. She was always so efficient. Why couldn’t I have been more like her? Why hadn’t I paid better attention? Who was going to keep me in line now? Who was going to nag at me to hang up my coat? Who was going to tell me when my socks didn’t match?

  By the time I dressed and stepped back into my room, Gabriel and the hounds were awake. Gabriel sat on the edge of my bed, rubbing a meaty hand over his five o’clock shadow. He yawned and scratched his cheek. Saul and Coreen walked lazily around the room, stretching and shaking out their ruffled fur.

  I stopped at my closet and pulled on a pair of boots. “You keep leaving your sandals lying around, the hounds are gonna have new chew toys.”

  Gabriel snorted. “Think they’d be able to muscle past the gag reflex? Peter’s been keeping me on my feet. Those suckers are rank.” His halo of golden curls bounced around his face like he was in a salon commercial. It wasn’t fair.

  I thought about Josie’s hair again and decided I was going to get a cut after work. Bub had always liked my unruly curls, but it wasn’t like he’d be dropping by to admire them anytime soon. The lump in my throat returned. “I need coffee.”

  Gabriel lifted his arm and sniffed his pit. “I need a shower.”

  I opened my bedroom door, and the hounds pushed past me. “Make sure you clean the down out of the drain this time.” I shouted over my shoulder as I headed for the kitchen. “And shake your wings off before you step out of the shower.” Gabriel was hell on my bathroom, but at least he was going to bathe.

  By the time Gabriel was ready, so was the coffee. Kevin, my apprentice and the empty shell of a man Josie left behind, migrated out of his room and joined us at the breakfast bar for a few moments of quiet caffeination. Jenni, our other roommate, had already left. As Grim’s second-in-command, she kept unbearable hours.

  The morning silence was broken by Coreen belching into her empty food dish. She whimpered up at me before nudging Saul aside to steal a bite of his Cerberus Chow.

  “Manto,” I told her. Josie had been teaching the hounds Latin commands b
efore she died, and while I hadn’t been on board with it at first, now it seemed of the utmost importance.

  Kevin shot Coreen a sideways glance over the rim of his coffee mug. His brows rose up and nearly disappeared behind his shaggy mop of dark hair. “What’s up with her? Man, she’s getting fat.”

  I grimaced and went to fetch both hounds a second scoop of chow. Coreen would probably polish off their bowls again, but I’d be damned if I was going to put her on a diet. I hadn’t realized until recently that Coreen was a comfort eater. The hounds missed Josie too. Saul sulked and nuzzled everyone, but Coreen was too proud to beg for affection—not that she cared for it much to begin with.

  Kevin’s judging brows rose at me next. “You sure that’s such a good idea, Lana?”

  My retort was interrupted by a symphony of ringtones—mine, Gabriel’s, and Kevin’s.

  Gabriel stepped into the hallway to take his call. From the stiff tone of his voice, I was pretty sure it was council business.

  Kevin frowned at his screen a second before accepting his call. “What’s up, Ellen?”

  I waited until I had closed myself in my room before answering my phone. Grim never called unless it was dire. I’d had enough dire lately, but one did not simply ignore Death when he rang.

  I sat down on the edge of my bed and pressed the phone to my ear. “Yeah, boss?”

  Grim’s voice tumbled through the receiver like a handful of gravel. “I’ve got a special assignment for you today.”

  I swallowed a groan and tried to be diplomatic. “You know, I have a unit to manage and lots of souls to harvest—”

  “Ellen has already called Kevin in to collect your paperwork. I took the liberty of filling in everyone’s dockets. Surely Kevin can handle passing them out for a day.”

  I sighed. “Where should I meet Jenni?”

  “You’re going with Gabriel,” he said. “To Summerland. The Drunken Dove Brewery. Apparently, Apollo is having a meltdown.”

  My heart nose-dived. Apollo had been a casual flame of Josie’s. They were never an exclusive item—more friends with benefits—before Kevin came along. But even stained with sorrow, the irony was not lost on me. Apollo was the other side of Dionysus’s coin. If Dionysus represented booze and madness, then Apollo stood for sobriety and order. Well, he used to anyway.