by Dean Floyd
“Weeeeeeeeeee,” he yelled.
“Quiet,” I said. “Someone’s going to see you and have a heart attack.”
“You see Sean,” he explained as he orbited me. “You’re my master now and I’m your Hob. Till death do us part.”
His stature, orange hair, and green cap reminded me of the first iteration of Link from the Legend of Zelda video game. Which in turn reminded me more of... "Ah, you’re a Leprechaun!"
Rob spat and disgust and flipped backwards through the air several times before bumping into my car. "Don't call me that. I just told you what I was. I'm a Fae. A Hearth Hob to be exact."
“Hearth Hob?”
“A Hobgoblin of the Hearth. The place where the family gathers around fires and mealtime. Problem is, modern homes don’t have hearths. So I’m forced to congregate around the alternate-reality looking glass.”
I frowned. “You mean flat screen television,” I said. I grabbed him by the coat and dragged him into my apartment before someone flipped and called the cops.
Smells of stale pizza, and manly musk filled my nostrils. The small kitchen to my left had dirty dishes strewn about the countertop. The living room beyond the kitchen served as my makeshift room. Video games, DVDs, and articles of clothing were littered everywhere. Everything was as it should be.
“This place is a pigsty,” said Rob. He immediately began rummaging through my belongings.
I went back to the issue at hand. “So you’re stuck with me forever?”
“More like until you die. Which is pretty probable since I don’t age and you have a monster-attracting curse. Whichever comes first,” he shrugged. “I like your movies. Dawn of the Dead. That’s a good one. Oooo and Shaun of the Dead. Is that a sequel?”
“No,” I said, taking the DVD from him. “It’s a parody. And don’t touch these.”
He ignored me and kept right going through my stuff, humming to himself.
"So am I to expect any ole' magical creatures to pop up in my life now that I have this Keening?"
"For certain," said Rob. "But none of them as nice as me."
"Tell me about it," I said. "The last two tried to kill me."
"And they're not even the worst ones," agreed Rob.
"So you’re like my animal companion? Like He-man’s battle cat? My Pikachu."
"This is more like Mr. Campbell’s Meeting of the Magical Helper."
"Mr. who?"
He ignored me. “Ghost Rider? Nicolas Cage isn’t that good of an actor.” He said as he held up the extended edition of the DVD depicting the skull-faced motorcyclist riding alongside a horseman, both inflamed.
“I’m a fan of the comics,” I said. “this isn’t going to work out. I already have a roomate. In fact, in this situation I’m the roommate. I split this apartment with someone else. It’s a sweet gig and I’ve only been here for a few months. I tried living by myself. Can’t afford it.”
"This isn't a DVD," he said, lifting a Blue Oyster Cult album off the floor.
"Hey, I was looking for that," I said. “There’s no room for a third person here.”
The Hob turned to me. “You know, I love cleaning. It’s one of my favorite things in the whole world. I’ll fix this place up for you. How can your roommate say no to that?”
I opened my mouth, but had no objection.
“Plus,” he continued, “He doesn’t need to know I’m a Hob.”
“Can you turn invisible? Because that’s the only way that would work.”
Rob shook his head. “Even better.” In a wink he had turned into a orange tabby cat.
“Amazing,” I said. “But still won’t work. He hates cats.”
“Salmon then?” said Rob, transforming and flopping on the ground like a stupid Magikarp.
I facepalmed. “This is ridiculous!”
“How about a barn owl? Those are the only three forms I can take.”
“Fine!” I said. “Garfield it is. If you’re going to earn your keep you might as well start with the dishes.”
I moved my shoulder the wrong way, reminding me I had a wound to clean. I took off my jacket and T-shirt. The shirt was ruined so I tossed it. The jacket was one of my favorites and it pissed me off that it was damaged. It would still be wearable if I washed the blood off and patched up the holes.
Rob-cat followed me and rested on the floor at the bathroom door.
“What are you doing? I told you to do the dishes,” I said.
“Oh you meant now?” said Rob. “Aye aye captain,” purred the cat.
The bathroom mirror showed me the bleeding had stopped. “The cut is not as deep as I thought it would be,” I said to my reflection. But it was still bad. Stitches weren't necessary, but I was cutting it close, no pun intended.
The gauze lay underneath the bathroom sink. I went to work washing the cut with a gentle touch and a damp rag. It stung a lot, but it stung even more when I washed it out with alcohol. Normal birds carry deadly diseases. I could only imagine what a demonic monster bird carried. I absorbed the stinging from the alcohol, which assured me I wouldn't contract anything nasty.
I applied gauze with some medical tape, but that wasn't enough. I also had my big ole’ roll of gorilla duct tape. Since the cut was on my shoulder, I ripped off a strip big enough to go from the front side of my armpit over my shoulder to the backside. That would hold the gauze in place while I slept. But I couldn't sleep yet. What was that monster? I needed to ask Rob.
The kitchen was totally quiet and totally clean. “Impressive,” I said. “The little guy is efficient.”
There was also light spilling out of my roommate's room and his door was open. Whenever he left he had a habit of shutting his door. Eddy was a weird guy. We'd been good friends for a while but he was particular about his things.
The Hob sat in front of Eddy's small flat screen monitor with headphones on. His back was to me. He was holding an old PS3 controller, and he was attempting to play a video game, except for he was scrolling endlessly in the PS3 settings menu. At his side was a bowl and a spoon.
“Where’d you get the ice cream?” I asked. “I didn’t think we had any.”
“It’s salty ice cream,” he smiled, taking a big spoonful.
I leaned over and sniffed it and grimaced. “This is mayonnaise.”
He got fed up with the video game, grunted in frustration, and lobbed the controller over his shoulder.
“Careful!” I said catching the controller. “This is Eddy’s stuff and he’s super particular about people using his things.”
“Please show me how to play,” begged Rob. “Pretty please. I’ve always wanted to play video games.”
“Tell me about the bird-demon,” I countered.
He held out his hand for the controller. “Set the game up for me.”
Grunting I opened up the games menu and went to Eddy’s downloaded content. I knew he had a bunch of PS1 games loaded.
“Ooo,” pointed Rob. “Let’s play that purple lizard game.”
“He’s called Spyro,” I said. “Now tell me about the bird monster.”
“First off it’s called a Sluagh.”
“Like coleslaw?” I repeated.
"Yes Sean," said the Hob as he burned sheep in the game with his fire breath. “Hahahaha. What fun!”
“Okay focus,” I said. “What’s a Sluagh?”
He grunted, attempting to fly the dragon in the game but kept failing.
“You have to tap the button repeatedly,” I showed him.
“Got it,” he said grinning. His eyes were glued to the screen, wide with excitement.
I exhaled through my nose.“I could just order you to clean more of the apartment and look up this Sluagh thing myself on the internet.”
“Don’t bother,” he said. “For one, it wouldn’t be a punishment. I’d enjoy it. And two, the internet is crap when it comes to mythological accuracy.”
No surprise there.
"There’s really not a lot to the Sluagh. It’s
a vicious creature that likes to capture humans. Sometimes they eat them."
My eyes widened and glazed over until I refocused them back on him. "How would I find it again?" I asked.
“It always flies West after an attack. So if you waited somewhere West you’d catch ‘em.”
I thought about where I was when the attack happened. I was in downtown Vallejo which was West. “When the Sluagh flew away from us was it flying dead West or more North or South?”
The Napa river served as Vallejo’s water front and ran Southwest until it joined up with the Bay, the same body of water that passed under the Golden Gate in San Francisco. But Northwest was upriver. The Napa river ran alongside a massive patch of wetland marsh that stretched for miles. It was as big as the entire city of Vallejo. Much of it was off limits to the general public. For one you’d need a boat to traverse it. But it was also a protected wildlife zone.
Rob shrugged. “More Northwest I suppose.”
“Of course,” I said. “A bird that big could easily go undetected out there.”
“Well it only comes out at night. Being a creature of Chaos and all,” said Rob.
“So I’ll have to suit up and bring it down tomorrow,” I said, clenching my fists. “Thanks Rob,” I said and sighed with relief. I’ve got a whole day to get ready, I thought. All I needed was a good night’s sleep.
Chapter 3
Nightmares
All I needed were ZZZ's and good dreams. Nightmares found me instead.
They never begin. You’re always just IN dreams, right? In my dream I was walking through a hazy landscape. I saw a white light through the mist surrounding me. Then I came to a graveyard. The mist cleared around a section of tombstones, my sister’s grave the centerpiece. A tear escaped my eye.
I hadn’t thought about her except for fleeting memories I let drift away. Life and death situations make you think about, well... death. I missed my sister so much. I heard footsteps on my left.
There she was, my sister, a little older than I remembered. She had Anne of Green Gables-red hair, but it was beautiful just the same.
“Hey Bro,” she said, like a surfer. That always made her smile.
“Hey Sis,” I started, stunned for words.
“Been a while.”
“Yeah.”
“How’s my Aiden?”
“Growing up.”
“You takin care of him?”
“Trying to. Mom is mostly.”
"Gavin?"
"He moved up to Washington by himself."
She walked as she spoke, moving under a large stone archway held up by rectangular pillars. Stone skulls stared from the pillars in bas relief. The space between the pillars was very wide, like a massive maw open to the living. As I was observing it a raven alighted on the archway and croaked.
My sister spoke up again, calling my attention back to her. "That doesn't surprise me. He was always such an introvert. How’s dad?” she asked.
“You haven’t seen him?”
“What do you mean?” she said.
“Nevermind,” I said. It was only a dream anyways.
She pursed her lips. After a long pause she said, “You need to avenge my death.”
“Why does that fall to me?”
“Why doesn’t it? Sometimes life happens. Sometimes responsibility falls in your lap.”
“I’m already knee deep into some serious stuff Sis.”
"I’m stuck Sean. You’re stuck. Stuck until you resolve it. Kill the monster that killed me."
“I've got my own monsters coming after me now.” This was getting irritating. “This is a dream.”
“Might be,” she said. “But the guilt is real. You know my death is your fault.”
“Mine?”
“If you’d been a good brother, you might have rescued me. You failed to be there for me.”
Tears ran down my face. “I don’t need this right now.”
“You think you're this macho guy, but you couldn’t pull me out of the water.”
“Stop...”
“All you had to do was lift me out."
“Don’t go there."
My sister vanished and someone else screamed at me. "You killed me!"
It was her, the Banshee. She peered over the edge of a tombstone at me. I felt the Chaos emanating from her and it repulsed me. She flickered between her three forms like a strobe light.
Old Hag.
Middle-aged woman.
Hag.
Forever 21 model.
Hag.
Woman.
Hag.
Hag.
Model.
My stomach churned.
“You thought you could run?” she cackled. “You thought you killed me. There is no where you can run. Nowhere you can hide. I’ll always be after you. You’re in way over your head.” She clawed my stomach open, and I saw my guts. I embraced myself, trying to stop the bleeding.
When I looked, the Banshee disappeared. Instead Nicolas Cage appeared looking apathetic. "You've got to find the treasure before he gets it."
"What?" I asked.
Cage spoke again in his dry, nasal voice, more breath than vocal chords. "Stop him from destroying the tree. It's the only way."
I spared a moment to check myself finding my stomach wound nonexistent. "If it's so dire Nick, why can't you convey real emotions? This is why you're a bad actor."
"What!" he screamed. His anger ignited him and suddenly I stared at the Ghost Rider and not Nicolas Cage. He sat atop his motorcycle from Hell and lashed me with his chain whip while laughing, his face a floating skull on fire. I fell to my knees as the pain overtook me. The chain worked its way around my body, constricting my legs and arms, getting tighter around my neck.
Behind him stood a figure shrouded in darkness and carrying a scythe. Under his hood his eyes burned red. And behind him loomed the silhouette of a massive creature. The defining facial feature was one glowing eye in the center of its forehead. The three of them fixed their gaze on me like I was under a microscope.
“We've lived for hundreds of years. Thousands. You’re a mere speck on the line of infinity. You’re an amusement nothing more. You've destroyed the Banshee but we'll make more.” They howled wicked laughter, chilling me to the bone. Was this a dream anymore? Were these Fomorians? Could they use Bad Luck to attack me in my dreams, my nightmares? Why not? Dang.
Somehow I wrestled out of the chains only to fall into an open grave. I hit my knees hard at the bottom and the mud slid under my fingernails and into my clothes. As I tried to climb out of the hole increasing amounts of dirt and mud piled on me. Water rushed into the grave and soon I was up to my waist in filth. The more I struggled the more I sank. I panicked, hyperventilating. The murky water was up to my neck.
“Help!” I screamed.
“Now you can see how it feels,” said my sister as she joined the other figures, all of them laughing at my plight.
I battered my arms against the mudwater slinging it everywhere but it kept pouring into the grave like overflowing lava, threatening to suffocate me. I could barely move now and it was hard for me to breathe.
The black water covered everything but my eyes. It poured down my throat, into my lungs, and stomach. I screamed a muffled scream, but it rang hollow. Laughter drowned out my cries.
Perhaps I was in a dream, or this was somehow real in my mind or subconscious. Either way screw these guys. Especially Ghost Cage. I don’t need these negative voices beating me down. I should have known when to give up, but I’ve never known how to my own detriment.
I screamed. This wasn’t a panicked, I’m afraid of what you’re saying scream. It was a Gerard Butler, "This is Sparta" cry, a Samson bringing down the house cry. The mud and dirt covering me exploded. The four flew back. I climbed out of the grave. I was no longer clothed in my street clothes but a cloak of green and underneath light leather armor. In my right hand appeared a sword of light. Straight Wheel-of-Time style. I laughed at the sillin
ess of it. But the silhouette figures weren't laughing.
“You might have been chasing me. But no more Fomorians. You’re done wrecking lives. This ends here. Now. I defy you.” I lunged at them. “Most importantly you’re ruining my REM sleep!”
My sword of light lopped of Ghost Nick's skull head in one fell swoop but he caught it in his hands. Next, I leapt up to meet the behemoth face to face and plunged the blade into his glowing eye. His horrendous scream sounded like someone dropping a hot iron on a tiger’s tail. The eye plopped out and I realized it was actually a large gem. I tried to lift it but it burned to the touch.
Forgetting it, I faced the shadow figure, the one dwelling in a cloak of darkness. I swung again but he caught the blade in his black hand. Blood ran down the blade of light. His hand sizzled like an Outback commercial but the reaper held fast. The darkness in him crept out through his wound and began corrupting the blade of light. Despite his injury he was laughing again. "It's mine and with it I'll strike down Duir to the root!"
"No!" I cried as blood orange lightning flashed from the sword causing the reaper to fall back, retreating into shadow. Then the shadow exploded into a flock of ravens that took flight to skies.
And just like that they faded. Except for the first raven I saw. It flew down and landed by me on the ground.
I was left standing there in my green cloak and still holding the sword of light. I looked at it and tried to study it. As soon as I did it just kind of fizzled out like a dying candle.
“That was weird,” I said to the raven.
It croaked and bobbed its head in response.
Then I felt the ground give way beneath me and I fell. I fell so fast I didn’t have time to scream.
Right as I was about to cry out I hit the bottom and I awoke with a start in my bed. I opened my eyes.
It was morning. Sunlight shown through the blinds. I feel so groggy.
“You awake?” my hearth Hob asked. “I’m making eggs.”
Chapter 4