Boots

by Angel Martinez

A sound reached him, strangely clear over the rush of water. Dogs barked. Not only barked, but bayed, the sound of a pack in full cry. Dear God, if a pack of wild dogs caught sight of Kasha, things would get ugly. The dogs shouldn't be agile enough to use the rock path, though.

  "Kash! Stay there! Let me get to you!"

  Out in the middle of the stream, Kasha shouted something he couldn't make out. He had stopped, so Willem concentrated on getting to him before the dogs could spot him. If he slipped Kasha under his coat--

  He stared in horror as the dogs broke from the trees. The size of Shetland ponies, they barreled toward the river, sleek coats glowing an infernal blue, saliva fire dripping from their jaws.

  "Holy fuck," he whispered as the pack leader reached the stream. The hellhound ran right across the top of the water, his pack in close pursuit. "No! Dammit! Kash!"

  Willem turned to place his body between this oncoming nightmare and his little demon lover. He threw a rock at them, yelling so loud his chest hurt. The dogs came on without hesitation, as if he were invisible. They swept right past him--through him. Shocked, he backed a step and felt his foot slip. Arms windmilling, he crashed into the water. A sharp shock against his skull told him he'd smacked his head. What a stupid way to die.

  * * * *

  "Willem!"

  Kasha's heart turned upside down and forgot how to beat when his lord's head hit stone. Yes, he had intended the hellhound illusion to be startling. Yes, he had wanted Willem to be soaked and chilled just in time for the Englestads' car to come by. But this... great Raiju no, not this!

  He shivered into his human form and plunged into the water, naked as he was. While he was a dreadful swimmer, the water wasn't deep in most places and plenty of rocks offered themselves as footrests and clinging spots. He half-swam, half-waded, desperate to reach Willem before he slipped underwater. The stream might be less than three feet at its deepest, but an unconscious man could drown in a three-inch puddle.

  A wild grab got him a handful of red-blond hair. He heaved, pulling Willem to him, cradling his head against one bare shoulder.

  "Forgive me, forgive me, oh, my poor Willem," he whispered as he picked his way to shore.

  He hauled on the back of Willem's coat to pull him onto the bank. His lord still breathed, thank all the gods. The lump on the back of Willem's head didn't seem too severe. With quick tugs, he yanked off the waterlogged boots and soaked clothes. He sent heat through his palms to dry Willem's coat and draped it over his now naked body. Slightly chilled was one thing, dying of exposure quite another.

  The one thing he hadn't anticipated had thrown his plans all askew. Willem had come too far out into the stream, had put himself in a precarious position, because he was hell bent on saving his kasha. My Willem, why did you have to be so brave?

  A prickle of force tugged at his mind. The Englestads approached down the road. He shook himself back into his furred form and dashed for the ribbon of asphalt above the embankment. Ideally, he would have liked nothing better than to get Willem safe and forget the ogre for a day or two. But the monster would have felt him when he conjured the hellhounds. Delay put them all at risk now if the ogre decided he was a threat.

  Waving his hat, he leaped onto the road. "Mistress Natt! Mistress Ettie! Help! Please!"

  Van tires squealed, gravel flying, as Ettie swung the vehicle over onto the shoulder. Englestads, all four of them, piled out with varied expressions of confusion and concern.

  "What's happened?" Ettie called out, short and sharp.

  Kasha twisted his hat between his paws, and then pointed down the embankment. There was no need to manufacture the anguish in his voice as he blurted out, "It's Willem. Please, please help him. Magical creatures attacked. He fell. He... "

  Morgen's hands flew to her cheeks. "Is he hurt?"

  "Yes, he--"

  "How did this happen?" Natt asked, her forehead creased in evident concern.

  "He was trying to protect me," Kasha told her truthfully, his voice soaked in misery. "He's on the bank."

  Teddy leaped forward. "I'll go get him, Gram. You girls stay up here."

  "Teddy, wait!" Natt cried out. She turned to Kasha when the young man hesitated. "Are the creatures gone?"

  "Yes."

  She waved to Teddy to go on. He crashed through the brush with a good deal more enthusiasm than grace, and they soon heard him swearing and grunting down below. When he reemerged, he had Willem in a fireman's carry over his shoulders, the coat in Teddy's hand.

  "Okay, not like I mind, 'cause he's totally hot, but why's the guy naked?"

  Kasha gazed at his feet, partly out of shame and partly so he didn't have to look at Teddy holding Willem. "He was soaked through. The water is frigid."

  "Oh, got it. It's not the way I'd want him on top of me but I'll t--"

  "All right, get him in the car, Teddy. Pull the blankets out of the back for him." Natt took a step toward the car as well, but stopped when Kasha didn't follow. "Is something wrong?"

  "I--things have been set in motion. I need to go on ahead."

  "Certainly not. Your master's hurt. You're both coming back to the house."

  He stepped closer, speaking for her ears alone. "It must be finished, Mistress Natt. It must be done now. Follow after me or take him back to the house, but I must see this through." A little whimper caught in his throat. "Please take care of him."

  She bent to take his head between her hands. She kissed his nose and stroked his ears. "He'll be all right, little one. Don't worry."

  The conviction with which she said it allowed him to relax to the point where he didn't feel as if his bones would jump from his skin. All three women were healers. They would look after his Willem.

  He glanced over to the car and quickly tore his gaze away. Willem lay across the backseat wrapped in a tartan blanket, his head and shoulders cradled in Teddy's lap. This was what you wanted, you ninny. Willem will wake up in those strong arms and see that handsome face bending over him. It couldn't be more perfect.

  So why did he feel so cold and angry watching the two of them together?

  As if she sensed his tension, Natt said softly, "It's not wrong to worry over someone you love."

  "I don't--" He stopped himself before the lie could leap out. "Thank you. I have to go."

  She released him and turned to make her slow way back to the van. "Be careful, little one."

  He couldn't help but wonder if she meant more than his impending meeting with the ogre.

  * * * *

  The jostling motion penetrated first. Then the hum of a motor. Willem bunched his fists and fought toward consciousness. Intermittent shadows flitted across his eyelids. Car. Driving.

  He cracked his eyes open on a miserable groan. God, his head hurt. A handsome face swam above him, smiled.

  "Hey, there! Welcome back," the young man said with enough enthusiasm to make Willem squeeze his eyes shut again.

  "What the hell?" he whispered. "Who are you?"

  "I'm Teddy. Teddy Englestad. You smacked your head pretty good."

  Englestad... Willem surged up, fighting the blanket tangling around his limbs. "Kash! Where's Kasha?"

  An old woman turned in the front passenger seat. "He was safe when we saw him, but he's run off ahead to deal with the ogre."

  "Ogre?" Willem murmured, feeling faint and ill.

  "Yes, the ogre who lives in our other house. You were apparently battling some creation of his by the stream? Your magic against his?"

  "I... how hard did I hit my head?" He let Teddy guide him back down because sitting up was making him nauseous. "I can't follow any of this and I don't know anything about an ogre."

  The old woman gave him a long, hard look, though when she spoke again, her voice was gentle. "You aren't a witch or sorcerer of any sort, are you?"

  "What? Me? No. Why would--" He broke off when the realization hit him. "Kasha told you I was, didn't he?"

  "Yes."

  "I hate to say this, and I don
't know why yet"--he rubbed a hand over the side of his aching head--"but I think we've all been had."

  "I just had the same thought." The old woman nodded. "I don't know why either. But I think your little kasha has just put himself in terrible danger."

  Chapter 7: I. M. Ogre, Esq.

  Kasha pulled threads of magic to him in desperate haste as he ran. Brown, orange and yellow from the leaves, dark gray from bark, deep green from the pines, all went into weaving a cloak. If he could get into the house undetected, he might have a chance. Even so, he had to hurry. He felt the ogre's interest turn his way, a frighteningly powerful tendril of magic seeking after him.

  I am leaves. I am wind in the branches. I am moss and crickets.

  He came upon the house more suddenly than anticipated, since he had been concentrating so hard on being invisible. It shocked him into stillness. He watched, ears twitching, trying to determine if he had been detected or if magic traps guarded the house.

  The house was lovely, just the thing. Slate blue siding gave it a more masculine look than Mistress Natt's yellow house, and it was a bit smaller, perhaps three bedrooms instead of five, the perfect size for two. He could picture Willem lounging on the back porch while he brought out morning coffee, kneaded the muscles in his broad shoulders, settled in his lap...

  Enough. He had no time or energy to spare for pleasant daydreams. He proceeded cautiously, skirting the edges of the trees to approach the house from its blindest side where only one window on the second floor overlooked the yard. A line of hemlocks ran from the trees, adding extra cover for his approach.

  He gained the porch, treading light as a blade of grass. One of the windows had the slightest imperfection, not quite plumb with the sill. He gathered his magical cloak close, concentrating on small insect thoughts, flattened his body to the width of a stinkbug, and slipped inside.

  The moment his boots hit the floor, he knew he had made a terrible mistake. The lines of a spell trap whipped around the house, sealing it as if a giant roll of plastic wrap had been pulled tight around the structure. Heart pounding, he dived under a nearby sofa.

  Ogre musk permeated the air, the dreadful stench an unholy mix of decaying onion and mildewed burlap. Somehow, other ogres found it enticing. Kasha fought not to bring up the last week's worth of food. The monster was most definitely in residence, and a ghastly, garish residence it was. Metallic print wallpaper graced the walls of the living room, along with a truly ugly gold-toned wall sculpture. The furniture had been purchased on the bigger-is-always-better side of taste with loud, mismatched prints and far too much black lacquer and red leather.

  Footsteps rang in the front hallway. Kasha crouched, reaching desperately for magic to weave a lightning strike. The threads eluded him. Apparently, the trap exuded a strange magic miasma that scattered his attempts at spell weaving. He believed so until a sharp pain lodged behind his right eye. My promise...

  He had sworn to Willem not to use his magic for harm and he was physically incapable of breaking a promise to his heki-sama. Damn, damn, and damn again. If only he had left himself a loophole, as he had when he promised Willem his plans wouldn't hurt any humans or animals. He had specifically omitted ogres from that second promise.

  "You may as well come out, you know." The ogre rounded the corner dressed in a silk Armani three-piece and alligator shoes, the attempt at classy dressing ruined by the hideous orange and purple tie and the fact that the jacket sleeves were too short.

  Seven feet tall, this ogre was not one of the obese ones. Reminiscent of cartoon versions of death, he was gaunt and hollow eyed, with long white hair caught at the nape of the neck, slicked down with some noxious-smelling hair product. He settled in one of the red leather armchairs, showing rows of sharp, yellow teeth when he smiled.

  "Come out, little pretty. Let's see you." The ogre leaned back, hands folded over his stomach. "If you were human, I would have called the police. Breaking and entering. Trespassing. Tsk. What would your master think?"

  Unable to think of a reason not to, Kasha crept out from under the sofa and took a seat on the opposite armchair. The leather felt cheap. He curled his tail up into his lap in distaste.

  "Such a pretty kasha," the ogre crooned. "I might be tempted to fuck you before I eat you. Of course, I'll have to slice off your adorable little cock and balls first. Nothing better than kasha penis for weather spells."

  The casual, urbane civility was much more frightening than a roaring, drooling monster. Kasha shifted uncomfortably, wanting very much to remain attached to his private parts.

  "Did you think you could take me unawares?" The ogre's smile widened, showing a disturbing number of jagged teeth. "I sensed a kasha in residence the moment I moved here. I felt your power return to you when you were claimed. Poor little kasha. All that magic and it's merely at the beck and call of some idiot human. What does your master want with me? Does he think I have a hoard of gold in the basement?"

  Kasha brushed a paw over his tail, trying to appear as calm as his host and jailer. "Actually, no. It's the house that interests him. Apparently you've stolen it from a friend of his."

  "Stolen? Please be careful with such words. They could be considered libelous." He flicked his fingers and a folded sheaf of paper appeared in his hand. "I have the legal deed to this property, free and clear, from the bank which held the remainder of the mortgage. Would you like to glance through it to satisfy your, no doubt, overactive feline curiosity?"

  Kasha took the papers gingerly from dubiously clean hands ending in black talons. He had his doubts if a bank could truly grant such property rights prior to seizing land in a foreclosure, but the documents certainly were impressive and would no doubt cause a tangled legal mess in civil court. He had to suppress a snicker at the grantee named in the deed, a Mr. Ignacious M. Ogre, Esq. Does no one possess the imagination for good names any longer?

  He folded the deed and placed it beside him on the chair. "It certainly looks in order. I must congratulate you on your foresight and your considerable intellectual prowess." The ogre preened under the praise and the seed of a plan sprouted in Kasha's mind. He heaved a tragic sigh. "I suppose I've made the effort for my master in vain. I've been outflanked, and will neither gain him what he sought, nor be able to return to him."

  "That is a shame. You will make a satisfying meal, if it's any consolation."

  Kasha tipped his head in acknowledgment. "Somewhat gratifying, under the circumstances. Ah, well. I've had a long life. Even the mountains crumble eventually."

  "Well said."

  "I can't help a few nagging bits of curiosity, though... "

  "Oh?"

  He slid off the chair and set his hat on the seat. The ogre's eyes narrowed, so Kasha explained, "I'd rather you didn't eat the hat, if it's all the same to you. It was a gift and not part of my claiming."

  "Of course. I understand." The ogre waved his claws for him to continue.

  "I've known a number of ogres throughout the centuries, though certainly none as accomplished and powerful as you. I've heard that"--he nearly said older ogres, but caught himself in time--"more experienced ogres are able to change form. Is this true?"

  The ghastly smile grew indulgent as the monster steepled his fingers. "Quite true, little pretty. I suppose you'd like to see?"

  "If it's not too much trouble."

  The ogre's chair squealed in protest as he rose. He slipped out of his jacket and stepped to the middle of the room where he presumably had more space. The air around him shivered, as if the chilly room had developed a sudden heat shimmer. He raised his arms, the lines of his body blurring. A moment later, a black lion the size of a grizzly bear stood where the ogre had been.

  The floorboards trembled when the lion roared, and Kasha let out a convincing squeak of fear as he leapt to the top of the black lacquer buffet.

  The lion chuckled, a horrid, choking sound. "Poor little kasha. You're not as brave as you pretend, are you?"

  Kasha made a show of
shaking down his fluffed-up fur and cleaning his paws as if he were annoyed with his skittish reaction. "I was simply surprised. Of course, it's easy to shift to something so big. It's a simple thing to pull mass and magic to you to enlarge your shape. A lion. Naturally, a lion would be easy. I'm sure it's much harder to change form to something smaller, like a rat. Where do you put all the extra mass? How do you hold onto the disparate components until you take your own form back?"

  His irritated commentary earned him another chuckle. "It's not so hard once you've reached a certain level of expertise," the lion growled. "A rat? Don't insult me. I can do far better than that."

  Again, the air shimmered, the lines of the lion's body growing indistinct. Kasha kept his gaze glued to the shifting form, waiting, every muscle tense. When a shrew finally sat on the carpet where the lion had stood, he discarded all attempts at conversation. With a low growl, he pounced, landed directly on the shrew, and broke its back. While this didn't kill the ogre, it certainly slowed him down, giving Kasha time to devour him.

  The shrew squeaked, trying to wriggle out from under his paw despite the broken spine. Kasha had to tamp down hard on his natural inclination to play with his food. Any delay would give the ogre a chance to heal and shift again. He bent his head and took the tiny, squirming body into his mouth.

  Great Raiju, ogres taste worse than they smell.

  He crunched through the skull and swallowed the body whole.

  "And that, I suppose, is that," he said to the now-empty room, quite pleased with himself.

  He turned, thinking he should open a few windows to let in some fresh air. A sharp pain lanced through his stomach. I guess ogre doesn't agree with me.

  Though he tried to ignore it, the pain increased as he walked toward the window. On his third step, he collapsed to his knees, gasping, clawing at his midsection with both paws. It felt as if a heated stone were expanding inside him. The ogre... the ogre was trying to regain his form while inside him.

  Desperately, he pulled threads of magic to him to build a cage, gray threads from steel I-beams, dark brown from the hardwood flooring, white from the heat-resistant ceramics in the kitchen, weaving a bright sphere of magic inside his own body to contain his assailant. Something ripped inside. Ribs creaked and then snapped. Blood ran from his nose and mouth.