by RyFT Brand
drew the silver bladed daggers from my boot sheaths and braced in a fighting stance. I could kill one, maybe two of them, but so armed there was no way I could take them all.
But then something else roared, even louder than all the monsters combined. As if lifted by magic, two large goblins floated off their feet, their gnarled faces clenched with pain, then, with a loud snap, their spines divided and they dropped to the floor.
Mickey stood, growling and flexing behind them, his face was a portrait of fury. He’d stripped off the trench coat, revealing a huge body of rippling muscles. Image a silverback gorilla seven-foot tall and twice as big. His lips drew back as his mouth opened into a gorge of long, pointed teeth and he set loose a screeching howl so loud that I had to cover my ears.
“Aheeee!” the remaining goblins and orcs cried out and, in a mass of writhing and stumbling bodies, bolted for the door. Couldn’t say as I blamed them.
“Grab one!” I shouted, snatched the large talking shell from the shelf, and hurled it into the nearest orc’s head.
“Ommph!” The shell smashed against the back of his head and he toppled face forward.
Mickey lunged, his gleaming metal foot hit the floor like a dropped anvil and I was surprised it hadn’t gone straight through. With a terrible growl he snagged one of the lithe, green goblins by the back of the head and yanked it off its gnarly feet.
My orc was gathering its booted feet under itself. Apparently I’d done little more than make it mad. I stepped onto the back of the couch then leapt. “Ahhh!” I landed, knee first, onto the orc’s pronounced spine. I heard a loud crack and, with a squeal, it gurgled and fumed at the mouth. I drew and set the dagger’s blade to the side of its neck. “Move monster and I’ll slit it wide open.”
Tough words, but by the way it shook and its spine bent in, I doubted it would ever move again.
“Reeee!” I head the screech of a goblin in battle.
Mickey’s captive had spun on him and was racking his needle-sharp claws across Mickey’s huge arms and chest. Mickey stumbled back, dragging his heavy, metal appendage, and waved his free arm in defense.
As I stood I switched the knife to a throwing position, but Mickey stopped defending himself and, forming a huge fist, jammed his face in the goblin’s and roared.
The goblin fell limp and began to cry.
Holding his captive like a ragdoll, Mickey looked down at his multiple bleeding cuts. “Damn thing cut me good.”
I sauntered over, grabbed the goblin by the back of his filthy hoodie, and tossed him hard onto the couch.
It was still crying.
Mickey took Parry’s dispenser off the floor and began gently dabbing at his cuts with handfuls of tissues. So, the big bestie had decided to help me after all, or, more likely, his boss had instructed him to help me—a quick tele-com conversation would explain his late entry into the fray. I didn’t kid myself about the assist, Boss Geeter wasn’t protecting me, he was protecting an asset.
Mickey nodded toward the twitching orc on the floor. “Got a little overzealous, did ya?”
I shrugged. “I broke mine.” Then I remembered. “Adam!”
I ran to the side of the desk. Samuels lay there unmoving, little more than a mass of human-shaped muscles and pulsing veins. But my shadow sight showed me something more. I touched him softly. He was dry and smooth. I rolled him over onto his back, his eyes and teeth looked especially gross without the skin.
“Ewww,” Mickey squawked like a girl. “You shouldn’t touch him, he’s all…messy. And dead.”
“No,” I said setting two fingers to the side of his neck. He’s alive. And he’s not sticky or wet. His skin’s gone translucent.
Mickey leaned down and looked closer, looming over me. “We’ll I’ll be darned.”
Strange reaction, like curiosity.
Something wet hit my cheek. I wiped it off and came away with sasquatch blood on my fingers. Then I caught a flash of motion behind me.
Mickey saw me look.
He straightened up and pointed. “Back on the couch; you move when I tell you you move.”
Sobbing, the goblin slunked back and plopped down.
I stood and walked to the hall. “I’ll get some bandages.”
Mickey nodded toward the inspector. “What about him?”
I stopped and stared a moment, thinking because I wasn’t really sure. “He needs help, magical help, but we don’t have the skill to give it to him, or the time to find someone who does.” I held up my still bleeding hand. “We’ll patch ourselves up, and then ask this goblin real nice-like where they’re holding my secretary.”
“Nice-like?” Mickey asked.
I stared at the cowering little crow on my couch through narrowed eyes. “I’m really sick of being manipulated. This little scab is going to tell us where Parry is and he’s going to do it quickly because I am really not it the mood for playing.”
Still wining, the goblin uncurled one of its long, bony fingers and pointed toward the door.
Parry stood there, holding a sack of groceries, gape mouthed and ashen faced.
“Parry?” I asked in surprise.
His mouth snapped shut and turned down. “Jazz, what did you do?”
Ah Parry, always the one for understatement.
“I didn’t—” I started to answer before catching myself. “Where the Hades have you been?”
Parry wandered into the room, carefully stepping around the disarray of weapons, bodies, and spilled fluids. “I went to the enforcer corps headquarters, like you told me to.”
“Then where’s my bike?”
He wove through the office with his eyes fixed down as he didn’t want to get anything sticky on his precious shoes. “You owe five-hundred yellow on the bike, which was about four-ninety more than we had. So I got us some food.” He set the sack down on his clear-topped desk.
“So you weren’t captured by Clowns?” I asked.
“No,” he said and turned his eyes to the goblin rising off of the couch.
“Sit,” Mickey commanded.
The goblin sat, sniffling hard through its gross goblin nose. With unfocused and unblinking eyes, Parry passed the snot-nosed goblin a tissue. He ate it then wiped his nose on the back of its warty hand.
Parry turned, his chin slowly rising as he looked up at Mickey.
“Sasquatch,” I said.
Parry’s eyes widened. “Wow, really. That’s so snark.”
“Call me Mickey.”
“Parry,” I snapped, “Stop ogling and get him the first aid kit.”
“First aid…” Parry said taking in the big foot’s bleeding cuts. “There’s so much…” The light-weight couldn’t bring himself to say it.
I grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him to face me. “Parry, I’m running out of time here, DJ, Moxie, and Ship are running out of time here. I need you to pull your weight on this one.”
The color, and the sneer, returned to Parry’s face. “Hey, I do more than my fair share.”
I didn’t need that old argument so I clamped a hand over his mouth. “Not now. Just get the first aid kit and try not to be so squeamish. OK?”
Parry nodded and I drew my hand away, though he couldn’t resist a quick mumble. “I’m not so squeamish.”
“What happened?” Samuels exclaimed as he lurched to his feet.
Parry screamed and fainted.
Mickey caught him.
“Adam,” I said in a cautious tone. “I want you to look at me, just at me.”
The inspector’s eyes rolled side to side in their apparently socket-less face. Yeah, it was pretty gross. “Oh gods, you’re talking to me and not demeaning me.” The way his eyes were darting, I guessed he was forcing himself to not look down. Then, almost in slow motion, his eyes rolled down and he looked at his hands.
“Ahhhhh!”
-Next Time-
The enforcer corps are going to dismantle Ship, and as much as her en-souled flycraft annoys her, Jazz
is going to need him if she wants to hold any hope of rescuing DJ, her trustworthy sidekick. So, despite the clock counting down doom for her companions, Jazz takes a collection job as it’s her only hope of raising the money to get Ship out of impound. But it’s a wild dragon-chase she’s on because dragon’s are about as rare on Mirth as cotton candy. There’s no way the information she extracted from her goblin captive was trustworthy, but if the goblin wasn’t lying, and she actually managed to kill the big worm, she’d have more than enough chips to recover Ship. Only problem, dragons are nearly impossible to kill. Steady Jazz, steady…
Jazz, Monster Collector, Episode 10, The Lizard Wears Black
I hope you’ve enjoyed this Jazz adventure.
If you’d like to learn more about the monster collector, or me and my other works, please visit:
Ranting at www.RyftsRants.com