Title

by Stanley, Jacob

  He was glaring again, and looked as if he might even be considering spitting in her face.

  She offered him the most pleasant smile she could manage, which was very pleasant indeed, and then left him.

  4 - Go Time

  Myra found a shed next to the house, with a push-mower, and all sorts of other junk, including a big red jug full of gasoline—which, as it happened, was exactly what she’d come looking for.

  She carried the stuff into the house and went from room to room, splashing everything liberally, taking extra special care to soak the bodies of the dead soldiers and saturate their clothing.

  Most likely the fire wouldn’t burn hot enough to turn the corpses to ash. There would still be something for the cops to find, but that was okay. Cops couldn’t really do much to her.

  She was worried about other things, like Vargas, the scum-bag who’d supplied them with their men. The fire might be enough to obscure the method of their deaths, and it might be better to keep that from the gangster if possible.

  She’d paid for the men, and felt she had every right to end them for their insolence, but Vargas might not see it that way, and if he didn’t, he might be reluctant to work with them in the future, which would be an annoyance. He was a useful man to have in your pocket; in addition to the muscle he provided, he had great connections in places of power, and he could perform all sorts of other useful, illegal services.

  She was also thinking of the British demon sorcerer, who’d been an agent of The Order of Merlin. The Order didn’t scare her much more than the police, but a fire would make their mystical sniffing around a little more difficult, an idea which amused her.

  No reason to make it easy for them, she thought as she saturated a chair with gasoline, and shook the last few drops out onto a rug, then tossed the empty jug into the floor.

  The noise startled a silver cat out of hiding. It arched its back and hissed at her fiercely.

  Myra smiled. She liked cats better than she liked people, and saw no reason why the animal should burn in the fire too.

  She grabbed a broom and used it to herd the little predator out the front door, then stood on the porch, watching the creature disappear into the nearby woods.

  The sun was very bright now, and the sky was clear.

  She suddenly realized that she felt very good; about the sun, and about the fresh air, and about the birds and the bees, so she sat down on the porch steps, and counted her blessings, and waited for her brother’s imminent arrival.

  - - -

  After Myra left him, Kevin was even more uncertain about whether or not to try escaping. Obviously the woman was well aware of the possibility that he might escape, and she was very close by.

  Plus she had seemed like a totally different person than before, which had thrown him. She’d been charming, funny, attractive.

  Normal.

  There was no hint in any aspect of her behavior that she was secretly a monstrous cannibal. She had seemed like someone who might be reasoned with.

  But she’s not. Can’t let her fool me. She’s the same person that killed all those people out there.

  Which, in some ways, was a darned good reason to stay put.

  Right now she obviously didn’t want to kill him, so it might be better to wait and see what the future would bring. Time might eventually provide him with a better opportunity.

  He had just about talked himself out of doing anything when he got a strong whiff of gas fumes, coming presumably from downstairs. The odor struck all sorts of ominous chords in his mind, and he suddenly decided that he was tired of second-guessing himself. The future was a big black hole, full of unpleasant mysteries. Right now, at least he had a clue about where he was and what his circumstances were. It was time to roll the dice.

  He closed his eyes, concentrated on his body, and went to work.

  He knew that changing the size of his wrists was the kind of thing that would be especially tricky to do, so he started with that first. It took a full five minutes to get it right, and then he decided to change the width of his hands too when he realized they might be too big to fit through the loop of the restraints, no matter how much he crumpled his fingers.

  Of course, that was all purely speculative since he couldn’t even try to get his hands out of the restraints while wrapped up like this, so he made himself start sweating. It only took a few seconds to get the process started, but there was a physical limit to how fast someone could sweat, and it took another five minutes before the strips of tape that were touching his skin started loosening enough to give him a little play.

  Unfortunately, it was only a very small amount of play, and he realized then that the sweat trick wasn’t even going to work as well as he’d been hoping. It wasn’t going to give him enough freedom of movement to even start the process of pulling his hands out of the leather loops. No way, no how.

  But he’d anticipated that possibility, and now he took the next step; he boosted his strength a few notches—something he knew how to do very quickly. And once he felt his muscles perk up, he began to strain against the tape with all his might.

  The stuff was strong, and his first attempts failed. His arms alone weren’t going to be enough.

  Gotta get more leverage somehow...

  He rolled over onto his stomach, and pulled his knees up towards his face, and then strained with his shoulders and the muscles in his back.

  He strained so hard that he felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head; strained until he was on the verge of fainting; strained like an Olympic weight lifter in the championship round.

  And then, finally, there was a loud RIP and he felt the tape begin to give way.

  After that, everything happened pretty quick. With his arms free, he was able to pull his tiny wrists out of the restraints. He quickly added long, sharp claws to the ends of his fingers, like small knives, and used them to cut the tape and bed-sheet fabric holding his legs in place, then he unbuckled the restraints around his feet, and he was loose.

  He stood up, stretched his muscles out.

  The reek of gasoline was now nearly overpowering.

  She’s doing it. She’s gonna burn this house down when she goes.

  It was a sensible thing for her to do. The fact that she was preparing to do it right now meant the ride she’d talked about would probably be showing up pretty soon.

  I need to get out of here before that happens, he thought.

  The idea of running away from her, especially after his embarrassing failure last night, made him feel like a coward, but he really had no other choice that made any sense. He had already seen what she could do, and although he might do better against her if he had a full tank of Mask particles to work with, under the current circumstances he would be no match for her at all. She’d eat him for breakfast, and that would be that.

  First rule of being a superhero. Live to fight again another day.

  He was pretty sure he’d read that in a Spider-Man comic at some point, and if it was a good enough rule for Spider-Man, then it was good enough for him too.

  He crept over to the bedroom door, slowly turned the knob, opened it a crack to peek out. There was nobody there, but the smell of gas was a whole lot stronger from there—definitely coming from downstairs.

  He opened the door the rest of the way, readying himself to sprint out of the house.

  And then he heard the rumble of a car engine, loud and close.

  Someone was pulling into the driveway.

  5 - Down and Out

  Kevin backed away from the door, went to the window, and looked out.

  There was a great big luxury car in the driveway, something like a Lincoln Town car.

  Three men got out—one from the driver’s seat, and two others from the back. All were obviously security guards or something similar—dressed in dark military fatigues, and combat boots, with semi-automatic pistols on their hips. They looked pretty much just like the dudes that were chopped up in a pile i
n the living room below.

  For a second Kevin thought this might be good news. Maybe the cavalry had arrived. But then the passenger door opened, and another man climbed out, and all Kevin’s hopes immediately fled.

  Because the man was obviously Myra’s brother. The facial resemblance was immediately evident—they could’ve been twins they looked so much alike. The only difference was that he absolutely dwarfed her. He was definitely over seven feet tall. Way over. The angle made it hard to judge his height with any real accuracy, but Kevin had the sense that he might even be somewhat over eight feet tall, which was so unreal that it almost had to be an optical illusion.

  Unlike most men of enormous height, Myra’s brother wasn’t lanky or long, and there was nothing awkward or clumsy about the way he moved. He wore a dark black suit and black dress shoes, and he had one hand casually in his pocket as he walked, a pleasant smile on his face.

  Okay, this is crappy luck, thought Kevin, but it changes nothing. I’m still getting out of this place. Not going anywhere with these freakin’ guys.

  He heard Myra out on the porch, greeting the men as they started up the steps.

  If they were coming inside, his original plan of sprinting down the stairs and out the front door didn’t make sense anymore, which meant his options were quickly narrowing.

  But narrowing wasn’t the same thing as disappearing…

  - - -

  Tobias came up on the porch and gave Myra a long hug. It hurt her ribs, but she didn’t say anything about it.

  “You look well, Sister,” he said in their native tongue.

  “I’m feeling much better.”

  “You’ve fed?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you need for us to load up?”

  “I have a captive, and lots of clothes.”

  “A captive? I thought you said the British Agent escaped?”

  “Someone else arrived shortly after I called you the first time. Another agent, I assumed, although now I’m not sure. I have him restrained upstairs.”

  “Is he injured?”

  “Somewhat, but I’ve chosen not to kill him, for now.”

  “Is he a sorcerer?”

  “Not a sorcerer,” she said. “Something more interesting.”

  “Eh?”

  “I believe he might be a lycanthrope.”

  Tobias’s eyes widened with interest. “No joking?”

  Myra shrugged. “It’s just a guess. There’s no way to be certain what he really is. I saw him change, and he turned into some sort of hairy creature. It was impressive. And he was formidable enough in battle, though I don’t think he’s any real threat against either of us. I was able to subdue him despite my injuries.”

  “A werewolf? I think I would like to see him transform myself.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you would,” she said, “and perhaps that can be arranged. I’m going to keep him alive for now, to learn what I can from him.”

  He nodded, smiling. Then he raised an eyebrow. “Do I smell gasoline?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m going to burn the place down.”

  “Ah,” he said, “fire is a good way to clean up a mess.”

  “Yes,” she said, with a slightly distracted tone.

  Her eyes were focused on the wooden slats of the porch, which were bowing visibly under his weight. She took him by the arm, and ushered him quickly into the house before he could break through. Tobias weighed more than 600 pounds, and she’d seen him fall through sturdier looking floors in the past.

  Once inside on firmer ground, he stopped to look at the piled bodies. “You really killed them all…”

  “We can get more. Speaking of which, you need to call Vargas and tell him we lost them. Tell him there was an ambush, that all his men died, and that I had to leave in a hurry to save my own tail.”

  Tobias frowned. “Vargas is already suspicious because of what happened at Joe Santini’s.”

  “Vargas likes our money,” she said. “I think he’ll find a way to deal with his suspicions.”

  She noticed that the mercenaries were looking with great interest at the ruined bodies of their comrades.

  She spoke to them in English, “These men were killed by a man I’m holding upstairs. He’s very dangerous, but he’s tied up and currently isn’t a threat. I don’t want him hurt—we need to get answers from him before we kill him. So I know you may feel vengeful, but please hold your tempers.”

  The men all looked back at her with blank expressions that made it clear they had no particular attachments to their fellows. The man who seemed to be in charge nodded, and there was a slight smile on his face, as if he found her mention of loyalty amusing.

  Pure scum, she thought, wishing not for the first time that they didn’t have to deal with such foul individuals.

  She bit back an angry insult, and then motioned for the men to follow as she started up the stairs.

  She was halfway up when she heard the sound of glass breaking.

  - - -

  It had taken Kevin a few seconds to work up the nerve to jump out the window. Then he had trouble opening it. The thing was painted shut, and even with his enhanced strength he was pretty sure he couldn’t get it up without making a ton of noise. So he just decided heck with it; if he was going to make a bunch of noise, he might as well make it in a hurry.

  He looked around the room for something to use, and decided on a cheerleading trophy that was really big and really heavy. Most of the glass shattered with the first blow. Then he cleared out the shards around the edges as well as he could, and went for it.

  The landing hurt pretty bad, but his enhanced musculature kept him from breaking anything.

  He made it to his car with no difficulty, and was happy to find that his keys were still in the ignition, but unfortunately the big Towncar was parked right behind him, so he had to do some quick maneuvering, including a switch into reverse, in order to get into position. He did it pretty fast, but it took a few seconds, and by the time he was ready to zoom out of the driveway, he was already out of time.

  Kevin didn’t realize his plan had failed until he hit the accelerator, and the car just sat there spinning. Then he felt the vehicle tilt forward precariously, and he looked up into his rear-view mirror to see what the heck was going on.

  Myra’s brother was back there, easily holding the car up off the ground, easily resisting the pull of the engine. They met each other’s eyes in the mirror. The big man didn’t look angry, or mocking or even excited. His expression showed a hint of boredom and a dose of good humor, as though he was happy for the chance to get a little exercise, and somewhat appreciative of Kevin for providing him with it.

  Kevin kept his foot down on the gas, hoping that the other man would get tired, but it was all for naught.

  Myra arrived a few seconds later.

  He locked the car door when he saw her, but that only served to delay things a little. Her first reaction was to ball up her fist and draw back, as if she intended to put it right through his window. Then the three guards arrived, and she changed her mind. She had them hold their guns on him, then she insisted very calmly, that he turn off the engine and surrender immediately.

  Since his window wasn’t bulletproof, and since he wasn’t feeling particularly suicidal, Kevin Tanaka did as instructed.

  Once he was out, Myra’s brother let the car drop, and the impact when it hit the ground caused a seismic wave that Kevin could actually feel in his feet.

  Myra sighed and shook her head sadly. “What am I going to do with you Mister Tanaka? If you weren’t such an interesting mystery, I might just kill you and be done with it, but who knows? You might genuinely prove valuable… Am I going to have to cripple you? I’ve found that two broken legs is a pretty reliable way to keep a man from running off. It’s tempting, but then I’d have to listen to you screaming in pain, and you’d probably be too distraught to talk to anybody for a long time...”

  It was pretty clear to Kevin that s
he wasn’t joking, or trying to scare him. She was actually debating whether or not to break his legs or something.

  She’s a freakin’ lunatic, dude. Way too crazy to bargain with.

  Maybe it was suicidal to run, but it might be worse than suicidal to let her capture him.

  He measured the distance between himself and the three guards with the guns. His strength was still boosted, more than enough to put a serious hurt on any normal guy.

  He could do this. He could make it happen.

  He could see the moves he would need to make; they played in his imagination, one by one, like watching a movie. A quick step off to one side out of the line of fire for the guns, a pivot and a hard blow to the neck of the nearest guard, and then another blow to his gun arm.

  The gun would fall…

  Then I’ll fall too, roll, grab it, shoot the other two guards real fast…

  He ran the scenario through his mind a couple of times, to make sure it seemed possible. He saw a few minor kinks in the plan—mostly related to distances and the exact timing of things, so he started furiously working on them, ironing everything out so it would go perfect, so there’d be zero chance of failure.

  And while his mind was otherwise occupied, Myra gave him a little slap across his left cheek. It happened fast, too fast for him to even consider a defensive maneuver, and the impact was amazing, like being hit with a very large sledgehammer.

  By the time his rear-end hit the ground it was already sleepy-time for Kevin.

  PART 4 - TREEHOUSES

  1 - A Particular Path

  Atzgythe was a place of wonders when you went in deep enough.

  And Camilla was deep now. She’d walked all through the night and all through the day, the terrain around her changing unceasingly with an impossible fluidity. At times she wandered through wooded hill country, at other times through swamps where her feet sank ankle deep in mud. Nights and days passed with arbitrary suddenness, and without any regard for the actual passage of time. Twice she came upon burning wastelands of red clay, and ash, where rusted metal parts of impossible size stuck up out of the ground, and once she came upon the shores of a great ocean with dark brown waters, where the petrified bones of strange giants where scattered everywhere across the beach.