Critical Failures II (Caverns and Creatures Book 2)

by Bevan, Robert

  “There is no other way!” said Tim. “We’ll never get –”

  “We don’t need another way,” said Dave. The attention of the room shifted his way. He coughed. “It’s not like we’re under any time pressure, right? Why not just get Fritz to make another stake that isn’t shaped like a dick, or else we’ll club him to death with this one?”

  Tim and Cooper looked at one another, then over at Fritz.

  “I’ll get to work on it right away,” said Fritz, looking relieved to have found a way to redeem himself.

  Tim nodded his head slowly. “I can live with that. Cooper, I’ll take you up on that drink.”

  The crowd’s tension broke. People went back about their business of eating, drinking, and talking.

  Frank brought a bottle and five shot glasses to their table. “I’m real sorry, fellas. We were all pretty drunk when Stuart brought up that dildo idea, and it seemed really funny at the time. Honestly, it still seemed funny once I sobered up, right up until you reminded us that your sister was being held captive.” He poured five shots. “Just don’t take it out on Fritz. He’s a good kid, and it wasn’t his idea.”

  “Yeah, all right,” said Tim. “What’s that?”

  “Stonepiss,” said Dave. “It’s like if tequila was made out of fermented rocks.”

  “That gives me absolutely no sensual image at all,” said Julian.

  “Just try it,” said Dave. “You’ll love it.”

  Cooper held up his glass. “To one day me beating the shit out of Stuart with a giant wooden dick.”

  Everyone shrugged and nodded their approval. “Cheers!”

  Dave’s description of the drink turned out to be surprisingly apt. It was like drinking gravel. It burned going down, but the buzz was immediate, and it was better than goblin piss. Tim poured himself another shot.

  After three shots, Tim’s mood started to lighten. Cooper and Dave had upgraded to drinking the stonepiss out of beer mugs. Julian downgraded to watered down beer after deciding that his initial shot of stonepiss didn’t agree with him.

  Frank threw out a couple of ideas for a more strategic approach for storming a vampire fort, but they were all shot down for one reason or another, and eventually the conversation wandered toward speculation on what kind of treasure a vampire might be hoarding.

  Tim had a sixth shot of stonepiss and found himself unable to focus on anything. The Whore’s Head Inn swirled around him. Conversation was nothing more than a blurry din. He grabbed the side of the table with both hands and forced himself to focus on something, anything. His tired eyes honed in on one of the four or five empty stonepiss bottles until he was able to take a final mental snapshot. The following darkness that flowed in was briefly interrupted by a thump on his forehead, and then nothing.

  Chapter 16

  Chaz struggled to fight off a yawn as he performed Forever in Blue Jeans for the fourteenth time in a row. It was still a relief after twenty-seven rounds of Sweet Caroline, but he was starting to wish the old dead bastard would switch him over to Holly Holy again, just for a change.

  Millard stood over Katherine as she sat at the dining room table, devouring a plate of roasted boar ribs. He was decked out like Hugh Hefner in a red silk robe, and she looked ready for a night out at the governor’s ball in a low-cut black evening dress. Her mouth was covered in Millard’s homemade barbeque sauce which was, admittedly, pretty good, and he gazed down longingly at her as if she were making out with her twin sister. It was hard to tell whether Millard’s arousal was brought on by Katherine looking sexy, which she did, or by the fact that she was enjoying real food, a pleasure which had been denied him for quite some time.

  “These ribs are fucking delicious,” said Katherine. Her face froze suddenly, and she looked up at him. “Oh I’m sorry. Please excuse my language.”

  “You needn’t ever apologize for anything, my love,” said Millard, running a cold, dead finger through her vibrant blonde hair. Chaz had felt those fingers around his neck more than once after the occasional slip of the tongue.

  Katherine stood up, looked Millard in the eyes, and wrapped her bare arms around his neck. She pulled him close to her, until her breasts were pressed up against his chest. “I’ve offended you, my lord. I must be punished.” She licked the barbeque sauce off of her lips.

  Chaz didn’t miss a note, but lowered his lute to obscure the erection that was starting to brew. Katherine and Chaz had been out on three dates, and she’d never come on to him as strongly as she was coming on to this old dead fucker.

  “Save your strength, love,” said Millard, resting his hands on her hips. “I fed on you only yesterday.”

  “I know,” said Katherine, almost purring as she spoke. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it.” She whipped her head around, moving her hair to one side and exposing her long, naked neck. Chaz had never been one to notice a woman’s arteries, but he took notice of Katherine’s carotid artery now. To Millard, it must look like the biggest pair of titties in the world.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking, love,” said Millard. He licked his lips. “It’s too soon.” His tone suggested that he was giving less and less of a fuck with each passing second.

  “Don’t be shy, Millard,” said Katherine, stepping up on her tiptoes, thrusting her neck even closer to Millard’s face. “I just ate two plates of ribs. My body is producing so much blood right now I just might burst.”

  Millard’s eyes were wide and focused on Katherine’s neck. “Well I suppose just a nibble couldn’t hurt.” He lowered his head and opened his mouth, exposing his elongated fangs. One fang touched her skin, producing a small red bead. He licked it off with the tip of his tongue and she swooned. One of her hands moved up to the back of his head, and the other crept down his back.

  “Take me, Millard,” said Katherine.

  Millard pressed his open mouth against Katherine’s neck, and she let out a small yelp. He drank greedily, but some of the blood still spilled out of his mouth and down Katherine’s neck.

  Katherine moaned with pain and pleasure. With her right hand, she brought Millard’s left hand to her breast. He held it there as if he were unsure what to do with it. It had obviously been a while since he’d bothered with second base.

  As horrifying a spectacle as it was to witness, Chaz kept on singing and strumming. It was nothing he hadn’t witnessed a dozen or more times already.

  “Harder, Millard, harder!” Katherine cried. Chaz guessed it had been a few decades since the old boy had had a woman tell him that. At least he’d have a good wank before he went to sleep today. If he ever made it back home, he feared he would have to up the depravity-level of his internet porn searches. But if that’s the worst problem that he came out of this with, then… Hold on, this was going on longer than it should. Katherine was starting to look pale.

  Chaz stopped strumming. “Hey guys. Maybe you should –”

  Millard glared at him, the bottom half of his face completely slathered in Katherine’s blood. “Play the fucking song!”

  Chaz immediately started strumming again, and Millard sucked gently on Katherine’s neck.

  Katherine grabbed hold of Millard’s hair and shoved his head deeper into her neck. “Stop fucking around and take me!”

  Millard did as he was told. He sucked harder on Katherine’s neck and squeezed her tit so hard that his fingernails ripped through the fabric of her dress and pierced her skin. Katherine let out an ecstatic scream, which was cut short by the sound of teeth crunching through cartilage. Her head drooped back and her body went limp.

  “NOOOO!” Chaz shouted.

  Millard looked up at Chaz. His face a mask of blood-smeared shame this time, rather than anger. He looked like a belligerent drunk who had finally pissed his pants. “Play the song five more times,” he said. “Then you may retire for the day.”

  With shaky hands and numb fingers, Chaz began to strum the strings of his lute. Millard carried Katherine’s limp, lifeless body down th
e hall and across the threshold of his coffin room.

  The following five performances of Forever in Blue Jeans were not the best of Chaz’s career. When he finished playing, he huddled in a corner and shivered. He did not sleep that day.

  Chapter 17

  Dave’s dreams flickered like a TV screen during a storm. He shrugged it off the first two times and kept right on dreaming. He was in a car, being chased by some mob guys, pinstripe-suited arms waving Tommy guns out of the windows. Dave’s car and the car in pursuit were crossing a bridge. Come to think of it, they had been crossing this bridge for quite some time, all the while creeping closer and closer to driving right off the side of it. He knew he should turn the wheel and straighten out in the lane, but he just kept creeping closer and closer to that edge.

  Jolt. Static.

  Back on the bridge. Still driving. The mob guys were right on his tail.

  Jolt. Static.

  What was that? Didn’t matter. Focus on the road. You’re getting kinda close to that edge. Be careful.

  Jolt. Smack!

  Dave was back in the Whore’s Head Inn. The side of his face burned. He knew that burn. He’d been slapped. “What!”

  “Come on, man,” said Julian. “Wake up!” His voice was off somehow.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” He quickly looked around the room. They were all still at the table they had been drinking at. Light from the elf table’s solitary candle glinted off two dozen empty bottles. It had been a hell of a night. Tim lay sound asleep with his head resting on his arms. Cooper had fallen off of his stool and lay face down on the floor in a puddle of vomit. Nothing seemed to be amiss.

  Firm hands with slender fingers grabbed either side of his beard and forced his head forward.

  “Dave!” said Julian. His eyes were watery and his cheeks tear-tracked.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Dave.

  “We’re too late,” said Julian. He let go of Dave’s face and sat down heavily on a stool.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Julian pointed back to the corner table where the insomniac elves kept watch. “Katherine is dead.”

  Not a single elf met Dave’s gaze as he stumbled after Julian toward their table, hoping he was still in some stonepiss-induced nightmare. Katherine’s character sheet was spread out flat on the table.

  “We’re sorry for your loss,” said Fritz.

  “Shit,” said Dave, blinking his eyes hard, still trying to force himself awake from the dream he desperately hoped he was in. It didn’t work. “All right, so her Hit Points are at zero. That doesn’t necessarily mean she’s –”

  “Look at her Constitution score,” said Tony the Elf. He didn’t seem to want to touch the paper, and it took a while for Dave’s bleary, anxious eyes to center on the right location.

  Constitution: 0 (Dead)

  “No arguing with that,” he said under his breath. He looked up at Julian. “What are we going to do?”

  “We’ve got to tell Tim.”

  “This is going to break him,” said Dave. Ever since he’d known Tim, he’d always been right on the edge of a nervous breakdown. His whole life he’d always been so goddamn serious. Never taking a break. Always taking on more responsibility than he could handle. Dave was actually going to quit the game a while back on account of Cooper being such an obnoxious asshole, but he didn’t want to let Tim down. Without that Friday night pressure release, Dave thought Tim would have cracked up a long time ago. All he had in life were his few shitty friends and his sister. This was going to kill him.

  “Dude, we can’t keep this from him.”

  “Yeah,” said Dave. “I know.” He wiped some sweat off his forehead. “Listen, I’d better be the one to tell him. You mind taking a walk?”

  “Yeah,” said Julian. “Of course.” He backed away

  Dave looked down at Tim. This was going to be hard. Tim was sleeping so peacefully. It didn’t help that he looked like a little boy who was tuckered out after a long summer day of running through the forest, building a treehouse or whatever. This was the last moment of peace Tim would ever know.

  “Tim,” Dave whispered, patting him gently on the back. “Tim, wake up.”

  Tim’s eyes opened wearily, went wide for a moment, and closed again. “Hey Dave. Hell of a party last night. How are you feeling?”

  Dave lowered his head. “A little rough, I guess. Not too bad. I’m a dwarf, right? I don’t really suffer from hangovers.”

  “I feel like shit,” said Tim. “I’m glad I passed out when I did.” He looked at the mess on the table. “Jesus, you guys didn’t fuck around, did you?”

  “Yeah,” said Dave. “Well, you know Cooper. Moderation isn’t exactly his strong suit.”

  Tim looked down at Cooper, sprawled out, face-down on the floor. “Quite the understatement.”

  “Listen,” said Dave. “Something’s come up.” Katherine’s rolled up character sheet weighed heavy in his hand.

  Tim looked at Dave. “What’s up?”

  “I’m really sorry, man.”

  “Spit it the fuck out, Dave.”

  Hot tears welled up in Dave’s eyes, and burned down each side of his face. “The son of a bitch killed her.”

  “Drop the fucking pronouns, man,” said Tim. His voice shook. “What happened?”

  Dave couldn’t speak. He held paper out to Tim.

  Tim snatched it out of his hand and spread it flat on the table. He stared at the paper silently while his face made the transition from porcelain white to tomato red. He grabbed the nearest stonepiss bottle – still about a quarter full – and hurled it against a wall. It shattered in an explosion of glass and hard liquor. He looked around for something else to take out his aggression on, and found it lying on the floor next to him.

  “Wake up, Cooper!” he shouted, kicking Cooper in the ass.

  “Five more minutes,” Cooper groaned without opening his eyes.

  “Wake the fuck up, you lazy sack of shit!” Tim brought his foot back, his eyes focused on Cooper’s ribs.

  Dave winced as he saw it play out in what seemed like slow-motion. Footballs had been sent through goal posts from fifty yards away with less force. The crack was nearly as loud as the shattering bottle had been.

  “Fuck!” shouted Cooper, now fully awake. He sat up, rubbing the spot over his broken rib. “I’m up! Where’s the fucking fire?”

  Tim lunged at Cooper as he got to his feet. Had they both been normal, full-grown adults, they would have both tumbled around on the floor. With their current difference in mass, Tim might as well have been trying to tackle an elephant. He clung on to Cooper’s shoulders.

  Cooper grabbed Tim by the back of his shirt, and peeled him off like a wet paper towel. Tim flailed his arms, trying in vain to get in a punch as Cooper held him out at arm’s length. “What’s gotten into you, dude?”

  Tim frantically punched and clawed at the air half a foot away from Cooper’s face. “My sister’s dead, you stupid son of a bitch!”

  “Oh, Tim!” said Cooper, embracing Tim like a bear hugging a bunny. Tim’s arms and legs squirmed about as he tried to pry his face away from Cooper’s filthy chest.

  “What’s all the noise about?” asked Frank, rubbing his eyes as he stumbled out from behind the bar.

  “We’re too late,” said Cooper through a throat full of phlegm. The big bastard was actually crying. “Katherine’s dead.” He squeezed Tim tighter.

  “Jesus, dude,” said Frank. “I’m really sorry.”

  “You’re sorry!” shouted Cooper. “A lot of good that does us!”

  “Calm down, big guy,” said Frank. “This isn’t over yet.”

  Cooper sucked in a great wet inhalation of snot. “Isn’t over? She’s fucking dead, man! How much more over can it get? She’s gone! Dead, with a capital… um…”

  “D,” said Dave.

  “D!” said Cooper.

  “This is C&C,” said Frank. “You can get her back. There’s a tem
ple to Rapha right up the road from here.”

  Tim continued to punch Cooper’s chest. He finally got his attention with a kick in the crotch. Cooper dropped Tim to cradle his balls.

  Tim fell to the floor gasping for air. “Frank’s right,” he said. “We can go get her back!”

  “I’m coming with you,” said a voice from a dark corner of the bar. Stuart stepped out into the dim moonlight coming in through the window.

  “Hold on a tick,” said Frank. “We had a deal, remember? None of my guys are supposed to get involved in this.”

  “Your deal,” shouted Dave, “went out the window when you held your little dildo party last night!”

  “I can decide for myself, Frank,” said Stuart. “This is my fault. I’m sorry about the dildo. That was a shitty thing to do. If you have to go in unarmed, it might behoove you to have a monk on your side.”

  “Um,” said Julian. “We’ve still got one problem.”

  “No,” said Cooper. He wiped a tear out of his eye. It was impossible to tell if it had originated from the news of Katherine’s passing or from being kicked in the nuts. “Fetch the dildo.”

  Chapter 18

  Even from a distance, the temple of Rapha stood out against the night like a reflection of the moon. Flaming brass braziers illuminated gleaming white marble pillars, and it made Cooper’s head hurt.

  As if the discomfort of walking around with a giant wooden cock up his ass wasn’t enough, Cooper was suffering from the worst hangover he’d ever had. That stonepiss didn’t fuck around. He desperately needed to rehydrate, and was even prepared to suck up a puddle off the street if they happened by one. No such luck.

  “May the light of Rapha shine on you,” said a man in white robes as the party approached the front steps. “What does such a varied group of travelers seek at such an early hour?”

  The temple had few walls and no doors. It must be a twenty-four hour establishment.