by Ben Meeks
“I think my ribs are broken,” he said.
“It wouldn’t surprise me. You weren’t wearing a seatbelt when we crashed.”
“What are you?” he said giving me a sideways glance.
“Me?” I questioned. “I’m just a guy trying to get by like everybody else.”
He didn’t look reassured, it was probably the whiskers. I took my human form. Watching the transformation didn’t appear to give him any comfort. “If you will hold still for a second, I can fix you right up.”
He didn’t say anything but gave a quick nod. He didn’t really have a choice. I knelt beside him and continued. Again the energy flowed with the blue light.
“It’s warm,” he said.
I nodded. “That means it’s working.”
After a minute the bruising and all outward signs of damage had vanished. The energy that had flowed into him now poured over him like a stream flowing around a stone telling me the process was complete.
“How do you feel?” I asked.
“I feel . . .” He took a minute to assess his situation, look of surprise spreading across his face. “Great! Like a teenager. Nothing hurts, not even my elbow and that’s bothered me for years.” He moved his arm back and forth to test it out.
“I’m sure you have a lot of questions and I’ll be happy to answer them but first, it’s morning. I don’t know what your schedule is, but if you’re supposed to be working today maybe you could call in sick while we get this worked out? I don’t want them to think you’re missing,” I said.
He gave me a sideways glance, sizing me up. “All right, and then I get some answers.”
“All the answers you want,” I agreed.
“Just need my phone. Do you have it?”
I looked at Livy and she shook her head no.
“It’s probably still in the truck. I’ll help you look,” I said.
We made it outside and my heart sank when I saw the truck smashed against the side of Livy’s house. I could tell it was done for. The entire front end was pancaked into the stone, the glass busted out. It didn’t even sit straight anymore but lurched off to the right, maybe a broken axle. Farwell wasted no time looking in the cab, not thinking twice about the truck, as I surveyed the damage.
My inspection led me to the back of the truck where I found Naylet, still frozen in stone but tipped over, lying face down from the impact. I hopped into the bed and pulled her back into an upright position. She was cold and lifeless as the stone she had become, more so even, because I knew exactly how much life was missing. Even the rocks are infused with Thera’s essence, but not Naylet, not now. There was no energy at all coming from her, she was like a void, the same way demons feel.
“I’m going to fix this,” I whispered.
The impact from hopping back onto solid ground sent a shock of pain through my muscles, reminding me that I still had a good bit of healing to do. Farwell had found the phone and was doing his best to sound sick to whoever was on the other end.
After a few fake coughs he hung up and turned toward me. “How about those answers?”
“Sure, just let me borrow your phone for a sec, I need to get us a ride.”
He held it out without protest. I took it and dialed my home number. From what Thera said, Holt had been taken so he wouldn’t answer but it’s worth trying. It didn’t ring but gave me a busy signal. Probably knocked off the hook from whatever had happened. I dialed the only other number I knew by heart. A voice grunted on the other end.
“Hey, Tico, it’s Obie. Is Hank around?”
“Hang on,” he said.
The gentle hum of conversation and the clanking of glasses drifted through the phone. It sounded like a busy day at the clubhouse.
After a minute Hank picked up the phone. “Obie, are you okay? We’ve been looking for you.”
“I’ve been better. Ran into some trouble yesterday. Everything okay?”
“We need you, Hob got hit. You weren’t answering your phone so I drove over to your place. It’s trashed and there are a couple dead demons laying around,” he said. “We’ve been looking for you all night.”
“I’m at Livy’s. I need a ride. The truck’s broke.”
“All right, don’t go anywhere. I’m on my way,” he said.
I hung up and turned around to Farwell. “Our ride’s coming. Let’s talk inside.”
Farwell sat down in Livy’s rocking chair while I went back to the cot. He stared at me intently with a neutral expression, his eyes following my every movement. If I didn’t know better, I would think my human form freaked him out more than krasis.
“You alright there, Detective?” I asked.
“Fine,” he said, continuing to stare.
“You know you’re safe here, right? Relax a little,” I said.
“I know, if you wanted to hurt me you could have. I’m just coming to terms with things,” he said.
“Is there something on my face?”
“Sorry, no, I am looking for a tell. Something to give away that you aren’t human. I want to be able to spot your kind.”
“And? What do you think? Have you figured out how the secrets to spotting ultra-naturals?” I asked.
“No,” he said and looked down at the tea Livy had made him.
“That’s going to be tough, my kind don’t survive by sticking out,” I said.
He relaxed back into the seat and took a sip of the tea. “What’s an ultra-natural?”
“An assortment of people that keep their existence hidden from humans,” I said. “You’ve heard of my kind referred to as ‘supernatural’ in the movies, but we haven’t removed ourselves from the earth the way humans have so that label didn’t doesn’t fit.”
“Why stay hidden? What do you think would happen?”
“I think we would be pursued and treated in ways that would make Nazi Germany look tame in comparison,” I said.
“I don’t think you understand humans too well,” he said with a dismissive chuckle.
“Actually, I used to be human and after a few hundred years of personal experience I think I have a better understanding than you think,” I said.
“So what happened?” he asked.
“I was just a kid. My parents had died of consumption, and I—”
“Wait, what’s consumption?” Farwell asked.
“Tuberculosis,” Livy said from the kitchen.
“Right, so after they passed I was sent to Bethesda. It’s an orphanage down close to Savannah. Mr. Whitefield ran it and, well, we never quite saw eye to eye. I liked to run and swim and he liked the Bible and making sure all of us kids knew it and stuck to it. Whatever means it took, that’s what he would do. One night I had snuck out, I did that a lot, and heard some screaming in the woods. I followed the sound and found some people torn to pieces by what I thought was the devil. It looked like a man with grey skin, wings, and these hands with extremely long clawed fingers, a real knuckle dragger. I watched as it started eating the bodies and before I knew it, it spotted me. I must have made some noise or something and got its attention. I wasn’t going to wait and see what it wanted so I took off running, but it caught me. I pulled my pocket knife, all the boys had knives back then. I guess I just decided, if that was going to be it for me, I was going to go down fighting. Next thing I know this wolf man comes out of the bushes and jumps on the demon. It only took him maybe fifteen seconds to kill the thing. I’d never seen anything like either one of them. He turns to me and in this deep voice says, ‘run home, little boy.’ I didn’t run though, maybe because the orphanage never really felt like home to me, or maybe I was just afraid to move. I couldn’t really tell you. He didn’t seem like he was going to hurt me, and I’ve always been more curious than reasonable. When he started cleaning everything up, the bodies and the demon, I helped. The only thing I had waiting at the orphanage was another punishment anyway. After we were done, he changed into man right before me. I found a new family that night. Eventually I became like him,
I was given abilities, and a mission, and I’ve been doing it ever since.”
“But you’re not a wolf,” he said. “You some kind of weasel or something?”
“My kind are connected to predators. He was joined to the wolf, I’m bound to the otter.”
“What mission?” he asked.
“I keep the earth and everything living on it safe, mostly from outside threats. We aren’t that different,” I said. “I’m kind of like a cop, in my own way.”
“But you have been breaking the law,” he said.
“Human law, yes, on occasion. I answer to a higher purpose than what your politicians decide should be against the rules. I will tell you I only break them if I need to. It’s not something I do for fun.”
He considered this but didn’t argue, deciding to change the subject instead. “There are multiple cases of otters being spotted at crime scenes. Every few years it happens. Is that you? Are you putting otters in these places for some reason?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “No, those are all one otter, and it’s me. Just like I can take the form you saw, that we call krasis, I can take the form of an otter. Cops don’t shoot otters.”
He nodded. “Okay, what happens to me now?”
“Well, when our ride shows up we’ll drop you off at your car.”
He looked skeptical. “That’s it?”
“That’s it. The only thing I ask is that now, and in the future, if you think I might be involved with something you’re working on, just steer clear, unless you want to get involved in all this,” I said.
“Look, Obie, I don’t want you to think I’m not grateful for saving me back there, I am. If I’m being honest, this is all a little too much for me. I just want to go back to things the way they were, the sooner the better,” he said.
“I understand. Our ride will be here soon. We will drop you off at your car and you can go back to your normal life if that’s what you want to do,” I replied.
I was glad to hear him saying this. I really don’t want him to be involved, or to try to become some kind of hunter like they show on TV. That’s a good way to get killed. If he wanted to pretend this all never happened and bury his head back in the sand, then I would be right there with a shovel to help him dig.
“I need to talk to Livy. Would you mind giving us a minute?”
“Sure, I’ll be outside,” he said, standing up.
Livy came and sat in the rocking chair. “That’s an interesting story, why didn’t you tell him the truth?” she said once he had left.
“It was true, mostly. I just left a couple things out,” I said.
She crossed her arms with disapproval. “Like that you were the one that summoned that demon and Cearbhall almost killed you for it? Don’t you think that’s a big thing to leave out?”
“It doesn’t really matter to Farwell, besides that as a long time ago and I’m not that person anymore. We can’t hold onto the past and we’re all entitled to our secrets. What kind of world would we have if we knew everything about each other?”
“Still, sometimes secrets can come back to bite you,” she said.
“Speaking of biting, the snake venom— Do you have any ideas about how we can get around that one?” I asked.
“Sure, hun, it’s not a problem at all. All I need is some more venom and I can make you a little immunity potion. You don’t think Petra would mind giving us a sample, do you?” she asked.
“I’ll have to find her and ask,” I said with a grin. “How long do you think it would take to make the potion?”
“Less than a day,” she said. “Making it’s the easy part, the materials are the challenge. I used all the venom in the head I found. You’re going to have to get another, more than one would be better.”
“So all I have to do is find Petra, get a sample of the venom without getting bitten or killed, and figure out some way to kill her. Maybe instead of a truck I can find a tank to run her over with. That might do it. You know anyone that has a tank?”
“Nobody that would let you borrow it,” she said.
“Then I’ll just have to do this one step at a time,” I said.
C H A P T E R • 12
The sound of an engine rumbling up to the house caught my attention. A slamming car door confirmed it was time to go.
“Sounds like my ride is here. Thanks, Livy, you never let me down.”
I gave her a hug, grabbed the remains of the snake from the fridge, and went outside. A large pickup was parked beside my truck. It had Morrison Salvage and Repair in cursive on the side. Farwell shot me a glance as soon as I had both feet out the door. He pulled me to the side for a private word.
“What’s going on here?”
I had a feeling I knew what the issue was before I asked. “That’s our ride, what’s the problem?”
“I’m not going anywhere with him,” he said, giving a disdainful nod in the direction of the truck.
“Is it because he’s black?” I knew it wasn’t, but it can be fun to watch middle-aged white men squirm when accused of racism.
“What? No, he’s a gang member,” he said in a hushed tone.
“Not all black folks are in gangs,” I said.
“Will you shut the hell up, it’s not like that” he snapped. “He’s in a biker gang, the Tortured Occult. That one percent patch he’s wearing means something.”
I held my hands up, palms out to him in the international symbol of non-aggression. “I’m just messing with you. I know all about the T.O.,” I said.
“Not an hour ago you told me you didn’t break the law if you can help it, and now you’re telling me you have gang affiliations? What’s the truth?”
“The truth is that the T.O. is a motorcycle club whose main focus is community outreach,” I said.
“Bullshit, there are active investigations for drug trafficking, murder, kidnapping, you name it. If they are such a charitable group, how come no one knows about it?” He crossed his arms, defying me to give him an explanation.
“Because they don’t serve your community,” I said.
“What do you mean ‘my community’? They live in my community, and believe me, they aren’t providing any services that are legal,” he said.
“Farwell, not an hour ago you told me that you didn’t want to know these kinds of things and now you’re Johnny-on-the-spot with the questions. Have you changed your mind? Are you ready to hear about all the nice things the local werebear motorcycle club does to help other ultra-naturals in the area?”
His face dropped. “Werebear?”
“Well, not all of them, to be fair. They do take outsiders as members sometimes, but the bears formed the group and lead it,” I said.
“Let’s just get this over with,” he said and stomped over to the truck.
Hank, my mechanic and friend, had left the wrecker idling to inspect the damage to my truck. He had done all of the work on it since I bought it and I am sure it hurt him as much as me to see it smashed up. He was down on all fours looking underneath it when I walked up behind him. The back of his cut displayed Tom C’s colors; a pentacle with oak leaves and acorns in its center that formed a snarling bear face. The words Tortured Occult lined the top, with North Georgia underneath in bold lettering.
He stood up and brushed off some dirt that had collected on his vice-president patch. “What happened here?” he asked pointing to Naylet.
I shrugged. “Demon attack. It’s not like anything I’ve seen before. It has these snakes for hair, some nasty poison, and it used some kind of magic to turn her to stone.”
“Sounds like Medusa,” he said.
“Yeah, if you believe in that kind of thing,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “I’ve never known anyone who has run into anything like that. I thought it was just a story.”
He reached out and touched her extended hand. “That mythology had to come from somewhere. Humans aren’t that creative,” he said. “Are you able to turn her back?”
“I don’t know. I am going to try everything I can,” I said. “I hope so.”
“I hope you get your lady back. That being said, you’ve done a real number on my lady here,” he said, patting the bed of the truck.
“Think you can fix her?”
He paused, thinking it over before nodding. “You can do anything if you throw enough money at it. It’s just a question of how much it’s going to cost and how long it’s going to take.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. I had a good bit stashed away for a rainy day. I was able to keep that stash by avoiding the rain as much as possible. Most of it had come from what I collected during the gold rush. There were quite a few prospectors that tried to evoke dark magic to strike it rich. It worked well for them until they caught my attention, then it worked well for me. “Maybe it’s time to retire the old girl,” I said. “Put her out to pasture.”
“That would be a shame. It’s a great truck,” he replied.
“Be sure to tell that to Holt next time you see him. Let me know what it would take to fix and we’ll go from there. In the meantime, I’m going to need a ride to the house, and Officer Farwell left his car at Naylet’s, if you don’t mind.” I pointed to Farwell standing by the wrecker, looking like a sourpuss.