Tooth and Nail

by Chris Underwood

  “Thanks for having my back,” I said to Lilian.

  She gave me a smile. “You know, if you were better at making friends I wouldn’t have to bail you out so much.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. We dropped down to the arena floor and hurried over to Early.

  “How’s he doing?” I asked as we approached.

  “Bad,” Early said. “I’ve prepared a counter-spell, but I don’t have the supplies on hand for an antidote.”

  “What about back home?”

  Early shook his head. “I used everything I had on One-tusk. The hag might have what we need, but by the time I brew it…”

  “The potion seller in Doyle’s Reach,” I said. “Somehow the old bastard managed to create an antidote for me. Maybe he has some left over.”

  “You’ll have to go. Holdfast won’t survive without someone working to keep the poison at bay.”

  I chewed my lip. “I can’t. I’ve got”—I checked the time on my phone—“about six hours to produce a miracle, or our friends here are taking their war to the next level.”

  “I’ll go,” Lilian said. “If you don’t need me to play bodyguard.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Ozzy,” Early said, “I don’t think this is a good idea. You just fought an ogre. Look at yourself.”

  He was right, of course. Right now I was riding high on the adrenaline and the elation at still being alive. Soon that would wear off. As would the last of my pain-deadening potion. But what could I do?

  “I just need to keep going a few more hours,” I said. “After that, it won’t matter anymore. I’ll take a break in the morning.”

  Early’s mouth formed a line behind his beard, but he said nothing. I took that as acceptance.

  “You still have the tracking potion I left for you?” I asked

  Early hesitated, then nodded and dug into his bag. “It matured just before sunset. I haven’t had a chance to test it yet.” He pulled out the bottle and slapped it into my hand.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll take it from here.”

  “My car’s at your place,” Lilian said.

  I nodded. “I’ll give you a ride back.” I gripped Early’s shoulder. “You’ll be okay here?”

  The old man nodded. I turned to go.

  “Ozzy,” he said, then he pointed at my face. “Your nose.”

  I raised a hand and touched the bloody lump that had become my broken nose. Pain lanced through my face.

  “Shit,” I said. “Okay. Make it quick.”

  Early stood and rested his thumbs on either side of my nose. “Ready?”

  “Just let me—”

  He grabbed my nose and twisted. Even with the last of the pain-deadening potion still working on my system, it felt like he was jamming a hot knife into my nostrils. A flood of fresh blood rushed from my nose and then trailed off.

  I jerked away, swearing.

  “You said to make it quick,” Early said.

  I glared at him, biting back my response. At least I could breathe a little better now.

  Early reached into his bag and tossed me a pre-prepared poultice along with some medical tape. Still scowling, I began to strap the poultice over my nose.

  I looked up at the stands. Lockhart had rejoined Atwood and several other vampires, but Booker and his allies were still standing off against a small band of ogres. Outside the arena I could hear engines starting up as the swains got the hell out of Dodge.

  “Booker,” Lockhart was saying, “I told you to stand down.”

  “I heard you the first time,” Booker responded. “You would have us crawling on our bellies before these brutes. I will not. I stand for the honor of our people. If you won’t, then leave.”

  Lockhart’s face hardened. “Very well. Bounding Rabbit, if any vampire remains on your property in thirty seconds, you may consider him a rogue element. Treat him as you would any trespasser. There will be no retaliation from me or my people.”

  With that, she said something in a language I didn’t recognize. She twitched her fingers and black mist swirled up around her, swallowing her, becoming her. The mist drifted up into the sky, disappearing into the darkness. Lockhart was gone.

  Atwood vanished in a cloud of mist a moment later. One by one, most of the remaining vampires did the same. They would not reform until they’d made it back to their own homes and recovered from the ordeal of the shape-shifting sorcery.

  “Cowards!” Booker shouted.

  In a few seconds, only Booker and his allies remained. They still made a fearsome sight—claws and fangs extended, their human beauty made monstrous.

  Ogres began to close in on the knot of vampires from all sides. Several grinned in anticipation.

  Booker extended a finger toward Bounding Rabbit. “You will regret this insult to our people,” he said.

  Then he and all his allies vanished into puffs of mist and flew off into the night.

  One by one, the eyes of every ogre in the stands turned toward the three of us gathered near Holdfast’s unconscious form. Several ogres trembled with unspent bloodlust.

  Lilian whispered in my ear. “Maybe we should get out of here.”

  I nodded. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all evening.”

  32

  I had less than six hours to keep the vampires and ogres from declaring full-scale war on each other. One last chance to prove that Selene Eventide and One-tusk hadn’t been trying to kill each other at Doyle’s Reach.

  I needed evidence that the goblin assassin was the one responsible. And for that, I needed the testimony of a certain vodyanoy.

  I parked outside my cabin and Lilian and I both got out of the van. I had to grab a couple of things from my place before I headed off in search of the vodyanoy, but I left the engine running and the headlights switched on. Before Lilian went to her car, she put her arms around me and squeezed tight.

  “Easy,” I grunted. “I’ve been tenderized.”

  She relaxed just enough that my organs didn’t feel like they were about to leak out through my toes. She touched a finger to the poultice strapped across my broken nose, then to the black rings that surrounded both my eyes.

  “You look a bit like a panda,” she said. “It’s cute.”

  “Did you know that when compared to their body size, pandas have some of the smallest penises in the whole animal kingdom.”

  “I love it when you talk dirty to me.” She paused, then stretched up and kissed me softly. “I’m glad you’re still alive.”

  I smiled. “You haven’t told me how impressed you are that I beat an ogre in a stand-up fight.”

  She shrugged. “He wasn’t that big.”

  “He was pretty big.”

  “If you say so.” She glanced over my shoulder, her smile fading. “Why do I feel like we’re being watched?”

  “Because we probably are,” I said.

  “Who? Vampires? Ogres?”

  “Maybe. Whoever it is, I think they’re more interested in me than you. But keep your eyes open. If anything or anyone tries to sneak up on you, you kill it dead, okay?”

  She nodded. “What about you?”

  “I’ll be okay. I’ve got a plan.”

  “Forgive me if I’m not filled with confidence.”

  I kissed her again. “Go. And don’t let Whitworth jerk you around.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  She broke away from me and got in her car. I watched until she’d headed up the driveway and out of sight. Outside the pool of light granted by my van’s headlights, the night pressed in close. I stared into the darkness, searching for hidden eyes.

  I saw nothing. But that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

  I went into my cabin, getting everything I needed. That included my full kit, my revolver, and one or two little things I’d put together.

  I was careful coming back out of my cabin, but nothing jumped out of the dark to ambush me. Maybe I was just getting paranoid. Could you blame me? />
  Climbing into my van, I pulled out the tracking potion. Normally when I tracked someone, I enlisted the help of Delilah, the plastic hula girl stuck to my dashboard. With a touch of the tracking potion, Delilah would point the way.

  This time, though, I didn’t think things were going to be that easy. Kor would have traveled by river when searching for a new lair. Even with the precautions I’d taken when brewing the tracking potion, all that running water would muddy the trail. Delilah was good at pointing out an obvious trail, but for this I’d need to interpret the signs myself.

  I switched on one of the van’s interior lights, then put a plastic cup into the cup holder and half filled it with purified water. I cracked open the seal on the potion and tipped a few blobs of the black, tarry contents into the cup.

  Instantly, the blobs began to break apart, beading on the surface of the water like oil. The dots swam and swirled for a few seconds as if trying to escape the water, then they began to settle.

  At first glance the pattern looked random. Like iron filings scattered across a sheet of paper. As I studied it, though, I began to notice clusters forming amid the random noise.

  It wasn’t much to go on. But it was a start.

  I threw the van into gear and headed off into the night.

  For three and a half hours I drove through Lost Falls, crisscrossing back and forth across the town, heading out into the woods and back again. I headed in the direction of Doyle’s Reach at first, but it soon became clear that the vodyanoy hadn’t stuck around there after the assassin attacked. I crossed over to the other side of the river and then returned, following one tributary after another, trying to make sense of the patterns the tracking potion was giving me.

  A fuel stop at a late night gas station gave me the chance to load up on sugar and caffeinated beverages—just what a growing boy like me needs. I was back in my van before the sleepy-eyed attendant had finished counting out my change.

  I drove with one eye on the patterns forming in the plastic cup, watching them shift as I traveled. There was meaning to them, but trying to pull that meaning out of the shifting randomness was an exercise in madness. Maybe I would’ve been better off reading tea leaves.

  As the night wore on, my thoughts drifted back to Doyle’s Reach, where this had all started. I thought about Selene Eventide and One-tusk, and their mad plan to run away together.

  I was certain now that that was what had happened. Nothing else made sense.

  One-tusk and Eventide had been in a hurry when they tried to leave. That much was obvious. Maybe someone had found out about them. Maybe they had to get out of town before word spread and they brought hell down on themselves.

  I wondered how something like that started: an ogre and a vampire falling in love. I mean, I suppose I could hardly talk. My relationship with Lilian wasn’t entirely conventional either.

  But One-tusk and Eventide were members of two of the more insular species in Lost Falls. There were no dating apps to help local monsters hook up. Maybe I’d missed a speed dating night at Ollie’s Diner.

  Had it been love at first sight? Or was it something that had built over time? One thing was for sure: they would’ve had to try to keep it secret. This kind of thing just wasn’t done. Not among folks as proud as the ogres and the vampires.

  There was something very Romeo and Juliet about it all. Their romance had been doomed from the start—they had to know that.

  Right now, One-tusk was deep in a coma, still fighting for his life, fighting off the effects of the poisoned dagger the goblin assassin had slashed him with.

  Did he know? Before he lost consciousness, had he watched the goblin stake Eventide and cut off her head? Or was he still blissfully ignorant, caught in a thoughtless void between life and death?

  Maybe it would be a mercy if he didn’t survive. Maybe that would be better, to just fade away without feeling that pain—that horrible, sickening grief. Or was life—any life—preferable to that? Death was so final, after all. A grieving heart could still beat, at least.

  I was so deep in my own thoughts I almost didn’t notice the sudden shifting of the pattern in the cup. I hit the brakes, bringing the van to a dead stop in the middle of the deserted road.

  Water spilled over the edge of the cup as I came to a halt. But the pattern inside stayed true. It wasn’t shifting anymore. It was fixed in place, even as the water swirled beneath it.

  I was close.

  I studied the pattern, trying to discern some kind of distance and direction from the black spots. I wished I’d had a little more practice with this particular technique for tracking.

  I pulled over to the side of the road, then popped open the glove compartment and pulled out a map of Lost Falls and its surroundings. Like most maps of the area, it was notoriously unreliable, but I’d annotated it heavily over the last few years, taking into account all the hidden and secret places that the Unaware weren’t supposed to know about. Laying it over the steering wheel, I pinpointed my own location then tried to estimate where the tracking potion was leading me.

  Just beyond the woods to my left was a minor tributary river, not much more than a stream. There was little else out this way, but I identified an old walking track that would take me near the river’s edge. That would have to do.

  I grabbed my bag and my truncheon and pulled out a heavy-duty flashlight. After checking that the batteries still had juice in them, I climbed out of the van and went in search of the trail.

  The night sky was clouded, so the only light came from my flashlight. I made my way along the side of the road for a couple of minutes before I came to what I guessed was supposed to be the trail. There was a sign marking the path, but it was so faded I couldn’t make out what it said.

  I shone my light down the overgrown trail. Trees pressed in close on all sides. The flashlight beam caught a pair of small eyes shining in the darkness. With a squeal, the creature scrambled away into the underbrush. Distantly, I could hear the gurgling of a stream.

  This was starting to seem like a bad idea, but I couldn’t justify backing out now. Blaming my racing heart on an overdose of caffeine, I started down the trail.

  I didn’t know what the original purpose of this trail was, but it clearly hadn’t been used much in recent years. Long grasses tangled around my feet as I moved. Hopefully the dark didn’t hide any pitfalls or bear traps.

  From somewhere behind me I caught a faint sound, like something scraping against tree bark. Resisting the urge to glance back, I kept picking my way along the trail, my flashlight beam aimed ahead of me. I kept my ears open, but I heard nothing except the sound of my own footsteps and the gurgling stream ahead of me.

  I kept one hand by my side just the same, resting near my truncheon.

  After a few minutes the trees ahead of me thinned. The beam of my flashlight glinted off the surface of a meandering stream. Judging from the banks, the stream had once been quite a bit wider, though now it was no more than ten feet across.

  A rotted wooden jetty stood a little ways upstream. Next to it was a dilapidated shallow-hulled boat sitting half in and half out of the water.

  The boat had been there long enough for vegetation to start growing up around it. It looked like it had a small cabin, enough for one or two people to fit inside. Even from here I could see the holes rusted in the side of the river cruiser. It would never float again. It was no use to anyone.

  Except, perhaps, to a scared vodyanoy looking for a place to hide out.

  Once more resisting the urge to glance behind me, I strode quickly along the riverbank toward the stranded boat. As I walked I slipped my hand into my bag, retrieving a small leather pouch I’d brought from home. I clutched it tight to keep its contents from clinking.

  The boat was silent as I approached. The stern was sitting up on the mud, while the rusted bow rested in the water. The helmsman’s seat was protected only by a broken windshield. Behind it were a couple of seats on the deck where passengers could sit a
nd fish. As I got closer, I spotted a small wooden door next to the helmsman’s seat. That had to lead to the forward cabin.

  I swept my light quickly across the small deck, but I couldn’t see anything lurking there. I lowered my light and called out.

  “Kor. Are you there? It’s me, Ozzy. The cunning man.”

  The only response was the murmuring of the water. I approached slowly and stepped onto the deck. The boat shifted in the mud. Wood groaned beneath my weight.

  “Listen, Kor. Don’t be scared. I just want to talk. I have something of yours. Something you left behind.”

  Tucking my flashlight beneath my shoulder, I pulled a sealed plastic bag out of my kit. I held it so the light would catch it.

  Inside was the silver-rimmed tea cup. I’d taken the liberty of gluing the handle back on. If you looked closely you could see where it had broken off, but I’d fixed it up as best I could.

  For several seconds there was only silence. Then, slowly, the door to the cabin creaked open a few inches. Wide eyes peered out at me.

  “I just need to talk,” I said.

  The eyes blinked. Another few seconds passed. The eyes stared hungrily at the tea cup in my hand.

  The door opened wider.

  Careful not to slip on the mossy deck, I shuffled forward and ducked through the low doorway.

  33

  I stepped into the dark cabin.

  The shadow of a vodyanoy hopped onto a narrow cot, shining eyes still staring at me.

  I flicked the light about, quickly getting the feel of the place. The cabin was tiny—just the cot on one side and a set of cupboards that doubled as a table on the other side, with a narrow strip of moldy carpet between them. Near the ceiling, a narrow window ran around the front of the cabin, all covered with tattered curtains. I could make out a hole in the hull at the front of the cabin where water was lapping up inside. The whole place smelled like a wet dog.