Chapter 6
God For Harry, England, And St. George
For the third time, a low, plaintive howl cut into the two-moon night, raising the hackles on the back of my neck. I half expected Mike to morph into a double of Bella Lugosi or Christopher Lee and begin rhapsodizing about the virtues of his nighttime brethren, but he said nothing about the creature’s distant, lonely cry.
Instead, he wore a mysterious smile and wondered how his voles were doing.
Tales of vampires allied with predators of the night such as wolves, bats, and rats are legion. But voles? Rats I get. They’re creepy; they grow to large sizes and can be vicious. Voles are more like mice. They’re creepy too, but in a gross look-what-they-did-in-my-box-of-cereal sort of way. As we walked through a dimly lit nightscape where anything might lie in wait for us, I wondered if maybe I’d have been better off with vampire of the Bella Lugosi caliber than a retired tax accountant with a soft spot for supernatural vermin.
Mike was strong. I had to give him that. But what else could the man do? Sure he scared me when I met him in the cemetery, but if Winnie the Pooh showed up in a cemetery wearing a cape and telling you he was about to drink your blood, I think you’d pee in your pants.
Until you found out he was stuffed with fluff.
The way my night was going, I prayed Mike didn’t have an ounce of fluff in him.
My legs hurt. My head hurt. I was cold, hungry, and recently informed that I had been murdered and might never go back home. More than anything, I wanted my bed and to beat the bastard that ordered the genie to bring me here.
“Don’t put anything past him, Jack,” Mike said as we followed a dirt path to God alone knew where. “The genie may answer to a master, but it’s always up to the genie to decide how those orders get to be carried out.”
“Like your former wife,” I said, absently.
“You have to be very specific when dealing with genies or making any kind of wager or bet in the Playground. Honestly, it’s better to just hire a lawyer to submit it in a document, get it signed in triplicate and notarized by a demi-god.”
“Oh, is that all?”
Mike rounded on me; if his face hadn’t been corpse pale it would have been as red as Eve’s apple. “You aren’t paying a bit of attention to what I’m trying to tell you!”
That brought me back into the moment. I couldn’t hide my misgivings. “Well it’s not like I’m likely to live through this when neither one of us has any real fangs, is it?’
Mike’s face lost all expression, and I knew instantly that I had said the wrong thing. “Look . . . “ I tried to apologize.
Mike held a hand up and turned from me. He stalked away and I had to jog to catch up. I wanted to live long enough to find a way back to my normal, whitewashed, hayseed life. By the time he slowed, my joints were aflame and I deeply regretted my big, stupid mouth. My momma raised me right. I was supposed to be a Southern Gentleman.
“I’m sorry,” I tried again. “I just wish we had more firepower is all.”
Mike took in a deep breath, waited several seconds, and let it out slowly. When he turned back to face me, he spoke quietly, “Firepower is good, but do you think I would be alive today if I had relied on that to protect me?
How was I supposed to know? Maybe his bad foot odor was what kept all the creepy-crawlies away. I felt so lost here, and the abrupt change of my situation had me reeling. I couldn’t help feeling like I would be much better off if I had something as strong as a bazooka but ten times meaner on my side.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know how anything works in the Playground,” I told him. If some demon was after me, there had to be some kind of massive mistake. And that made me scared when I thought about it too long, which right about then was every twenty seconds.
Mike thumped me on my head with one of his abnormally long, bony fingers. “That’s exactly my point, Jack. You have to use your brains if you want to make it through even the next few days.”
I wanted to think about something else. Really, I did. “The genie seemed to say he was answering to more than one person,” I said.
Mike grunted. “Two hands on the tiller? That’s got to be driving him crazy.”
I told Mike everything that happened from the moment I met the genie to the moment I punched him in the face, paying careful attention to repeat everything the genie said to me. I ended by telling him, “I’m pretty sure he brought me to your hideout on purpose.”
Mike’s face became shrewd, and his posture changed subtly. “That was dangerous for him. If he’s already working with a set of contradictory orders, dropping you at the doorstep of another person who still has two more wishes to make would be nearly suicidal.”
“But don’t you have to be holding the lamp in order to command a genie?”
Mike shook his head. “I used to think so, but I’ve had other run-ins with him. He has a habit of dropping off his victims in the Playground. I think it’s enough to have triggered this genie’s lamp to bind him to you. It all depends on the geas that’s been placed upon him. The fact that he is bound to a lamp at all is someone’s idea of a practical joke. Genies are only bound to objects by magical force. I’ve wondered for a while if the genie has been trying to defy his masters. This one especially is always up for a malicious joke.”
That was just great. I was brought here by a genie because someone wanted me gone, but the genie seemed to have an agenda of his own that very likely did not conform to his master’s (or masters’?) plans. And I was currently the target of a Demon and his Homeowners Association. Now I knew what a chess piece felt like.
There had to be some kind of mistake. I was a nobody. When Mike heard my misgivings, he said, “There’s just too much that we don’t know.”
To our left, I heard something moving rapidly through the woods and grimaced as Mike’s clamp-like hands seized my shoulder and forced me behind him. The sounds of approach grew steadily until I saw a dark shape streaking easily through the trees and prepared to run or fight. Relief filled me a moment later when I realized I didn’t have to do either. The dark shape was Mike’s dog, Max.
“Ah, Max!” the vampire called out with delight. “I am glad you made it!”
I watched in fascination as the dog’s edges blurred and melted as it drew closer. It appeared to be made of living wax. Slowly, the animal’s shape became completely amorphous, and as it lengthened and grew, it took on the dimensions of a man. At last a naked man with wild hair and an unkempt beard crawled on all fours in front of us until the transformation was complete, at which point he stood smoothly and brushed himself off.
“I barely made it, Mike,” the man said in a brisk and gravelly voice. “The boundaries are all guarded and the southern border around Cary and Apex crawls with Nightwatch and HA enforcers.”
“I think we have our new young friend to thank for some of that,” Mike said.
The naked man gave me an annoyed glance and started growling. I looked everywhere except at him and his exposed touch-me-nots.
“Don’t be too cross with him, Max. An old friend of ours brought him here just before you stumbled onto him tonight.”
As Max looked at me, his eyes narrowed in anger like it was my fault. “You mean I lost my chance to kill him again?”
“Step in line,” I said bluntly.
Max snorted rudely.
“It seems like we all have something in common,” Mike said jovially before introducing us. “Max here was cursed into a werewolf by the demon that runs the Principality we just escaped from.”
“Then I was cursed by that lamp rat into the animal you saw before,” Max said bitterly.
“Max unfortunately told the genie that he didn’t want to be a werewolf
anymore,” Mike said. “He didn’t specify what he wanted to be.”
“So now you’re a wereschnauzer,” I observed.
If it were possible for Max’s face to sour any more, it did. “Fat lot of good it does me,” Max spat. “At least most things left me alone when I was a werewolf. The things I used to chase now chase me, and I have horrible urges to scratch my balls with my front teeth.”
I winced. I didn’t want to think about what he did with his tongue. “I’d . . . um, shake, but—“
“But I’m naked,” Max said morosely. “I know. I get that all the time.”
At least Max was fast, and had a disguise. I’d take that over my present state.
“Mike, there’s a group of Nightwatch goons about a mile from here, and they’ve got a prisoner.”
“Taking people outside of their Principality or Barony is expressly forbidden by the Supernatural Compancts,” Mike said slowly.
Max nodded his head. “I didn’t want to get close enough to see who or what they had,” he said and grimaced. “Sometimes it’s better not to know.”
Mike bowed his head and grew quiet in thought and a grim determination colored his next words. “If the Nightwatchmen are out of their principality, they have no power.”
Max let out an agitated sound. “Not another rescue mission,” he complained.
“We must each do our part,” Mike said with a tired note. Something passed between Mike and Max that I did not understand. Max nodded in my direction. “We bringing him?”
“We have to,” Mike responded firmly. “The Demon wants him, and I won’t let him have the boy.”
Max sighed. “Just keep low and stay out of our way,” he warned me gruffly.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said sourly. It wasn’t like I had any way of defending myself anyway. Besides, the moment something popped out and started eating one of them I was running the other way.
With speed and vigor.
“What’s the Nightwatch?” I asked.
“Enforcers that do the demon’s dirty work,” Max spat. “The Homeowner’s Association is local. It runs the hoity-toity neighborhoods around Raleigh. The Nightwatch works a much bigger area—all the way to Charlotte and Greensboro.”
I couldn’t see how anyone lived with that kind of mess. Max led us through a tall pine forest interspersed here and there by night loving deciduous trees. The pine straw cushioned our steps so that our passing made little sound. The two moons above us bathed the world in an eerie shade of white. I focused my attention on listening for any sounds of threats but nothing revealed itself to me until we got about three-fourths of a mile further into the woods.
Max raised his hand signaling that we were close. The forest around me provided little in the way of cover except for scraggly saplings struggling for any meager ray of direct moonlight able to penetrate through the treetops above. Max pointed forward, and as I peered into the direction he indicated, my eyes detected the light of a campfire.
We proceeded slowly, hardly making a sound thanks to the soft forest carpet beneath our feet. Our quarry soon came into view where three men sat around a low campfire warming their hands, apparently unconcerned about unwelcome visitors straying into their midst. On the opposite side of our location, a beautiful young lady wearing a torn dress sat on the ground tied by ropes to the base of a large tree. One of her eyes appeared swollen shut, and deep, dark bruises marred her crisp features. She looked as if she had put up quite a fight because a number of defensive wounds ran along her forearms.
For some reason, when I looked at her I felt a strange draw that had nothing to do with her condition. I felt like I ought to know her. The sight of her, helpless and all, made my heart spasm. I became lost in longing to untie her and set her free.
I had to shake my head to drive the urge away. I was in over my head, and the best thing to do was stay put, just like Mike told me to do. I’m not the brave type. I might have given you that impression when I flipped the Homeowners Association lady the bird, but her goons were bullying a family and hitting kids. That kind of thing is enough to make Gandhi roll up his sleeves and start slitting throats. Everyone has their limits. I’m not the sort of guy that shouts Geronimo and leaps into a pond and then looks on the way down to see if it’s filled with water or crocodiles. When I’m not acting spontaneously, I like to be careful.
That’s all I’m saying.
Problem for me was, when Mike and Max started moving in on the Nightwatchmen and their victim, my conscience started nagging at me. I really do aspire to be a Southern Gentleman, and honestly, two against three weren’t bad odds. But the voice of my inner robot started warning me that two might not be enough. Especially if the two included a naked schnauzer-man and a fangless vampire. I’d have felt better if someone had turned two clones of Arnold Schwarzenegger loose on the abductors. Mike and Max might very well have had the element of surprise on their sides, but I felt guilty just being a bystander in this freak party.
So I decided maybe I should have a closer look.
I moved toward the spot where Mike and Max were huddled together, doubtlessly forming their plan of attack. Thankfully, the firelight had the kidnappers night-blinded, so they remained ignorant of our presence. Yet when I got a better view of the brutes I felt uneasy. From my previous viewpoint, the three resembled large, well-built men dressed similarly to the Homeowners Association thugs . . . light khakis and dark polo shirts tucked snuggly in. The belts around their waists looked like genuine leather, and the shoes they wore were soft leather slip-ons. Now that I was a bit closer, I saw strange distortions that lent their faces an irregular, almost Cro-Magnon quality. Shadows cast by the dancing flames made them appear downright ghastly.
They looked like post-apocalyptic yuppie assassins.
Once Mike and Max made their decision, they began sneaking in a semicircle around their targets. Mike moved to the left and Max to the right. My sore muscles grumbled as they grew tense. I couldn’t help imagining that the worst was about to happen. The Nightwatchmen might not have any powers outside of their master’s territory, but they were still big enough to make a body builder jealous. I became less certain every step Mike and Max took that they would be able to handle this alone.
I muttered under my breath and moved forward while keeping an eye on what was happening. I still didn’t know for sure what I was going to do if things went south.
Max approached the Nightwatchmen but didn’t look especially tense. I thought maybe he would grab a stick or create a diversion to lead the Nightwatchmen away, but that’s not what he did.
Max just sauntered naked into the group with his junk hanging out, dangling like a lazy elephant’s trunk. He raised a hand in greeting, and in a pleasantly conversational voice, said, “Hi! I’m here for a lady! Can I have that one?”
The goons looked up and stared mutely at Max for several long seconds trying to figure out how tough bruisers like themselves could be mistaken for pimps instead of the hired thugs that they were.
“Look guys, I already took my clothes off and the cold’s not doing me any favors if you know what I mean. So if I can just talk to the one who is in charge, I’d appreciate it.”
The goon in the center stood up with a snarl, as Mike said, “That’s all we needed to know.”
From the opposite side of the gathering, Mike exploded from the darkness with his face set in a rabid snarl. He leapt a good eight feet in the air, clearing the kidnapper to the left of the leader and landed like a cat. The other two barked out surprised exclamations as Mike wrapped his arms around the leader and in one savage twist removed his head. The thing’s torso erupted in a geyser of a wet, glowing and silvery substance that billowed upward in a rapidly dispersing cloud.
; At the same moment, Max melted down into the shape of a snarling schnauzer and began biting at the feet of the closest Nightwatchman to him. Mike came at the thing and pushed the still standing, decapitated body aside. He rapidly moved in to help Max.
The other Nightwatchman retreated back toward a rifle leaning against a nearby tree and I saw this as my moment to move. It was now or never. With a loud and rousing cry of “God for Harry, England, and Saint George!” I charged, hoping that my sudden use of Shakespeare would shock the goon into confusion.
Instead, the thug looked up at me with enraged eyes as I barreled toward him. I held my upraised fist ready to do unto the kidnapper as he had clearly done unto the helpless lady. Fear and adrenaline raged through me with such force that that I felt a giddy sense of exhilaration.
Until the Nightwatchman ducked my swing and took ahold of me with pointed fingertips.
I grunted and yelped out in alarm as the thing effortlessly lifted me into the air. I felt him release me the moment I went airborne. As I summersaulted over the campfire, a detached part of me noted the surprised and slightly annoyed look on Mike’s face. I wondered fleetingly if it was going to hurt when I landed, but at least I had the satisfaction of knowing I had just made Henry the Fifth proud. On the ground, sprinkled around the fire, little flecks of crystal glimmered, and I had the passing thought, How pretty . . .