Page 55 of Grave Mistakes
“Indeed.”
I debate for a second and then square my shoulders. “If this is part of the gig, then I guess it’s best if I see what it’s all about first hand,” I tell him. “You know, it’s best to make informed decisions and all that.”
Iceman stares at me for a moment like he’s not sure if I really mean it, but then he gives me a nod and reaches for my hand. I put my palm in his big blue grasp, and he pulls me out of the office toward a back door that leads outside. I can feel the heat and the humidity greedily waiting to get me in their clutches again, and I silently thank fate for giving me the Gate in Sandpiper instead of this one. My hair is not meant to live in this climate.
“I want you to hang back and observe. Don’t freak out and don’t draw attention to yourself,” Iceman orders as he pulls me outside and around to the back of the bar, our running footsteps pounding over the sagging wood planks beneath our feet.
“I’ll stay out of the way,” I agree, blowing off hisno freak outcommand. I mean, who can control something like that? It’s not like I love when it happens either.
We run away from the bar, up a grassy hill, passing pinprick trees that stretch thin and high above us. Iceman never lets go of my hand, and I’m grateful for that, because I would’ve fallen on my ass three times over already. My feet sink into the marshy ground as we hurry, and it’s hotter than Hades’s sauna out here. I’m dripping sweat again, clinging to Iceman’s refreshingly cool hand and wishing I could stuff my face up his shirt and rest my heated cheeks against his cold back.
At the top of the hill, I notice craggy headstones jutting out from the ground as we run toward a stone building that looks to be the size of a small stable. There’s a sign on the door that says Outhouseand another sign claiming Out of Orderslapped over the top. I release an amused snort, but the sound dies when a roar fills the air all around me, and I feel my blood turn to ice in my veins.
A creepy tittering, like the sound a hyena makes, echoes all around us. But before I can even try to guess what the hell makes a noise like that, the door to the outhouse blows off.
A startled scream bubbles out of my throat as Flint, Alder, and my other three demons pour outside. Behind them, at least two dozen things come rushing out, looking like taller versions of Cousin It, shiny golden brown hair completely overgrown down to their toes.
The group spreads out like they’re each claiming their fighting space, and I watch the Cousin It demons as they hyena cackle at one another like they’re coming up with a plan.
“Stay here and stay low,” Iceman orders.
I drop down on my stomach, wishing the tree trunks were thicker, but I settle for hiding in the tall grass. I watch as Iceman runs down to join the rest, and his presence does not seem to please the Cousin It demons.
In another context, the long-haired demons would be funny looking. I keep picturing them with sunglasses and fedoras, and I can’t help but imagine what Grumpy Lurch would do if I brought one back for him.
I chuckle at the image, but then promptly choke on it when the Cousin It demons shed their long-haired outer layer like they’re taking off a coat to reveal the nasty looking things they are beneath. They look like something out of J.K. Rowling’s imagination. Only these fucked up, life-sized house elves have shiny black skin that looks uncomfortably tight and goat heads with no horns. Add to that the chill-inducing hyena tittering, and I’m a solid six on the freaked out scale.
Like someone just yelled, “Are you ready to rummmmmmmble?” and then hit the starting bell, both sides of the battle rush each other at the same time. They slam into one another in a flurry of demon bodies, and my mind can’t seem to decide what it wants to focus on.
Jerif grabs two of the goat fuckers in his bare hands, and they both scream as they start to melt and then burst into flames from his touch. Iceman channels his inner Elsa and throws a ball of blue light at a goat demon, immediately freezing it solid. He then smashes it, shattering it to pieces with his fist.
Echo is slinking around from one dark patch to another, choking demons to death with their own shadows like a really fucking creepy Peter Pan. He looks like he’s laughing and cheering as he goes, and I can’t even begin to decide what I think about that. Crux...well, Crux is just punching goat demons. I wait to catch a hint of his abilities, but he just looks like he’s in street fighter mode.
A shout draws my attention, and I bend some grass away to see Flint running straight toward a handful of demons. They try to attack him, but it looks like his skin is as hard as the marble it resembles. He starts bashing in skulls with his rock-like fists, and I look away, not needing that visual to haunt my nightmares late at night.
“Just do it, Crux!” Jerif yells out, and I have to work to find them in the melee of bodies.
“You know I hate it! I’m fine!” Crux argues as he punches another goat fucker in the head, knocking it down.
Unfortunately, Crux turns away just as the thing snaps right back up and rakes its claws down his arm. I gasp as Crux grits out a yell, and outrage and anger rips through me. Apparently, I don’t like watching him get hurt.
“Stop being a baby and just do it,” Echo yells out at Crux as a goat head rolls away from him, and the body it was formerly attached to collapses to the ground at his feet. Shadows curl around him with menace.
“The clean up isn’t worth it!” Crux counters.
“We’re outnumbered, so stop whining and do what needs to be done to maintain the balance,” Iceman orders gruffly, and I watch as Crux releases an exasperated exhale.
“Fine!”
I watch intently, wondering what Crux can do and why he’s so obviously against doing it. He stops, feet planted and hands slightly lifted up at his sides. He seems to take a breath, and then he crushes his hands into fists. At that same exact moment, the five demons who surrounded him suddenly jolt and then...it’s like they get sucked into themselves. One moment, they’re all tight black skin and goat heads, and the next, they’re...inside fucking out.
Eww.
I watch as Crux visibly shivers, and the attacking demons around him fall to the ground. With their insides no longer inside of them, it’s...messy. I can see why he didn’t want to do this trick.
Grimacing, I look away before I get the urge to vomit as the bodies made up of blood and organs fall to the ground with sickly, sloppy noises. I purposely look anywhere else, and my eyes snag on a patch of yellow that’s surrounded by a horde of demons. I can barely make out Alder as he’s attacked, and panic shoots through me. I look around to see if anyone is going to come help him, but everyone is fighting their own demons.
Did more of the Cousin It bitches come through the Gate?
