Full Moon Strays Ch. 06

Red's soul had become frigid. She wanted to rip the ground up and shred the bones.

"I am SO sorry," the sheriff said, his hear in his throat and on his sleeve. "I ain't criticizing you, but you . . . you could have come forward. I never much trusted Jack, and I would've . . ."

"I don't think second guessing is going to do us much good," Red said. She turned and knelt on the ground beside Jane, who had gone back to pounding the turf with her fists and crying.

"It's not too late," Sheriff Horton replied. "You can still talk to the parole board . . . maybe help your momma out and . . ."

"Why the fuck would I want to help her?!" Jane hissed. "She let this happen."

The sheriff sighed. "That's not true. Your mom wasn't any more invulnerable than anyone else. She loved your dad so much . . . losin' him almost destroyed her."

"Dad," she whispered. She stood up and strode down a path, pausing long enough to spit on Jack Ewes grave. Red and the sheriff followed at a safe distance.

"Sorry," he asked, "but where do you fit in to this?"

Red shook her head. "I'm not totally sure," she admitted. "But I'm here for her. In whatever way she needs me to be."

The Sheriff Horton nodded. He wouldn't ask any more questions about that. "Where's she been all these years?"

"Running . . . hiding . . . trying to forget," Red said by way of reply.

"What happened to her arm?"

"Long story."

Jane had stopped at another grave. This one was much better maintained. The headstone read, "William Collier: Loving Husband and Father: Soldier." It had been too long since she had been there.

"Hi Dad," Jane whimpered. "It's me. I'm sorry I haven't been by, but . . . things have gotten complicated." She put her face in her hands. "Why did you leave me here? Things were fine until you . . . you . . . until you died. He hurt me Dad. He hurt me, and you're supposed to protect me!" She took a step away and turned her back on the tombstone. Then she turned back. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have yelled at you." Jane stared at her feet. "I'm sorry I let you down."

Red slowly walked over and put a hand on Jane's shoulder. "You didn't let him down," she murmured. "You were just a kid . . ."

"Who was afraid to say anything," Jane replied in a tear-choked voice. "If I had just said something . . . but I didn't. I just hid and ran. I let people . . . do things to me and tried to pretend it was love. Red, he," she said, pointing towards her father's grave, "was a fighter. He protected people with his life. I'm a quitter and a coward and a worthless whore and . . ."

"Stop it!" Red shouted. She was tired of where that rant was heading. "Don't you get it?! Do you really think I would've risked my ass TRYING to rescue the kind of person you're talking about? You really think the Strays would've walked into hell for the sake of a coward? Okay, I get it . . . you're scared. You're angry at Jack for what he did, and you're angry at yourself. For what? Because someone three times your size forced himself on you and you couldn't stop it? Damn it, I've been getting my ass kicked a lot recently. I didn't think I stood a chance against the Dark One, but I was willing to fight it. I was willing to fight because I thought what I was fighting for was worth it." Red put her forehead against Jane's. "I still do. I just wish you did. You keep showing that you want to fight. You've shown that you can." She looked down at the grave of William Collier. "Being a soldier isn't about winning," she added. "It's about fighting. It's about serving something bigger than yourself."

Sheriff Horton was confused. He had been trying not to eavesdrop, but he hadn't been trying very successfully. 'What does 'Dark One' mean?' he thought. 'Is this some kinda new slang the kids are using?'

Jane pressed her cheek against Red's chest as the lycanthrope's arms encircled those trembling shoulders. "He would've liked you," Jane said softly. "I think you're a lot like him."

Red kissed her head. "Is that why you wanted to be with me?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Jane looked up. "Is that okay? That you remind me of something good?"

"It's a start," Red responded, as gently as she knew how. "But . . . do you think you might . . . love me for me?"

"I think I've already started." Jane snuggled her head back under Red's chin. "I don't get revenge do I? I don't get the last word."

"You get the last laugh," Red said, holding her lover close. "You get to live while he rots in hell. You get to start over. He's cashed in his chips and left the table. You get to be alive. He'll never get that again."

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Somewhere in the skies over California . . .

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Patrick wasn't sure why he had stuck around. The Strays had to have known that he had betrayed them, so his life was pretty much forfeit if they every caught up with him. But something had kept him here . . . had kept him from running. He kept thinking how easy it would be to just fly off into the night sky underneath . . .

"What the . . ." he started to say. The stars had vanished overhead. "Oh my . . ."

Whatever he had meant to say died on Patrick's lips as hew was enveloped by the darkness. The Dark One needed a host. Its body had been damaged, so it was going to borrow another one. This one was weaker than the girl had had been, but he would have to do. It seeped into Patrick's frail form through his ears, nose, mouth, and even his anal cavity. His legs seemed to explode to be replaced with dozens of black tendrils. Similar limbs protruded from his mouth, making him look much like a squid. His hands developed into enormous claws, and vast bat-like wings sprouted from his back.

'AND NOW,' it thought as it took its newly won prize on a blistering pace through the sky, feeling very much reenergized, 'I WILL HAVE THE WOMAN'S SOUL, EVEN IF I MUST PRY IT FROM HER COLD DEAD FINGERS!'

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Down in the Den . . .

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Tarloh stood aside from the rest of the Strays, all of whom were buzzing about the possibility of a genuine apocalypse. He heard footsteps approaching.

"Hey big guy," Natasha said, sitting on the floor in front of him. "So can we say, 'Well at least it can't get any worse' yet?"

"I'd rather we didn't," he replied in a deep, gruff voice. "This is more than we ever bargained for. We can barely stay together. How can the Strays fight something like this? You and Jane were the only ones who would stand a chance against the Shoggoth, and it's apparently just a minnow next to its boss."

"Then get help," Nat said.

"Who? We don't have a lot of contacts and even if we did, who would want to come out here and help us fight . . . well, the Devil?"

"If this thing gets loose, it's going to affect all of us. I don't think we can fight it, but we NEED to keep it from using a 'Get Out of Jail Free' card. We need to find where the dimensional barrier has thinned and we need to find a way of fixing it." Nat drummed her fingers on the ground. "I think I may have heard of someone who could help us with the former . . ."

"And I," said Lothar, appearing in a mist, "think I might be able to help with the latter." He looked over at Nat. "You're quite perceptive. You might just be smart enough to be my apprentice!" He drooled inwardly at the idea of having the hard-bodied woman around.

Nat rolled her eyes. "I'm close to invulnerable, I'm stronger than most anyone here, I'm hot and I make seven figures a year. What can you possibly offer me?"

Lothar was at a loss for words. He didn't make that much!

"Okay, could you two stop flirting," Tarloh interrupted, trying to keep a straight face even after getting kicked in the shin by Nat. "What did you two have in mind?"

Nat leaned back, bracing herself with her hands. "There are a lot of Talented humans out there. And being in the protection business, I've met several. There's one that I've heard of who has an . . . understanding of dimensions beyond anything you or I could grasp. His name is Croc, but . . ."

"But what?"

"He's . . . well, he's an assassin."

Tarloh just stared at his old friend, assuming that she had misspoke.

"I'm not kidding. Don't get me wrong, he's supposed to be one of those guys who only goes after really bad people. The CIA has hired him a number of times to flush out people they can't get to. But I wanted you to know what he is."

Tarloh looked thoughtful. "I couldn't say unless I met him. But regardless, how could he help?"

"He actually can slip out of this dimension." Nat looked at Lothar. "Let me know if get something wrong, but I understand that the dimensions are almost like bubbles pressed up against each other. Well, that means that there is 'space' between them. Croc hunts by sliding through dimensional membranes, at which point he can basically reappear anywhere he wants. And somehow he can emerge just enough into this dimension to look around but not be easily detected himself, much less hurt. It's kind of how a crocodile sticks its eyes above the surface of the water, hence the name 'Croc'. But he can feel where the dimensional barrier is weak."

"So what do you have for us?" Tarloh said, looking at Lothar. "And why exactly are you doing this? Field work has NEVER been your specialty?"

Lothar blushed. "Like the woman said, if the Elder God gets loose, it's everyone's problem." He straightened his back a bit. "I've heard rumors from South America about a magical item that can heal anything, flesh or not. "It's supposed to be a big jewel that a shaman I've heard of has hidden in his village. Roughly translated, it's called the Heaven's Eye. Big friggin' jewel, or so I hear." Lothar sighed. "But he's not likely to give it up without a fight. He's a bit of a savage. That's not me being a snob either. He's actually trying to convince the locals to take up human sacrifice and cannibalism again." Lothar gulped a big breath of air. "I'm willing to go, but I'm not a fighter," he admitted dejectedly.

Tarloh cocked his head. "But you're a valuable ally," he said, meaning it. Normally Lothar was just a geek with some cool tricks. He was showing himself to be made of sterner stuff than Tarloh had thought. "We would need to find someone who could get down there quickly, since I'm assuming you couldn't really teleport an army."

"Nope," Lothar admitted. "Teleportation is tricky when it's just me."

The leader of the Strays appeared deep in thought. "Robbie!" he shouted suddenly.

Red's brother wandered over, a number of the Strays following in his wake. "Wa'as up boss?"

"Do you have a guess where the Raptors might be this time of year?"

Robbie just stared at the werebear like he'd lost his mind. "Why?"

"Because we might need their help."

"They're insane! I mean, I thought WE liked to fight, but the Raptors are . . . edgy."

"Uhm, who are the Raptors?" Chris asked. He hadn't been with the Strays as long as some of the others.

"The Raptors are a bunch of orphans that can fly," Tarloh explained. "They've slipped through different dimensions, but can't coexist this close to civilization like we can. It's hard to hide those wings. There's maybe a dozen or so of 'em. Some succubae, at least one gargoyle, two quetzalcoatl . . ."

"What's a quetzalcoatl?"

"A winged serpent. One went a little nuts down south a few millennia ago and the Aztecs started worshiping it. Normally, not bad creatures from what I understand." Tarloh concentrated. "They've also got a pack of dragons . . . don't get excited people. Apparently on Terra, they're kind of like intelligent vermin. Oh, and the harpies. Can't forget the harpies."

"Harpies?" queried Johan. "Aren't those dangerous?"

"Only if you piss them off. They're a warrior race at heart. But they may be just what we need, and they're not often going to back down from a fight. They're actually migratory, so they might not be in this area."

Robbie was thinking hard. "Actually, I think they'd be in Mexico right about now. We haven't had any contact with them in years, but they were pretty consistent. Tracking them will be a bitch though, even if we have a starting point. Who's going to go looking for them, and how do we even know where to start?"

"And I doubt that this Croc character is going to help us out of the goodness of his heart," Tarloh said, giving Nat a glance.

"Leave that to me," she replied. She had a good amount of cash put away, and they weren't asking him to do anything but help find weak spots in the dimensional membrane. It should be enough. "I'll put word out. If he's interested, he can apparently get in touch really quickly."

"I've got a locator spell that I've devised," Lothar started. "It's not perfect, but it should put us in the same area as these Raptors."

"You weren't planning on going after THEM were you?"

"I think it would be best," the wizard replied nervously. "If we can enlist their help and they ARE in Mexico, I think it would be good to head straight down to South America, and I think I should be there to help with that shaman and handle the Heaven's Eye."

"When did you become a hero?" Tarloh asked, almost amused.

"I'm not. But I don't want this dimension destroyed. It's where I keep all my stuff."

The Strays actually began to laugh. They hadn't had much to laugh about recently. And Lothar, for the first time in his life, felt like he belonged somewhere. All his power and all his fame and wealth . . . it didn't seem as important to him as did the camaraderie he experienced at that moment.

"Let's get started first thing tomorrow," Tarloh said at last. "This dimension isn't going to save itself."

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Out east . . .

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Jane and Red were moseying down an old dirt road towards the town's only hotel. The sheriff had offered to give them a lift, but it was only a couple of miles and the two women, especially Jane, needed to walk off some frustration. The sheriff had given Jane some information that she has asked for, and they had agreed to rendezvous the next morning to work out some legal matters.

Jane felt like someone riding a roller coaster whose heart was still beating in her chest, but who could finally see the end in sight. She wanted off that crazy ride and get her feet under her for the first time in many years.

"Talk to me," Red said after a lengthy silence. "What's going through your head?"

Jane leaned against her girlfriend. "Nothing. I'm so used to it being dark in there . . . in my mind . . . and scary and chaotic. But now I don't know what to think. I'm not used to it being so quiet."

Then she stopped, her eyes shooting towards the sky. "It's here," she whispered.

"What's here?" Red asked, already knowing the answer.

"The Dark One. It's come for me." Jane thought it was ironic. She had come out here for revenge. Apparently, it wasn't for HER revenge. She turned towards Red, raised herself up on her tiptoes and kissed the lycanthrope square on the lips. It was brief, but to the point. And it might very well be the last.

"I won't let it take you," Red promised. It wasn't fair. They were supposed to get a break. They were supposed to have some time together to heal. But the darkness was coming nonetheless.

The trees around them were being buffeted by strong winds, though the air had been quiet just moments before. Red and Jane heard a scream of unimaginable hate from above, and they heard branches cracking as something came through the foliage.

What landed appeared to have been human once, but neither of the two women would have recognized it as Patrick except that the remains of his clothes still clung to its hide. Red smiled a little at that. He had wanted to serve at its side. Now, he was a little closer than that. This thing was a undulating mass of tentacles and claws and wings . . . all as black as a starless sky. And it seemed to be screaming, the sound coming out of its skin and making the hairs on the back of the girls' necks stand on end.

{{WELL, MY LITTLE MEAT PUPPET,}} it emitted, {{IT'S TIME TO FINISH WHAT I STARTED. I AM GOING TO MAKE YOU WISH YOU HAD JOINED ME. I WAS GOING TO KEEP YOU ALIVE LONG ENOUGH TO FEED YOU TO THE MASTER, BUT NOW I BELIEVE THAT I WILL JUST RIP THE SKIN FROM YOUR BODY AND LET YOU CRAWL IN A POOL OF YOUR OWN BLOOD AND WATCH WHILE I VIOLATE THAT HALF-BREED BITCH WHO TRAVELS WITH YOU.}}

Red moved between Jane and the Shoggoth, morphing into her half-human, half-puma form. The Shoggoth shot a tentacle out, smacking Red in the side. As she went flying through the air, she raked the tentacle with her claws, cutting it deeply. Even as she crashed into a tree and had the wind knocked out of her, she came to a realization.

'It's mortal,' she thought.

The Dark One turned its attention back to Jane. {{ANY LAST WORDS BEFORE THE PAIN BEGINS?}}

Jane did something then that the Shoggoth had never expected. Normally, it would relish the unexpected as such things tended to fall under the realm of chaos. But this . . . this was disconcerting. Jane had begun to laugh.

Jane couldn't control herself. What had started as a brief expulsion of air quickly turned into that type of laughter that interfered with breathing. The Shoggoth looked so . . . so . . . ridiculous. 'Before the pain begins?' she thought, trying to regain her composure so she could fight for her life. 'What does it think I've been in for eight years?'

And therein lay the problem for the Shoggoth. It lived on pain and fear and madness. Its source of nutrition back in Springfield was too far away to provide it sustenance, and Jane . . . there was no pain there left to feast upon. Jane was tapped out. She had already beaten the Shoggoth back once, so she didn't fear it like she should or like it needed her to fear it. And the chaos in her mind was gone. Its mental tricks and powers were useless against her.

{{NO MATTER,}} it sent. {{I AM STILL MORE THAN CAPABLE OF KILLING ONE SILLY LITTLE GIRL!}}

"You need to learn to count," it heard from behind it. Claws sank into its back and fangs latched on to the back of its neck. The Shoggoth had forgotten about Red, and that was a costly mistake. The Dark One felt something quite pure coming from the lycanthrope that was attempting to eat it . . . love. Red loved Jane and that was translated into something else quite pure . . . hate. She hated the Dark One and anyone or anything else that had ever hurt the little dark-haired girl in the past. And that pure hatred was directed at the Shoggoth. It realized, a bit too late, that it had fucked with the wrong two people on the wrong night.

The Shoggoth howled and used some of its tentacles to reach up and pull Red off, taking chunks of its flesh with her. It raised the lycanthrope over its head, intent on smashing her against the ground when it was struck in the midsection by a tree. Not a branch, but an entire tree. Jane had ripped it out of the ground with her magical hair and had swung it with great force, knocking the Shoggoth back and causing it to drop Red. The fight was on.

Even as it begun, the Shoggoth realized that it was going to lose. It, a creature that had once struck terror in the hearts of entire civilizations, was going to be destroyed by two young women. Jane was protected her arm and lashing out with her hair, more focused than ever before. Where the Shoggoth had dozens of tentacles, Jane had thousands of strands of hair. She whipped at the Shoggoth's flesh and beat it with whatever was available. Her follicle army did, however, part to let Red maneuver freely, clawing and biting and ripping to her animalistic heart's content. The Shoggoth did not go down without a fight, but it was losing power exponentially. Its opponents' confidence grew with each second, while the Dark One itself began to lose hope . . . something it hadn't even known it possessed.