I reached into the congealed mass and pulled out a fairly shoddy looking piece of meat cleaver. Where the blade would normally be flat, a bit had been carved out of the middle, in the shape of an animal with legs splayed out like roadkill. The genitals, I noted, were both generous in size and displayed erect, sticking out into the carved-out portion.
When I gave it a shake, the blade rattled in the wooden handle. It didn’t give the impression of something well made. I doubted it would last for more than a few whacks.
I looked at Tongue.
She turned her head and spat.
She dissolved much in the same way.
I picked a length of chain out of the muck. Rusty, with barbed wire woven through it to the point that it was impossible to hold easily. I had to give it a few shakes to get most of the bodily fluids off of it.
“Want?” I offered Green Eyes.
She gave me a look like I was crazy. It was extra effective, considering it came from the mermaid with goblin blood all over her face and chest. The blood was fitting into the cracks between the finer scales, making them more pronounced.
“Right,” I said. I wrapped the chain around my arm, over the sleeve of my sweatshirt. I looked around. “Where the fuck is Evan?”
We spent a moment looking, then started moving, Green Eyes crawling at my side.
In about twenty seconds, Green Eyes perked up.
Her hearing was slightly better than mine. I could hear Evan.
“Help help help help help-”
Growing louder with each ‘help’.
He flew past.
Green Eyes lunged, and caught the gargoyle-thing that was chasing Evan out of the air. She landed in a snowbank with a bit of a puff of snow, before shaking her head like a dog might, killing it.
Evan settled on my shoulder, very obviously breathing hard.
“Couldn’t-” he started.
“Breathe.”
“Could- couldn’t turn. Or he’d get me. Used my Evan-mojo, dodge. Kept having to fly away. Saw a chance, space in trees, big enough for me. Not him. Turned, flew here. Thank you, thank you. Good mermaid.”
“Bleugh,” Green Eyes said, dropping the gargoyle. “It’s not meat.”
“Then I really owe you one,” Evan said. “For saving me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Because fairness is power and power is my road to awesome, and because I’m really really super duper grateful I didn’t become gargoyle food.”
“Food, then.”
“Yeah? What food could I provide? I’m a sparrow, I’m dead, I’m…”
I pointed, and we started moving again, still talking.
“A snack,” Green Eyes said. “Um. I’m really hankering for chicken nuggets.”
I shot her a look.
“Real chicken nuggets,” she said.
“I’m not sure real chicken nuggets exist.”
“Real, like from a fast food place.”
“Now I’m not sure what not-real chicken nuggets are. You mean homemade ones? Are those even a thing? Do people make homemade chicken nuggets? I’m suddenly really interested.”
“Sort of?” Green Eyes said.
She looked up at me.
“I’m not digging you out of this one,” I said.
“Digging? Did I miss something?” Evan asked. “I missed something. What did I miss?”
I could hear the tolling of the bell.
Distant. Whatever was happening at the lakeside, it hadn’t ended yet.
“Put a pin in that thought,” I said. “I promised Molly I’d help her against Sandra. That promise holds. Did you see what we were looking for?”
“No, not exactly.”
“What, exactly?”
“It’s a barrier. A big one. It’s protecting an area. And I’m pretty sure I saw guards.”
“A barrier.”
“Around a neighborhood.”
“Show me.”
“It’s not super obvious. But… this way.”
“Okay,” I said.
“So, about the chicken nugget thing,” Evan said. “Green Eyes? Can you explain?”
I let them talk as we moved, watching Green Eyes be uncomfortable
The barrier was three blocks away.
Except it wasn’t quite a barrier.
“Do you get it?” Evan asked, “Because I’ve flown over this town a lot, and I still almost didn’t get it, especially being distracted by the gargoyle things.”
“Things, plural?” I asked. Perched at my shoulder, he used a wing to point.
They were flocking. Them and something larger.
The skies weren’t much safer than the ground.
But they were avoiding one area, and by doing so, they were being forced into tighter clumps.
Ah.
“They’re being redirected,” I said. “It’s… almost impressive.”
“What’s impressive?” Green Eyes asked.
I looked around, and confirmed my suspicion. “Opposite side of the street… George, Chapel, Hubert street…”
“Yeah?”
“This side of the street… George, Hubert.”
“One’s missing?”
“It’s… hidden,” I said.
“Tucked away or something,” Evan said. “I tried to fly into it, but I got turned around, and then the gargoyle came after me.”
“Protecting a territory,” I said. “Seems like something Duchamps might do. Direction and redirection. Powerful enchantment.”
“Maybe,” Evan said.
He took off, flying toward the section of road between George and Hubert.
The second he was out of view, flying close to the rooftop, he came right back.
“Huh,” he said. “What?”
He hopped around on my shoulder, trying to get different perspectives, to the point that it got annoying. I raised a hand and placed it gently on top of him, to hold him still.
“Let me try,” I said, out of sheer curiosity for what it was like to get turned around so readily.
I passed between houses, into a backyard.
Passing a point, halfway across the backyard, I felt a stir of wind. My hair, grimy as it was, didn’t move the slightest, but my sweatshirt fluttered momentarily.
I had to check three times to make sure I was still on course.
I… was immune?
It took nearly a minute of thought before I connected the dots.
“Guys,” I shouted.
“Yeah!?” Evan called back.
“Back in a bit! Don’t worry unless it’s a long bit!”
“Define a long bit!”
“Do you have a watch?”
“No!”
“Then does it matter, if you have an exact time?”
“No!”
“Bye!” I called out. “Back soon!”
I passed through the backyard.
In doing so, I must have tripped a secondary barrier, because I got attention.
There were Others on the street. Shadowy, fat, tall, figures, with eyes that glowed like coals. All wore loincloths, and looked like they were made of condensed smoke. Their expressions were bestial.
If I’d never seen a demon before, I might have taken them for demons.
Three of them.
I watched a woman stride out of one house, approaching.
I’d tripped an alarm, so to speak.
I spread my arms, glad I’d already sheathed the cleaver. I wasn’t as menacing as I might have been if I were fully armed.
It was the sister. The one that Joyce had dragged away from the gathering of Duchamps.