Mark reached down and pulled the roll-up garage door open, revealing a six-person side-by-side ATV and an old Willys, both buried under accumulated crap that stretched almost to the ceiling. The Jeep had been backed in, and the distinctive grill was mostly concealed behind a stack of deteriorating black plastic trash bags. Wool army blankets, thoroughly chewed and fouled by rodents, tumbled out of the torn bags and onto the driveway.
Avery perked up. “Are the vehicles part of the sale?”
“Rats got into the wiring for both. Sure. If you can make it a quick sale, I’ll tell Tyler to throw them in.” Mark pointed vaguely in the direction of the back of the garage. “There’s like a dozen five-gallon gas cans somewhere in there. I think back in the far right corner.”
“I might be able to climb back there,” Simon said, “if there’s nothing you’re worried about me stepping on.”
“Step away. Watch out for critters.” Mark seemed completely unbothered by the idea of damage to his mother’s hoard.
Casey glanced at Simon. At barely five feet tall, the elf was small, light, and nimble, and he hadn’t been limping for the last few days. “You’re looking for some giant red plastic jugs, about this big...” he held his hands apart, indicating the size of a gas can.
With remarkable agility, Simon scrambled through the back seat of the side-by-side, then, after shifting some boxes of crap, climbed over the hood of the Jeep. He found a gas can in the corner and grunted at the weight. Prize attained, he eyed the route back, then decided that squeezing into the narrow and trash-choked space between vehicles was a better bet than dragging the heavy can of fuel over the top.
Simon froze, eyes going wide. “There’s a hand—!”
The debris exploded. Casey saw teeth, and claws, and wild blue eyes. Mark screamed like a little girl, Avery swore, and Simon lunged backward and yanked a crowbar out of a pile of assorted tools. The creature came to a stop atop the old Jeep, perched on the roll bars, with his lips pulled back in a snarl.
He was enormous. Casey would never have believed something that big had been hidden in that small space. His coat and tight-fitting jeans did little to hide the power of his muscles. Razor-sharp claws and fangs glinted in the morning light. In a voice so deep it would have done Sean Connery proud, the grimalkin snarled, “Leave me the fuck alone!”
His Gift stirred. He couldn’t let the creature go. This was important.
“Wait,” Casey said, holding his hands up. “I won’t stop you from leaving, but — are you okay? If you’re from Simon’s world, you’re a helluva long way from home.”
Blue eyes narrowed. “Does it fucking seem like I’m fucking okay? I was hiding in rat shit.”
“Why do you think he’s asking?” Avery snapped.
Casey held his hands out, palms up. “I’m Casey. This is Avery, Simon, and Mark. We’re not going to hurt...”
“I know who you are,” the grimalkin said, shifting his weight. “You’re Casey Osbourne. And you’ve got less training than I thought if you couldn’t sense me. My gift for illusions isn’t that strong. Surprised Mark didn’t know I was there, too.”
“Dude, I wasn’t looking for anybody,” Mark stared at the fanged man with narrowed eyes.
“Training?” Casey said, stupidly, “Ah. Magic. Yeah, that’s an issue. Look, what’s your name?”
The monster looked sideways at them, expression wary, posture poised to bolt. Then, finally, something changed. He felt a barrier dissipate. Now he could sense him... where there had been a blankness before, a presence existed.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Her. Not a him. Casey glanced over the figure again. She had to be at least seven feet tall, with the ripped muscles of a wildcat and just the barest rise of breasts under her coat. He’d assumed they were extra-large pecs.
“Tara,” Avery said. “Tara, is that you?”
“Figured the baby wizard would get it first,” she sounded surprised.
“Your eyes are the same, and, duh, this is where you disappeared from,” Avery explained. “What did Todd do to you? How long have you been here?”
“Tara Bright?” Mark said. He took an alarmed step backward. Casey recalled that their history had generally involved Todd and Mark doing terrible things to Tara. When Todd was involved, the bullying had been creative. Mark just flung rude nicknames and crude innuendos around with a side order of sexual harassment.
She gave Mark a distasteful look, blue eyes cool and lips lifting to reveal sharp teeth. “If I wanted to kill you, Mark, I’d have done it a long time ago.”
“Is my brother dead? Because if he is, he probably had it coming,” Mark said. “He’s a complete assclown, but he was my brother, and I wanna know.”
“He was alive last I saw, despite the fact that I tried pretty hard to end him.” Tara managed to sound remarkably defensive, pissed, and defiant, all at once, with a voice so deep Casey could feel it in his bones.
“Hey.” Avery held a hand out to her. “C’mon down from there. Bet you’ve got quite the story to tell.”
“You’re not freaking out.” She hesitated.
“Last week, I got run through with a sword by the short blond dude over there after he came through a hole in the air. You’re a lot less scary than Stabby McStabface there.” Avery jerked his chin towards Simon. Simon raised both eyebrows. “I’ve seen portals, spells, and a creepy book, and Casey blew out our second-floor windows with magic. You’re just more weirdness in what’s been a very weird time.”
She glanced back and realized Simon had a crowbar poised to swing. Boxes flew through the air, and towers of junk toppled as she scrambled for the side door. However, the sheer volume of junk slowed her, and Avery, guessing her intent, bolted around the corner of the garage. When she yanked the door open, he was waiting.
“Tara, no! Don’t run! Maybe we can help you out! Don’t leave!”
Casey, scrambling after Avery, heard her growled answer. “That complete idiot managed to bind me here. I can’t fucking leave. And now Mark’s selling the place, and I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, and—” she abruptly stopped what sounded like the start of a panicky rant and stared at them with wide eyes.
“We’re going to buy it.” Avery held his hand out to her. In a voice far calmer than Casey felt or Simon looked, he said, “Tara. It’s going to be okay. We’ll help you.”
Her chin lifted. She regarded Avery suspiciously, muscles bunched up and razor-sharp toenails digging into the ground beneath her feet. She could have shoved him aside and burst past him at any instant. With her size and power, there would have been no stopping her.
Avery was right. Casey realized her eyes were the same. They were a beautiful blue and seemed too large for her face in both this and human form. They’d also had the same cautious, hunted, cool expression in high school.
Casey’s Gift stirred. It had picked up on something. Tara was important, it whispered.
She glanced at him, and then his awareness of her abruptly vanished. Where she’d been standing seemed like a void in the air. It was startling; he had never realized that everyone and everything had a ‘feel.’ She was right; if nothing else, he should have sensed a null-ness, absence of presence, in the garage. Bitterly, she snapped, “Nobody ever helps me.”
“We will,” Casey promised, even as Avery nodded.
“Sure,” Mark said. “I’ll help too...”
“Oh, fuck you.” She stepped forward. Avery moved back, allowing her to leave. Mark tried to block her exit by spreading his arms out and jumping into her path. She was a foot taller, significantly heavier, and muscled like a bodybuilder. Tara planted a hand in the middle of his chest, sending him flying with little effort. He landed on his butt in squishy, icy, mud. Once past them, Tara stalked across the clearing, down to the creek, and quickly disappeared into the trees.
“I don’t think she’s forgiven me for prom,” Mark said. “I guess I can’t blame her.”
“She could have killed you,” Simon noted as he offered Mark a hand up. “As a general rule, smart people don’t piss off grimalkins.”
“Well, I’m not smart,” Mark replied with a roll of his eyes.
