Mysteria Nights

“Boy, did you pick the wrong house,” the voice remarked, and something smashed into the back of its head and shattered, something that smelled sweet and crumbly.

“Char’s gonna kill me; she made that stupid cookie jar in her pottery class. Eh, easy come, easy smash.”

It stepped across the shards, its hide far too tough to be cut or even scratched. The dread queen’s scent was strong here, but then seemed to backtrack, so he followed it toward the door, staggering as the voice hurled something yet again, something that felt like a rock with hard corners.

“Damn it! With no blender, I guess it’s bye-bye Margarita Saturdays.”

Nearing the doorway, it saw the usurper standing on the wooden thing it had knocked down, standing on it with her sword drawn.

“Krakeen demon, this woman will make the demon pay for daring to come here.”

It roared a challenge; it hungered for her blood, her blood for its people, for its land, for the crown she had wrongfully stolen—stolen and then fled!

“You dare come to this land, my town? You dare pollute this place with the stench of your hide? This woman cannot even make clothing out of your skin, you stink so badly.”

It gnashed its teeth and rushed at her, ducking under her swing and slashing at her. She wrenched herself back, and all it could do was scratch her, not gut her as it had intended.

“He shoots and he misses and, oh, ladies and gentlemen, have you ever seen such humiliation?”

Yes, it would kill the dread queen, and then it would hunt down that bedamned voice and kill it, too!

It followed up, swinging its long arms, each finger tipped with a razor-sharp claw an inch and a half long, and she had to backpedal out the doorway to avoid getting cut again. It ducked as she swung, but not quite fast enough, and it lost an ear.

“Oh, man! She’s cutting pieces off you! And you’re the best of the bunch? How embarrassing is that?”

“A fine point, Krakeen,” the usurper said and bared her teeth at him in what the soft pink things called a “smile.” “Rae, remind this woman never to anger you.”

“D’you know how long it’s going to take me to fix this door?” the voice griped in response.

The Krakeen kicked, its powerful feet also tipped with sharp claws, and the dire queen backflipped out of the way, catching it on the underside of its chin as she did. It shook its head and went after her again, only to find its feet were stuck in the hard walk outside the house. It wrenched itself free easily enough and stepped onto the grass, where it caught the usurper’s sword with one hand as the blade descended.

Got you now, dread queen! Your guts will feed my young! Ignoring the blood pouring from its hand, it held the blade away from itself, readying its other paw for the killing blow, when she abruptly let go of the sword. As it staggered in surprise, it felt something hot slide into its throat.

Hot, and then very, very cold. And something was wrong with its throat. It was getting its chest wet. It was getting dizzy. It tried to swing at the dread queen and missed by too much, missed, and then the odd colored grass was rushing up to its face, and the Krakeen demon knew no more.

Seventeen

Withering stepped back, neatly avoiding the splash, and coldly watched the Krakeen fall facedown onto Charlene Hautenan’s lawn. Then she looked up into the nearest oak tree.

“This woman would ask her sisters to come down.”

“Why? We helped, didn’t we?”

“There may be more, dear ones, and this woman would not see you hurt. It is bad enough,” she added sternly, “that you disobeyed me in the manner of following me here.”

“Point,” Scornful replied, and they both climbed down with the speed of monkeys on crack. Then they stood over the body of the dead demon, which was bleeding black all over the grass. “Guh-ross!” she continued. “Those things come from where you used to live? This one’s even nastier-looking than the other one. It’s a miracle you made it out alive!”

“Mom’s gonna freak,” Derisive added.

“Only if you tell the good lady,” Withering said, squatting to wipe her blade on the grass, retrieving her sword, then standing in time to see Thad’s pizza van drive over the curb and straight up to the house, ruining more grass. He leaped out, leaving the engine running, and nearly fell onto the corpse.

“Are you okay? I got your sister’s message. One of your sisters. I don’t know which. Are you okay?” He took her into his arms, feeling her for injuries. “Withering, you nut, you shouldn’t have tackled that thing by yourself!”

“Why?” she asked, honestly puzzled. “Who else should have ‘tackled’ it?”

“You dope! You could have been sliced! Chewed! Skinned! Gutted!”

“Indeed, the Krakeen would have seen to all those things if it could.”

Thad actually staggered. “That statement did not make me feel better. At all.”

“But it did not, and will not, ever.” She gently divested herself of his frantic grip and slid her foot under the body.

“Careful,” Scornful warned. “In the horror movies, this is where it leaps up for one last scare.”

“Not once my knife has been in its throat.” She flipped the body over and examined it carefully. Finally, straightening, she said with surprise, “It is a Krakeen.”

“Yeah, you said that. You called it that. You also mentioned it would have gutted and stabbed and mangled and mutilated you. So?”

“So. Krakeens inhabit the other side of the planet. It once took me the better part of my sixteenth year to reach their territory. This one could have been nowhere near the thin spot where I fell through and, later, returned. That means—”

“I don’t care what it means!” Thad shouted. “You’re not leaving me—or Mysteria! This is your home, and nobody made you killer of demons and giver-upper of a social life.”

She squinted at him. “That doesn’t make any—”

“I don’t care if this thing was from halfway round the planet or the house next door; you’re staying.”

“What he said,” Derisive said.

“Yeah, except without that weird ‘giver-upper’ line,” Scornful added.

“As I was saying,” Withering continued gently, “it would appear the wishing well is now a conduit between Earth Prime and Secondary Earth.”

“Sorry if you’ve heard this before: So?”

“That means a demon from anywhere on Earth Prime might find its way here.”

“Gross,” Scornful commented.

“Not to mention inconvenient,” Derisive added.

“And unless I am here, in Mysteria, to protect its citizens, that could be disastrous. I cannot leave my dear mother and dear sisters to defend themselves against such creatures, nor any citizen of the land.”

“So . . .” Thad held his breath and then, because the stress appeared to be too much, let it out in an explosive sigh. “So you’re staying.”

“Yes. I must. I do not understand why I did not see it before.”

“Because you were too busy jumping Thad’s bones?” Scornful suggested.

“And learning how to pick up a spare?” Derisive added.

“I suspect,” she said, kindly enough, “it is because I was confused about exactly where my responsibilities lie. But I can no longer return to Earth Prime, no matter how noble my intentions, if it means leaving my town exposed to any demon with a whim to take the crown.”

“Where’d Char and the baby go?” Thad asked, seeming to realize their absence all of a sudden.

“To our house, where they remain.”