Read Online Geekomancy by Michael R. Underwood - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michael R. Underwood
Ads: Link
and Ree took the opportunity to excuse herself and try not to look too obvious in fleeing from the downtrodden site of tremendous emotional anguish.
Outside, she made the first turn available and then stopped to sit on a bench and clear her head, shivering for every reason except the cold. The blood, gods, the blood. And her parents.
Caught in a gut-wrenching thought loop, Ree popped in her earbuds to mainline happy-bouncy music until she could close her eyes and not imagine Angela on the floor of the room amid a pool of blood.
Rocking to Florence + the Machine, Ree walked back home to change and call Eastwood to figure out the next step. Could she quit now—would that even be allowed? This shit was too real by half. But it never worked that way in the movies, did it? At least that’s how it was in the (Narrative) World According to Joseph Campbell. But why her? She didn’t have to do this. There were real cops and feds, and she was thoroughly out of her depth.
Trying to keep herself in a loop of pleasant thoughts as insulation from the nasty reality, she reflected on the fact that there was no case of sad in the world that could stand up to a pint of ice cream and a few hours of Super Mario Bros . She’d once made a pie chart to prove it. And by pie chart, she meant a pie. Which she’d eaten.
Perhaps another pie was in order. Pumpkin. No, maybe apple. Bit by bit, she shook off the feeling of the Moorelys’ house.
As Ree walked down the empty street pondering what pie to make, she was, as a result of such pleasant thoughts, left woefully unprepared to make a Perception Check and thus avoid surprise.
As a result, she was completely blindsided by the furry paw that slammed into her shoulder, sending her crashing to the ground. She heard the mystery thing howl as it leaped after her, blocking out the early-evening vestiges of twilight.
Just what I wanted, was all she had time to think, an ambush.
Chapter Five
Blood and Cocoa
Ree hit the ground hard but then rolled with the shot as her training kicked in. Pain flashed up her arm like a grease fire, and her vision clouded.
She wished she’d kept Eastwood’s lightsaber, realizing that the closest thing she had to a weapon was a pen in her pocket.
Turning to face her attacker, Ree was instantly split between an impulse to scream and one to burst out laughing.
Her attacker was a werewolf. But not a CGI werewolf or a good-FX werewolf. This was a crappy-body-suit-with-a-super-fake-headpiece werewolf.
For all its ridiculousness, the damned thing managed to climb a brick wall to about ten feet up and then jump at her, which put some more fuel into the scream impulse.
Instead, she pushed off with one foot and leaped to the side, throwing a jumping roundhouse kick as the Hammer reject landed.
Ree expected a yelp, maybe a snarl or a growl. Instead, she got an oof . Huh?
Ree hopped back when she heard the all-too-human sound, and asked, “Who the hell are you?”
The response began as a guy’s impression of a growl, but a moment into the sound, an animalistic voice joined the human one, then drowned it out as the wolfman charged her again, its jaw opening wide.
Okay, not funny anymore. She snapped out a front kick that caught the werewolf in the jaw but sent the left shoe of her Respectable Person outfit flying up and out of her line of vision. Where are the witnesses? Fuck the Doubt, right in its ear.
If she weren’t alone, it wouldn’t be jumping her. Going with that totally shaky but reassuring logic, she decided to try shouting.
“Fire! Fire! Fire in the alley!” She’d read that shouting “Fire!” was more likely to get a response than anything else, though that was a while ago, and maybe “Terrorist!” would do the job just as well.
Looking back out of the alley into the street, she saw a frustrating lack of passersby and turned her attention to the decreasingly laughable werewolf as it swiped at her with claws that Ree could have sworn
Outside, she made the first turn available and then stopped to sit on a bench and clear her head, shivering for every reason except the cold. The blood, gods, the blood. And her parents.
Caught in a gut-wrenching thought loop, Ree popped in her earbuds to mainline happy-bouncy music until she could close her eyes and not imagine Angela on the floor of the room amid a pool of blood.
Rocking to Florence + the Machine, Ree walked back home to change and call Eastwood to figure out the next step. Could she quit now—would that even be allowed? This shit was too real by half. But it never worked that way in the movies, did it? At least that’s how it was in the (Narrative) World According to Joseph Campbell. But why her? She didn’t have to do this. There were real cops and feds, and she was thoroughly out of her depth.
Trying to keep herself in a loop of pleasant thoughts as insulation from the nasty reality, she reflected on the fact that there was no case of sad in the world that could stand up to a pint of ice cream and a few hours of Super Mario Bros . She’d once made a pie chart to prove it. And by pie chart, she meant a pie. Which she’d eaten.
Perhaps another pie was in order. Pumpkin. No, maybe apple. Bit by bit, she shook off the feeling of the Moorelys’ house.
As Ree walked down the empty street pondering what pie to make, she was, as a result of such pleasant thoughts, left woefully unprepared to make a Perception Check and thus avoid surprise.
As a result, she was completely blindsided by the furry paw that slammed into her shoulder, sending her crashing to the ground. She heard the mystery thing howl as it leaped after her, blocking out the early-evening vestiges of twilight.
Just what I wanted, was all she had time to think, an ambush.
Chapter Five
Blood and Cocoa
Ree hit the ground hard but then rolled with the shot as her training kicked in. Pain flashed up her arm like a grease fire, and her vision clouded.
She wished she’d kept Eastwood’s lightsaber, realizing that the closest thing she had to a weapon was a pen in her pocket.
Turning to face her attacker, Ree was instantly split between an impulse to scream and one to burst out laughing.
Her attacker was a werewolf. But not a CGI werewolf or a good-FX werewolf. This was a crappy-body-suit-with-a-super-fake-headpiece werewolf.
For all its ridiculousness, the damned thing managed to climb a brick wall to about ten feet up and then jump at her, which put some more fuel into the scream impulse.
Instead, she pushed off with one foot and leaped to the side, throwing a jumping roundhouse kick as the Hammer reject landed.
Ree expected a yelp, maybe a snarl or a growl. Instead, she got an oof . Huh?
Ree hopped back when she heard the all-too-human sound, and asked, “Who the hell are you?”
The response began as a guy’s impression of a growl, but a moment into the sound, an animalistic voice joined the human one, then drowned it out as the wolfman charged her again, its jaw opening wide.
Okay, not funny anymore. She snapped out a front kick that caught the werewolf in the jaw but sent the left shoe of her Respectable Person outfit flying up and out of her line of vision. Where are the witnesses? Fuck the Doubt, right in its ear.
If she weren’t alone, it wouldn’t be jumping her. Going with that totally shaky but reassuring logic, she decided to try shouting.
“Fire! Fire! Fire in the alley!” She’d read that shouting “Fire!” was more likely to get a response than anything else, though that was a while ago, and maybe “Terrorist!” would do the job just as well.
Looking back out of the alley into the street, she saw a frustrating lack of passersby and turned her attention to the decreasingly laughable werewolf as it swiped at her with claws that Ree could have sworn
Similar Books
