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Authors: Michael Langlois
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been a poached egg white, but I think hanging out with me is corrupting her.
Nell went to put in our orders.
We watched the other diners and fidgeted with the silverware until I broke the silence. “Seems to me that we’re now hunting five things instead of one. Henry?”
“Sounds right. Four used thorns in the body and four empty planting sites next to it. There would have been five, but Paulie simply didn’t have enough blood to fill the sac on the last one.”
“Are you shitting me?” said Chuck. People turned to look, so he lowered his voice and leaned across the table, as if that were less conspicuous. “Seriously? There’s going to be four more of those things every time wooden Leon kills somebody?”
Henry nodded. “Or more. Depends on how large the person is.”
“Fuck me.”
“Excuse me?” Nell appeared behind us bearing a huge plastic tray covered in dishes. She slapped one down in front of Chuck.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I mean, I did mean it, but I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Uh huh.” Nell unloaded her tray until everyone had plates and drinks in front of them, then stalked away.
“I think she likes you,” I said around a huge mouthful of spicy pork bliss. Chuck flipped me off. “So, if the thorns draw blood and create more creatures, why didn’t that happen with me?”
Anne snorted and said, “Probably because the god whose body you’re walking around in was called the Devourer, not the Donator. I doubt anything that wants to feed on you is going to have much luck.”
“That’s probably true,” said Henry. “But even though you appear to be immune, the rest of us need to be very careful when dealing with these things. There’s no reason to believe that only the Prime creature is capable of injecting these seed-thorns.”
Before anyone could reply to that, there was a crash from the rear of the restaurant. I looked back to see Nell standing next to an upside-down serving tray on the floor, a spray of food escaping from underneath it.
A man wearing a wife-beater under an open Lakers jacket had one arm around her waist and had pulled her against him where he sat at his table.
“Let me go, KC! Right now!” We could hear Nell clearly, even from here.
Leon jumped up and stalked towards her.
Henry looked at me. “You mind? That’s KC Bowden over there, the upstanding citizen who sent Paulie to the ER the other day. This might not be the best time for Leon to get himself arrested for assault.”
“Got it.” I stood up and followed Leon across the now silent diner. Anne was right behind me.
I reflexively clamped down on an anger that wasn’t there, just like I’ve tried to do every day since Belmont. That constant irrational rage that had been part of the original ritual, goading me into killing Piotr and using his sacrifice to power the beacon that summoned the Devourer. It had never been meant to last longer than the ritual itself, but once it had burrowed into me in 1944, it had remained for over sixty years. Only in the last couple of months had I been free of it.
But like one of Pavlov’s dogs, I couldn’t seem to break the reflex. But it was a good feeling to find myself in control without the struggle. I still got angry, of course, but at least now it was my anger. It felt cleaner somehow.
I reached the table and sized up its occupants. KC, the man holding on to Nell, looked to be in his early twenties. He was lean and muscular, and had a mustache that grew down the sides of his mouth to his chin. He was grinning into Leon’s face.
His friend was a giant and glared at us from under a knit cap pulled low over his brow. He tossed down his fork and crossed his massive arms over his barrel chest. He played the role of the silent, scary enforcer pretty well.
I started to speak, hoping that I could pull everyone’s attention to me and keep things from getting out of hand. So, of course, Leon punched KC in the mouth.
KC’s head snapped back and he
Nell went to put in our orders.
We watched the other diners and fidgeted with the silverware until I broke the silence. “Seems to me that we’re now hunting five things instead of one. Henry?”
“Sounds right. Four used thorns in the body and four empty planting sites next to it. There would have been five, but Paulie simply didn’t have enough blood to fill the sac on the last one.”
“Are you shitting me?” said Chuck. People turned to look, so he lowered his voice and leaned across the table, as if that were less conspicuous. “Seriously? There’s going to be four more of those things every time wooden Leon kills somebody?”
Henry nodded. “Or more. Depends on how large the person is.”
“Fuck me.”
“Excuse me?” Nell appeared behind us bearing a huge plastic tray covered in dishes. She slapped one down in front of Chuck.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I mean, I did mean it, but I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Uh huh.” Nell unloaded her tray until everyone had plates and drinks in front of them, then stalked away.
“I think she likes you,” I said around a huge mouthful of spicy pork bliss. Chuck flipped me off. “So, if the thorns draw blood and create more creatures, why didn’t that happen with me?”
Anne snorted and said, “Probably because the god whose body you’re walking around in was called the Devourer, not the Donator. I doubt anything that wants to feed on you is going to have much luck.”
“That’s probably true,” said Henry. “But even though you appear to be immune, the rest of us need to be very careful when dealing with these things. There’s no reason to believe that only the Prime creature is capable of injecting these seed-thorns.”
Before anyone could reply to that, there was a crash from the rear of the restaurant. I looked back to see Nell standing next to an upside-down serving tray on the floor, a spray of food escaping from underneath it.
A man wearing a wife-beater under an open Lakers jacket had one arm around her waist and had pulled her against him where he sat at his table.
“Let me go, KC! Right now!” We could hear Nell clearly, even from here.
Leon jumped up and stalked towards her.
Henry looked at me. “You mind? That’s KC Bowden over there, the upstanding citizen who sent Paulie to the ER the other day. This might not be the best time for Leon to get himself arrested for assault.”
“Got it.” I stood up and followed Leon across the now silent diner. Anne was right behind me.
I reflexively clamped down on an anger that wasn’t there, just like I’ve tried to do every day since Belmont. That constant irrational rage that had been part of the original ritual, goading me into killing Piotr and using his sacrifice to power the beacon that summoned the Devourer. It had never been meant to last longer than the ritual itself, but once it had burrowed into me in 1944, it had remained for over sixty years. Only in the last couple of months had I been free of it.
But like one of Pavlov’s dogs, I couldn’t seem to break the reflex. But it was a good feeling to find myself in control without the struggle. I still got angry, of course, but at least now it was my anger. It felt cleaner somehow.
I reached the table and sized up its occupants. KC, the man holding on to Nell, looked to be in his early twenties. He was lean and muscular, and had a mustache that grew down the sides of his mouth to his chin. He was grinning into Leon’s face.
His friend was a giant and glared at us from under a knit cap pulled low over his brow. He tossed down his fork and crossed his massive arms over his barrel chest. He played the role of the silent, scary enforcer pretty well.
I started to speak, hoping that I could pull everyone’s attention to me and keep things from getting out of hand. So, of course, Leon punched KC in the mouth.
KC’s head snapped back and he
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