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Carl/shon:gili
loped down into a thickening area of post-development Philadelphia. The
centuries old city of brotherly love lay in ruins. Here and there in swirling
tendrils of mist he passed home that were well lit and held the scent of old
pain. Angry spirit stopped their eternal stalking to stare after the shon:gili. The animal ignored them, so Carl did, too, sort of. They
came to a long stretch of desolate road. Trees hung with mists. The scent of
homes here was long gone.
The demon whispered for him to stop. Cringing, the shon:gili
skidded on the road and squatted on his haunches. Between the trees was a
hair-thin blue line of heat that Carl had to force the shon:gili
to look at. A laser fence, one strand. The shon:gili’s
vision narrowed and concentrated enough to see motes of things spark.
The air warmed as the spirit left him. The shon:gili
sagged to the road to lay the broad muzzle on the paws. The faint whine of an
overworked electric motor came to the shon:gili.
A set of lights appeared down the road. More tired than
curious, the rounded, bear-like ears centered on them.
Prey?
But the demon was gone. Carl tensed in the animal.
Change. Change, you
rip.
He screamed and beat on the sides of the pit. Sparks shot
around his fists and the heart began to pound. It boomed through the animal.
Uncontrollable shivers raced over the gray-blond hide and the animal whined.
You’re one of the
worse monsters the Owl ever created, Carl shouted. A friggin crybaby. He threw his hands in the air and screamed with
frustration. One leg over the squat muzzle, the shon:gili winced.
Unable to force the shon:gili
to change to human shape, Carl shouted for it to move to one side of the road.
He thought about Anna. Anna said concentrate and just believe. Have faith. He, a
man who had no faith in anything he couldn’t do himself.
Mal friggin chiste!
Eyes closed, he leaned his head against the yielding heat of
the pit. His mind reached up, pushing through something like warm electric
mists. Then something black and cold clamped down. A lock? It had the shape of
one. Pushing back, Carl stared up at it. Red eyes stared back. A cold smile on
his face, Carl saluted it by placing his thumb to his nose. A lock. That, too,
could change.
Carl reached out, fumbling through bits and pieces of memory
left by the demon. He frowned and the shon:gili
aped the expression. Pain caused by the hunter and the dog was only a distant
memory, but Carl recalled every bit of it and the shon:gili flinched in response.
A sudden chill caused the moisture from the shon:gili’s
breath to frost on the muzzle. The lock shattered and the demon rasped a laugh.
It forced the shon:gili
to creep back in the bushes, into the boggy area along the road.
The car slowed as it past them. A limousine. Even through the
heavy tinting on the windows the shon:gili
saw the driver and passenger as a seething red. The passenger was tinged with a
cold darkness. The driver, though, was rimmed in white gold and the demon
shuddered. Urine dribbled from the shon:gili.
The demon slipped a little deeper into Carl’s soul and huddled there.
Achilles’ heel?
Carl asked, his expression innocent and concerned. The demon bared its teeth and
the shon:gili hissed.
In the back of Carl’s head, there was a faint giggle and a
woman’s whisper. Another weakness.
He snarled a grin. Anna! She was talking to him. When it was
gone, it had no real control. It had to lock Carl into a prison. Why?
And something about the black dude in the limousine scared it so bad, if it had
an anal, the whole monster would stink like outhouse reek. Why?
Carl closed his eyes to hide his thoughts.
Anna? Why? What gives?
What am I missing?
When the car stopped. A bridge hidden in the brush slid out.
The shon:gili eased through the brush.
As the limousine moved over the bridge the shon:gili was inches from the rear bumper. His feet touched a
crushed shell lane. A faint rumble of plastisteel came from the road. The bridge
was pulled back into the ground. Hidden cables dragged branches across the lane
to mask it from travelers.
Or from raiders.
A thin string of smoke hissed from a branch and twig leaned
to one side, falling to the ground.
A whisper filled the cupped ears. The chauffeur’s deep
voice muttered into a speaker.
“Sir, something followed us into the grounds.”
Thin and bitter, the passenger said, “So? Kill it.”
The shon:gili
frowned. Carl recognized the men but trapped in the pit couldn’t reach the
memory.
“Sir, it was a wolf or small bear. It’s against the law
to–“
“Then put it on the menu, Henri, and leave me the hell
alone. Damned pinhead darkie.”
The muttered voices stopped. Something was slammed. Worry ate
at him. Scowling, Carl pushed a finger into the wall of the pit. He hooked a
finger and yanked on the pseudo-flesh.
The shon:gili
shoved to the left. The move was so unexpected and swift the shon:gili stumbled and Carl bounced in the pit with the demon
howling in rage. A beam of red light cut through the mists. The shon:gili
ran into the brush.
The deep voice muttered something uncouth and the limousine
rolled on to disappear around a bend in the road.
Angry at the demon and bitter towards the men in the car, the
shon:gili stepped out onto the road.
He started down it but Carl stopped him.
The demon hissed. What
do thou, slave? It tried to force the shon:gili
to move. Carl snarled and clamped down hard on a fistful of the pseudo-flesh.
Red sparks of pain shot through the animal and the shon:gili yelped, urine squirting onto the white shell. A hole
opened under Carl and he fell, thudding deeper into the pit.
He glanced up, his face a mask of calm hate.
A feather-like caress and a voice warmed him.
Maybe another answer,
Papa Bear. Have faith!
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
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