When the Lights Went Out #4

Chapter Four

Ghost [goh-sst]: The deceased soul of a human that lingers in the monster realm. They’ve established a society in Antipode Town and are generally a peaceful people.

The dark silhouettes of buildings reached scraggily fingers toward the black sky. Silence effused the night. No lights were on, and the hum of electricity that often comforted Coyote to sleep at home was not present. The town grew emptier the farther in they walked. Not even a tumbleweed graced them with its presence. It looked like the kind of place where neighborhood kids would play soccer in the street. Coyote had lived somewhere like that once, nose pressed against the cool glass of his front window while he watched boys his age tumble around on the hot tar.

London turned sharply at the next intersection. Suburbia quickly melted away and was replaced by a barren metropolitan area that would have been any college kid’s dream had it been full of life. The town was quieter here, in what must have been its heart. The only sound came from their hurried footsteps and Coyote’s ragged breathing. There was a reason he’d skipped PE—beyond body image issues.

A white mist materialized before them, halting London. Coyote stopped shortly after. A translucent person formed from the swirling mist. Her long twin braids draped over her shoulders, and she wore a frilly dress that spilled to her ankles. It reminded Coyote of a period costume he had once seen at a mining town demonstration.

“Welcome to Antipode Town, weary travelers.” She looked straight at London, but her eyes seemed to drift in Coyote’s direction like one of those paintings that followed no matter where one stood. “This town might no longer be governed by your people, but we do ask that you respect leash laws if nothing else.”

“I—” London started, glancing at Coyote. “My apologies, dearest peacekeeper.”

“What?” Coyote asked.

Pinning an arm across Coyote’s chest in a way that begged obedience, London deftly fastened a strip of leather around his neck. Coyote’s breath caught as his body remembered the vampire’s caress.

Now this world—whatever this world was—had a leash law? For what? Humans? Cossets? Whatever it was the troll thought Coyote was. He shifted the Fictionary over to one arm before examining his neck with his other hand. “Did you just put a collar on me?” He fingered the oblong metal tag jangling from it. Large letters were etched into it that Coyote wasn’t adept enough to make out by touch alone.

London flicked his wrist, causing a second strip of leather—the leash—to jerk violently against Coyote’s neck.

“I just brought him here, so as you can imagine, he hasn’t been trained,” London said.

Coyote was so going to kill London for this.

The ghost woman nodded. “Have a safe trip.”

“Righteous.” London gave the leash a tug. “Come.” Then he walked straight through the ghost to continue through town.

Coyote skirted around the ghost, though she was fading rapidly from sight. By the time he stepped past, she was gone.

“Hey!” Coyote shouted, yanked forward by London. “Take this thing off.”

“Sorry, but the ghost is right,” London said without slowing his pace. “At least if you look like a proper pet, we can make it to the city and the gate without anyone questioning me.”

“Do monsters in this world actually keep human pets?”

“Why do you suppose Rochester wants that babe?” London pressed his nose into Coyote’s. “Guys like him can’t transpire to your world. If they have a human pet like that, they’ll have fresh blood—along with other favors—without needing to worry about hunting for it.” The vampire’s breath reeked of blood.

His kidnapper was way too much a stranger for this to be a comfortable arrangement. To get some distance between them, Coyote rammed the Fictionary into London’s chest.

London slapped his arm away. “Get that cursed book out of here.”

“What’s so bad about it?” Coyote tucked it under his arm, determined to hold onto it.

“It’s called a Fictionary. Illegal, in that it describes this world and its residents to humans.”

“And what, exactly, is this world? With trolls and…and ghosts….” And vampires. Though Coyote didn’t want to say that part out loud.

“Exactly what it sounds like. This isn’t a realm of humans. It is one of monsters. Where your realm is round, ours is flat.”

Coyote did not want to contemplate what other kinds of monsters were around. “Is that why everything is black and white? And blue, green, and yellow?”

“To your perception, yes. The colors in this world are too intense for your senses. Much like Earth colors are too dull for mine.”

“That’s fantastic.” Coyote slapped his palm to his thigh, curling his fingers into a half fist where they rested. “Just fantastic.”

London sighed. “You’re wearing me out,” he said, turning back to the road. “We have to get going before Rochester finds out you’re here.”

He set a brisk pace again, leash still clutched in a tight fist.

Coyote could barely keep up. His legs screamed that they’d had enough exercise for one week. The strain on his breathing made it impossible to argue. Given London’s not-quite-chipper mood, Coyote’d bet his next three meals that was his goal. After all, when the storm cloud of failure hung so low around Coyote, he couldn’t have tolerated his own peskiness either. Some days it was better to imagine a fantastical world to be in like this instead of his own, so Coyote was happy not to argue at the moment. That’d be too much like dealing with his mother.

As the quiet, abandoned homes thinned out around them, three men with full beards emerged onto the cobbled road. Each man was no taller than London’s knees and wore buckled shoes, long, green suit-like jackets, and tall, slumped hats.

“What the…?” Coyote mumbled.

London halted, dropping into a defensive crouch. “Why are you here? Why the fuck are you here?”

The middle of the three approached with a rolled-up paper. “We serve thee with a collection of debt,” he said with a thick Irish accent.

London ripped the paper out of the man’s hand and unfurled it. “That’s impossible,” he growled. His grip tightened on the sheet. “Rochester, that bloody piece of rubbish.” London threw the sheet to the ground. “We had an agreement. He can’t do this!”

“You owe a pending debt to our client,” the middle one said. “We have been informed that it is long overdue. Provide payment posthaste, or we’ll take you straight to prison.”

“Oh, fuck no,” London growled. “You tell Rochester that we had a bloody arrangement and that I’m going to make good on it right now.”

“So, you have nothing to pay us at the moment?”

London swept a stiff arm toward Coyote without looking at him. “Does it look like I do?”

Coyote clutched the Fictionary to his chest, thinking he’d have a good chance of taking out one of the shorties with a whack. With London’s vampire prowess, they could handle them, right?

The middle shorty’s neck cracked with a sickening snap, chin tucking against his chest. His gray eyes shifted to yellow with a primal glow. The Irish accent was mostly gone when he spoke, replaced by a robotic, Zodiac-Killer scramble. “Get him.”

“Shit.” London spun around and snatched Coyote off the street, carrying him in his arms like a princess. “We gotta go!”

The creatures launched toward London. London leaped clear over their heads, feet thudding to the cobbles at their backs. He dashed to the nearest building and jumped onto the single-story rooftop, then vaulted to the next and the next until he landed at the edge of town. Coyote, arms locked behind London’s neck, looked over his shoulder. The three debt collectors were nowhere in sight, but London kept going.

The dark world whooshed by in a blur. The motion lulled Coyote into the complacency he felt when smoking Mary Jane. It was a moment where he could pretend his mother’s narcotics addiction hadn’t claimed his father’s life or forced him to move from school to school every year. A moment where his poor grades hadn’t kept him from getting accepted to any college far from his home, instead forcing him to live with his mother while attending the local community college. And a moment where the pain drifted into a hazy nebula, and he could be happy. He closed his eyes to embrace that moment.