The Guy with the Scythe
by Jamie Lynn Wirth
Part 1 appears in this issue.
conclusion
Rosie spoke slowly. “So if this one fed — found a deer or something — there could be a nest right now. And these things — these maldracht — can destroy a town in a single night?”
“Yep.” Rory’s eyes were stricken. He shuffled his slippers, dry leaves shushing over the green cloth.
“You really need to ask more questions when you buy things, old man.”
Rosie felt her mouth go dry. “What do we do to stop it?”
Her eyes glinting green and wild, Alex snorted. “We don’t do anything. Rory and I will close the portal. You go home, tuck yourself under your blankets, and live happily ever after.”
“I’m not letting those things eat my dog. Or the town. It’s my livelihood.” Rosie scowled, ignoring her heart pounding in her throat, holding Joey tighter when he squirmed. I could stay, pretend this was all a bad dream... and maybe make Joey face another of those things? No. “I’m coming with you.”
“You have no idea what we’re chasing. No idea.” Alex took a step forward, her body tense as she spread her arms. “This isn’t another tourist gig, where you play a little jazz, get a few tips, and at worst you’re tired and cold when you lug your bass home. We could die. Rory, me, all of us.”
“My dog killed this one. If these things can destroy a whole town in one night, you’re going to need all the help you can get.”
Alex threw up her hands. “You. Could. Die.”
“Death is the guy with the scythe,” Rosie said dryly. “I don’t see him hanging out around here. What I do see are the two of you in over your heads. I might be the only person willing to try to believe you, and not get you both committed. Besides, more is always better.”
Rory offered, “Unless it’s garlic.”
“I’m not garlic. I’m another set of hands.”
Alex said nothing.
“She could help, at that.” Rory looked at Alex. “With her, we can cover more ground and make sure there isn’t a nest. If we do find one, it’ll be easier with three of us.”
Alex narrowed her eyes. “We only have two flamethrowers.”
“We could buy one at Lakeview Supply. Or Vernon might lend me one.”
“Oh, you’re just going to waltz up to him and say, Vernon, can I borrow your flamethrower? Just a little matter of clearing out some monsters that haven’t existed for thousands of years, but might swarm the town and rip us all to shreds in our sleep. I’ll have it back by dinner.”
Rory shrugged. “He might.”
“Fine.” Alex huffed. “The fire’s burning down. Let’s go, old man. Old woman.”
“Rosie.”
Whatever Alex saw in her face caused her to shrug and agree, “Rosie.”
* * *
Pouring a bucket of water over the embers, Rory backed away until the steam boiled past, then stirred the soggy remnants with a stick. “It’s gone. That one, at least.”
Joey finally squirmed hard enough to free himself from Rosie’s arms, dropping and running closer to the edge of the forest. The shadows were darker there, even as the sunrise brightened with purple and orange. He woofed, intent on the space under the trees.
Death is the guy with the scythe, Rosie reminded herself. Aloud, she said, “You little maniac,” as she scooped him up. The gray-black hounds-tooth fabric of his coat was rough on her hands. We’re going to destroy these things — whatever they are — and go back to our peaceful, quiet retirement in this peaceful, quiet town.
In the end, neither Vernon nor Lakeview Supply had any flamethrowers.
“So now I’m armed with a Pekingese?” Rosie grumped as they started under the trees an hour or so later. The other two were outfitted like proper adventurers, in subtle greens and browns with sturdy hiking boots. Rosie, however, was wearing her warmest sweatshirt, a hoodie tie-dyed purple and lime green, with pink and white Fila high top sneakers. Joey was snugged in his sling across her front.
“Not too late to go back.” Alex paused to adjust the fuel cylinders on her back, the gun loose in her left hand.
“Joey and I aren’t sending the two of you out here alone,” Rosie replied grimly. “Just because Joey killed one doesn’t mean we’ll be that lucky next time.”
Rory just nodded and walked on. Alex closed her mouth with a snap. “Fine. Come on. Don’t fall too far behind.”
While Rosie wanted to snap right back, she was already trying to keep her panting too quiet for the others to hear. You get upper-arm strength from playing the bass, she reminded herself, not stamina.
Leaves rustled and crackled in the wind. Today, the wind was so strong the sound of wavelets crashing on the lake shore carried. They walked, and walked, until Rory paused beside an enormous oak. “It should be right here...”
A clearing had opened up, a stand of sapling oaks forming a circle outside the oak’s canopy. Opposite these, tumbled boulders formed a cave, one side leaning at an angle to shape a narrow tunnel.
“The cave?” Rosie asked.
Rory shook his head. “No, there’s a bigger entrance. It should be right here.”
“If you came at Lughnasad, the Veil would have been thin.” Alex frowned, peering at the boulders. “It’s not going to thin out again until Samhain. You’re gonna have to bring out the big guns, old man.”
Rory shot a nervous glance Rosie’s way.
Alex snorted. “She’s already seen the maldracht, and you’re afraid of using a tairseach coin in front of her?”
Rosie watched, fascinated, as Rory nodded. He pulled out a coin, verdigris with age, rubbing it in his hands and lifting it to his mouth. He breathed on it, three long, slow breaths. Then he transferred the coin to his left hand, faced the boulders, and used it to trace a counterclockwise circle from the top of his head to his feet.
Nothing happened.
“Rory, you know it’s not going to be that easy. We can’t wait until Samhain.”
With another nervous glance at Rosie, Rory cleared his throat. “Okay.” He stepped forward, still holding the coin in his left hand, and pressed it into the rock.
Something cracked, a sensation felt more than heard. The air within Rory’s circle shimmered like heat over asphalt in July.
“There’s nothing there.” Joey, however, started squirming again, trying to get down. “Hush.”
“Just watch.” Alex pulled the gun of her flamethrower from the holster at her back, and Rory did likewise. “Better get behind us.”
The shimmering thickened. The wind picked up. With a gust that almost knocked Rosie off her feet, the shimmering misted away to reveal a taller pile of boulders. Beneath lay an opening large enough for a person to walk through.
“So it did make a nest,” Alex murmured, thumbing off the safety to her flamethrower.
At the opening, a fungating mass writhed, yellow and putrid. Slime dripped from its membrane. Rosie saw what she was sure was a clawed foot sliding inside. She swallowed.
“Just eggs,” Rory said, calmly. He and Alex engulfed the nightmare in fire.
The heat was almost unbearable. Rosie threw her hands up in front of her face; but that wasn’t enough to protect her from the stench. The smell was worse than the decayed possum she’d found hiking, worse than the sewer leak. She gagged and retched, helpless as she felt Joey wriggle out of his carrier.
“Rory.” Alex was screaming over the roar of the flamethrowers. Still heaving, Rosie dropped her hands to see something, teeth and horror, straddling Rory’s chest where he’d fallen. The leaves in front of the cave smouldered. “Help him.”
Rosie was already lunging forward. What are you going to do? You’re a fat old lady, and now you don’t even have a Pekingese to protect you. Adrenaline surged, as she saw Rory gripping the head, or whatever held the fangs. Red blossomed.
“Dammit.” Tears coursed down the hot skin of her face. Alex kept her flamethrower trained on the nest. So far, only one monster had burst free.
Her heart pounding in her throat, breath scarce and panting, Rosie did the only thing she could think of. She pulled back her fist and slammed it into the monster’s body.
It rolled off, snarling and turning on her. Gnashing fangs launched through the air, hitting her chest and sending her crashing to earth. Air whooshed from her lungs. I can’t breathe... My hands. Despite herself, Rosie crossed her arms over her face, trying to protect her hands and knowing against those fangs, longer than her fingers, it was hopeless. Claws scrabbled and caught in her sweatshirt.
The creature roiled, hissed and, with one furious yipe, the weight on her chest was gone. She saw the flounce of Joey’s fur as he ripped the larger creature’s spine. Don’t just lie here, idiot. Being butchered in the woods by a ghost story isn’t part of the plan.
Rosie pushed herself up and saw, through a haze of sweat, tears, and maybe blood, Joey standing over a dripping blackness. He grabbed it in his teeth and shook, spattering Rosie’s face with ichor.
The flamethrowers were both still trained on the inside of the cave, but Rosie couldn’t see anything left but ash. Rory’s okay.
When Joey snapped at the hand that tried to take away the prize he was still worrying, Rosie snagged him back, stuffed him into his carrier, and scrambled to her feet. She was just in time to see Rory toss the verdigris coin into the cave, followed by the stone that must have been the initial focus. There was a snap as the air shimmered and refolded the entrance into the semblance of a peaceful meadow.
“It won’t open again, now. At least, not easily.” Rory patted Rosie’s shoulder, holstering his flamethrower and turning back the way they’d come.
Alex wiped her hand over her face, smearing her forehead with soot. “Are you sure that’s an ordinary Pekingese?”
“Hopefully more ordinary than the owner of Tales and Tomes.” Rosie’s Filas squelched as she walked over the spot where Joey had butchered the maldracht.
“Death is the guy with the scythe, right?” Alex, too, holstered her flamethrower. Together, they hiked back to their peaceful, ordinary lives, running a bookstore and playing jazz gigs in the tourist season.
“Don’t you have school?” Rosie asked. And at the same time, she thought: And wasn’t this early retirement supposed to make my life simpler?
Alex looked at Rosie with her wild green eyes, and her laughter pealed through the trees. Tendrils of shadow danced close. “You’ll get used to it. I promise.”
Copyright © 2024 by Jamie Lynn Wirth
