monster haven 06.5 - transmonstrified Read online

  I blinked. They’d already moved on to the next bed, heads bent in discussion. The weird thing happened again, across the hall from Izzy and me. This time, despite the unreality of it, I was sure of what I saw. What’s more, an intern stopped next to the boy they’d already visited, took his pulse, then pulled the sheet over the kid’s head.

  The girl across the way didn’t look too alive either, once they yanked whatever it was out of her.

  And they were looking right at me.

  The guy with the glasses approached me first. “We’ll need you to step aside for a moment, please, while we examine…” he paused, frowning at the clipboard in his hand. “…Isabelle. We’ll only be a moment.” He smiled, but it was a terrifying, ominous smile.

  Behind him, the frowning intern pulled the sheet over the girl they’d just examined.

  I rose from my chair, but refused to get out of their way. I’d grab Izzy and run with her if I had to. There was no goddamned way these people were getting anywhere near her.

  I puffed myself up to full construction-guy size. Probably not as threatening as I hoped, but these weren’t muscle men. They were something else altogether. Something not as physically threatening, but far more dangerous. I braced myself and spread my arms out to keep them away from my baby sister.

  “You’re not getting near her,” I said.

  The chubby, balding guy rolled his eyes. “Here we go,” he said.

  The tall man took a step forward. “We’re here to help.” His voice was gentle, and he stuck his hand toward me. Or toward her. I wasn’t sure.

  My hands became fists without any thought on my part. The little bald guy pushed forward, coming too close, and my fist connected with his cheekbone before I even thought about it.

  “Not another step. I saw what you did.” My eyes flicked to the bodies they’d left in their wake. “You don’t get to help my sister. She’s fine.”

  Baldy stepped back, scowling and rubbing his face. I hadn’t hit him hard, but it was enough to get him to take me more seriously.

  Glasses squinted at Izzy, then glanced at her chart, shaking his head. “She’s not fine. Let us do our job.”

  I lifted my chin in the direction of the tall guy’s hand. “What kind of ring is that? What did you do to them?”

  I wasn’t budging, and they knew it. They took a step away and pressed their heads together again, this time, no doubt, consulting about me. I suppressed a shudder, hoping they didn’t decide the only way to get me the hell out of their way was to use the ring technique on me.

  “Look,” I said. “Obviously, you guys have some kind of device that does stuff. I’m willing to believe you’re even doing a service for people here. But Izzy’s not dying today, so unless you can reverse your little handheld device and make her better, you can just back yourselves off and go on to the next patient.”

  The three of them stared at me as if I were some kind of new species of tree monkey they’d never seen before. They went back to the three-headed formation and consulted again.

  The guy with the glasses popped his head up. “What do you do for a living?”

  I frowned. “I’m a student, but I’ve been doing some roofing for the summer. Why?”

  He smirked and ducked his head back into the discussion. After a minute, they seemed to come to a conclusion of some sort, nodded their heads in unison, then turned to face me.

  “How old are you?” the pudgy one asked.

  “Twenty-four. Why?”

  They exchanged looks and nodded again. “Do you have family other than this girl?”

  My shoulders sagged, and I looked at the floor. The white tiles were scuffed, and someone had dropped a gum wrapper. “I’m not sure. Our mother was on the train, too. Nobody else is close.”

  Glasses took a step toward me. One of his shoes was untied. “Is she here in the hospital?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t found her. And nobody can tell me anything.”

  “Art,” the tall one said to the short, pudgy guy. “Stay here with Isabelle. Mr…” He consulted my sister’s chart. “Mr. Banks, if you’ll come with us, we’d like to discuss your future, and what we can do for each other.”

  I took a backward step and bumped against my sister, fists held up. “I’m not leaving her with him. Do you think I’m stupid?”

  Art ran his fingers over his face where I’d punched him before. “Pull yourself together, kid.”

  Tall Guy shook his head. “No, Mr. Banks. We think we can help you in a way that will make everyone happy. You have my word that Art won’t touch your sister while you’re away.”

  I gave him a hard look. He seemed sincere, and no one else was willing to help me. The situation was weird, but my only options were to stay with Izzy until she died, or hear these guys out to see if they could do something.

  Izzy took another shuddering, wet breath, and my shoulders slumped. I couldn’t just let her die and not do everything I could to save her.

  I kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart. I’m going to fix this.”

  Tall Guy and Glasses led me away, and Art took my place in the chair watching over Izzy. As I followed the guys in suits, I wondered what it would be like not having a soul. Would I get to keep mine until I died before they collected it, or would they take it today once I signed in blood, or whatever they asked me to do?

  It didn’t matter. If selling my soul was what it took to save my baby sister, so be it. I lifted my chin and prepared to give these guys the only thing of worth that I owned.

  Because the hospital was so busy, the only way we could speak privately was to step outside, into the memorial garden the hospital had built last year. Late afternoon sun didn’t do much to warm my chilled skin. Would I be able to appreciate the breeze on my cheek or the smell of freshly bloomed roses once I had no soul?

  “Well,” I said throwing back my shoulders. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Glasses cleared his throat. “Mr. Banks, my name is Seymour, and this is Carlton. You met our colleague, Art, earlier.”

  I nodded but said nothing.

  Carlton reached into his coat and pulled out a cellphone, glanced at the display, and stuffed it back into his pocket. “What we’d like to do, Mr. Banks, is make you an offer. We have someone in our employ who may be able to keep your sister alive long enough for her to stabilize and receive a doctor’s care.”

  I blinked. “You can’t just magic her well?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Seymour said. “It doesn’t work that way. And there’s no guarantee we can get our necrofoil here in time to save your sister. Art has already sent for her, though. She’ll be here in a few hours. We had to fly her in from New Hampshire.”

  My shoulders slumped. Izzy might not have hours, but it was my only hope. “If this person gets here in time and saves my sister, you can have whatever you want. Where do I sign?”

  The two men exchanged a puzzled look.

  Seymour pulled out a folded stack of papers. “Don’t you want to know what we want in exchange, Mr. Banks?”

  I stared at my feet. “I told you, I’m not stupid. I know what this is. And you might as well call me Riley if you’re going to take my soul.”

  They were silent for a moment, then Seymour snorted.

  Carlton chuckled. “Mr. Banks—Riley. We don’t want your soul. We want you to come work with us. We aren’t in the business of taking people’s souls. We merely collect the souls that get stuck after a trauma, then we set them free so they can move on to their next destination.”

  I frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  Seymour put his hand on my shoulder. “We’re reapers, Riley. And if you agree, you will be, too.”

  An hour and a half later, Clara arrived. She moved like a ghost, gliding across the tile floors toward us, a quiet, comforting air about her. She looked to be in her late thirties or early forties, but she also had a youthful quality to her. It might have been the way she’d pinned her dar
k red curls on top of her head in such a haphazard pile. The moment she placed her hands across Izzy’s chest, the wet, shuddering breaths stopped and Izzy’s breathing became less labored.

  “She’s better,” I said, my own breath catching.

  Clara gave me a gentle smile. “Death no longer stalks her. I can’t heal her, but I can help her body heal itself a little quicker. After a few hours, she should be stable enough for the doctors to reassess her and treat her.” Her brow wrinkled in concern. “A lot is broken inside. But I think she can be mended.”

  I signed the paperwork immediately. Whatever this beautiful woman was doing, the difference in my sister was undeniable.

  A smart man would have taken the hour-and-a-half wait to read the contract. A smart man would have read the contract later, before signing. I was too traumatized to be smart. That’s my only excuse.

  The ink wasn’t dry before Art grabbed my elbow. “Well, then. Say your goodbyes so we can be on our way.”

  I looked at Seymour and Carlton. “What does he mean? I can’t leave right now. Izzy still needs me. And I haven’t even found out about Mom, yet.”

  Art dropped his hand, and Seymour put his arm over my shoulders. “Riley, it was in the contract you signed. You have to say goodbye. Not just to Izzy, but to your whole life here. You won’t be able to see her again. Not while you’re a reaper.”

  I felt all the blood leave my face. “No,” I whispered. “I can’t leave her like this.”

  Seymour turned me to face him, his hands on my shoulders. “Riley, we looked into it. Your mother didn’t make it. I’m so sorry. But she felt no pain.”

  My eyes blurred with tears. But as much as I wanted to mourn the loss of my mother, all I could think about was my baby sister. “Izzy has no one. She’s only fourteen. I can’t leave her all alone.”

  I broke. I’d just been told my mother had died, my sister was still in critical condition, and I would be forced to desert her without even telling her why. My shoulders shook, and Seymour hugged me and patted my back while I sobbed into his suit jacket.

  When I was done, I pulled away, wiping my eyes, feeling a little embarrassed. “Where will she go?”

  “I called your Aunt Alice,” Carlton said. “She’ll be here by morning.”

  I nodded. Aunt Alice would take good care of Izzy. She was a teacher and lived on a farm. Izzy would be okay. “All right. I’ll say goodbye.”

  Clara sat with her hands splayed across Izzy’s chest, sorrow lining her face. “I’m so sorry for your loss. But I’ll make sure Izzy’s okay.”

  My voice caught in my throat. “Thank you.” I turned my attention to my baby sister. Her color was better, and her breathing was steady. I leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Iz. Be well.”

  She didn’t stir, and I didn’t look back.

  ~*~

  That was eight years ago. I never broke the rules by contacting Izzy, but someone at Board Headquarters must have had a soft spot for me, because every year or so, I got an anonymous package in the mail with photos and an update. After a rocky start, my sister adjusted to her new life, made new friends, and graduated high school at the top of her class. The last update I got was that she was studying to be a veterinarian.

  I suspected the packages came from Art. He ended up being my immediate supervisor. We don’t get along very well. He’s always pretty high strung, and I’m too laid back for his tastes. Plus, I’d punched him in the face when we first met, so there was that.

  Still, I was pretty sure he was behind the anonymous updates.

  The sharp pain I used to get when I thought of Izzy has become a dull ache. I can live with it because she’d lived.

  Plus, I have a pretty good life now. I make decent money at my regular job as an EMT. I actually enjoy being a reaper, too. It’s sort of an extension of my EMT job. If I can’t save someone one way, I help them in another.

  Still, good or not, it’s a lonely life.

  But I saw that girl again this afternoon. I was leaning against the wall, drinking a cup of coffee, when she stumbled out of the grocery store across the street. Her hair ringed her head like a fiery halo. Today was a yellow beret day.

  I stared at her over my coffee, willing her to finally look my way. While crossing the street to try to catch up with her sounded reasonable in my head, it was bound to make me look like a stalker. Not the first impression I was wishing for.

  So I stared, hoping like a fool that she would look.

  And then she did, and my whole world change.

  Holding my breath, I winked at her, and her smile lit my heart on fire.

  I’m finally in.

  “The Dream Eaters”

  This is a flash story from the Confabulator Cafe. I wouldn’t say I’m obsessed with closet monsters, but they—and attic monsters and under-the-bed monsters—are definitely recurring characters in my stories. As much as I love them, I never leave my closet door open at night. I’m not a daredevil. Sheesh.

  Devon slept sprawled across the bed with the sheets in disarray and one fisted hand tossed over his head. He whimpered. Beside him Amy lay still, her mouth curled in a slight smile. The blankets fell in neat folds around her body.

  A door creaked open, and acid-blue eyes in a froggy face glowed from within the inky vastness of the closet. Beneath the bed, blood-red talons scraped at the hardwood floor dragging a large, furry body out into the room.

  The two monsters shared a glance, then took their places beside the sleeping husband and wife. Unwilling to wake the humans, the monsters spoke in whispers.

  “Looks like he’s having another bad one,” said Radley, the under-the-bed monster. “At this rate, I’ll have to start jogging.”

  Felix, the closet monster, nodded. “She seems happy enough, though.” He patted his stomach and licked his lips. “I hope she’s not having another baby dream. I always feel weird about eating the babies.”

  Felix hovered over the sleepers, breathing in the exotic scent of dreams.

  “Oh, yeah,” Radley said. “This is a bad one, all right.” He spread his claws and touched Devon’s forehead with a light pressure so Devon wouldn’t wake. Silver mist escaped from Devon’s nostrils and rose above his face in a cloud. Shapes took form, then the dream clarified into moving pictures.

  Across the bed, Felix touched a scaly finger to Amy’s forehead and watched the swirling mist emerge, forming the images moving behind her eyelids.

  Above Devon, a chase scene played out. A humpback whale with gnashing teeth and snaky tongue swam through the air. It snarled at Devon and followed him through a maze of cubicles and tiny offices that were peopled by zombies. The building shook, and paperwork rained down from the tiled ceiling.

  Radley pinched the whale between two razor claws, pulled it from the dream, and popped it into his mouth. Whale juice dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He belched softly into his fist and wiped his face with the back of his hairy hand.

  Within the dream, the action slowed for a moment. Devon stopped running. Zombie workers looked up from their keyboards and groaned. Devon ran, and the zombies gave chase.

  “Dammit,” Radley said. “He needs to find a better job. I can’t eat this many zombies.”

  Felix stared at the still-life dream above Amy’s head. “I can come help. She’s got nothing going on over here. Grass. Trees. A pond.”

  “Has she been doing yoga again or something?”

  “I think so. I got hit in the head with her mat yesterday when she threw it in the closet. I’ll come around and help you finish.”

  Amy sighed and turned over. The picture above her head dissipated in wisps and tendrils of smoky silver.

  Radley frowned. “Are you sure? You hate the scary stuff.”

  Felix shrugged. “Probably need to work on a more balanced diet anyway. My doctor says I’m deficient in vitamin T. Besides—getting a little tired of puppies and babies and rainbows, you know?”

  Radley made room, and the two monsters
stood side by side, picking off zombies as they appeared. Devon continued to be distressed, and zombies eventually turned to disembodied hands, which, in turn, morphed into a schoolyard of angry, demonic school children.

  The frantic pace of new horrors the monsters had to consume nearly overwhelmed Felix. He paused and wiped his brow. “How do you keep up like this every night?”

  Radley shook his head. “It’s not usually this bad. Something horrible must have happened at work today.” He pointed a thumb at Amy. “Something he didn’t share with Sleeping Beauty over there.”

  “He’s definitely repressing something big,” Felix said, scooping up a handful of vulture-headed business men. He crunched down on them and cringed. “Let me guess. It’s an acquired taste?”

  Throughout the night they kept their vigil, eating the things that threatened to devour Devon’s mind. By morning, the bellies of both monsters were bloated with dead things best forgotten by humans.

  When Devon’s fears were played out, he fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep. Amy’s soft breathing never altered its slow, even pace. Ignorance truly was bliss.

  Radley shook Felix’s hand and patted him on the back. “Thanks for your help. I don’t think that would have gone too well if I’d been on my own. As it is, it’ll be hard squeezing back under the bed.”

  “Anytime.” He turned to close himself into the closet, but hesitated. “You know, if he tells her today, we may have to deal with both of them tonight.”

  “Maybe she’ll drag him off to yoga.”

  “Maybe. If not, we might need to call the basement for help. Sheldon’s probably bored down there anyway.”

  Radley wrinkled his muzzle. “He smells like mildew. It really puts me off my dinner.”

  “There’s only one other choice.” Felix scratched his armpit. “I know you’re not crazy about her, but Avery’s not doing anything these days but stomping around in the attic and slamming doors.”

  “She’s so uppity.” Radley sighed. “Let’s just hope for the best. I’m gonna turn in.”