Pocket Apocalypse: InCryptid, Book Four (40 page)

“And then we have one more body on our hands,” snapped Cooper. “How many of those do you think we can feed to the bunyips before somebody notices that the locals have started disappearing? We need to be careful, until we’re the dominant species.”

“As I told your former boss back at the Society, the Covenant is not going to tolerate an entire continent of werewolves,” I said. “They’re going to find out, and they’re going to stop you.” And even more people were going to die. No matter how we sliced things, a lot of lives were going to end if this fight continued.

“Let them come,” said Cooper. “They’re only men, by their own design, and we’ll be something so much more that they won’t stand a chance.”

Someone knocked on the back door.

Every head in the kitchen swung toward the sound, except for Shelby’s; she was still unconscious, slumped forward in her chair to the limits of the ropes that bound her hands behind her. Everyone was silent, even me. Crying for help would endanger Shelby, and might get whoever was standing outside killed.

The knock came again. And then, to my surprise, the doorknob turned.

“You didn’t lock the door,” said Chloe, in a surprised tone that would have sounded more natural coming from the ingénue in a horror movie than it did from a naked werewolf. “We’re hiding in the middle of nowhere, and you didn’t lock the door.”

There wasn’t time for Deb to answer. The door swung open to reveal Helen Jalali, dressed in tan slacks and a cream-colored sweater, holding what looked like a Bible against her chest. She smiled pleasantly as she looked around the room at the stunned werewolves, unperturbed by the blood and nudity. “Hello,” she said. “Have you heard the good word of Wadjet, Protector of Egypt and great snake of the Milky Way?”

The stunned silence stretched on. Pagan missionaries were not, it seemed, on Cooper’s docket for the evening.

“I have some pamphlets, if this is a bad time,” Helen continued. “I think you’ll find that when you’re looking for a patron goddess to consume your eternal soul and save you from the fires of your current religion’s afterlife, Wadjet is absolutely the best choice available.”

“Get out,” growled Cooper.

Helen’s expression cooled as she looked at him. “That isn’t a very charitable reaction to a neighbor expressing her religious freedom,” she said.

“Get
out!
” Cooper shouted, and stepped toward her, menace evident in his posture.

“Oh, if you’re going to be like
that
—Alex, cover your eyes!” Helen whirled, throwing her book as hard as she could at Deb’s face. The cover came open on impact, and a glass jar full of my lycanthropy treatment fell out, shattering as it hit the edge of the table. Aconite and silver nitrate sprayed everywhere. Deb howled and fell back, clutching at her arms where the liquid had hit. Chloe danced away from the spill.

Cooper growled. So did Trigby, who stalked forward, the bones of his spine beginning to distort. Helen hissed, her fangs descending from the roof of her mouth and gleaming with amber beads of poison. Trigby and Cooper were both Australian; they knew better than to mess with a snake that was determined to stand its ground. They stopped where they were, apparently too perplexed to continue.

That was the pause I needed. I jumped to my feet before Deb could grab me, pulling another knife from my belt and whirling to jam it into her chest. Throwing knives aren’t designed for stabbing people, but that doesn’t mean you
can’t
use them that way, if you have to. Deb’s eyes went wide, and she clawed at me before she collapsed, fingers scrabbling for the knife.

I have an excellent grasp of human and demi-human anatomy. She wasn’t transformed enough to have moved her lungs. Whether she died of silver poisoning or oxygen deprivation didn’t matter to me; what mattered was that she stopped moving in a matter of seconds, leaving me with only three werewolves to contend with.

Three werewolves, and an immobilized girlfriend. Chloe jumped up on the table before I could move, grabbing Shelby by the hair and snarling, “I’ll break her neck, don’t you push it. I will kill the little bitch!”

Her declaration appeared to be what Cooper and Trigby needed to hear. They started moving again, stalking toward Helen with the calm, practiced precision of wolves going for their prey. For Helen’s part, she smiled, the expression only slightly twisted by her fangs, and shouted at the top of her lungs, “THAT’S A GO!”

The shout preceded the front door being kicked open by less than a second. “Get the fuck away from my sister, you asshole!” Raina was the first Thirty-Sixer into the kitchen. When she saw me standing, she yanked a pistol out of her belt and lobbed it at me, yelling, “Think fast!”

I caught the gun without thinking about it. The safety was on, thank God. Raina might be a little more cavalier about safety than I liked, but she wasn’t
trying
to get us all killed.

Charlotte was the next into the room, followed by three men I didn’t recognize. One of them shot Trigby in the face as he was turning, and he went down. Cooper tried to lunge for Helen, but she was already dancing backward, out of the doorway, and slamming the door behind herself. He was too slowed by shock and confusion to stop her. I was glad of that. She was an ally, and a good person, and she didn’t deserve to get caught in this crossfire.

Chloe howled in dismay when she saw Trigby fall. She lunged for the man who had shot him, and three of us shot her. She went down with a perfect trio of holes in her breast above her heart, hitting the ground like a sack of dead meat. In a matter of seconds, we had gone from three werewolves to one.

Cooper turned, snarling, and froze when he realized that every gun in the room was aimed at him. “How . . . ?”

“Turns out it’s pretty hard to hide a god,” said Raina. She dipped her hand into the pocket of her coat, pulling out the priest of my Aeslin colony, who sat on her palm and glared with tiny black eyes at Cooper. “Shouldn’t have started taking hostages.”

“It’s over, Cooper.” Charlotte sounded exhausted. “Give up, and maybe we’ll let you live.”

“In quarantine? In
captivity?
Never.” He bared his teeth. “You’ll have to kill me—and if you’re going to kill me, I think I’ll make sure you’ve got something to remember me by.”

I knew what he was going to do even before he moved. That was why, when he threw himself at Shelby, my gun was already aimed at the space above her head. My shot caught him cleanly in the neck, and he had time for one startled glance in my direction before four more bullets hit him, and he went down.

Silence, and the smell of blood and gunpowder, fell over the room. It stretched on for almost a minute, none of us quite sure what to say, no one wanting to be the first one to move. Then Shelby lifted her head and blinked at the rest of us, eyes bleary and unfocused in that “I just woke up after being hit with chloroform” way.

“Did somebody get the number of that bus?” she asked.

Raina snorted. Then she began to laugh. The back door opened, and Helen stuck her head inside.

“Is it over?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, moving to take the mouse priest from Raina’s hand and letting it run up into the safety of my collar before I crossed to Shelby and began untying her hands. “I think it is.”

“The best thing you can ever do for the people who love you is to make it home alive.”

—Kevin Price

Getting ready to head for the Brisbane Airport in Queensland, Australia

Twenty-nine days later

“Y
OU’RE SURE YOU CAN’T
stay longer?” Charlotte fussed with the collar of Shelby’s shirt, pulling it up another quarter inch to cover the healing scratches on Shelby’s collarbone. “We’d be happy to have you, you know that.”

“I do know that, but I promised Alex’s family I’d bring him back, and we have to tell them we’re engaged.” Shelby gently pushed her mother’s hands away. “They’re going to worry if we don’t show up soon. Do you want them coming over here to make sure he’s all right?”

“It would make wedding arrangements easier,” commented Raina, without looking up from her Gameboy. Now that the werewolf threat was past and her sister wasn’t going to transform, she was back to focusing almost exclusively on the needs of her Pokémon, which were many and never-ending. “Get everyone on the same continent, kidnap a priest, problem solved.”

“No one’s kidnapping a priest,” scolded Charlotte. “It’s rude to abduct the clergy.”

“Let’s not start another crisis right this minute, all right?” asked Riley, walking in from the hall. He was still slow and shaky, and his injuries had been more severe than mine: it would take months for him to fully recover, if he ever did. But he hadn’t changed, and he wasn’t going to. Our anti-lycanthropy treatment had worked, thank God. After everything they’d been through, I didn’t think the Tanners could have survived shooting their patriarch.

Cooper hadn’t turned as many people as he’d wanted us to think—that, or most of them had chosen suicide over life as a free monster. Of the Thirty-Sixers who had been put into quarantine, only two had shifted, and both of them would be working with the Tanners and Dr. Jalali on a quarantine and containment protocol. They wouldn’t live long or healthy lives; the strain on their hearts would kill them years before they would otherwise have died. But they would live until then, and they would do it with the full support of the Society. If Cooper had believed he’d have that, maybe he wouldn’t have done what he did.

Or maybe he would. He’d been happy as a monster. Maybe some people are just looking for the excuse.

“But, Daddy, without a crisis, how are you to know we love you?” Shelby walked over and put her arms around his neck, careful of his healing injuries. “I’ll miss you.”

“Come home sooner this time,” he said, hugging her with equal care. “Gabby’s going to sing
Carmen
next semester. You should come hear her.”

“I will,” Shelby promised, and squeezed briefly before letting him go.

“And you.” Riley turned his focus on me. “Take good care of my little girl.”

“Daddy,” Shelby objected. “That’s patriarchal and rude.”

“I will, sir,” I said.

Gabby came thumping down the stairs with Flora on her shoulder, dragging Shelby’s suitcase. She moved surprisingly well for someone who had come home in the arms of a yowie, with two puncture wounds the size of quarters in her side. The wagyl’s venom had come with some sort of accelerated healing: the punctures had been covered by scar tissue inside of a week, and to look at her now, you would never know that she had been saved from becoming a werewolf via the intervention of a giant snake.

“Here’s the last of it,” she said. “You’re
sure
you can’t stay longer?”

“Positive,” said Shelby.

“You owe me five dollars,” I said.

She gave me a long-suffering look, and I laughed.

The rest of her family was looking at me in confusion—even Raina, who apparently thought that frowning at me was more important than whatever Pikachu was doing. “I bet her five bucks that you’d all ask,” I explained. “Gabby was the last one I was waiting for.”

“Should’ve gone for twenty,” said Riley.

I smiled. He smiled back. We might never be friends—our differences were great, and foundational—but he’d admitted that I wasn’t bad for his daughter, and that was all I’d ever really wanted. Well, that, and not turning into a werewolf. So far, I was batting a thousand.

Flora screeched and launched herself at Shelby, who caught the little garrinna and cradled her against her chest, making cooing noises. I watched her. This was her home, and her family: this was the world that had created her. I liked it more than I had expected to. One way or another, we’d be back, and probably sooner rather than later. The Thirty-Six Society was going to need to monitor the local livestock and wildlife for the next few years, to be sure lycanthropy wasn’t slumbering in the population, and an expedition to New Zealand was already in the offing. Basil needed his magazines and Tim Tams. Raina had promised to introduce him to the rest of her family, but that was going to take time. And while I trusted Charlotte and Riley to make an effort, they would probably need help learning how to relate to their local sapient cryptids. It’s hard to shrug off generations of training just like that.

But all those things were for later. Right here, right now, it was time for me and Shelby to go back to the States. We had records to update. I had a mouse memorial to attend—the funeral was long since past, but the rest of the colony would need the chance to mourn their fallen companion. And maybe most importantly of all, we had a wedding to plan.

Not too bad, for an Australian vacation.

Aeslin mice (Apodemus sapiens).
Sapient, rodentlike cryptids which present as near-identical to noncryptid field mice. Aeslin mice crave religion, and will attach themselves to “divine figures” selected virtually at random when a new colony is created. They possess perfect recall; each colony maintains a detailed oral history going back to its inception. Origins unknown.

Basilisk (Procompsognathus basilisk).
Venomous, feathered saurians approximately the size of a large chicken. This would be bad enough, but thanks to a quirk of evolution, the gaze of a basilisk causes petrifaction, turning living flesh to stone. Basilisks are not native to North America, but were imported as game animals. By idiots.

Bogeyman (Vestiarium sapiens).
The thing in your closet is probably a very pleasant individual who simply has issues with direct sunlight. Probably. Bogeymen are close relatives of the human race; they just happen to be almost purely nocturnal, with excellent night vision, and a fondness for enclosed spaces. They rarely grab the ankles of small children, unless it’s funny.

Coatl (Coatl arbore).
The coatl is a classic example of the plumed or feathered serpent. They are morphologically similar to boa constrictors (with feathers), but are likely evolutionarily derived from large monitor lizards. There are more than twenty-seven separate subspecies of coatl known, and many more have probably gone extinct, victims of urban expansion and people having an atavistic aversion to the idea of flying snakes.

Church Griffin (Gryps vegrandis corax).
A subspecies of lesser griffin, these small, predatory creatures resemble a cross between a raven and a Maine Coon cat. They are highly intelligent, which makes them good, if troublesome, companions. They enjoy the company of humans, if only because humans are so much fun to mess with.

Cockatrice (Procompsognathus cockatrice).
Venomous, largely featherless saurians approximately the size of a large chicken. This would be bad enough, but thanks to a quirk of evolution, the gaze of a cockatrice causes petrifaction, turning living flesh to stone. Cockatrice are not native to North America, but were imported as game animals. Again, by idiots.

Dragon (Draconem sapiens).
Dragons are essentially winged, fire-breathing dinosaurs the size of Greyhound buses. At least, the males are. The females—colloquially known as “dragon princesses”—are attractive humanoids who can blend seamlessly in a crowd of supermodels. Capable of parthenogenic reproduction, the females outnumber the males twenty to one, and can sustain their population for centuries without outside help. All dragons, male and female, require gold to live, and collect it constantly.

Garrinna (Ochigrypas gilaa).
Sometimes referred to as “the marsupial griffin,” these small, brightly-feathered creatures fill the same ecological niche as the miniature griffin. They just do it in Australia. The garrinna is best described as a cross between a Tasmanian wolf and a pink and gray parrot. They are roughly the size of Corgis, and capable of dismantling cars with their clever beaks. Their habitat is small, and shrinking by the year.

Gorgon, greater (Gorgos medusa).
One of three known subspecies of gorgon, the greater gorgon is believed to be the source of many classic gorgon myths. They are capable of controlled gaze-based petrifaction, and mature individuals can actually look a human in the eyes without turning them to stone. They are capable of transforming their lower bodies from humanoid to serpentine. This is very unnerving. Avoid when possible.

Gorgon, lesser (Gorgos euryale).
The lesser gorgon’s gaze causes short-term paralysis followed by death in anything under five pounds. The bite of the snakes atop their heads will cause paralysis followed by death in anything smaller than an elephant if not treated with the appropriate antivenin. Lesser gorgons tend to be very polite, especially to people who like snakes.

Gorgon, Pliny’s (Gorgos stheno).
The Pliny’s gorgon is capable of gaze-based petrifaction only when both their human and serpent eyes are directed toward the same target. They are the most sexually dimorphic of the known gorgons, with the males being as much as four feet taller than the females. They are venomous, as are the snakes atop their heads, and their bites contain a strong petrifying agent. Do not vex.

Johrlac (Johrlac psychidolos).
Colloquially known as “cuckoos,” the Johrlac are telepathic hunters. They appear human, but are internally very different, being cold-blooded and possessing a decentralized circulatory system. This quirk of biology means they can be shot repeatedly in the chest without being killed. Extremely dangerous. All Johrlac are interested in mathematics, sometimes to the point of obsession. Origins unknown; possibly insect in nature.

Lindworm (Lindorm lindorm).
These massive relatives of the skink have been found in Europe, Africa, and North America, which makes them extremely well-distributed armored killing machines. They tend to pair off at maturity, and while adult lindworms will have very little territorial overlap, they are constantly aware of the location of their mate and any juvenile offspring still being tolerated in the area. Lindworms are very difficult to kill, more’s the pity.

Oread (Nymphae silica).
Humanoid cryptids with the approximate skin density of granite. Their actual biological composition is unknown, as no one has ever been able to successfully dissect one. Oreads are extremely strong, and can be dangerous when angered. They seem to have evolved independently across the globe; their common name is from the Greek.

Screaming yam (Ipomoea animus).
The screaming yam is exactly what it sounds like, and no, we don’t know why. The screaming yam is also delicious. That may explain why they scream so much.

Wadjet (Naja wadjet).
Once worshipped as gods, the male wadjet resembles an enormous cobra, capable of reaching seventeen feet in length when fully mature, while the female wadjet resembles an attractive human female. Wadjet pair-bond young, and must spend extended amounts of time together before puberty in order to become immune to one another’s venom and be able to successfully mate as adults.

Wagyl (scientific name unknown).
One of the great snakes of Australia. Virtually nothing is known about them, save that their bite can heal all ills, and that they are intelligent enough to bargain with.

Werewolf (species varies).
Werewolves are not a species: they are the victims of a disease, lycanthropy-w, a form of therianthropic rabies which causes uncontrollable transformation, neurological dysfunction, and eventually death. Pity them, and avoid them at all costs, or their fate may be yours.

Yowie (Gigantopithecus yowie).
These close relatives of the Sasquatch are found only in Australia. A fully grown yowie will stand somewhere between seven and nine feet in height, with dark brown skin which sometimes trends to olive green due to a biological process we do not fully understand. They tend to be swamp dwellers, although it is unclear whether this is voluntary, or a matter of “that’s where we can remain mostly hidden.” Yowie tend to be very pleasant. They also tend to be nudists. Approach at your own discretion.