Chapter 10

Just because Vince had never seen a cougar in person did not mean he was unprepared. His mother had always been opposed to him going on his hikes because of supposed danger in the woods. Something about how everyone in the old country took nature more seriously than in America.

“The forests are full of wolves and worse,” she declared. “Humans have no business going out there for fun.”

It was comments like that that made Vince wonder not just what country, but what century Ava Meyer had stepped out of. After months of pleading, she had finally relented. After buying a discounted survival guide at a local bookstore (she never paid full price for anything), she had written up a twelve-page exam on its contents. It had taken the thirteen-year-old Vince three tries, but he finally earned the right to go hiking with his friends.

It had been an infuriating process, but Vince had to admit it had come in handy in crises. Even if it was dark and the creature was almost upon them, the book had explained that a human was never a cougar’s first choice of prey. If it was bothering them, it was a hungry animal that saw an opportunity, and his best bet would be to convince him there were better opportunities elsewhere.

So, Vince rose to his full six-and-change feet of height, stretching out his arms as far as he could. “Hey! Hey you! Go on, git!” He stomped his feet and clapped his hands over his head.

Bayla glanced between Vince and the wildcat, adding a sustained, inhuman squeal to the racket. She continued her ministrations on the unconscious man, the unearthly glow around her hands providing the best light to track the advancing beast. Its glowing eyes grew closer, making Vince wonder if the book had been discounted for a reason.

“Are you done with the sheriff yet?” asked Vince. His voice was a shout, as he tried to work the conversation into his display.

“There is no reason to yell at me,” she snapped back. “Wait, he is a sheriff? That is like a constable, yes?”

“Yes, but this isn’t the time! Git!”

Bayla stopped her healing, leaping to her feet to face the threat. This cut off the light from her healing magic, leaving only the faint moonlight to reveal it. They stood on opposite sides of the Meyer-mobile. “The constable will definitely survive.”

“Lucky him,” replied Vince an instant before the creature pounced at him. He had read the shadow-cloaked beast’s intentions, and Vince threw himself to the ground. His favorite shirt had some new rips in it to match his skinned elbows, but it beat the alternative.

            He rolled back up into a crouch, drawing his new hunting knife. Bayla emitted a continuous series of high-pitched clicks. Her white sweater and the eyespots on her head reflected the light, showing that she had bounded in between Vince and the big cat.

            “You can stop that racket,” he said, straightening back up. “He isn’t going to back down.”

            “I know that,” she said. “I’m echolocating.”

            Before Vince could reply, Bayla whirled around. The same monstrous strength that had knocked out the sheriff let the small woman shove him out of the way, frustrating the creature’s second pounce.

            “Echolocating?” Vince felt like she had hit him with a sledgehammer, and he nearly took a tumble. He steadied himself again, having only a vague idea where the cougar was in the oppressive darkness. “That doesn’t help me at all.”

            Bayla’s squeals intensified as she rushed in to join the battle, her white eye spots standing out starkly in the night. Judging by the sound of creaking metal, the cougar preferred to avoid the orca and had hopped up on the hatchback’s hood.

            Vince took advantage of the beast’s distraction to fish a flashlight from the side pocket of his backpack. The solid, stainless-steel tool gave him some comfort; it would make a decent club if it came to that. It took a couple of presses, but the device finally turned on. He aimed it at the shadowy shape, dazzling the creature with the intense beam. It staggered back, emitting a startled chittering sound.

            Vince’s jaw dropped as he finally got a good look at their opponent. Whatever their attacker was, it was no cougar.

            The body plan was close: four legs, a long tail for balance, tawny fur, and ferocious claws. However, that was where the similarities ended. Its fur changed to a rich brown around the neck, and its snout ended in a curved beak. The tail that angrily lashed back and forth ended in an enlarged tuft of hair. Its feet ended in birdlike, scaly digits. The rear feet bore an outsized claw that was held off the ground, and he did not care for the way they twitched one bit.

            “The hell is that?”

            “You haven’t seen a griffon before?” asked Bayla, sounding incredulous. “How? Even I have seen them on the shores.”

            “Griffons aren’t real,” he snapped back. “What is it doing here?”

            “I can answer that, oh foul one!” The feminine voice came from behind them. As if on cue, the griffon darted past Vince. He took a slash at the bizarre creature, but it danced well out of reach.

            The owner of the voice was illuminated by a floating orb above her head, and the griffon sat at her side, looking up at her expectantly, like a loyal hunting dog.

            Vince thought he had done a good job rolling with the punches to his worldview so far. With her pointed hat, shawl, and knee-length dress, he thought she looked like a witch straight out of a Halloween card. Only, the color scheme was all wrong. Instead of black, she was clad in brilliant white, highlighted with gold sections at her neckline and at the skirt and capes’ edges. A gold mask that looked like it belonged at a masquerade ball obscured her face. Curly red hair flowed about her shoulders, contrasting with her deep, olive skin.

            “A witch?” asked Bayla.

            “You are correct,” she said, confidence flashing in her grey eyes. She raised her staff in the air, the jewel at its edge catching the light. “Rejoice, blackfish, for your rescue has arrived! I am Nanora ag Sintala, the Ivory Witch! I persecute all who would threaten the safety of Fin Island, and that includes villains such as this miscreant!”

            Vince blinked as his brain rebooted, rejecting the strange woman’s declaration before it absorbed it. “Wait, villain? What are you talking about?”

            “Do not feign ignorance,” she scoffed. She snapped her finger, and the griffon hopped up on all fours, ready for another round. “You are the one who trapped this poor girl in a foreign body for your own insidious purposes.” She held up his missing hunting knife, the faint, red glow just visible under the spotlight floating above the woman’s head. “This is yours; do not try to deny it!”

            “Hey, that’s my missing knife,” said Vince.

            A triumphant grin split her face. “So you confess that your weapon was found at the scene of the crime!”

            “What crime?” demanded Vince. “I didn’t kidnap Bayla, and she turned into that on her own.” He gestured at the quiet orca. “C’mon, tell her I’ve been helping you!”

            “Witch,” said Bayla. “Vincem… Vince Meyer is completely ignorant of magic! How could he possibly transform me?”

            “Please stop giving my name to people who attack us!” hissed Vince.

            Nanora waved the blade in the air. “My tracking magic says otherwise. He has a magical signature, or else I would not have been able to follow it here.”

            Vince spoke up. “That doesn’t make any—”

            “Enough, deceiver!” Nanora gestured with her staff, and the streetlights all turned back on at once. She reached down, scratching the griffon behind its pointed ears. “Tanos, leave him intact. We will need him to find the other poachers.”

            The griffon surged forward. Being able to see his doom coming was not much of a comfort to Vince, but it did mean he did not need his flashlight anymore. He hurled it straight at the griffon, the flashing missile twisting end over end in the air. The counterattack took the beast by surprise, and the business end of the flashlight struck him in the left shoulder. The meaty impact echoed through the parking lot.

            The creature howled with pain, halting its charge.

            “You brute!” shouted Nanora. She had shifted back onto the staff, floating high above the fracas. “Don’t worry, little Tanos! I’m here.”

            “So am I!” Bayla positioned herself directly beneath Nanora and sprang up at the witch. The transformed orca’s impressive strength was not all in her arms, and she shot straight up like an arrow.

            Nanora could move in mid-air, though, and Bayla could not. The jeweled staff glowed and she shifted a few feet to the left. Bayla sailed by harmlessly, whistling in a way that Vince suspected was a string of whale-song curses.      Bayla could leap like an NBA player, but she had never landed before, and came back to earth with a loud thud. She sprawled out on the asphalt with a sharp gasp.

            “Why are you trying to defend your oppressor?” asked Nanora. “Has he ensorcelled you?’

“What? Of course not! I am telling you, Vince is not one of the hunters.”

            Nanora sighed, shaking her head disapprovingly. “You cannot see it. Don’t worry, we’ll free you from his lies.”

            Before Vince could defend himself, Tanos recovered from the sharp blow and came at him again. Vince wished he had taken Schneider up on his offer to learn some swordsmanship as he lashed out with his hunting knife. Even as it favored its injured leg, the beaked monster easily dashed around the slash. Vince was saved by Nanora’s order to take him alive, as the frying-pan sized paw that slammed into his hip had its claws retracted.

            Vince did not appreciate his good fortune in the moment, as the sledgehammer-blow sent him to his knees. When the lights cleared from his eyes, he found himself staring down the griffon’s beak, its piercing eyes practically daring him to try something with the knife.

            “Get away from him!” Bayla scrambled to her feet and charged the griffon from behind.

            Tanos responded by rearing up on its forelegs and donkey-kicking the orca. Its curved claws sprang back, digging twin tracks through her pinafore skirt. The Aqua Armor lived up to its name; even in its guise as a cotton blend, it shrugged off the worst of the slashing claws.

            Unfortunately for Bayla, some of it still got through. Bayla flinched at the unexpected attack and let out a pained hiss, even as the Aqua Armor flowed back over the wound. “You lousy beast, how dare you…” Her dark eyes went wide, her hands flying to her side. “Something is…” Her words trailed off and she collapsed to her knees, still hugging her wounded side.

            “Bayla!” A foul scent assaulted Vince’s nose, and he saw sickly, green droplets dribbling from griffon’s killer claws. “What did you do?”

            Nanora landed next to Bayla, looking almost as pained as the stricken whale. “Oh no! Tanos, you weren’t supposed to attack her!”

            The griffon pivoted around, his attention drawn by his mistress’ voice. Vince saw his opening, though he learned from Bayla’s example and did not come at the beast straight from behind. Instead, he rolled over, putting him on the griffon’s right flank. Before the predator could respond, Vince plunged the knife deep into its chest.

            Vince had expected to be covered in the creature’s lifeblood, or for the desperate attack to miss. Instead, a spray of golden sparkles flowed from the knife wound. The creature’s beady eyes went wide, and it gurgled and writhed in apparently agony. The glittering wound spread across the startled beast’s side, slowly at first, but accelerating until the whole griffon vanished before their eyes.

            “Tanos!” Nanora staggered back as though she had been struck. She held up her wrist, her metallic charm bracelet glinting in the streetlights. Vince could not make out what the golden shapes were, but he could see that one of them transformed into a dull, lifeless black. “You brute! You enemy of all that lives!”

            “Oh, shut up.” Bayla’s words hissed through clenched teeth. She was drenched in sweat and unsteady on her feet, but her fist found Nanora’s gut with enough force to repeat her performance with the sheriff. The redhead bounced twice on the pavement, coming to a stop a body’s length away.

            Vince rose to his feet, his injured hip protesting the sudden motion. That’s going to bruise. Looks like I got off better than her, though. “You alright?”

            “No,” she hissed. “By God, I’ve never felt the like.” Her hands were still pressed against her side. For all the world, the Aqua Armor looked completely intact, but Vince could see the black fabric of her skirt darkening as her wound leaked.

            “You can cure that poison, right? Like with the booze?” Vince’s voice quavered with concern.

            “I… I cannot focus,” she replied, squeezing her eyes shut. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and her sorry state made Vince’s heart drop.

            He spared a glance at the motionless Nanora. “We need to get out of here before that witch comes at us again.”

            “She can follow your blade,” said Bayla. “Damn tricky witch! Using your own possessions against you!”

            Vince picked up his new hunting knife’s twin. It still glowed in a faint red, but less than before. He smirked as he replaced the blade with the new one from Schneider’s. “Not anymore she can’t. I betcha I haven’t owned this one long enough to track.” He patted his knife’s sheath once. “Welcome home, old friend.”

            Bayla cried out again, forcing Vince from his reverie. He scooped Bayla up, her only protest being a pained grunt as his hand brushed her injured side.

            “You need something to dull the pain.” He ran through his options as he buckled her into the Meyer-mobile’s passenger seat. He could try getting her drunk again, though that seemed risky. Alcohol might interact with griffon venom. Maybe he could get some painkillers? Would over the counter meds be enough to counteract Bayla’s obvious agony? I don’t need to cure her, I just need to give her enough relief so she can heal herself.

His own apartment was out; he was out of ibuprofen, and he did not have anything stronger than hot sauce in his fridge. The local pharmacies would be closed that time of night. Who could he go to for help?

            Luis? No, Vince’s friend had a suspicious attitude towards Big Pharma, and he never had any real medicine around. He might try to give her St. John’s Wort or some of the snake oil he’d bought from Yancy’s show, which would do nothing for the toxins flooding the orca’s bloodstream.

The twenty-four-hour clinic was out, too. Vince barely had insurance, and a wounded woman with an unknown poison in her blood was going to guarantee the authorities would get involved. Assuming they don’t think I stabbed her and arrest me on the spot. That might have been too paranoid, but the encounter with the witch had shaken him. If she can assume I’m some wizard who transformed Bayla, anybody can assume anything tonight.

            No, there was one place he knew could get some help without alerting the authorities, as much as he hated to admit it. I’d almost rather take my chances with that sheriff.

            A groan from the unconscious officer told Vince that if he dallied, the choice would be made for him. As the Meyer-mobile sped away towards Port Harrington’s residential distinct, he spoke aloud, more to himself than the agonized Bayla.

            “I know it’s a little early to meet my mother, but it’s not like we have much choice.”\

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Credit to Waistcoats Are My Weakness for the great art! 

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