Food was cold seared bratwurst from an insulated pack, served on buns, with chips and trail mix, and water flavored with electrolyte tablets. Liz heated up the brats with an amulet, which had his old friend love-struck for sure. As Eli worked, he watched Chewy mull things over.
Chewy finished off four brats ‘n buns before he asked, “How much for one a them amulets? I can’t tell you how many times I had to eat cold MREs, and in winter, cold food ain’t shit. Pardon, Miss Lizzie.”
“Tell you what,” Liz said. “You take a healthy deer for me, I’ll pay for processing, and you give me half the processed venison, no pork fat added, and whatever you think is fair in jerky sticks. In return, I’ll give you two permanent amulets to heat up food and liquid, two tick and mosquito amulets for summer hiking, and one battery stone to keep them charged. Oh. And you call me Liz, not Lizzie. We had a lizard in fourth grade named Lizzie, and the kids teased me about being a lizard all year. Deal?”
Chewy frowned and scratched his chin through his beard. Eli had seen him use this slow, thoughtful process while bargaining over trinkets for his mother and then also for his wife, in various tribal bazaars across the world. “I don’t know,” he rumbled. “I kinda like Lizzie.” He pulled up his left sleeve to reveal his tatts. The left was the safe arm. The right had lots of art of naked women engaged in sex-capades with other women. The left was mostly animals and pithy sayings. “When I was growing up, we had anoles. I used to feed them these little worms my mama bought for me. Mealy worms, she called ‘em. My first tat was mama.” He revealed a heart with a red banner across it, and the word MAMA in fancy caps below it. “My second tat was this right here,” he turned his arm over and showed her a green lizard. “I call her Lizzie, and when I was a kid I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, just like you. So while I can agree in principle to the rest of the bargain, I can’t agree I’ll always remember to call you not-Lizzie.”
The drone ready to fly, Eli leaned back against a pack and watched his usually-silent friend become seriously loquacious with his girl.It wascute. Like BFFs. Like they should paint their fingernails and braid their hair. Chewy would be adorable with his beard braided.Which he would razz his friend about after this was over. Over beers in Chewy’s favorite joint. “You trying to make time with my girl, right under my nose, Chewy?”
“Hell no, Hoss. This is serious bargaining right here. If I promise to not call her Lizzie and I slip up, then I’ve broken my word. So this bargain? It has to be airtight and fair to us both.”
“Okay,” Liz said. “I can allow the rare slip up, but for each one, I get three extra sticks of the rosemary jerky. And I’ll keep count.”
Chewy held out his hand. “Deal, Miz Liz.”
Slowly she took his hand. “I guess I should have added that I also hate Miz Liz?”
“Too late. A deal’s a deal and you are hereafter Miz Liz. We even have a witness.” He pointed a thumb at Eli, who offered a slight smile and tipped his head.
Beyond the crest of the hill Eli heard the faintest rustling, the sound in a Hertz his earbuds amplified. Before he thought, he was on his feet, his Beretta in hand, shotgun ready to fire and shoved deeply into his shoulder, striding uphill. Beside him, Chewy moved into position with a firing angle down the hill and hard to their left. The big guy put a hand on Lizzie’s shoulder, keeping her down, behind the packs. A roar came on the air, a thrumming like a big diesel engine.
The wind, which had been nothing but a faint leaf-rustling far overhead, swooped in, a hard downdraft that followed the shape of the hill. It carried brown leaves and smaller debris, like a dust storm.
Brute leaped to his feet. Growled. His ruff stood high. Lips pulled back to show teeth. Eli changed out for his other Baretta, this one holding silver-lead composite ammo. Chewy pulled his long-rifle. The wind increased. Trees bent, swaying like dancers. The leaves slashed down and swirled like waterfalls and waves.
Liz shouted over the wind, “Don’t move.” She touched a stone on her amulet necklace and opened ahedge of thornsaround them. It glowed a startling red and hummed with power. Leaves and debris smashed into thehedge, gathering on the upwind side. The wind itself beat through to them. Against them.
That was the direction it would come. Eli ground his feet into the dirt, dropped to one knee, and held his ground.
“The wind’s origin are magical energies,” she warned. “Raw power.”
Chewy cursed softly, barely heard over the gale.
A half-form wolf-bear-human hybrid landed on top of thehedge. It screamed a howling, raging, singing sound of hate.
“Hold your fire,” he shouted to Chewy.
“Holy shit, Hoss. What the fuck is that thing?”
“That,” Liz said calmly, “is a Dwayyo. I’ve activated a recording amulet, audio only, and my cell is taking video. For the record, there’s no stone directly below us, so I can’t hold thishedgefor long. The Dwayyo is attacking us,” she said holding her cell into the roar of the wind, videoing the attack. “We are in mortal danger. Eli. Does the law allow us to defend ourselves?”
“Yes. As long as it’s attacking. If it runs away we have to let it go.”
“Myhedgeis losing power fast. On three, I’ll drop thehedge. And you shoot that thing. One. Two. Three.”
Thehedge of thornsvanished. Eli emptied his weapons, both of them, into the creature. Which was directly above Lizzie and dropping. Chewy fired three shots, fast, dead center. Blood splattered everywhere. Hot, Burning.
The Dwayyo screamed so loud it hurt his ears even over the deafness of the weapons’ fire. It landed on Lizzie’s pack, snapped at her, and raced away, back across the crest of the hill and out of sight.
Brute galloped after it, his body blurring as the werewolf did whatever magic the angel Hayyel had given it. He disappeared.
The wind died. The stink of sick, wet dog hung on the air.
Chewy reloaded. Eli reloaded. He had hit it with both standard ammo and silver-led composite shredders. And it had still had been able to run way. Fuck this shit. He should have let Chewy lug the Switchblade 600.
From the corner of his eyes, he evaluated Lizzie. She looked calm and collected. Unexcited.
She swept away the fall leaves, which were thicker and deeper in some places now, bare ground in others. She lay cleansing wipes out on the bare ground. She met his eyes and said, “That thing’s saliva and blood is caustic.” She tore open a cleaning wipe and unfolded it, wiping her face and hands, and even her hair down, then opened packets for Eli and Chewy. “Wipe your exposed skin and hair. Chewy, its eating a hole in your beard.” She pointed.
