Radley's Home for Horny Monsters Page 4

  “I’m very happy for you, Mike.” Her smile was genuine, crinkling the skin next to her eyes. “I know what you mean. I’ve been over here several times to make sure the place is being cared for properly by our interim team, and admit I’m a little sad that I won’t get to see it much longer.”

  “Nonsense.” Mike waved a hand dismissively. “You’re welcome over here anytime. Besides, you’re the only person I even know in this town. My job doesn’t offer many opportunities to meet new people, so I’m afraid you are my entire social group.”

  “I may just take you up on that.” Beth sat at the table. “I’ve been a bit obsessed with this place since I was a little girl. I was convinced a fairy queen lived here, probably until I was thirteen. I used to ride my bike past every day, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Your great aunt must have hired her, a young woman who I sometimes caught working in the garden. She had this brilliant radiance around her, almost like she was stuck in an old Disney movie. I half expected birds to circle around her as she broke into song or something. I won’t lie, I tried to figure out who she was once your aunt passed, but there weren’t any records.”

  She chuckled, stroking the files with a finger. This action pressed her breasts together, causing a tiny gap to form between the buttons of her blouse. Mike stared into that dark space, wondering what color her bra was. “It’s silly, I know, but I can’t help but love this place just a little.”

  “I’ve only been here one night. Trust me, I know what you’re talking about.” Snapping his eyes away from her chest, Mike leaned forward, opening the top file. “Ugh. This looks like a bunch of legalese.”

  “In triplicate. These are some additional assets, plus some agreements I need you to sign since you are taking ownership of the home. Per the will, there are a few protective clauses, primarily stating that you can never bulldoze the home and start from scratch. This was per your great aunt’s wishes, but I’m guessing that isn’t a problem.”

  “You would be correct.” Mike slid open a drawer, looking for a pen, but Beth had one ready.

  “You can have an attorney read these over first. I prefer that you do, actually. There isn’t any hurry—now that we have an heir, the clock sort of resets for a bit.” She set the pen on the table. “However, I am just on delivery duty today. I need to get in to the office to begin processing some additional documents. Today is Tuesday. I would be happy to drop by on Friday to pick these up, if you have them done. Otherwise, I can just drop by to make certain you are getting settled. That is part of the provisions as well.”

  “Um, yeah. Sure. Thank you.” Finished, they both stood and he followed her outside. He walked behind her, watching the gentle sway of her ass until they arrived at her car, a cute little convertible. Getting in the car, Beth gave him a wave and a smile before driving away. He strolled up the walk, stopping to pat one of the lion’s paws for luck. In his mind, he was planning to take the bucket straight out back to see what he could do about that pesky fountain.

  He was up the stairs, his hand on the door, when the swing next to him squeaked. Turning his head, he saw her sitting there, kicking her legs gently as she stared across the front yard, her eyes distant.

  “Hey,” Mike said, moving to get a better view. Her skin was unnaturally pale, her hair white. She wore a simple white dress with a thick black belt around her waist. The skirt stopped just above her knees, and white stockings were visible above a black pair of shoes. The swing creaked as she swayed, coming close to the siding of the house. She ignored him.

  “Hello? Hey?” He stood in front of her, waving his hand in front of her face. Her slightly milky eyes stared forward. Maybe she’s blind, Mike thought. Her skin was paper white, but her facial features made Mike think of a mixed European heritage. Small breasts pushed against the front of her dress, filling out the top as if it had been custom made for her. Her eyes didn’t budge, her white-eyed gaze settled on eternity.

  “Now look...” Mike grabbed the chain of the swing, halting its forward motion.

  The change was immediate. She was suddenly standing, her whole body lurching forward as if a movie had skipped several frames. A blast of cold air assailed Mike as her wild face was inches from his own, her feet hovering above the ground. She let out a blistering screech, her hair fanning out wildly behind her as she raised her hands, fingers curled like claws.

  Mike, panicking, stumbled backwards, the railing hitting him in his lower back. A second icy blast of air pushed him over the edge, where he fell into the scratchy bushes below. Wide eyed, he stared into the sky as the specter leaned over the rail, floating upward.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered, struggling to fight his way free of the bushes. She let out another shriek, her suddenly darkened features stretched until her face was a nightmarish mask.

  “Stop unhooking my swing, fucker!” she cried, then poofed out of existence.

  Mike scrambled to his feet, rolling free of the bushes, covered in bloody scratches. Standing in the warm light of day, his heart pounding a mile a minute, Mike stared up at the porch he had fallen from. The railing was cracked, and behind it, the swing swayed gently in the breeze.

  Mike ran up the stairs, his eyes on the empty swing.

  He shoved the door open, slamming it shut behind him once inside. “Naia!” he hollered, stomping up the stairs. “Naia, what the fuck was that?” he shouted, running into the bathroom.

  The tub’s faucet opened up, pouring a thin layer of water on the bottom. Her head and shoulders emerged as if she was in a lake rather than an inch of water.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Some woman on the porch. On the swing. Screamed at me. I fell into the bushes.” Mike gasped for air, inspecting the cuts on his arm.

  “Oh. Oh!” Naia’s eyes flashed. “I remember! That’s Cecilia!”

  “Who is Cecilia?” Mike sat on the side of the tub, rubbing his eyes.

  “She’s a banshee. She lives on the porch. She really likes the swing.” Naia sunk even lower, her lips just above the surface of the water. “I’m sorry, Mike. I wish I could have told you.”

  “Is that the important thing? The one you wanted to say but couldn’t?”

  Naia shook her head, her face moving even lower. Just her eyes were visible above the water.

  “Naia, what aren’t you telling me?” Mike crossed his arms.

  The nymph blushed, her words muffled by the water.

  “What did you say?”

  Naia rose up out of the water until her lips were visible. “I said that there are others.”

  “Others? Others like who?”

  Naia shook her head. “I can’t remember. I’m sorry, Mike, but I really can’t. Now that you’ve met Cecilia, I can remember her very well, or at least what Emily told me about her. She almost never came inside, or visited my fountain. But there are others.”

  “If you can’t remember them, then how do you know there are others?”

  “It’s the important thing, the one I couldn’t remember.” Naia slumped. “I think you’re going to be mad.”

  “I’ll do my best. What is it?”

  “Remember earlier, when I told you that the man who built this house collected magical artifacts?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s part of the geas. It’s a failsafe, a half-truth. He did collect artifacts, yes. But he came across most of those on accident.”

  “How do you accidentally come across artifacts?”

  Naia put on a fake smile, most of her teeth showing. “You see a lot of them when you decide to start your own monster collection.”

  Garage Goblin

  “Monsters. The guy who built this house collected monsters.” Mike sat on the edge of the tub, Naia wrapping bandages around the deeper cuts on his body. He wore only his boxers, having stripped away his clothing. He was grateful that the bushes had caught him, but a bit miffed that they had taken their price in flesh.

  “Yep. It started as an academic thing, but
he had a really big heart. The world was changing too quick for us monsters to adapt, so he rescued as many of us as he could.” Naia rubbed some Neosporin into a cut on his leg. Nymphs could do a lot of things, but healing magic was not one of them. “While there are people out there who would kill for the magic hidden in this house, the monsters here are a magical goldmine.”

  “How so?”

  “Hard to answer. For instance, it wouldn’t be difficult to hold a nymph hostage and demand that she share her gifts. Cecilia’s gifts wouldn’t be worth much, because banshees only appear before someone dies, generally.”

  “Wait.” Mike grabbed Naia’s hand. “What do you mean banshees only appear before someone dies?”

  “Cecilia is different. She’ll appear to the owner of the house-it doesn’t mean anything. She and Emily used to sit out there and watch the sunset a lot of evenings. Nobody needed to die, so don’t worry about it.” Naia dabbed some more Neosporin on his leg before wrapping it.

  “Who built this place?” Mike asked.

  Naia froze, mid-wrap. “I wish I could say.” A tiny tear formed in the corner of her eye. “All I know is that I was extremely happy while he was here. Emily was nice and all, but I had a special bond with the man who built this place. It kills me that I can’t remember him.”

  “But you remember Emily?” That was a mystery he was going to have to think on. Why would the former owner need his identity kept a secret? How does one get into collecting monsters in the first place?

  “Yeah, I do. And Natalie. She was our Caretaker before Emily. I can remember all of the Caretakers, but I can’t even picture the Architect, the man who built this place and saved my fountain.” Naia sniffed, finishing the wrap on Mike’s leg. “I wish I could remember.”

  “I hope you remember.” Mike meant it. Anything she could remember was something he could use. The sooner the better. Seeing a banshee on the porch had spooked him, and bad. What other surprises did the house have for him? Naia made him feel good in so many ways, but was the trouble worth it?

  “There. All better.” Naia kissed him on the neck, sending chills down his spine. “Now go unclog my fountain. Once you do that, I can see the stars at night again.”

  “Fair enough. Thank you, Naia.” Mike stood, tossing his bloodied clothes in a hamper by the bed when he walked past. Peeling open his bags, he found a pair of athletic shorts and a clean shirt to wear inside. Walking down the stairs, he pondered the situation that had developed. Cecilia, the crazy bitch on his front porch, had nearly killed him for touching her swing. How many others like her were there? Was he going to get killed by something that was using a room as its lair?

  He stared at the furniture, covered in white sheets. The house had been cleaned numerous times, and as far as he knew, no problems had ever been reported. Something to ask Beth. He found himself looking at the fireplace in the sitting room, some stray thought crossing his mind. Before he could focus on it, he heard the creak of the swing out front, the immediate memory of an angry banshee sending chills down his spine.

  Rubbing his face, he moved toward the back of the house, away from the sound of the swing. He walked to the kitchen table and grabbed the bucket, eager to go out back and deal with a problem he could handle. Lifting the bucket, he realized that it didn’t feel quite right. Looking inside, he saw that it was empty.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” he shouted, throwing the bucket angrily. He sat down, putting his face in his hands. Should he go back to the store? It meant walking past the Swing of the Damned, and he wasn’t ready to deal with that. With a resigned sigh, Mike walked outside to the garden, hanging a left at the fountain. Key in hand, he unlocked the door to the garage and pushed it in.

  Beth had warned him about the garage. Apparently his great aunt had been using it primarily for storage, and he immediately saw that the boxes had been piled high. He flicked on the light switch, which didn’t actually help that much. The garage itself felt cavernous, somehow bigger than its two-car capacity. The maze of boxes had him twisting to maneuver through them, hoping to make it to the other side. He expected to discover a tool bench on the opposite wall, and he was not disappointed. The bench was burdened with several boxes, so he lowered them to the ground.

  “Fuck, these are heavy.” He cracked open a couple boxes to reveal several paperback novels. The box he was looking in contained old sci-fi novels. He searched through the box, pulling out a couple of classics that he intended to read for himself. He opened the next box, revealing a pile of romance novels.

  “Bleh. Never mind.” He closed the flap. Why were there so many books here? Pushing the thought from his mind, he got a good look at the tool bench. It had several drawers, all of which were empty. On his knees, he opened the cabinet doors to reveal that they were also completely empty.

  Who had a tool bench with no tools? Mike scratched his chin, double checking the drawers to make sure he saw right. He wondered if somebody had stolen them, but then thought of the girl on the front porch. If this place really had been built to harbor a monster collection, then ordinary thieves wouldn’t have a chance. Looking at the boxes, he debated cracking them open, but was convinced that he would only find more books.

  “Fuck, it’s hot,” he muttered, wiping sweat off his brow. The afternoon sun was turning the place into a bit of a sauna. He resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to leave the house again. Carefully moving through the stacks toward the door, he heard the sound of metal dragging on concrete.

  Mike froze. He closed his eyes, listening carefully. It was faint, but the sound of light fabric across concrete carried to him from the back of the garage. He moved slowly, quietly, maneuvering around the stacks of boxes. A narrow gap between some boxes revealed a small hallway in the back of the garage. Mike breathed out, barely fitting between the stacks.

  The hallway U-turned, revealing a flight of stairs that went beneath the garage. He quietly descended the concrete steps. Toward the bottom of the steps, he heard it, the unintelligible mutterings of someone up ahead. The voice was raspy, but feminine. He ducked his head, the space just barely over five feet tall.

  There was just enough light that he saw the pull-cord dangling from the ceiling. He yanked on it, casting light into the dark spaces beneath. Unlike the room above, this one had plenty of space. Boxes along the edge of the space had been decorated with dirty fabric, and it was immediately obvious that it was originally intended for working on cars — large pit covers up above were sealed and locked shut. Along the back wall was a tool bench littered with tools, and Mike immediately spotted the supplies he had bought earlier. Off to the side was a tiny bed. The muttering he had been listening to had vanished.

  Of greater interest, however, was the short figure between him and the bench. facing away from him, it stood at around four feet tall with dark green skin covered in dirt and grime. Its hair was so dirty that Mike couldn’t make out any color, but did notice that it had been pulled back in a wild ponytail. The sudden light had frozen the creature in place, casting a comical shadow along the back wall. The figure dropped what it had been holding-Mike’s screwdriver.

  Mike tried to process what he was looking at. It wasn’t see-through, so not a ghost (thank God). Where could he even go from here, now that he had discovered the creature’s den?

  “Those tools belong to me,” he said, trying his best to sound firm. The creature in front of him turned around slowly, squinting into the light. She wore a dress that looked like it had been stitched together from spare furniture covers. A dirty yellow pair of goggles were on top of her head, and she bared her fangs at him, hissing through her teeth. Her tiny hands curled, revealing claws.

  “Tools are for Tink.” She growled. “All tools are Tink’s tools.”

  Mike’s heart raced. The thought of this angry little creature attacking him was simply too much. Still, he couldn’t help but stare at her body. She had wide-set hips, accentuated by small breasts, and her makeshift dress had
a split up the side, revealing just the edge of her bony hip and the movement of a thin tail with hair at the end. Her ears were wide and pointy, and a tiny nose made her big mouth look even larger.

  He had no idea what he was looking at.

  “Uh, okay. Tink, is it?” Mike held his hands up to show that they were empty, his knuckles scraping the ceiling. “Look here, Tink. My name is Mike. I bought those tools so that I can fix the fountain. I can’t fix the fountain without them. May I please have them back?”

  Tink bared her fangs again. “You challenge Tink. Tink fight. Protect goblin home.” She grabbed a wrench off of the floor, holding it over her head.

  “Whoa, whoa.” Mike backed up. “We don’t need to fight, Tink, but I need those tools. There’s no reason we need to do this.” Mike ran through his memory, looking for info on goblins, but drew an absolute blank.

  “Then man leave. Never come back, or Tink fight to protect goblin home.” Tink hunched forward, tossing her goggles to the side of the room. It was now or never.

  “Let’s talk about-fuck!” Tink leapt across the room, arms spread wide. She tackled Mike, and Mike fell over backward, pushing Tink’s head into the ceiling by accident. The wrench clattered across the floor, vanishing into the boxes.

  “Oh shit, I’m so-hey!” Unfazed, Tink clawed at him, grabbing handfuls of his t-shirt. He fought back, not wanting to hit her at first due to her size. Unfortunately, it was like tangling with an angry cat. His bandages were quickly shredded, and Tink was busy trying to wrestle him into submission.

  The low ceiling prevented Mike from standing up easily. Instead, he rolled around on the floor, doing his best to avoid her teeth, which tore away the rest of his shirt. As they fought, her dress ripped too, and Mike was soon grappling with a naked goblin.

  At first, the fight seemed a sure defeat, but Tink was rapidly tiring. He flipped her on her back, slamming her rock-hard skull on the pavement. It didn’t seem to faze her, but she slowed down quite a bit. Using the moment to his advantage, he crawled on top of her, pinning her in place with the weight of his body.