Birth of a Monster (7 page)

“Yes, sir,” Tats said.

No one else dared utter a word until
Righty was dropped off at the park, at which point they began to
nervously discuss their fates before Tats quickly hushed
them.

Chapter 16

There was a part of Righty that felt he
was on the verge of one of the biggest mistakes of his life. He
knew that if he were to sit down and think in a cold, calculating
manner about what he was going to do he would likely think of some
seemingly shrewder, more cautious, delayed approach. One that would
seem wiser. But that wouldn’t be.

Like a man reeling from a slap who
knows he has to hit back and hit back hard, lest he forever be
branded an easy target for ridicule and derision, Righty knew this
was a time for action. He thought briefly about going over to the
Sivingdel Boxing Association, finding their annals, and burning
them, but what would the point be?

If Chief Benson already knew his ring
name, he could get his real name pretty easily from most of the
people at the boxing association even if Righty burned every last
one of their records. It had been less than two decades since his
boxing days were abruptly and infamously ended.

The real issue was Benson. He had to be
brought to heel, but not just yet. He was on the priority list, but
there were two men above it. Furthermore, Righty was proud to have
his name in the boxing annals, and he wasn’t going to destroy those
when destroying—or bringing to heel—a man would be far more
pleasurable and useful.

Dangerous storm clouds were inside
Righty’s head, a system of nasty funnels beginning to swirl and
spelling danger for all those in the way.

He had reached the forest and was
thudding along a pathway, his mind set on finding solitude,
climbing a tree, and reaching Harold.

“Hey you,” a voice said.

Righty turned.

It was the cop he had passed earlier
that day. The funnels were spinning viciously now.

“Mind if I see some
identification?”

“What for, officer?” Righty
inquired.

“Well, first of all, I don’t really
like your attitude. I could smell it about twenty feet away, and
it’s the second time I’ve seen you traipsing around these woods in
a single afternoon. I just want to know who you are.”

“I like exercise,” Righty said. “And I
don’t carry identification. It might get stolen.”

“You like exercise walking around in
those kinds of clothes with those kinds of boots, and you’re in
this big of a hurry? Turn around, you punk. I’m bringing you
in.”

“Sure thing, officer,” Righty said. He
turned around, unsheathed his sword, and spun around slicing the
officer in two. Not pausing a moment, he stooped down, picked up
both body parts, and sprinted off into the woods.

“Get me out of here, Harold,” he said
in as loud a voice as he dared.

Sure enough, twenty seconds later, he
felt a whoosh of air, and then Harold landed and quickly flattened
his body out.

Righty jumped on top, and Harold didn’t
need to be told to take off like the hounds of hell were closing in
on their heels.

“Head for the mountains!” Righty
said.

As soon as they began to reach a
heavily forested area, Righty dropped both halves of the officer
down to the trees below.

Moments later, he said, “Find a tall
tree, Harold. We need to talk.”

Righty was relieved to see there were
numerous konulans nearby.

Chapter 17

Righty felt like a man below deck in
rough seas who witnesses so many leaks spring all at once that he
stands petrified, unsure which to plug first and wondering if
perhaps the exercise is futile anyway.

The federal
agents.

Yes, those two had really had fun with
him, and unlike with the chief, not even a deal had ever been
reached to ameliorate the humiliation he had gone through. Those
two were most likely headed back to the capital right now to let
their bosses know of the large bust and the embarrassing
jurisdiction battle they had lost in front of the entire police
station.

“Harold, how many paths are there
leading from Sivingdel to the capital?”

“Quite a few at first, but once you get
about fifteen miles north of the capital, most of them converge
into one.”

Righty gave a quick, but detailed,
description of the two agents, and then jumped on Harold and told
the konulans, “Go north of the city. Explore all paths. Let me know
if you find them!”

Harold took off quickly towards
Sivingdel, which was currently north of their location.

They passed the city quickly, and then
Harold lowered his elevation slightly to scan for any sign of the
men.

An hour of searching yielded nothing.
Righty told Harold not to veer too far from where the smaller roads
converged into the large road heading northeast to the
capital.

Then, one by one, the konulans began to
approach Harold and Righty and assure them that they had searched
all the smaller roads carefully, and no men fitting Righty’s
description had been seen.

“They’re probably further on down the
road!” Righty said. “Go back and keep searching the smaller roads.
Harold and I’ll head up the main road!”

No sooner had he spoke than Harold took
off like a champion horse out of the starting gate. .

As they cut through the air, Righty
noticed that the farther they got from the city the more spread out
the traffic was. They were now truly out in the country.

The konulans certainly had an advantage
by being able to fly nearby the travelers without serious chance of
alarm, while Harold had to remain several hundred feet above
ground. Recognizing someone he already knew at this height would
not be a problem—the smell and sound of a familiar person’s voice
being of considerable aid—but approaching unknown travelers from
behind with nothing but a verbal description was proving quite a
challenge. For that very reason, Righty had Harold go back and
forth every time they passed someone before continuing
onward.

As for Righty, he was stuck with his
naked eyes, though he made a mental note to get the best telescope
money could buy as soon as the next couple of days were over.
Provided he survived them.

After a fruitless half hour, Righty
said with a weary sigh, “Let’s head back to the city. Maybe they’re
still there.”

Harold started to turn back as ordered,
but then suddenly said, “Wait!”

“What is it?”

“Maybe nothing, but that dust cloud
about ten miles down the road is quite a bit larger than most of
the others we’ve passed today. Someone’s in a bit of a
hurry.”

“Let’s find out!” Righty
said.

Harold accelerated so quickly Righty
almost fell to his death. He gripped the leather straps around
Harold’s back and held on for dear life, his stomach compressing as
tightly as his sword.

Harold passed the cloud minutes later
and then swung back.

“A blond guy and dark-haired guy, both
with crewcuts, one with a goatee, the other clean shaven,” Harold
said.

It sounded like a sure thing, although
he knew he would potentially kill two innocent men if he was wrong.
If he ventured close enough that his puny human eyes could see
them, however, he would tip off the agents to an incoming attack,
and if they weren’t the agents he would have to decide what to do
with two living witnesses to a man flying around on the back of a
bird.

“Take out blondie,” Righty said. “Do it
however you want, just so long as it’s fast.”

Righty had a bit of an idea of what to
expect, so while he was giving the command he bent down and placed
his upper back underneath the front strap, which was tightly wound
enough to hold him there snug. He nonetheless grabbed it with his
hands for additional support.

Harold retracted both wings and plunged
straight down, spinning while he did so. This was Righty’s first
introduction to the maneuver Harold called Cyclone. Righty nearly
lost consciousness by the time they reached the men, and his eyes
were squeezed tightly shut.

Blondie barely had time to glance when
ten talons sank into his neck at around three hundred miles per
hour, sending an eruption of blood onto Goatee and their
surroundings.

Blondie’s head stubbornly remained
attached to his neck for around two hundred feet or so while Harold
shot up into the air, but eventually the pull of gravity won the
tug of war, and Blondie’s head came off while his torso went
somersaulting through the air. Harold threw the man’s head down at
Goatee, who had leapt off his horse and was looking up at the sky
apprehensively, sword drawn.

Harold relayed this information to
Righty.

“Bring me down soft and easy around
thirty feet behind him, and stay out of sight,” Righty
said.

Willis was looking around frantically,
but mostly upwards.

Suddenly, he noticed a figure
approaching.

He held his sword tightly. He had no
idea what had happened to Benjamin, except that his head was on the
ground and his body was missing in action.

At first, he had no idea who the lone
man walking towards him was, but by the time he was ten feet away
there could be no mistake.

It was the prisoner—Sam
Higler.

“Good afternoon, agent . . . ? I don’t
think we were ever formally introduced,” Righty said
calmly.

Willis felt unnerved by the
conversational tone in his voice. Even his eyes seemed
peaceful.

Willis squeezed his sword as if it were
the sole handhold keeping him from falling down a fatally deep
precipice.

Righty was now six feet
away.

“Sorry if you don’t recognize me. I was
a bit underdressed earlier today,” he said.

“What do you want?!” Willis said, his
mind debating whether to strike now or wait for any suspicious
movements.

“To talk,” Righty said. “That chief
back there’s a crooked old dog, and I reckon you would do just
about anything to see him suffer for embarrassing you like that,”
Righty said, raising his eyebrows.

That’s for sure,
Willis thought,
but that
doesn’t mean I trust you to help me with that problem.

“Look, why don’t we try starting from
square one. I’ll tell you a little about who I am, and maybe we can
reach a deal, like you mentioned earlier. I didn’t mean to insult
you by giving you such small bills, but the chief stole everything
I had and—”

“WHAT HAPPENED TO BENJAMIN?!!!!” Willis
shouted, his eyes the size of small tomatoes.

“Oh . . . hmphh,” Righty chuckled
slightly, “I take it you’re city-born. It’s okay; it’s okay. No
need to feel alarmed. That was the work of a pholung. He’s a big
fella, and he spooked my horse. Charlie just about threw me to my
death back there before he went dashing off, but he’ll be back soon
enough, I’m sure. And don’t you worry either, sir. The good thing
about pholungs is that they hunt alone, and I ain’t ever heard of a
pholung greedy enough to kill more than one person in a day, so,
not to belittle your partner’s demise, but for you and me, the
coast is clear.”

“How did you escape?!!”

“Escape?! HAH!” Righty said, laughing.
“I told you that chief’s a crooked old dog. He took two million
falons from me and told me to bring him a million more by the end
of the month. Then, he let me and my crew go. The slate’s clean,”
Righty said, wiping his hands against one another in a clapping
fashion to emphasize the point.

“No, it’s NOT clean. Not by a long
shot!!” Willis said, aggressively. “We’ve got your file, and now
I’ve got your admission, and we’re going to take over the SISA
case, not to mention the bribery case!!”

“You’ve got me over a barrel,” Righty
said, shrugging his shoulders. “But, suppose I was to reach into my
sleeve here and pull out half a million falons?”

Willis’s nostrils flared. He wasn’t
sure whether to bait Mr. Higler again or take him up on the
offer.