Brightly (Flicker #2) (2 page)

A moment passed. The Dawsons exchanged horrified glances. Finally, Mr. Dawson nodded. “All right. But may I ask why?”

“If you open the door before we’re ready,” Filo said, “it might get out. And trust me—you do
not
want that thing running loose in your house. You especially don’t want it getting outside again. So are we all clear?”

The Dawsons nodded, looking pale. Filo turned to Lee. “You ready?”

“I think so.”

He clapped her on the shoulder. “Just breathe through your mouth.”

Then he widened the door and they ducked into the darkness.

The door clicked shut behind them.

In the basement, the air was heavy and hot. The stench of rot was overpowering, so thick she could almost
taste
it.

“Oh, jeeze,” Lee groaned, resisting the urge to cover her nose. Her eyes were watering.

Filo shushed her. “Listen.”

She froze, straining her ears. Then she heard it: a dull scraping noise on the other side of the basement. Something was moving over there. Slowly she reached into her pocket, drawing out the heart-shaped locket that granted her temporary Second Sight. The moment the locket fell against her chest, her vision intensified; she blinked against the change.

Now the darkness shimmered faintly, but she still couldn’t make out any individual shapes. Lee pulled a cheap plastic flashlight from her back pocket and focused some of her magical energy into it. The tiny light bulb suddenly glowed with green light, growing brighter.

There was a scuttling sound, claws on the concrete floor of the basement. Filo moved forward and Lee followed, trying not to focus on the stickiness of the floor.

Lee raised the flashlight, casting the green beam around in the hot, stinking darkness. It illuminated something unusual: a hulking, fleshy shape, dull red in the green light.

The Bloody-Bones twitched, as if the light stung, then turned. Lee’s insides squirmed at the sight of it. It had the rough proportions of a large dog. A short muzzle protruded from its face. Its whole body was thick and misshapen, bulging in odd places, like a pile of compacted muscle and meat with no skin to cover it. All its dark red flesh glistened with a slick sheen of blood that dripped off it and pooled on the floor.

A low, rumbling growl rose from its throat as the light lingered on it. Lee’s stomach lurched as she noticed what appeared to be a partially-eaten cat carcass between the creature’s front paws.

“I don’t think it likes the light,” Filo said. “Lee,
it doesn’t like the light.
”

He reached up to pull her hand down, but it was too late: The creature made an angry barking noise and lunged toward them.

Lee dropped the flashlight with a shriek. Filo’s hands slammed into her shoulder, shoving her aside. She landed hard on the sticky floor, then scrabbled to her knees as something huge and heavy landed where she’d just been. The Bloody-Bones.

Scrambling backward, she fumbled for the flashlight. Finally her hands closed around the plastic tube. She fed some of her energy into the flashlight, and a bright green light shot from the light bulb, catching the creature full on its face.

Though the Bloody-Bones barked and moved toward her, she kept her hands firmly on the light as she backed away. Slowly, she reached for her pocket, for the weapon stowed there, but slipped on a slick patch of floor. She had the flashlight in a death grip, but that did her little good as the Bloody-Bones bounded forward and landed on top of her, one of its huge, fleshy paws pinning her shoulder to the floor. Steaming drops of blood spattered her face. Thick ropes of bloody drool swung from the creature’s jaws and mismatched teeth.

Though her eyes burned and stung, Lee kept them open as she brightened the light and jammed the flashlight hard into the creature’s chest.

With a howl, the creature recoiled, long enough for her to jump to her feet. Then the Bloody-Bones reared up and swung at her. Its paws were surprisingly dexterous: It seized her by the hair, claws tangling in the coppery strands, before she could duck away.

Lee was jerked off her feet and dragged toward the creature. Somehow she kept hold of the flashlight.

A blue light ignited: Filo, illuminated by the glowing ball of energy in his hand. He hurled it at the creature, which snarled and flung itself upon Filo.

For a moment, Lee was dazed. Then she swung her light around and found them in the darkness: Filo pinned to the floor, fending off the bogey’s snapping jaws by pressing his hands against its throat. One of his hands slipped on the creature’s slick flesh, and when he threw his forearms up to shield his face, the creature sank several teeth into his arm.

“Lee!” Filo hollered, still shoving the creature’s head up and back with his other arm. He was squinting against the blood gushing from a fresh cut on his forehead.
“Lee!”

She darted her hand into her pocket, withdrawing a dagger. With no time to hesitate, Lee rushed forward and plunged the blade deep into the creature’s shoulder. When she jerked it out, flecks of blood and meat spattered her face. As the Bloody-Bones howled and rounded on her, she flashed the light directly into its eyes. The meat sizzled.

Filo rolled out from beneath the creature, wiped his brow, and drew his own knife.

“Lee,” he panted. “You keep that thing standing right there with your light.”

He stepped toward the creature. It crouched and moved to pounce; Lee aimed the light at one of its haunches, and it froze. Filo moved closer, shifting his knife in his grip with each step.

Lee flashed the light at the flesh of the Bloody-Bones each time it tried to move. Finally, she pulled a handful of salt from her back pocket and scattered it about. Whenever the creature stepped on the salt, it growled and drew its foot back as though the concrete were on fire.

“Good, Lee,” Filo said, and she thought of how sure of himself he must be, if he could find time to toss out that small bit of praise just now. “Keep that up.”

He edged closer and closer to the bogey, which dropped low and sprang suddenly, slamming against Filo with its full weight. Filo hit the ground hard, skidding backward, the Bloody-Bones lunging after him. With a strangled shout, Filo raised his knife and slashed, connecting with the creature’s throat as it bore down on him. A fountain of blood sprayed outward, soaking Filo.

The bogey gave a gargling howl and stumbled sideways. His face grim, Filo sat up, grabbed the creature’s shoulder and pulled it down so it was lying on its side.

Stunned, Lee watched him. She didn’t know what she’d thought he was going to do, how he was going to “deal with the problem,” but it wasn’t this.

Filo crouched beside the Bloody-Bones. He was speaking, something in Old Faerie, his words soft and oddly soothing. The creature was whining piteously, and Filo was stroking its shoulder. Lee was reminded of nothing other than a dog about to be put down.

Still murmuring, Filo placed the tip of his knife at the base of the creature’s skull. Then the blade shone, edged with magical energy, and Filo plunged it deep into the creature’s flesh.

The Bloody-Bones jerked once, then went still.

Lee’s chest was tight and hurting, like a rock was lodged inside her ribcage. The flashlight trembled in her hands. Her gaze was riveted upon the corpse of the meat monster.

Filo rose slowly. He looked upon her with tired eyes. “You need to see things like this,” he said. “You can’t pretend it’s not part of our job.”

“I know,” she replied faintly. “I just—”

He just sighed. “Go on.”

She rushed toward the door and grabbed the knob. She focused a pulse of magic into it, hearing the lock click open. Grateful that the Dawsons had only locked the knob and not the padlock, she pushed the door open.

Lee stumbled upstairs and into the kitchen, suddenly dizzy from the rush of clean air in her lungs. The sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows stung her eyes. Her face was tingling, and when she wiped at it, her hand came away bloody.

Mr. and Mrs. Dawson were gaping at her. She looked down and saw that her shirt was splotched with dark blood—not hers, but startling to see all the same.

“Are you—?” Mrs. Dawson started, then failed as the basement door swung open again, and Filo staggered into the kitchen.

He was soaked in blood, more than Lee had realized in the basement: His face, throat and chest were completely covered in blood, and his hands and arms were streaked with it. Lee noticed the gouges on his forearm. Filo had one hand cupped above his right eye. Blood was leaking between his fingers, dripping onto the bright kitchen tiles.

Mrs. Dawson looked as if she might faint. Mr. Dawson held her arm and blinked rapidly, like he could blink away the scene before him.

“It’s fine,” Filo said, though he looked unsteady on his feet. “It’s mostly not mine.” He coughed. “You wouldn’t happen to have some rags or something, would you?”

For a moment, all Mrs. Dawson could do was open and close her mouth soundlessly, like a fish.

“The bathroom’s down the hall,” she managed finally. “First door on the left. There’s a first-aid kit under the sink, and washcloths in the cupboard. Just put them in the hamper when you’re done.”

“Thank you,” Filo said genuinely. “I’ll try not to make too much of a mess.”

“I’ll show him where it is,” Mr. Dawson offered, and followed him down the hall. Before they left, Lee dug around in her backpack for one of the spare shirts she carried, just for situations like these, and gave it to Filo.

For several long minutes, Lee stood silently near the kitchen table as she and Mrs. Dawson eyed each other warily.

“How about you, sweetie?” Mrs. Dawson asked finally. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Lee said immediately. “None of the blood’s mine. It just sort of splashed all over me.”

“How old are you?” Mrs. Dawson asked seriously. “Really?”

“Nineteen,” Lee said firmly. “Filo’s twenty. Honest.”

Mrs. Dawson looked unconvinced. “A bit young for a job like this.”

“It’s just a summer job.”

“That young man seemed to know an awful lot.”

“This is his second or third time around. I’m not sure.” She tried to school her features into a less flustered expression. “I’m new. He’s showing me the ropes.”

Mrs. Dawson frowned. “Do either of you need help?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Lee said. “And I’m sure Filo’s all right in the bathroom. It’s just a bite.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Mrs. Dawson leaned forward. “I mean, do you need
help?
Because my daughter is a social worker, and she can—”

“Don’t bother.” Filo’s voice cut sharply across Mrs. Dawson. He was standing just behind them, in the doorway. He’d changed into the clean shirt and had washed the blood off, though his jeans were still stained dark. His forearm was wrapped tightly in a small towel, and he had a bunched-up washcloth pressed to his forehead.

He squeezed Lee’s arm, and her eyes watered from the clarity of his Sight. “It’s time for us to get going.”

“Right,” Lee nodded, glad of the exit he’d provided.

Turning to Mrs. Dawson, Filo went on, “I don’t do cleanup, but I can refer you to someone who’ll take care of it. They should even be able to get the smell out. Discreetly, of course.” Mrs. Dawson passed him a piece of paper and a pen; he scribbled down an address.

Handing the paper back to her, Filo straightened and said, “Now, ma’am, if you could pay us, we’ll be on our way.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Dawson said. “Now, the amount we discussed—”

“That was an estimate,” Filo told her flatly. He raised his injured arm and pointed to the gash on his forehead. “All things considered… I think this is going to cost you a bit more.”

For a moment after he opened the door to his apartment, Nasser just squinted at them—puzzled, but not exactly surprised. Lee supposed that Filo had probably turned up in worse shape than this before, so he was probably used to it.

“What happened?” Nasser asked. His dark blond hair was slightly damp, like he’d just gotten out of the shower, and he was dressed in a faded, loose-fitting T-shirt and old jeans.

“Bloody-Bones,” Filo croaked. He still had the washcloth pressed against his forehead, stained bright red. On the bus ride into the city, the gash on his forehead had continued to bleed, sluggish but steady. At least the bite marks on his arm had quit bleeding. They’d gotten some funny looks from the other passengers.

“Well, come in, then,” Nasser said, ushering them inside. As she entered the apartment, he bent to kiss Lee on the cheek, just as he always did. “You can explain once I make sure Filo won’t bleed to death.”

Since last fall, business had picked up for the Rew brothers. They’d been able to afford a somewhat nicer apartment in a somewhat nicer part of town. Two bedrooms, a larger bathroom and kitchen, and a more spacious living area—all of which made working out of their apartment as independent Seers much easier.

Lee stepped around two large tables in the living room, heaped with all manner of objects: bundles of unfamiliar roots, flowers and grasses; glass bottles filled with red and purple potions; a bowl filled with animal teeth. Two bookcases were pushed against the wall, crammed with books, meticulously organized by some system of Nasser’s design.