Chapter Eighteen
A scream caught in his throat, Sean woke well before dawn. He lay still and quivering, staring at the bathroom light until his heart rate slowed to a more reasonable rhythm. As he calmed, he rubbed his toes against Mare’s calves to confirm his feet were still there, and of course they were. Tonight’s dream had been a doozy: watching the dog eat his severed foot out of his scuffed sneaker while the Minotaur shoved him face down onto the cellar’s dirt floor and forcibly stripped him naked.
But he wasn’t a child anymore. He wasn’t bound and helpless, wasn’t maimed, naked, or about to be raped. It was just a dream.
He took a cleansing breath and rolled to spoon against Mare’s back. She made appreciative noises and pressed closer. As always, she smelled like home, and he breathed her in.
Arm around her, he reached again for sleep, reminding his brain to wake him before the next glimpse of madness began. But his mind’s eye remembered the dog working a foot out far enough to gnaw on it, and the terrifying pile of bloody, half-chewed kids’ shoes in the shadows beyond.
No rest for the wicked.
Sean kissed Mare’s back and sighed before drawing away.
She followed, rolling to snuggle against his chest, her hand gently tracing the faint line of his appendix scar. “You okay?”
“Right as rain.”
Her hand quested lower to fondle him. Once his cock was delightfully cradled in her cupped hand, she muttered, “Liar.”
He chuckled despite himself and kissed her. One good grope of his personal barometer always told her the truth of his mood. “Was just another bad dream. Go on back to sleep.”
She moved one electrifying finger to caress behind his testicles and soon had to shift her hand aside to give him room while adding the base of her palm to the enticement. As he sighed happily and basked in her attention, she asked, “What if I don’t want to go to sleep?”
Grinning, he reached for her. “I dunno. Have any ideas?”
“Maybe,” she giggled and, kissing, they played, gently coaxing until the need for each other became too great to ignore. They made love, both sighing happily as he eased inside, each dragging the other to the comfort of the abyss. After, he slumped sweaty and spent beside her and she twitched, sated, in his arms. He nuzzled his face into her skin and sought sleep.
The edges of his mind had grown foggy and dim when his bladder insisted he needed to get up anyway.
“Dammit,” he muttered as he untangled himself from Mare’s legs and the wad of sheet that had encircled them.
“Everything okay?” she asked, her voice drowsy.
He leaned over for a kiss. “Just gotta piss. Be right back.”
“’Kay.” She hugged his pillow and buried her face into it.
Sean staggered to the bathroom to relieve his inconvenient bladder. As he rubbed his face and stumbled back toward bed, movement in the mirror caught his eye.
He glanced over without thinking, his sex-and-sleep-hazed brain expecting to glimpse the familiar reflection of himself, but instead a towering Minotaur glared at him from within the shower, one horn distorted by a crack across the mirror’s corner.
Sean yelped, scrambling to face the beast, his spine and buttocks crushed against the vanity, but the shower stood empty except for the bottle of store-brand shampoo, a washcloth, and a bar of soap.
What the hell?
He leaned toward the shower without leaving the steady assurance of the vanity, and yanked the curtain aside. Empty.
“Babe?” Mare asked from the bedroom, their bed creaking as she moved. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He sagged and rubbed his eyes. He pulled his hand away and braved another glance into the shower, then let out a sigh of relief. Same old boring fiberglass stall as always. “Just thought I saw something.”
He heard Mare flump back upon the bed. “Maybe you need another one of those pills so we both can get some sleep.”
“Maybe.” He peered around the narrow accordion of curtain but saw nothing but shower. Nothing in the linen cabinet or near the toilet, either. Sighing and cursing his overly creative imagination, he turned around to open the medicine cabinet, then swallowed a scream.
The Minotaur loomed where he had been before, grinning, his head tilted forward to make room for his horns while a slow dribble of drool leaked from his horrid jaws. “Missed you,” the beast grumbled, its thick, pointed tongue licking blood from bovine lips. “I’d almost forgotten how tasty children are.”
“It’s not real,” Sean whispered, opening the cabinet and snatching the bottle of pills off the shelf. “Not real.”
He heard the Minotaur’s bellowing breath and smelled his vile animal stink. Despite the tremor in his hands, Sean managed to shake out a single pill. He dry swallowed it and put the bottle back into the cabinet. Then he slammed the door and jumped.
“Still here, Sean,” the Minotaur’s reflection assured him. His horns had gouged wounds into the shower ceiling until bright plaster salted the shaggy mess of his topknot and shoulders.
Sean met the beast’s fiery gaze. “I’m not afraid of my imagination,” he said, hands balling on the counter’s edge.
The Minotaur chuckled, the movement dusting fresh plaster flecks upon him. He reached out and Sean froze, too terrified to move, as the Minotaur caressed the back of his head then dragged one hard claw down his spine to the cleft between his buttocks. “I think you’re lying to me, Sean. Last time you lied to me, I fed pieces of your belly to my Lulu.” He gripped Sean’s buttock, much like Mare had minutes earlier. “Maybe this time I’ll give her different meat.”
“You’re a dream,” Sean said, skittering toward the toilet and away from the cold bite of nails on his ass. “A filthy, fucked-up dream. No one cut open my belly, no dog ate my feet. Ever. Get out of my head. You’re just a goddamn dream.”
“Sean?” Mare eased the door open. “Everything all right?”
The shower was empty, as it should have been, and he nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay,” he said, closing his eyes as he brushed past her. He dared not glance in the mirror.
She followed. “You don’t look okay. What happened? Is it the feet thing again? Just because it’s really happening doesn’t mean your dreams are doing it.”
“I know,” he said as he dragged on his undershorts then his jeans. “It’s nothing. Just shit in my head.”
“Sean, babe, talk to me,” she said, reaching for him.
“Nothing to talk about,” he said, quickly kissing her. “Go on back to bed. I’m wide awake and gonna try to sketch another panel or two. Maybe Black Pawn’ll like them better this time.”
She searched his eyes, but at last she nodded. “Okay. Wake me if you need anything,” she said, holding his face in her hands. “Anything.”
“I will. Promise.” Before she could delay him any longer, he left her standing alone in their bedroom, her hands still reaching for his skin.
Despite wretched children pleading from the dark depths of his sketch pad, Sean managed another full pencil spread before the rest of the house woke and began their morning. He chuckled at Paul and Mindy arguing like siblings over the bathroom, and gratefully accepted a fresh cup of coffee and a kiss from Mare.
She draped an arm over his shoulder and sighed as she examined the new layout. “Was pretty crappy of them to insist on a revamp after you finished the inks.”
“Yeah, but it’s the last issue,” he said, erasing an errant smudge. “Might as well give ‘em what they really want.”
Mare huffed and took a sip of her coffee. “I say give ‘em what
you
want. It’s not like they can fire you again.”
Sean laid a crisp new line and glanced up to wink at her. “Don’t think I didn’t consider it. But my early sketches were so craptastic, I’d rather Ghoulie went out on a decent looking issue, even if I have to redo half of it.”
“I guess you’re right.” She kissed the top of his head. “You might want to take a break pretty quick, though. Mindy’s making pancakes. Your uncle’s on his third helping. He’ll eat ‘em all if you don’t hurry.”
“Tell her I’ll be right there,” Sean said as his belly made hopeful, glurgly noises. Mindy sure could cook.
He finalized the illustration, taking care to ensure Ghoulie’s outstretched arm didn’t obscure the next frame’s base sketch, then he popped his spine before heading to the kitchen.
Paul blabbered about the house he’d been working on and how one of the other crewmen pissed on the last wall’s sheeting every day before finally hanging the siding on top. “Don’t matter how much she cleans, that bedroom will always smell like piss.” Paul laughed, voice muffled by a mouthful of food. “Is that funny or what?”
“Is that part of your company’s value added service?” Mare poured syrup on her pancakes and grinned as Sean walked into the kitchen. “Right on time!” she said, giving Sean a kiss and a discreet grope as Mindy slid a second steaming pancake onto an otherwise pristine plate.
“How do you like your eggs?” Mindy asked as she poured a fresh scoop of batter onto the griddle.
“Cooked.” Sean reached for the butter and syrup as Mare squeezed around to the far side of the kitchen table. Across from her, Paul shoveled in the last of his plateful as if he’d never tasted anything so grand.
Mindy laughed, a fine, tinkling sound, and cracked a couple of eggs into a skillet. “Cooked. No problem.”
Sean had just sat when Nicole knocked on the back door, her kids in tow.
“Come on in!” Mare called out then asked Mindy, “Have enough for more?”
“Absolutely!” she said as she flipped the next pancake.
“Smells good in here,” Nic said as she ushered in Pip and Steffie. Both kids squealed and ran to Mindy. Nic’s smile stiffened as the kids embraced Mindy’s legs and she nodded a familiar hello to everyone but Paul. “Um, hi. Have we met before?”
Paul scrambled to his feet and offered his hand. “Paul Casey, pretty lady. I’m Sean’s uncle, and, um, one of them.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember you now,” Nicole said as she cautiously accepted the greeting. “I’m Nicole. And married. From next door.”
“You staying for breakfast?” Mindy asked. Kids hanging on for the ride, she took the couple of steps to slide hot eggs onto Sean’s plate. Once the skillet was back on the stove she knelt to hug them both.
“I actually just came over to ask Sean a favor,” Nic said, withdrawing her hand from Paul’s grip. She gave him a suspicious glance. “But I guess we could eat. Sure.”
Sean swallowed his mouthful of pancake. “What’s the favor?”
“Sink drain’s backed up,” she said, smiling easier as she turned to face him. “Can you clear it out?”
Sean was about to agree, but Paul bowed slightly and said, “Let the boy eat his breakfast. I’d be honored to clear out your drains.” Before Nic could respond, he turned to the kids and bent to their level as he clapped his hands. “You kids wanna learn how to pull ucky gunk from a drain so you can help your mommy?” When the kids eyed him and clung to Mindy, Paul reached out, his sprawling mole flexing along with his forearm, to cup the back of Pip’s head.
Staring at the mole and Paul’s hand on Pip, Sean exploded to his feet, his hands clenching at the unexpected rush of fury over the similarity of the Minotaur’s caress on his own head. Instinct demanded he break Paul’s arm, or at least scream,
Get your fucking hands off him!
but instead he said, “I’ll take care of the drain, Nic. And leave the kids alone, okay, Paul?”
Paul stood, eyes narrowing. “I was just being nice to—“
Despite irrational fear tickling the edges of his mind, Sean held steady while Mare and Mindy watched him with wide, startled eyes. “Things have changed. Folks don’t touch other people’s kids anymore.”
Especially Steffie and Pip. Keep your filthy hands off him, or so help me, you’ll regret it.
“I didn’t do one damn thing to hurt him.”
“Mister?” Steffie said. “That’s a quar—“
“Not now, sweetie,” Mindy said as she flicked off the stove then grasped the kids’ hands. “I’m sure Mare will keep good track for you. Let’s go see what’s on TV, okay?”
Silence reigned as she dragged the kids to the living room. While Paul turned to blink at the departing children, Sean closed his eyes for a moment and saw piles of bloody kids’ shoes without feet. The dog, chewing…
What the hell’s wrong with me today?
His fists unclenched then clenched, fingers curled as if crushing a larynx while the Minotaur’s low laughter echoed behind his ears. He opened his eyes and stared at Paul’s forearm.
It’s that mole. Just seeing it makes my skin crawl. Why do I detest it, and him, so much? I barely knew him as a kid.
He took a breath and raised his gaze to his uncle’s face. His voice was calm but rigid and allowed no rebuttal. “Never said you’d hurt him. I said to leave him alone.”
“What bug crawled up your ass?” Paul snapped at Sean before the TV could drown him out. “I try to be friendly—“
“Friendly’s fine.” Sean pushed Paul aside to fetch the drain snake from the bathroom. “Just don’t touch kids you don’t know.”
Mare chimed in, “He’s right. Folks don’t do that anymore. Too many child molesters and kidnappings.” She paused then added, “Puts people on edge. Especially now.”
“Yeah, keep your big-ass hands off my kids,” Nicole said.
Don’t look at the mirror,
Sean reminded himself as he bent to pull the snake from the vanity, but damn if he couldn’t smell the Minotaur’s stink and feel his hot breath.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Paul said. “I hop forward twenty years and it’s illegal to talk to kids with their mom standing right there?”
“Talk all you want,” Nic said, “just don’t touch them. You’re one of them spore things. Nasty abominations, the lot of you. If the kids weren’t so attached to Mindy, I wouldn’t let her near them, either.”
“That’s not fair,” Mare said. “Mindy’s been great. It’s not her fault she’s a spore.”
“Maybe so, but… She was
dead
.”
“Forget her. I don’t get why I can’t talk to a kid in my own kitchen!”
My kitchen.
Sean found the snake and let out a sigh of relief as he left the bathroom and strode past the bed to the kitchen. “Times change, Paul. Kids are off limits now. Deal with it.”