Part XV

I picked up as many of the remains as I could and dropped them into a nice black contractor's bag. As I did, I tried to find anything I could use to identify who this poor rat bastard had been. I came up with nothing, no wallet. The Old Man was fast asleep, currled into a ball in my easy chair. He'd come back in a few minutes after he'd left the living room and acted like nothing had happened.

I used a small dust broom and pan to get as many of the big bits up as I could. I carried the trash bag into the basement. The basement was unfinished with little more than a washer and dryer, but what it did have was an old coal furnace that I'd never removed. When I'd first bought the place, the coal chute had shuttered out a few lumps when I'd opened the door. I'd had the furnace checked out, but never used it. It was still study enough to contain a good bit of heat.

I chucked the bag in and mumbled under my breath. The green ball of flamed formed in my hand and I shut the door behind it. The temperature was too intense to really make a smell, everything was ash before it even had a chance to give away my secrets.

Back upstairs I got a bucket and some good wood floor soap. If I didn't get the floor clean and the moisture up, the boards would warp. I used two rolls of paper towels and knew there'd be at least one more trip to the furnace. I could already feel the radiant heat seeping from the basement.

I wished I could wrinkle my nose and have the place flash back to spick and span, but that was only on TV. I'd never met anyone who could cast a cleaning spell. Magic had no practical domestic uses. What I could do though was knock off a bit of trickery to make all the blood splatters glow bright as phosphorous, at least that way I could make sure I got them all. It didn't just work on blood though, it was an old protein trick.

I cracked a beer two hours later and wiped the sweat from my forehead with my shirt sleeve. I'd had to open the upstairs windows the vent the excess heat. I'd also opened every window I had that wasn't facing the street and covered with plastic. I mumbled a small alarm spell and went as sat on the sofa. The Old Man was still in dream land and purred with the small guttural consistency of tectonic plates shifting.

This little escapade had cost me time, and an audience with Em, but I'm sure she was laughing about it. Truth be told though I'd learned a thing or two. One, Pirate Jane was a crafty old bird and number two, the Old Man was something to be reckoned with.

I was definitely going to have to rig something to make sure this didn't happen again. That'd have to be tomorrow though, because I could feel the sandman as he went down the street putting out the lights. My house was coming up fast. Putting the beer down I bid the Old Man a good night and gave him a quick scratch between the ears. I dropped the wards across the from door and flipped a switch on the banister leading upstairs.

As I climbed up to bed, I heard the mechanism of the house coming to life. Nothing was getting in now. This house was tighter than the gates to hell. The last cogs clicked and the water in the underground piping ran at a consistent rate, surrounding the house with moving water. It was the most beautiful white noise anyone could ask for. As I fell into bed I remembered everything that had happened over the last week and all of the pain and anger I'd endured. I remembered the promise I'd made to myself and to my Uncle.

Just before sleep finally took me, I mumbled under my breath and watched as my Uncle appeared before me in a bright green hologram. He smiled and I smiled back. Then, just before I drifted off, I told him I loved him, and even though it shouldn't have been possible, the hologram smiled and told me it was sorry.

I woke the next morning to a rumbling on my chest. The Old Man had shifted places during the night and had come to rest on top of me. I opened my eyes and he stared at me. He gave a soft yowl then got up and stretched. He was hungry, and he damn well sure expected me to feed him.

Part XIV

I eased onto the back porch, which was no larger than five feet wide and ten feet across, through the screen door and let it shut smoothly behind me as silently as possible. The truth is, this was one of the few aspects of the house that made no sense to me. It could barely fit a Parisian cafe table and two chairs, but it came with the house. Looking through the door that led to a small hallway that connected to the kitchen. I waited until I was sure nothing was moving beyond it.

I could hear every sound the knob made as my hand forced it to do its job painstakingly slowly. I was counting on Mr. Toots to be distracted by viscera. When the door finally cracked, I made a mental note to buy some WD-40 for the hinges, then slipped inside.

The Jug of tonic I'd taken from Pirate Jane's was next to the litter box. I grabbed it and popped the cap, letting it bounce on the floor. I wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but I was pretty sure Pirate Jane had written the instruction on the jug so she wouldn't forget. I didn't have time to ruminate on exactly what Mr. Toots was, or why Pirate Jane had him, but after everything I was pretty sure I knew how he'd lived this long.

Easing into the kitchen I almost went sprawling as my shoe lost friction gliding across a puddle of blood. I could hear something satisfying itself with food in the living room. The loud crunches had given way to more of a lapping sound and a deep guttural purr that would have made a pit bull piss itself.

Just beyond the portable island in the center of the kitchen I saw a possible remedy to my problem. An arm lay sprawled on the floor. The ball of the Humerus beckoned from the top of the shirt sleeve. For a second I flashed to the cantina sequence from Star Wars. Hopefully Mr. Toots liked Walrus Man.

I put the jug down for a second so I could remove the shirt. I was left with a nice length of arm that I could use as a bludgeon if I needed too. I held the arm by the wrist and turned it palm up so the elbow joint wouldn't flop. I took the jug and poured more than a quarter tablespoon onto the shoulder joint.

I held the arm in front of me and walked down the small hallway that ran beside the stair case. I tipped left into the living room and had to fight my brain from singing Rocky Top. "Half Bear the other half cat..." stuck in my head as I looked at Mr. Toots.

Rocky Top was practically a hymn in these parts and whether you liked it or not, and I hated it, you knew it almost instinctually by the time you were five or so. Truth is it wouldn't surprise me if someone were to tell me it's actually in the hymnals of some churches around here. But right now I really didn't need the lyrics taking up what little space I had for problem solving.

I stepped forward and the floorboards underneath ratted me out. Mr. Toots brought his head up from his meal and hissed. This time I almost wet myself. It was at that moment, as the smell of warm raw meat hit me in the face with the breath of the hiss that I knew I could never call him Mr. Toots again. The moniker of Old Man I'd given him was what was going to stick.

It's a bit hard to describe exactly how he looked, or what exactly he was. His dynamic true form was about three feet tall and four or five feet long. His hair was thick and bristly and all I could think of was he looked like what might be the side effect of a wild boar raping a bobcat.

He prowled left to face me. We stared at each other for a minute sizing one another up.

You left a wing Old Man.

I tossed the arm to him before he could think about pouncing on me. He caught it in his paws and then settled to the floor to give it a good gnaw. His purr changed to a low happy thing, but I could still feel the vibrations of it deep inside me.

The thing about transformative magic is that it generally defies the laws of science. That's what makes it magic and not physics. Where the mass of him went, I couldn't say, but about five minutes after he started on the arm he was back down to kitty size and looked like he should have.

He licked his paws and slowly padded toward me making me realize I'd not moved the entire time. My lower back screamed and my knee popped as I bent down to rub him behind the ears. He rubbed against my knee then padded out of the room, leaving me to clean up.

Part XIII

What're you doing Em?

She hesitated. At that moment I could hear the current of the river like a song rushing against the shore. It lapped the bank like a thousand desperate tongues reaching for a grain of rice.

I don't know.

I pushed forward and mumbled under my breath. My right forearm went translucent from my hand to my elbow and I reached for Emily. She reached out and our fingers locked. Knowing I'd only have an instant I pulled as hard as I could. Emily flew into the bushes lining the shore and I lost my footing, driving my right leg into the current, just beyond the bank of the river. The water was was cold as death and filled my tennis shoe making my toes spasm. I managed to pull my leg out again and stood panting on the bank, waiting for Em to stand up.

Dammit Em, this isn't a fucking game.

My heart tried to pry itself out of my chest as Emily began to laugh. Then, in her usual style, she drank up the moment as though no one was affected by it but her.

I've never gotten so close. The rush of it all was quite amazing.

She almost stopped laughing when she looked at me. I know what she saw on my face. I was pissed.

Oh Aubrey, where is your sence of adventure?

What Adventure?

While Emily basked in her new death rush, I shook my arm trying to make the feeling come back. The translucence faded slowly and I breathed a sigh of relief when finally the whole arm coalesced again and I was able to feel my fingers rubbing against the palm of my hand. It wasn't a trick I cared to do, and I'd known more than one person who'd lost a piece of themselves performing it.

My anger didn't subside until Emily and I were back at her house. The architecture had changed over time, but the essence of the house was still intact. The interior wasn't much and I never was able to figure out what exactly the house had been kept around for.

Emily had reverted to her age of death. She did that when she was done playing around. I knew she was thankful for me pulling her back. I even suspected she realized she'd gone too far this time.

I need to know what the word on the wire is Em. I need to know if my Uncles been felt.

He hasn't.

She didn't even hesitate in saying it.

But I'll tell you something.

What?

That cat of yours has found a few new play toys. I just felt one of them shuffle off.

Shit. Mr. Toots. Wait, what the hell could Mr. Toots do?

I left Emily at a full run. I told her I'd be back, but I couldn't doubt her ability to feel the truth of things, at least on the island. It was almost a mile to my place and the entire time I was running, I couldn't help but feel like whatever was happening was my fault. Too much too soon. I wasn't in control of the situation.

I vaulted the fence to the access road and then slammed myself against the small back garage at the edge of my property. Going in fast with no plan was stupid at best and fatal at worst. I caught my breath and tried to figure out what was happening.

Inside the house, I could see the shadow of a man backing away from what had to be the ceiling lights in the living room. Something large and nasty blocked the light and I heard a scream. Across the street the lights went on in the neighbor's house. I pushed away from the wall of the garage and walked toward them.

My neighbor Mrs. Caldwell came out of her house looking a freight. Her robe was wrapped tight against her dense body. Her hair was up in curls. I met her half way.

Mrs. Caldwell, I am so sorry. I didn't realize the TV was that loud.

She looked at me suspiciously and then pulled her robe tighter.

That didn't sound like a TV to me.

I know, Carl is over and we were catching up one one of those Horror films. I got spooked and thought someone was outside. Turns out I'm just easily frightened.

Luckily for me there weren't anymore outbursts from the house. Mrs. Caldwell did a few more quick looks toward the house and gave me the evil eye.

Those films aren't good for the soul.

I think you're probably right. They spook me pretty good, and I'm a grown man. I'm sorry, it won't happen again.

Mrs. Caldwell made one more sideways glance toward the house then relented to my rakish charm.

Honestly. Some of us have to get our beauty sleep.

I'm sure some do, but if I may say, all you're doin' is banking it for later.

That broke a sheepish smile across her face and she chortled a little under her breath.

Good night Aubrey.

Halfway across her lawn she turned back.

You won't let it happen again will you? Scared me half to death.

No ma'am. I promise you it won't happen again.

Her door clicked shut just in time. Something large, prowled across the light and then I heard the sound of bones cracking drift lightly from my house.

Part XII

It had started the day after I'd left to see my Uncle. It seemed to me that while I had been flying overhead, whoever had killed my Uncle had hit the road and made a beeline for me. Serendipity maybe, pure dumb luck more likely. At least I hoped it was the same people. It'd save me a hell of a lot of bother if it was.

According to Carl they'd drive by slowly at night looking for any sign someone was living here. Carl said he kept the lights off at night except for the TV and then pointed to the windows of the living room, where I hadn't noticed that he'd hung black trash-bags over the wood slat blinds so the light wouldn't leak out.

I winced a bit inside when I realized he'd used duct tape to do it. That was definitely going to remove the finish. I'd have to stain them again.

Now that the van was in the driveway, I could readily assume I'd be having visitors. I pulled a couple hundreds from the draw of the desk in the study and handed it to Carl. I told him to get a hotel room until the whole thing blew over.

It took two more beers and me having to listen to Carl apologize a few more times before I could convince him I'd be fine. After he left I annoyed Mr. Toots by rubbing him on the head then went out into the back yard.

One of the other reasons I liked this house, beyond the hardwood floors and trim was the fact that the back yard butted up against the School for the Deaf. All that lay between my property and theirs was a narrow access road. I liked the fact that even though my yard ended and their lawn began, that almost all I could see was a nice hill of green grass. This view wouldn't change any time soon.

Back inside I laid a map of the Island on the kitchen table. I doused the lights and lit four candles I'd placed on the north, south, east and west corners. It was adjusted to true north. The first time I'd done this trick I'd forgotten to align the map with true north and I'd spent a week walking in the wrong direction. Ever since then I used a compass. My internal sense of direction was for shit. I can't say why, or what started it or made it stick, but ever since I was about nine I thought whatever direction I was facing was north. The first day I learned to use a compass I almost fell in love with it.

The map and candles set, I opened the drawer next to the sink and pulled out a small silk bag. Inside were twelve chicken bones I'd won in a game of poker off the Carolina coast. I don't so much remember the card game as the man I won it from. His name was Black Earl, and these were his prize divining bones. Lord knows how long it took him to fix 'em the way he did, or where he learned, but these bones were as solid as anything I'd ever seen.

I mumbled under my breath and rolled the bones from my hand. They lay on the map a second then began to right themselves. Slowly, the smoke from the candles moved inward, drifting to the map and coalescing into human forms like tin soldiers on a field. It seemed that there were five death runners on the island tonight, but only one was Emily. It took me a second as I scanned the group. Picking her out wasn't too hard. She wasn't at the house, but by the river. She always was a bit of risk taker.

A half a mile from the house I remembered that I hadn't fed Mr. Toots in almost a day. While he hadn't complained or begged for food I felt bad just the same. He was relying on me now, I had to get that thorough my head. It'd been a long time since any body, or anything had relied on me for something so basic as food.

Emily was watching the lights from downtown Knoxville dance on the water. She'd crept close, but not so close she couldn't pull back if the wind kicked up a surge. Even a bit of the river water would rip her right off the land and carry her where she belonged. She heard me coming and turned to watch me as I made the last few meters to the water's edge. Her face went from fifty-six to twenty-five in half a second.

Aubrey, it's good to see you again. What brings you to the river?

I need to know Em, I need to know where my Uncle is. I need to find who killed him, and you're the only Death Runner I can trust.

Emily smiled and moved toward the river a step.

Part XI

Oh shit man, you OK?

My friend Carl was leaning over me. He'd been eating corn nuts.

I sat up, which was all I could do and felt the back of my head. The skin wasn't broken; his sap was a beavertail.

What the hell are you doing walking around smacking people on the back of the head with a beaver tail Carl?

You just got back, you don't know what's been going on around here. The Island's gettin' edgy.

The Island wasn't really an island. But, it had probably felt that way when Emily Dickinson's favorite cousin Perez had built a home across the Tennessee River from the burgeoning bustle of downtown Knoxville. His place still sat on the grounds of the Deaf School, and I'd chatted with Emily on more than one occasion. She still hung around the place. I'm not sure why. Maybe she split her time between here and The Homestead in Amherst. Her biographers would roll over in their graves if they knew she preferred it here. Most of them never knew she had visited.

I'd relocated here because of the river. It's always good to have a large body of moving water on at least one side of you at all times. If I had my way I's live on a real island. Moving water has a way of keeping dead things form gettin' too close. I actually have my suspicions that it's the very reason Emily likes it here too. It's not easy if you choose to stay behind when your time comes. Death doesn't work that way, but 'ol Emily was a pro at keeping ahead of the Reapers.

Carl eventually helped me up and into the house. Mr. Toots came on his own accord. I had Carl get the litter box from the van and put it in the downstairs bathroom.

You still haven't givien me a good reason for sappin' me.

I thought you were one of the guys whose been hanging out watching your place. I thought one of them had gotten ballsy all of a sudden.

They've been watching my place?

Yeah?

Wait, how do you know? You live ten miles from here.

Actually, the old woman threw me out. I came over to see if you'd let me stay here for a while. When I didn't find you here. I just sort of...

...moved in.

Yeah.

I had a soft spot for Carl. He was one of those people who worked hard all of their lives and never got a break. I'm not saying his drinking didn't have something to do with that, but he never missed a day of work and he was one of the most honest people I'd ever met. Plus his old lady was a real hard ass. She was the kind of woman that'd make a man work two jobs just so she didn't have to work at all.

I don't know what Carl saw in her, she catted around right in front of him. One time he told me she'd made him bring Ice Tea and sandwiches to her and some guy she'd picked up that night after they were done messin' up the sheets. When I'd pressed him about it he just looked away embarrassed and defeated and told me that marriage was a oath, and that meant his word. Carl never went back on his word.

Mr. Toots settled in on my favorite chair, so I took the sofa with Carl and a couple of beers. I told him most of what had happened. He looked glum for a bit, he'd known how much I'd cared for my uncle. When I was done it was his turn.

Part X

Back at the storage facility I took time to think about what I needed and what I didn't. I wouldn't be back down for a while and if I miscalculated it could spell trouble. So, as Mr. Toots wandered around familiarizing himself with the new interior, I took time to go over what I had.

I also took a minute to plug in my laptop and go online. I'd never really used my wireless modem account, but now I was glad I had it. I made sure I'd paid all of my bills and checked my e-mail for the first time in a week. Nothing earth shattering. I rolled some funds from one account to another and made sure nothing would bounce. I e-mailed the storage company and switched whatever payment scheme there had been to my credit card. It'd do for now.

I'd put everything I thought I'd need in a black duffle back I'd found in the storage room. I hoisted it over one shoulder. I felt bad waking Mr. Toots. He'd found a warm spot on the desk under the lamp. My hands were full when I approached the door. It went up without me doing a thing. I'm sure my Uncle had rigged the motion sensors for just an occasion such as this. Not the cat, but being laden down with things.

I had to put the bag and the cat down outside to rework the runes, but Mr. Toots knew where we were going. He sauntered over to the van and waited for me to open the passenger door. Somehow he jumped up into the seat. He was curled and purring before I even shut the door. I threw the duffle in the back and got behind the wheel.

I shot up 231 heading for Dothan, Alabama. I racked my brain trying to remember where the best boiled peanuts would be on the way north. It was the right time of the year for peaches too.

The trip would take about ten hours. Mr. Toots was asleep so there was no one to talk to. I turned on the radio and finally found an AM station with news of the Apocalypse. I could never really say why I loved listening to AM radio evangelists, but it was a road trip habit. It had something to do with their delivery. They spoke with passion and conviction about something so muddled and convoluted it had a truth of its own. My favorite part was how they would shift gears every ten to fifteen minutes and ask for donations. What the hell did they need donations for? The world was coming to an end.

I finally found some good boiled peanuts two hours into the drive. Something had changed in the last twenty years or so. It was almost impossible to find plain ones anymore. All of the signs now said CAJUN or RED HOT. The only spice I wanted on mine was salt. Nothing like sucking a boiled peanut out of its shell with a couple of drops of its briny embryonic boil.

Mr. Toots didn't seem to care for them, so I pulled into a grocery store and bought a couple of cans of cat food and a couple cans of solid white albacore tuna in water just in case he turned out to be snobbish. He'd probably grown old on left over gumbo and Creole butter shrimp. It turned out I was right. He turned his nose at the cat food but got damn near apoplectic when I cracked the tuna. I plopped it into a bowl and grabbed the jug. I added my best approximation of a quarter teaspoon of his special tonic from the jug. He'd lived this long, who was I to take his tonic away.

An hour later I realized I'd thought of everything but one thing. The smell of Mr. Toots taking a toot drifted into my nostril and started burning my hairs.

Dammit 'Ol Man, the least you could have done was warn me. Whew, you sure you ain't dead?

Mr. Toots hissed and lay his head down. I found his little gift at our next stop and promptly pulled into the next pet store I could find. I bought a hid-a-way number with charcoal filters and placed it in the back of the van as far as I could.

We made it Knoxville just after 11:00 PM. I pulled up my driveway about ten minutes later. Getting out of the van I took a minute to breathe the air. It was fresh and smelled of home.

If I hadn't had my eyes closed I probably would have seen the bastard that'd hit me in the back of the head with a black jack. Everything went dark. The last thing I smelled was Sassafras and wormwood.