Page 8 of Break Out the Girl

Monster man snaps, teeth scraping across my shoulder. Not nice. My vision blurs a bit, and I let my own crossness take over.

There’s some back and forth. My teeth are not as long as his, so I don’t bother using them, but I’ve got a heck of a wallop to give out.

So that’s what I do. I catch its neck and wham bam its throat.

The thing thrashes around, and then… it just stops.

I stumble back, my shoulder stinging as I watch all the magic leave the corpse. It’s like watching a balloon deflate. The distorted limbs shrink, the elongated spine snaps back into place, and the patches of fur dissolve into thin air.

Lying in the mud is a man.

He looks like someone’s dad.

Not my dad.

But someones.

I don’t feel bad for the dad.

I’m just a lad not a cad.

And I’m on a mission.

Following Kitten’s wishes.

Ooh! Shane!

His odor is quite…spicy, and I just got a whiff. As I gallop to the south it gets stronger, but so do other odors.

One might be Burt but the rest are unknown. Maybe Burt and Shane have already made new friends. There’s really no need because they have me and Kitten.

There’s a huge ridge ahead but I make short work of it, the propulsion my goat legs give me is a thing of wonder. Cripes, the Guinness Book of Records is going to need a whole special edition for all the magical creatures now. I’m pretty sure I could do a single-handed handstand for twenty days. Maybe twenty-one. The thought of all those blue certificates I could get makes me do a little mid-air click-heel as I bound right over the lip of the ridge.

Then down, down, down the other side I go. Deceleration takes a little work, but my hips and backward knees are tied together with elastic, so don’t complain at all when they’re stretched into odd angles. I like it.

Beside a stream I drop low and sniff.

Sniff, sniff.

Oh, the spicy, shivery Shane is close now, and his vibrations are not moving.

But the pong and pulse of Burly Burt is getting stronger.

It’s coming right up out of a dark, rocky crack in the hill. “Peek-a-boo, I’ll soon see you,” I whisper to the stones as I hop across the stream. Any second now…

AHHH!

His massive shape explodes out into the moonlight, all jump-scary and riled up looking. But my magnificent horns soon pull him up short. As he stares, I do a twirl, making sure he gets a good view of my elastic hips.

“Where the fuck is Rory?” he growls.

“Bert!” I throw my arms around him. I’ve missed my bestie.

“Fuck off.” He gives me a play shove, so I shove him back and before we know it we’re in a total shove battle. Like conkers with bodies.

“London! Stop! Where is Aurora?” His voice is battling between a whisper and boom, like it doesn’t know what to do.

“Diddle-ti diddle-ti dumpty, the cat's stuck up the plum tree,” I tell him, so he won’t be worried. “Where’s Shane?”