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first to his feet, gritting sizzling teeth and exhaling smoke.
I thought of a doomed bull refusing to fall to the matador’s
bloody blade.
My eyes were still adjusting to the renewed darkness
when Lefty seemed to take a shot from a cannon, throwing
him from the blackened earth. Their giant, rampaging
adversary was up and swinging, apparently untouched by
the lightning. It sent Lefty flying, his body slapping against
the side of the stone church like a wet side of beef. The bull
finally fell, seemingly disinclined to rise again.
The Goblin rose from the smoldering ground, drifting
upwards and vanishing in the same breath. Smart guy, that
one.
Spiderlocks and Mr. Grey were side by side, a united
front as the monster lunged. The two killers parted,
allowing the creature to pass between them. They turned in
tandem, laying blades and sharpened bone into the passing
behemoth, teasing out another shriek from the killer of
killers. Unfortunately, the creature’s speed belied its size, as
it quickly pivoted, punting Mr. Grey into a smoldering pine
tree. My master coughed blood, collapsing in a heap.
Spiderlocks was back atop the creature, her clawed hands
yet again chasing the thing’s spine. In an instant, the monster
barreled toward the remaining walls of the church. Just prior
to impact, it spun, forcing the Spider to take the brunt of the
impact. She splattered, a dragonfly on a highway windshield.
I noticed Mr. Grey struggling to his feet again. I was two-
minded about his efforts. I certainly wanted to reclaim my
freedom—to be all alone to write my shitty, shitty books—
but I was also eager to see my captor win his contest, if only
to witness the results.
At some point, I became aware of a strange bit of
whispering wind, scraping dead leaves across the concrete
floor of the church. It came from the opposite direction as
the scavenger breeze I’d first detected, post-lightning. It
bore the distinct scent of autumn and seemed possessed of
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