Chapter 8 Furyon
Furyon
I consider my interrogation tactics on the drive out to Mykel Longhorn’s ranch.
It’s a solid half hour from downtown PG, which gives me plenty of time with my thoughts.
My instinct about other monsters ain’t nearly as solid as my instinct about animals, but I still trust my gut.
And my gut says Lemon Knox didn’t have anything to do with the moose.
If she didn’t do it, I have to ponder what else might’a happened. I don’t recognize the illness if it’s natural, and my gut says it ain’t natural at all. So, if I pull that thread, I’ll find someone responsible at the other end. Who in Pine Gulch might do such a thing and to what end?
Echo’s at our office dissecting the animal to see what she can learn, and I’ve already called Letitia at Glimmer to take a look and see if some sorta potion might have caused what we saw. Potions leave magical footprints. If that’s what did this, she’ll know.
Once we got the moose outta the hole, it was clear it was already disintegrating—something that shouldn’t have been possible since it wasn’t dead and in that hole for very long.
Nothing about the situation adds up, and the moose tattoo on my inner forearm throbs softly as I turn off the main road and onto dirt. My tires kick up clouds of red dust as I head deep across the fields toward Mykel’s place. It’s concerning that I haven’t been able to find any of the others.
As I drive, my thoughts drift back to Lemon, to how she poked me right in the chest. She gives off the sassiest vibes, but underneath that, there’s a delicateness to her.
She’s beautiful, playfully sensual, and despite the fact that I’m half-ass investigating her for a crime, I can’t stop thinking about what it might be like to kiss those pretty pink lips.
It ain’t right. It’s a conflict of interest, but I can’t help it, so I let my mind wander as I cross golden fields of wheat.
My thoughts take a decidedly sexual turn as I imagine those lips wrapped around certain parts of my anatomy.
Nobody has to know I find her attractive.
I don’t have to act on that. She ain’t even interested in staying in, what did she call the Gulch again?
A hellsish hellscape or something like that.
I grumble about her impression of PG as I pull up to Mykel’s place. The monster himself is out on the front porch. Next to him stands a towering male gargoyle with a broken horn. He’s got both giant arms crossed over his broad chest as he scowls while the rancher talks.
“Fuck,” I mutter to nobody in particular as I grab my hat and slap it on my head. If Rygold is awake, things are gonna take a turn for the worse.
When I hop outta the truck, the gargoyle glances over at me, a quick dip of the head is his only welcome. A white scar slices down from his broken horn over his left eye, milky white from an old war wound. That side of his mouth has a slice through it too. He ain’t pretty, that’s for sure.
When I join the males on the porch, Mykel looks at me with a frown. “Furyon, I was just fillin’ the sheriff in on our problem. We don’t have to go far to see it. Come on through the house.”
Rygold grits his jaw and gestures for me to follow Mykel through the open front door. Inside, Mykel’s mate and calf play a game in the living room. His mate smiles at me, but it’s a worried look.
When we walk out the back door, I see immediately what Mykel’s concern is. Thirty cattle stand outside his back door, every one faced the same direction—toward the house. Their eyes are white like the moose’s. A shiver runs straight down my spine.
“They ain’t movin’,” Rygold mutters. “At all.”
He’s right. No tail swishing. No chewing on cud. They ain’t acting like cattle. They’re perfectly still, not even blinking as they stare at the house.
But then a cow lifts its tail and shits out a stream of dark liquid.
“It gets worse,” Mykel says. “Come on out here.”
Rygold and I share a concerned look as we follow him out into the field.
It’s disconcerting to walk past cattle who don’t follow us with their gaze.
When we reach the cow, Mykel points at the black liquid pooling on the ground.
I watch in horror as the liquid stretches and spreads to the nearest plants, crawling over it like fingers.
“What the fuck?” I spit out. The black liquid seeps over a clump of dandelions, and the flowers wither and disappear into the slowly spreading pool.
“Been like that all morning,” Mykel says. “Everywhere they defecate, it kills the land for about three square feet.”
Rygold crosses his arms. “They were fine last night?”
“Don’t know. They been in the northern pasture for a few days, so I’m not sure.
When I moved ‘em here last night, they seemed spooked. I figured there must’a been a predator had ‘em worried, but now I’m not so sure.
” Mykel sighs and looks around at the herd.
“I ain’t never heard of anything like this.
” He points toward the cattle tattoo on the outside of my left forearm.
“You ain’t sensed nothin’ amiss, Furyon? ”
I shake my head, staring at the cattle that walk peacefully along my skin. Right by the moose. “Not with the cattle.” I say it to myself more than anything. Considering the similarities between this and the moose, I call Echo. She picks up with a disgruntled-sounding noise.
“Echo, I got some sick cattle out here with white eyes like our moose friend.” I sigh. “Their shit’s spreading like some kind of entity, killing what’s around it. Mind confirming if the moose looks like it recently did the same thing?”
She sighs and clicks off. Mykel and the sheriff look at me in surprise.
“My cattle ain’t the first?” There’s the hint of accusation in Mykel’s tone.
“Not the first.” I run both hands through my hair, ripping it out of its bun and redoing it. Helps me think. “Dead moose got reported last night by a resident.”
Mykel’s crimson eyes narrow. “That pretty vampire we saw at lunch, right? I heard she was workin’ up at Glimmer with Letitia and the crew. A potion coulda done this, don’t you think? You did mention you were interrogatin’ her when I left you.”
Rygold’s dark brows lift, and he gives me a look.
I lift both palms. “I don’t think she had anything to do with this. At least part of her story has been confirmed by both Oz and Bluebell. Plus, she was the one who let us know about the moose.”
“Sounds like I might need to help you,” Rygold says on a heavy sigh. “Damnit, I was hoping to go back to my place and sleep for a week. Got a run-in coming soon with the fuckin’ Sidewinders, and I need all the rest I can get.”
I shoot him a wry look. “I wouldn’t mind your help here, but if you need to rest up to deal with those dickheads, be my guest. Pretty sure they’ve taken a half dozen cattle this month although I couldn’t prove it without going out there. I’ve got this, probably.”
Rygold grumbles under his breath but shakes his head. “Been sleeping more than I ought to, I suppose. I’ll stick around to meet this new girl.” He glances at Mykel. “Anything else you’ve noticed weird about your cattle?”
Mykel waves around. “Ain’t this weird enough, Sheriff?”
We let out matching sighs.
Yeah. This is really fucking weird.