Chapter 22 Furyon
Furyon
Hours later, Lemon’s gone, but I can’t stop smilin’. Not even being in my truck on the way to talk to the ophiotaurii can get me down.
A rap at the back window has me glancing over my shoulder.
Sheriff Rygold glares at me through the dusty panes. “Pull over, Furyon. Wanna have a quick chat before we do this.”
Nodding, I stop the truck in the middle of the red dirt road. I hop out and hang my forearms over the truck bed, looking at the sheriff. “What’s up, Bish?”
The giant gargoyle rests against the opposite side of the truck bed, crouched in an uncomfortable-looking position with his wings draped over the side of the truck.
He rests his forearms over both knees. “The Sidewinders club leadership is battling over who’s gonna take the prez’s place now that Rezeth kicked the bucket.
We might have to tackle this cautiously. ”
I cock my head to the side. “Meaning what?”
He jerks his head toward the road ahead of the truck.
“Let’s start with Siral, their vice prez.
If we don’t make headway, you need to get Kohdiy alone somewhere.
He’s not technically in the leadership ranks, but he’s big as fuck and stronger than Siral.
My money’s on that boy to take over. I suspect he’s just bidin’ his time with no plans to follow their club hierarchy. ”
I point at a healing wound that trails down his cheek and neck and into his jean shirt. “Didn’t Kohdiy give you that last time you had to knock heads at their compound?”
He shrugs, hissing through his teeth. “Yeah, but Siral was aimin’ to do worse, so it was the lesser of two evils. Wish I could ask them to just leave the haven, but seems like that’s frowned upon by monster HQ. They’d be more dangerous out in the human world.”
I sigh. “If you say so, Bishop. My gut says we’re missing something obvious, that the ophiotaurii don’t have anything to do with this. They’re focused elsewhere. Always have been. They don’t even like comin’ into downtown. Why would they do this?”
He snarls, “Why do those fuckers do anything they do? Stealin’ cattle, attackin’ Mabel. Leaving the haven to go into the human world…we need a fuckin’ Keeper who can shake some sense into them.”
I laugh at that. “It’ll take a miracle for the Gulch to accept a new Keeper, you know that.”
“Don’t I.” He shakes his head. “Let’s get goin’.”
I get back in the driver’s seat and put the truck in drive.
It’s another five minutes along a dusty, windy dirt road to the ophiotaurii compound.
It comes into view, nestled at the base of the mountains.
Elaborate stacked huts rise three and four stories tall with giant circular open doors.
I know for a fact the “village” is built into the mountain too, but I’ve never seen that part of it.
They’re solitary, unfriendly, and usually involved in some sort of light criminal activity for reasons nobody’s entirely sure of. Ophiotaurii are elusive and as far as I know, we’re the only haven with any of ‘em.
This location gives them the perfect vantage point for anyone approaching their compound. There’s no way to sneak in, so I don’t bother. My truck’s kicking up quite a bit of dust—they’ll be ready for us.
By the time I pull into the circular area the huts are situated around, a dozen enormous ophiotaurii have positioned themselves around the outer edge.
I put the truck in park and hop out, removing my hat and setting it on my seat.
My truck bed creaks as Bishop leaps out of the back, rustling his wings as he joins me.
A snakelike monster slithers forward, the sun glinting off burnished rust-colored scales.
They stop at his waist, and from there up, he might as well be a shorthorn minotaur down to the snout ring and giant horns capped with gold.
He glowers at us, fists balled as he sidewinds across the dirt toward us.
Behind him, a row of custom motorcycles gleams in the sun.
Next to the bikes the other ophiotaurii stand at the ready. Kohdiy, the big yellow ophiotaurus, sits on a giant pile of his coils, arms crossed as he stares at Siral.
“Why are you here?” Siral gets straight to the point as he stops in front of me and Bishop. “You still haven’t healed, Sheriff. I cannot imagine you’re down for more tusslin’.”
Bishop lets out a snarl as he lashes his tail side to side like an angry cat.
“Nope,” I chirp, hopeful that a lowkey attitude will defuse an already tense situation. “We got a problem in town with some animals and wanted to see if you’ve noticed the same out here.”
Kohdiy joins us. “What kind of problems?”
Siral glares at him, but Kohdiy studiously ignores the older male.
“White eyes, vacant expressions, eventual paralysis. They’re shittin’ out some kind of liquid that scorches the earth around them. Like they’re killin’ the land.”
Kohdiy grits his jaw.
“Ain’t seen nothin’ like that,” Siral says, crossing his arms. “Get the fuck outta here. You’re not welcome.”
Kohdiy ignores the other male but jerks his head toward us. “Come with me.”
As he turns to slither away, Siral lurches forward, gripping the back of his neck and spinning the younger male to face him. But Kohdiy looks like he’s got a hundred pounds or more on the other male, and he snaps in Siral’s face, shoving the rust-colored male away from him.
“Killing the land, Siral. Think what it means if we succeed, but our land, our home, is dead. Fucking think it through for once.”
Siral glares at Kohdiy, and behind them, the others rustled in obvious unease, looking between one another.
I suspect Bishop’s right—a fight for leadership of their nest. Ophiotaurii might look like minotaurs from the waist up, but that’s where any similarities end.
Their cobra half seems to rule everything about how they behave.
Kohdiy’s comment about succeeding sends off warning bells in my brain though. Succeed at what? Now ain’t the time to ask, but I file that information away for the future because it’s the first time they’ve so much as hinted at having a particular goal.
Siral doesn’t back down, but Kohdiy turns and slithers off toward one of the huts, waving at us to follow him. Despite my worry over the animals and what’s going on, I’m interested to see the inside of one of these huts for the first time.
Kohdiy disappears into a giant hut. We follow, despite Siral’s warning growl echoing behind us. The inside is lined with shelves covered in household goods and canned fruits and vegetables.
“C’mon.” Kohdiy continues to the opposite side of the hut and through a smaller hole.
I glance up, noticing there’s a long leather sling hung from the ceiling. His bed, I imagine. I shudder, thinking about all the coils of that enormous body piled up in that space.
“This better not be a fuckin’ trap,” Bishop snaps from behind me.
A low chuckle is our only answer as we enter a much darker hut. Even with my fantastic vision, it’s almost too dark for me to make out anything but a stairwell into the darkness. The scent of dirty animals hits me, though.
“You got an underground farm, Kohdiy?”
He says nothing, but the sound of scales slithering over stone helps us follow him.
He moves along the path for about a hundred yards before it opens into a cavernous room lit by skylights.
Kohdiy piles all the coils of his body into the room, tucking them behind him as he descends enough to put his body mostly at the same height as ours.
Even like this, he towers over us, and it ain’t lost on me that a fight with him would likely go badly for me ‘n’ Bishop.
Kohdiy lifts his right arm, pointing to the far end of the room.
“We’ve been finding animals like you described, quarantining them here so they don’t affect the rest. Siral gave me that job, probably hoped I’d get infected so I can’t challenge him.
But so far, whatever’s happening doesn’t seem transmissible to our kind. ”
I walk farther into the giant cavity to get a good look. Sure as shit, animals stand huddled at the far end of the room. Several moose, a handful of elk, a wolf, ten or twelve cattle, and more small animals than I can even count. None of them are moving or even seem to notice one another.
Kohdiy sighs. “Siral forbade me from contacting you about it, but I brought most of these animals in overnight, and I can’t keep doing it. Every time I go out, there are more and more of them. I’m guessing you think we have something to do with it?”
Bishop shoves a toothpick in his mouth and chews. “Do you?”
The big male shakes his head, planting both hands on his hips. “We don’t know what’s going on, but it started about a week ago, and it seems to affect all the wild animals. You got any leads? Or just hoped we’d be conveniently guilty?”
Bishop spits on the ground. “If I didn’t have to keep coming out here on account of the many crimes you tend to commit, maybe my mind wouldn’t fuckin’ wander right to you when something happens.
But seeing as how your crew is the source of most of my ills, not to mention my physical ailments,”—he points at the wound over his eye—“you’ll understand if I think of you first when shit starts happening. ”
The ophiotaurus shakes his head. “You don’t understand what we’re trying to do, and that’s fine.
I don’t expect you to. But we aren’t doing this.
” He points to the animals. “We don’t hurt animals.
Care of the land is as important to ophiotaurii culture as it is to minotaurs, maybe even more so.
We would never do this. We don’t play by your rules, but this would be against all of ours, Furyon. ”
Bishop lets out a disbelieving sound. “Not playing by our rules don’t begin to cover it.”
I hook my thumbs through my belt loops. “You seen anything at all that might explain what’s goin’ on?”
He looks over at the animals, brows bunched in the middle. “I really haven’t. Our healer has tried everything to fix them, but nothing works.”