Chapter 32 Am I Motherfucking Seeing What I Think I’m Motherfucking Seeing
Canyon locked the little library back up, then went to his rucksack. He pulled microphones, night vision equipment, and all their fun little toys out of it and got them all working quickly. Timber pulled equipment out of his rucksack and took it near the door to the balcony.
Canyon yawned, then yawned again.
Timber threw a bag of cookies at his head. “Your turn for a power nap,” he said. “I got this.”
Canyon couldn’t even argue. His eyes were leaden. He grabbed an aid bag from his rucksack to use as a pillow, then squirmed his way under a desk in the corner, and settled in. He fell asleep almost immediately and dreamed a familiar dream.
He was on a slim forest trail with trees all around. The female was behind him. He dreamed of her often but didn’t know who she was. She held his hand, and she spoke, but her voice was soft. He couldn’t understand her. She laughed and his heart leapt at the sound.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Canyon woke up and the dream crumbled apart. He lay still and grasped for it, feeling lost. He wanted to remember what she looked like, or what she’d said, but he couldn’t. He only remembered the tinkling of her laughter and the sweetness of her scent.
Beep. Beep.
Canyon shook it off and checked Predator’s screen for the time.
It was just after midnight. He stood and stretched in the dark room.
Two of the large windows and the door were standing open and Timber was outside on the balcony with a beeping parabolic microphone.
Timber smacked it once and the noise stopped.
Canyon headed out to the balcony. What’d I miss?
It’s all quiet out here.
Canyon stretched again, then stopped suddenly. Do you smell… fox? he said.
Timber became instantly still, scenting the air. He quietly put the mic down.
Hope so.
They both hunkered down. Timber lifted his thermal imaging binoculars to his eyes.
Got him, he said, motioning to the north edge of the surrounding forest.
He gave Canyon the binocs. Canyon saw it right away—a small red fox, almost certainly a juvenile, moving from tree to tree, surveying the houses as Canyon and Timber surveyed it.
What’s under its belly?
Can’t tell.
The fox broke from the tree line and entered the neighborhood with no care and no stealth.
It went straight to the front door of a house, and shifted into a naked male—a boy, probably no older than 11 or 12.
What was on his belly proved to be his clothing, tied to him.
The boy dressed quickly and went in the front door like he had a key.
Can’t see him anymore.
Let’s get closer.
Before they could move, a flashlight turned on inside, moving past windows—on the ground floor first, and then upstairs, into a room.
Canyon and Timber could see little. Canyon grabbed the night vision goggles and looked again.
The boy fished something out of a drawer and flopped down on the bed, and suddenly his face was lit by what he was holding—a handheld video game console.
Redhead, slim face, athletic. Looks like a Van Crimson.
Bet he lives there.
Bet you’re right.
Timber pointed his parabolic microphone that way and handed Canyon an earpiece. Canyon stuck it in his ear and heard the tiny beeps and boops of a video game.
Sounds like Super Mario Bros, Canyon said.
What do you think—Timber broke off and motioned for Canyon to stay silent. Someone else is coming.
It was a tall man, thick and broad through the chest and shoulders, with short red hair, wearing jeans, boots, and a dark hoodie, moving by the light of the moon.
He was already out of the forest, striding fast and purposefully after the boy.
He went straight to the house the boy had gone to and slipped right inside.
After a moment, a door slammed, and then the man was in the room and the boy jumped out of the bed.
“Marcus!” The man hissed. “I can’t believe it.”
Marcus flattened himself against the far wall.
“Uncle Reynard,” he said, his voice meek. “Chill, it’s not what you think.”
“You sneak away from camp, come home and play video games and then have the nerve to tell me it’s not what I think? Your mother is worried sick that Khain got you.”
“Khain’s not real.”
“Not real!? Are you kidding me? You don’t think he’s real?”
Marcus shook his head. “He’s made up, just like the Bogeyman, and Santa Claus, and the Easter Bunny.”
“Holy crap Marcus, your stupidity is going to get you killed or pulled into the Pravus.”
“The Pravus isn’t real either.”
Reynard slapped a hand to his forehead. “I’m going to—” but then he stopped talking and he looked around. He rubbed his forearms and then the hair on his head, and his manner changed immediately.
“He’s coming,” Reynard whispered, motioning Marcus to him. “You’ll see how made up he is in a second.”
Marcus came away from the wall. He moved close to his Uncle Reynard, and he looked all around, his eyes as wide as saucers. “No. He’s not real.”
Canyon stood, realizing what was about to happen, but before he could say a word, the night flashed bright as day, blinding him. Canyon clapped his hands to his eyes. Instead of familiar darkness, the inside of his mind was a blazing, brilliant white.
“Unhhh,” Timber groaned next to him. “I’m blind.”
Through the earpiece, Canyon heard commotion where Marcus and Reynard were, sounding like doors opening and objects falling over.
“Run!” Reynard shouted to Marcus. “Protect your mother! If I see you in the Pravus, you’d better be dragged in fighting like a hero!”
Canyon blinked hard and fast but still couldn’t see anything but blinding light. Around him, the ground shook and the air felt electrified. The hair on his head and arms stood on end.
Canyon shifted several times inside his clothes, quick as he could, man to wolf, wolf to man, clearing his vision a little more with each shift.
At the house where Reynard and Marcus were, the very air split open, and an actual giant stepped out of nowhere.
Not a giant—Khain. He was giant-sized, taller than the house, with shoulder-length dark hair, tanned skin, and a ferocious expression, wearing black leather pants, motorcycle boots, and a giant T-shirt that had ‘ALL FOXEN GO TO THE PRAVUS’ on it in flame-licked block letters.
Canyon had never seen Khain in the flesh before. His mind staggered, but then his training and his nature took over. He shifted and kicked free of his clothes.
Am I motherfucking seeing what I think I’m motherfucking seeing? Timber said in ruhi, rubbing his eyes, staring hard, then shifting into a wolf with a growl.
Canyon leapt onto the balcony railing, and then neatly down to the ground, dimly aware of his brother following.
Let’s get his ass, Canyon said.
Hell yeah, for Mom, Timber said.
They picked up speed, teeth bared, growling and attack-barking, crossing the distance between them and Khain, skirting houses, coming up to the last house between them and Khain—a noise like cannon fire split the night.
Instead of going around, Canyon leapt onto the porch of the house, then its apex, planning to jump from there to Khain’s throat.
He crested the roof and saw Khain tear the top off house Reynard and Marcus were in.
Canyon leapt for the monster, then twisted in midair to avoid chunks of roofing flying at him.
Glass broke and boards splintered. Something big hit Canyon in the back of the neck, knocking him loopy.
He dropped back to the roof of the house and shook his head.
Khain pitched pieces of debris to the ground and stared down into the destroyed house. Reynard stood near a door, arms folded, staring up at the demon calmly.
Behind Khain, a red fox darted into the forest at lightning speed. Khain’s head swung that way, but Reynard jumped onto a desk, grabbed the top of the free-standing wall and muscled himself upwards until he was standing on what was left of the roof of the house.
He shouted at the demon and put his fists up. “Let’s go, big man! I’m right here!”
Khain focused back on Reynard and grinned an evil grin.
Canyon leapt for Khain. Khain threw a giant elbow and smacked Canyon flying. Canyon jumped up and darted in again, calling out to Reynard in ruhi, not knowing if the foxen would hear. We’re here—two wolven coming in fast. Keep him in the Ula if you can.
Reynard’s mental voice came back strong. Don’t worry vodvod, I’m not going to the Pravus without a fight.
The night exploded with light and sound.
Canyon was mid-leap and could see nothing.
He landed on the ground, still blind. He sensed his brother right there with him, growling and running at full speed.
Canyon leapt again and slammed face first into something that hadn’t been there a moment before.
He shifted at high speed, wolf to man and back while he was running, constantly healing himself, seeing flashes and hearing explosions, then the high keening cry of a fox.
Canyon’s vision cleared a little, enough to see that he’d run into an uprooted tree.
He clambered over it. A red fox flew through the air above Khain.
Khain grew bigger with a demonic roar and tried to grab the fox.
It twisted, came down on Khain’s face and went for the giant eyeball with teeth and claws out.
Khain screamed and grabbed his face. The fox ran up onto his head, around the hand and down to the other eyeball, growling and yipping.
Don’t let him get a hand on you! Canyon shouted, knowing instinctively that’s how Khain would pull Reynard into the Pravus.
Reynard’s ruhi amplified a hundred-fold and he yipped a war-cry. His brain! I kill it!
Canyon reached Khain and attacked his leg, behind the knee, digging and ripping with his teeth, clawing his way up Khain’s body, trying to give Reynard more time.
Black ichor filling his mouth and nose, spilling down the front of him, threatening to choke him.
He growled it away and clawed his way up the giant body chewing for vital organs.
Brain. I kill—KIIILLLL! Reynard screamed again.
Khain slapped a giant hand to his own giant face and the night exploded in more white light.
Canyon went flying through the air head over tail, somersaulting through debris.
A two by four smacked him in the head and then he walloped into the side of a house, cracking the wood.
He stuck there like a giant fly, and then he fell to the ground with a liquid thud, ribs broken, cartoon stars in his vision.
Canyon blacked out.