My sleep was the light, paranoid, restless kind that was further punctuated by noise from outside. I wasn't concerned until I heard screams.

Probably just the cops breaking it up. And it's about time!

I went over to the window and peeked between the blinds.

Oh . . . fuck me. . .

Gray Coats. At least three. I took a slow step away from the window, hoping they didn't see the shades rustle. I stood there, in shock, trying to absorb what was happening outside. But I couldn't see more than moving shadows and headlights.

The screaming soon ended as abruptly as it began. The relative silence made my mind go wild with speculation. Why were they here? Was it because of me or was it a horrific coincidence? When I was outside, did anyone recognize me? Did I say too much to those stupid girls? Yes. Definitely yes. That made me the stupid one.

After a few minutes had passed and nothing else had happened, I sat at the foot of the bed and tried to slow my heartrate with deep breathing. They left and it didn't seem like they were coming back. 

Now what? Leave? Wait it out till morning?

I had no time to decide. A rustling sound from beneath the door had me transforming in a flash. I scurried on all fours behind Skylar's legs. Then I tucked myself underneath her chin and partially below her pillow.

I wasn't the only one to transform. A few moments later, a massive bulldog head appeared above Skylar's body. He gathered her hair into his fist and lifted it from her neck just as the window shades opened, brightening the room with streetlight glare.

Another head of a beast popped up behind the first. The second Gray Coat lowered the back of her nightgown. "Human," he growled in a whisper.

They don't usually bother with humans if they don't have to, and to my relief, he stepped away. "But she's not alone," he added, pointing to the area on the bed where my shorts had been abandoned. Then he went into the bathroom and flicked on the light.

The Gray Coat holding Skylar's hair—still, as if he enjoyed her entrapment—glanced around the room. After taking in the signs of my presence, his other hand began caressing the hair by her ear. His sausage fingers began grazing her neck and collarbone. They were no more than a few inches away from me. I would have bitten them off if my teeth were big enough and had I not clung to the hope that he would leave her alone. She wasn't part of their mission and was clearly unwell. If he had any speck of decency, he wouldn't. . .

He pulled the covers off her body and his hand slithered into the front of her nightgown. The intrusion was vile and disruptive enough for Skylar to stir with a pained whimper.

If he was trying to get me to come out and play, it was working. If he was just evil, dirty, and demented, that was working too.

He lifted up the bottom of her nightgown. His breathing turned heavy. When he reached for his belt, he had dug his own grave. I was back to size not a moment too early. Before the Gray Coat could mutter a call for help, he was against the wall fighting for breath around my invisible chokehold.

I squeezed his throat until he stopped twitching. When I released him, he collapsed to the ground. The sound of the bump and tumble summoned the other Gray Coat back into the room with his sword drawn.

As he took a swing at my head, I blasted it off course and tried to conjure it out of his hand. My pull met strong resistance. Before I had a chance to increase the power, a third Gray Coat burst onto the scene by the door. With my attention divided between the tug and the unexpected presence, I had to let go and transfer all energy into a blast to keep them away from me.

I was forced to rest, heaving for air and reeling for balance.         

They were on their feet and ready to fight before I was, but they kept a cautious distance. "We finally found you, King of the Unworthy," the closer one said in a mocking whisper.

"You'll have to catch me first," I hissed back.

The one in back lurched forward. The other one threw up his hand to block him. "Get the girl."

His direction changed. I blasted his legs out from under him to buy myself some time. Then I transformed small and darted beneath the bed.

I became the priority again. They both transformed to chase me. They'd have to find me in the dark while I was standing still. My plan wasn't to run. It was to protect. That's what I do. That's what I was born to do. 

Bigger . . . Wider . . . Stronger. . .

The magic spread from my fingers, but it got caught in the air just outside myself. I had to stop and rest. My frustration and despair were about to sink me. It was an asinine plan. The stakes were too high and I was seven years out of practice.

When I felt the breeze of a Gray Coat passing me by, I collapsed to my knees. As if deep in prayer, I tried again, focusing on the logistics and the desired outcome. I put all of my heart into it too. I had to protect what mattered most to me and the world was certainly a better place with Skylar in it.

I could feel the magic spread, but was it enough to encapsulate her? I was about to find out. "Make him come to you," I heard whispered in the darkness.

Two feet appeared by the side of the bed. I released what I had created and braced myself for a gasp, a scream, a cry. Instead, I heard, "She's there, but . . . there's something around her!"

I snuck out from beneath the bed and slipped into a deep shadow. I could see them, but they couldn't see me.

The second Gray Coat popped up beside the first and poked his finger into the force field. "He's probably in there with her, the coward."

They glanced at the floor and at each other. The one closest to the exit bobbed his head toward the door. He received a nod of confirmation and then he bolted.

But I was anticipating their plan and rose in front of the door before he reached it. "Leaving? So soon?" He took a startled step back and kept walking. "And I thought I was the coward." I leaned against the door and watched his eyes wander with indecision. "How many of you parasites would it take to bring me down? Just a few more or would you call in the whole fucking army?"

The Gray Coat by the bed launched his sword at me. It spun toward my chest and may have hit me, but I slowed it down and conjured it into my right hand. "Thanks. That was a gift. Now I'm angry and armed."

I stepped forward, the sword ready in my hand as if I were about to follow the known laws of physics. They positioned their remaining weapons in response. They looked to each other, blinked a signal, and charged toward me.

I swung the sword early to distract them. Then, once they converged by the edge of the bed, I blasted them into the corner of the room. While I held them there, I trapped them in a new force field, a tighter, angrier one than Skylar's, impermeable to any penetration, though flexible enough to ebb and flow at my whim.

While they punched, kicked, and stabbed at the barrier, I was shrinking it around them. Their vehemence became desperation, their wild movement was reduced to an occasional twitch. Soon their motion stopped altogether. Still, I squeezed the bubble, just to be sure, until blood splattered across the invisible wall.

I loosened my grip and deflected my eyes.       

Somehow, one foot in front of the other, or maybe a crawl or a stumble—who the hell could remember after all that shit?—I found the foot of the bed again and sat down, this time a naked fairy zombie.

I lost all ability to think for a while. Too long, I'm guessing. I had to clean up the mess I made, get the hell out of New Jersey, and pray to the fairy gods that I didn't leave evidence behind that would link me to Skylar or Gloucester. But none of those crucial steps were coalescing into a logical order. Get dressed, was the best I could do, and hurry made sense as well.

With my jeans on, I checked for my wallet. It was in my back pocket where I always left it. I pulled it out, not knowing why, but hoping for some inspiration. It had all the usual stuff inside of it, but a white card with tattered edges caught my eye.

I darted to the phone with Angela's business card in hand. She would know what to do. 

By the third ring, she picked up. "Who the fuck is calling me at this hour? Someone better be dead."

"It's Scott."

There was a calculating pause. "Everything okay, kid?"

That was a question I couldn't answer. I had to let her do most of the talking. I gave "yes" and "no" answers until she had the gist of what happened. 

"First of all, pull your shit together or you may as well kiss your girl goodbye!"

It was a harsh message, but one I needed to hear. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Be strong. Now, are the cops there yet?"

I dragged the phone and the cord over to the window and peeked between the blinds. "No."

"Good. Stash the bodies out of sight. Is there a lot of blood?"

"No, it's contained."

"Keep it that way and get the hell out of there. I'll take care of the rest."

"Thanks. I owe you a big one."

She snickered. "Force fields. You'll have to make me one sometime."

"Deal."

We hung up and then I did what she had said. I dimmed the bloody bubble until its color blended in with the wall. Over the third body, I hesitated. He suffocated to death, so his uniform was unsoiled. And I wanted to take it, but did I have the time? I decided, yes. I had to make time. The risk was worth the reward.

With magic and my shaky fingers, I worked through all the buttons and latches and flew each piece of the gray uniform into my duffel bag. Then I floated the body into the closet and hid it inside a bubble as well. The hiding place would only have to suffice for a little while. If I knew Angela, the entire motel would be torched to the ground in a matter of hours. And the force fields wouldn't withstand the fire.

I should know.

~~~

Black Sabbath. Children of the Grave (1971).

https://youtu.be/X7UZeHvMYZA