Chuggie and the Desecration of Stagwater (31 page)

"I could do that," said Olin.

"Well, it's not all action. They gotta inspect houses to make sure they're built right. Roads, too. And the cities usually write up strict rules that apply just to Steel Jacks."

"That's boring stuff," said Olin.

Chuggie had plenty more to say about Steel Jacks, but little boys didn't care about world domination conspiracies. Or did they? The two of them trekked along, not saying any more for a long time.

 Chuggie's heart nearly burst when he looked up and saw the little house on the cliff. A thin wisp of smoke rose from its crumbling chimney, and gangly scarecrows stood sentinel in the yard.

He wanted to sprint, but he kept himself composed for the boy. "This is where she lives, the lady I told you about. See those scarecrows over there?" Chuggie pointed.

"I see them," Olin answered.

"They can walk on their own."

"Really?" The boy's eyes grew wide.

"Really," said Chuggie. "Give 'em a wide berth. I don't trust 'em too much. Don't tell anybody I told you that."

Shola stepped out from behind the house with an armload of kindling. One of her scarecrows, the one with a red shirt and a block of wood for a head, flapped his arms and pointed.

Shola turned. Upon seeing Chuggie and Olin, she froze. Her arms went limp, and the wood fell to the ground.

"
Chuggie
!" she yelled, breaking into a run. "You came back! You came back!"

Chuggie braced himself for impact.

Shola dove through the air and crashed into his chest. They both tumbled to the ground as Olin inched away from the commotion.

Shola pecked a frenzy of kisses onto Chuggie's face and neck. He laughed as he tried to restrain her.

"Hey, come on," he said.

"Why are you covered in blood?" she gasped. "What happened to you?"

"Shola, meet my new friend Olin." Chuggie turned her face toward the boy. "He was in a little trouble when I found him. I helped him out, and I said we'd take him with us."

She stood, brushed herself off, and stepped toward Olin with a hand held out. "Hello," she said, shaking his hand. "Feel that grip! You're handsome
and
strong." She scooped him up in an excited hug.

Olin's face filled with worry. His body relaxed, however, as Shola squeezed him to her bosom. As her breasts pressed against his neck, that worried frown was replaced by a bashful grin. His arms hung loose, then wrapped around her waist.

Chuggie stood with a smile and straightened the things hanging off him. "Makin' a move on my woman, boy?"

Shola led them to her little cooking fire. She sat them down and served them big slabs of pork rib.

"What happened to you?" Shola flitted around giving them cups of this and ladling spoonfuls of that onto their plates. "What was it like in town? Did you have enough money?"

Chuggie just smiled at the boy. Olin smiled back, and they chewed in unison. Olin stuck out his tongue at Chuggie with a wad of chewed meat on it. Chuggie did the same.

"Why are you all bloody? Were you injured? Where'd you get this satchel? Is that a dagger?"

With a full belly, Chuggie groaned and leaned back. The cool morning air held nothing but possibilities.

After they ate, Shola prepared a hot bath for Olin. She took the boy by the hand, undressed him and watched as he climbed into the tub. "You know what to do?"

Olin nodded and grabbed the soap.

Shola sat down next to Chuggie and took his hand in hers. "I didn't think you'd come back." Her eyes lingered on the goat-face purse hanging from his belt before she looked in his eyes.

"Said I would." He squeezed her hand.

"I know, but I'm stuck here alone. I started to think the worst as soon as you left."

"The purse you sent me after, it wasn't in town." Chuggie let go of her hand and grabbed the purse. He held it up and studied it. The leathery goat-face smelled as old as it looked. It was even cracking apart in places. "I got this for you. A little something I picked up." He held the goat-face purse out to her.

Shola tucked her hands at her sides. "Well, where did you get it, then?" Her eyes locked onto the beady-eyed goat-face.

"I fought for it in a graveyard Desecration."

"Desecration?!" she hissed. Her arms twitched as if she struggled to hold them still.

"I got this knife there, too." Chuggie pointed to the Bleeding Jaws of Glughu but didn't touch it.

 "A good woman died so I could bring you this purse. Faben Brassline's blood bought you this thing."

Shola turned her face away. "I didn't mean for anyone to die."

"I know that's true. Ain't your fault. If anyone's to blame, it's that Haste bastard. If I could get my hands around his neck…" Chuggie put a hand on Shola's shoulder.

She buried her face in his chest. He expected heaving sobs, but none came. She held still against him, not making a sound.

"All right, let's get moving. How do we use the purse? How do we set you free?"

"Not just yet," she whispered.

After they got Olin out of the tub, Chuggie carried him into Shola's little house and placed him on her bed. They bundled the exhausted boy in blankets.

"Why don't you rest up a while?" said Chuggie. "You're gonna need your strength when we hoof it out of this place." He gave the boy's foot a gentle shake.

Eyes half shut, Olin answered, "I can't sleep unless you tell me another story."

Chuggie smiled. "If that's what you need, that's what you'll get."

Shola stroked the boy's hair, and then moved aside so Chuggie could sit on the bed. She found a seat amongst her carefully balanced household clutter.

"Years and years ago, I used to fish a creek by this town called Stonerose. The fish in that creek weren't very big, but there was tons of 'em, and they damn near leapt into your hands. They tasted better than any fish ever caught, too. I always supposed it had to do with the minerals in the water combined with the types of plant life along the creek's edge. That's a fascinating topic right there, but it's one that'll have to wait for another time.

"One day I was out catchin' some lunch when I saw this hawk out of the corner of my eye. I tossed a stick toward him, hopin' he'd leave, but he just sat up on his branch eyeballing my catch. I yelled at him, I gestured offensively, an' I threw more sticks. Nothin' scared him away. Using superior intellect, I baited my hook with a minnow and cast it at the hawk. Sure enough, he swooped down and plucked it from the air.

"I reeled that hawk in, fighting it like I would a fish. I got it in my net, measured it, the whole bit. The hook wasn't in his mouth too deep, so I pulled it out. It was still in my net at this point, mind you. The hawk started talkin' to me, which surprised me greatly, as the only hawks I'd ever known had all been mute. He told me —."

"He's asleep now," Shola said.

Her interruption flustered Chuggie for a moment. He stared at her, blinking, until his mind caught up. "Don't
you
want to hear the rest of the story?"

"Some other time. You sure like stories about birds."

The rejection stung a bit, but she walked over and took him by the hand. She led him outside to the cliff's edge and laid him down on the gravelly ground. The cool morning breeze swirled about them, hinting of snow. She slid out of her clothes. Chuggie drank in her autumn flower scent as she ground against him. The pillows of her breasts pressed warmly against his chest. She moved up and down, unbearably slow. Her nails dug into his shoulder.

For Chuggie, nothing else in the world mattered. These moments, embracing his witch-lover, made all his troubles drift away like smoke in a dream.

They caught their breath, body heat cooling in the wind. "Chuggie, you're filthy and covered in blood."

"Only slightly," he murmured.

"You've been bleeding," she said, sounding more interested than concerned.

"Nah, it's this dagger. When I hold it, I get this blood runnin' out my mouth." It sat on the pile of his clothes, and he reached over for it. As he held it to demonstrate, a crimson trickle emerged from his lips.

The speed and violence of the blade's influence surged through him. He perceived the invisible lines of connection everywhere he looked. Dark sparkles surrounded Shola, blocking the lines. Part of the spell upon her, he guessed. He saw her aged body superimposed over her youthful form. The spider tattoo on her hip pulsed gray-black-gray-black.

She took the Bleeding Jaws from him, and his mind sloshed back to fuzzy, drunken normalcy.

"There's somethin' else," Chuggie said. "I kinda killed a guy."

"You
kinda
killed a guy?" Shola waved the dagger around, but her mouth didn't bleed. She tossed it back to his pile of clothes and started putting her own back on.

Chuggie got dressed, too. "Didn't have much reason. The guy was a lousy bartender, but he didn't deserve what he got."

"What did you do?" she asked.

"I stormed his bar an' stabbed him in the heart." Chuggie picked up the dagger, slid it back into his belt, and spat some blood. "Killed 'im for a bottle o' rum."

"Maybe your new blade made you do it." she said. "I'd advise against using it too much. In fact, I think you should throw it over the cliff." She reached for it, but he blocked her hand. "Fine, let's clean you up."

Shola tugged him along behind her over to the well. She dunked a rag into a water basin and held it out to him.

"What about this purse?" Chuggie took the rag and rubbed his face. "What do we have to do?"

"I must go alone to the tree I showed you. The blood maple with the oleostex eye hanging in it. With the help of my scarecrows, I should be able to lift whatever spell or curse holds me here."

"Then we can go?" His words were muffled by the rag as he scrubbed.

"Yes, then we can leave."

"I want to leave today," Chuggie said. "I don't know what's brewin' in that town, if they're going to search us out or what. Best to be gone before we find out."

"My scarecrows?" She took the rag, rinsed it, and began washing his neck.

"They stay here." He unwound his chain and took off his shirt again. He draped his aching arms over her shoulders.

By the time Shola scrubbed Chuggie clean, Olin had awoken and ventured outside. Chuggie sat with Olin by the fire as a worried-looking Shola went inside her house. He could hear her carefully balanced piles of junk topple over in a clattering chain reaction.

She emerged a few minutes later with an armload of charms and scrolls. Without speaking to Chuggie or Olin — without even glancing at them — she collected the goat-face purse and walked away. Eight spindly scarecrows trailed behind her as she set off for the blood maple.

"What's she doing?" Olin threw handfuls of grass and leaves into the fire.

Chuggie held his fire poking stick in the flames until the tip started to burn. "Well, boss, Shola used to live in Stagwater years ago." He waved the stick around as he spoke. The flames went out, and the hot coal of the tip glowed brighter the faster he waved it. A trail of smoke followed wherever he swung the glowing point. "She said some stuff some folks didn't wanna hear, so they brought her down her and chained her up with conjury."

"Mr. Kale and the Haste did that?" asked the boy.

"I don't know if they did it," Chuggie said. "That was a long damn time ago. Maybe Kale an' Haste were around, but I can't say if they were involved."

Olin stared at the ground, most likely thinking about Kale and the attempted torturgy of the night before. Chuggie poked him in the belly.

"But it's all about to be behind us." Chuggie smiled and tussled Olin's hair. "We're leaving this rotten place as soon as she's done back there."

The boy looked sadly down at his old torturgy mask. It'd be hard for him to leave that life behind, no matter how terrible. All things fear the unknown.

Chuggie opened his mouth for further consoling when he heard Shola screaming in the distance.

"Sit tight." Chuggie ran toward the blood maple. Shola's name echoed in his buzzing head, and he feared the worst, the unknown.

Chuggie skidded to a stop at the foot of the tree.

Shola writhed on the ground. Around her, she had laid out a circular pattern of sticks, furs, and stones. Hand-spun rope made a spider web within the circle. Raw, bloody skin ringed her neck.

Chuggie ran her. "Are you alright?" He dropped to his knees. "Are you alright, lady? What happened?"

"It didn't work," she whimpered, wrapping her arms around his neck. Once again, she buried her face in his chest. Once again, he expected heaving sobs and a shirt soaked in tears, but he got neither.

"It has to work, Shola. It has to work. What can I do? You want me to climb the tree and bring down the oleostex eye?"

In response, a scarecrow stepped forward and held out the eye. Chuggie waved the scarecrow away.

"What next? Come on, what can we do?" He shook her too hard.

"What
can
be done
has been
done," Shola said in a monotone.

"No. We been through too much. We're leavin' this place, and we're leavin' now. You say the bonds aren't broken? Fine, I'll go to Stagwater. I'll go there, and I'll
make
them release you!" Chuggie let her go, jumped up and started stomping back to the house.

Shola staggered to her feet, ran to catch up, and fell into step beside him. "You can't go," she pleaded. "They'll lock you up for sure! Then what?"

Behind her, the grinning scarecrows gathered up her things.

"Then so be it. I ain't quittin'."

"Maybe I just need more time," she said, holding out the goat-face purse.

"Get that away from me," Chuggie marched out of the woods and into Shola's yard. "That's yours. I don't want nothin' to do with it. I saw a man look inside. He stripped off his clothes, chewed off his tongue, and gouged out his eyes. Then he dove off the bridge onto some rocks. I didn't check, but I assume he died from the fall. That, or the impact."

"I'm not laughing."

"Neither am I," he said. "I saw another guy look in it, too. He didn't do much better than the first. I'll take this here bone dagger, though. I think some folks in town want it. If I can't use it to bargain for your freedom, I'll use it to persuade 'em in other ways." Chuggie gathered up Kale's satchel, Faben's book, and the Bleeding Jaws of Glughu.