A Bump in the Road. Chapter Nine.
A Bump in the Road
Chapter Nine
By Roofles
"So why the hell are we doing this again?" I found myself asking only at the last minute as we walked into the pub.
Marco had, somewhat, explained to me about this place. This pub was the most reliable gateway to use for the random guy or gal or monster like us. One reason why everyone seemed to find it so strange I had come in through "the back door" into the in-between. And no I'm not interested in backdooring anyone, I was just good at it. The gatekeeper here as well was very "tolerant" to most people unlike other gatekeepers that usually served only a certain group. I wasn't sure what he meant by tolerance but coming into the room I could see why.
Across from us, on the other side, was several members of the gang. In their wanna be punk black leather jacket and silver (color that is) studs and chains, wearing collars and huddled together as they murmurred in low voices as they spied us. The dude even let these fuckers in. One of the group got up as we entered, even as the other told him to sit back down, and strutted over.
I was about to learn why this place was a sanctuary for most.
Even before he had begun anything it ended. I assumed he was coming over to mock us, laugh and try to get us to start something. Throw the first punch. That or show off for his friends. All common things you see around gangs. Putting on a brave face, in a mock display of prowess showboating for the others. Just one giant pissing contest that never ended.
A large hand landed on his shoulder even before he reached us, his mouth slightly open about to make some dumb ass remark and silenced even before he could form the words in that thick head of his.
"Not. In. Here." The bartender just said from behind him.
The dude wasn't small. He was a meathead with more brawn than brains. Someone you'd see as an extra in The Untouchables. That or someone you'd see in some white suprimece rally. Big, white, bald and with an ugly face. Strong jaw line, oversized shoulders and puffing out his chest as if trying to increase his already bear like stature.
In comparison he was anything but.
The bartender, a dark almost bronze skin man I never caught the name of, stood behind him. He blocked out the hanging lantern behind him and loomed over the man as if our new friend were several feet shorter. His very presence made me feel meek and I wasn't a small guy either, ok not like the dude(s) in front of me but still. Or like Marco. But as a normal average guy I was decent. Powerful arms and strong sturdy legs made my own feel like twigs however. He wasn't a body builder but was toned, someone you would see in the military not displaying himself on tv for his own ego. He had a buzz cut to match making me assume he was in fact just that, ex-military. Of what country? I could only guess. A large golden bull ring hung from his nose otherwise his face was bare, his cheeks sculpted like some bronze statue you'd see in Greece. Wearing a pair of old jeans, a white T-shirt and a greasy apron over it he was, by far, the best type of bouncer.
The skinhead face fell and I could see every ounce of blood drain from it. With a dull nod he turned and began dragging his legs behind him as if they had lost all feeling in them.
"The hell you want?" The bartender nearly snarled. That was if his voice wasn't a droll, toneless sound like the ringing of a very old, large church bell. His eyes turned to me and they seemed to look through me at something else as if someone was standing behind me. I almost looked over my shoulder to see whatever it was.
"We got business." Marco grunted pushing past him and not slowing his powerful stride. His body was already ripping clean of the flesh suit he wore and I had took look away as my brother's body was mangled and torn apart like used tissue paper. Black obsidian fur sprouted in its place. Arms elongating, back stooping and even from the doorway I could hear the sickening sound of ribs cracking, breaking and reforming into something far less human.
Digitigrade legs (that raised heel of a canine leg) formed and Marco nearly fell over onto all fours before a rather fluffy tail sprouted to help his balance. Ears stuck up on his broad head, turning here and there before he stopped at the back door of the pub (it couldn't been the front door for all I knew with all these things around) and waited for me to follow.
"Excuse me," I said trying to sneak past the brick wall standing in front of me. A hand blocked my path. I was already reaching for my gun.
"Be careful." He said looking down at me with...pity? In those dull bronze eyes.
Unsure what else to say I just nodded and moved past to join the large wolf who opened the door for me.
We were back into the same elevator we had been in before. The music above began playing as we crammed inside. The walls were a dull gray and there was brown carpet on the floor. Wooden handle bars were along the walls and several lights above covered by plastic.
The door shut behind us, the elevator doors closing. I could feel we were moving but at the same time wasn't sure if it was up, down, left or right. And sooner than I thought the doors opened once more.
"What is this place?" I asked but got no answer and was soon ushered out. Rather forcibly.
My first foot didn't find any solid footing and I soon found half my leg submerged into the murky swamp around us. Thankfully I found footing on the bottom and was able to step up and onto the gritty, moss covered wooden walk way. The wood sunk a bit under my foot and water pooled up at the edges. Before promptly sinking to the floor as my brother joined me.
"Stay close." He muttered and began making his way down the walkway. Stomping and pushing each slab of wood under water as he moved down the path.
I tucked my hands into my pocket and began following in my brothers wake. Great mangroves hung around us, growing straight out of the murky water (I couldn't even see the bottom and my leg was covered in swamp gunk). Tangled roots spreading out just above the waters surface and branches protuded in all directions, in every angle and mostly over the walk way. I had to fight off branches and twigs as I walked, while being eaten alive by insects and trying to keep up with my brothers long strides. He didn't want to be here anymore than I did it seemed.
Then why was he helping me?
The thought plagued me as I tried to keep up, watching things move under the waters surface and see scaley tails rise up like shark fins before vanishing once more. Me and Marco hadn't talk, spoken or kept in touch (through any means, he wasn't even a facebook friend - like I pay attention to social media though) after we had gone our different ways. Or rather when we were kicked out. I at least had a college I could go too (even if I had to wait a year or so). Then one day I find him on my doorstep. And then living with me. Next thing I know I stumble into wonderland, get cursed and trying to find a mock cure. Also Marco's a fucking werewolf. Fun times.
"Do you think this will work?" I asked bringing up the most serious issue at the moment. I could deal with the other things later on. Still, those thoughts, lingered in the back of my mind.
"We'll see." He just grunted looking back. One foot was resting on the board in front of him and the other was heel deep, to him that is, in the water. I could see old chains keeping the boards together before he continued forward.
"Is this what helped you?"
I only got silence in reply. So I kept my tongue and followed almost wishing my brother had just left me the fuck alone. Dark thoughts continued, getting louder in the silence of the swamp. They were almost shouting at me before Marco broke the silence.
"I tracked them down." He spoke up maybe Ten minutes later, I wasn't sure where the hell we were going but couldn't we have gotten here a lot closer through the fucking rabbit hole? "The two you were following." His ear twitched as I didn't reply.
"Who?" I finally said as he stopping looking back at me.
"It's going to be ok." His voice was almost reassuring. I frowned at him.
"I know. I'm not worried about that." I lied through my teeth. "Who are you talking about? Which two?"
"I checked in with some contacts I knew. Checked in on the blood you found at the crime scene." Marco went on beginning to walk again. His voice sounded like a low growl of a wild animal warning a threat away to those around. "Sniffed them out." Great I was partner with McGruff the crime werewolf. "Reason why I had gone to The Pit."
"So you weren't wrestling for money?" It did pique my interest. His lack of a reply told me, this time, he hadn't been. He probably went once a month though with the continious bimonthly amount of rent money I got from him. As well with his little problem he suffered from. It must've been a good way to vent that building frustration.
"Before I had to save your hide," I was about to cut in but the growl silence my rebuttle as he continued. "I found out they were just stooges working for The Triad. That was before they got their heads and tails cut off for doing sloppy work."
"Triad? Like the Chinese mafia Triad?" I asked though I wasn't even sure if that was right or not. It could've meant something else in their crazy world. I had only heard about it in passing anyways. "Wait. Why would they cut off your tail? I understand the head."
Marco stopped once more and looked back at me. It looked like he was mulling something over before he continued. "Three spots. The head. The heart. And the tail. Depends on what you are but its kind of where the source of ones power comes from. Reason why you stab a vamp-bat in the heart to kill it. Or when you kill a zombie, its the head. A lot of creatures, spirit beasts, have this point in their tail. Cut if off and they are powerless. Bigger or more tails they have? More powerful they are." He shrugged. "Or so I'm told. I've never had to worry about that."
"Well yeah. Your stubby ass tail is barely good enough to use as a duster." I chuckled getting an annoyed look from him. Then Marco sighed, shacking his head.
"Can you never take anything serious? After all these years?"
"Nope." I said walking past him. This annoyed him even more but he didn't stop me. I balanced on the wood making sure it didn't dip into the water all the way. My pant legs were already wet and I was sure I had a few leeches on my legs. "I joke because it helps with the pain."
Marco didn't reply and I chuckled looking back at him.
We stood there for a moment. "Do you remember when you tripped during recess on your first day of kindergarten?" Marco didn't reply. "You cried and cried holding your scraped knee. Dad..." My voice grew a bit tense before I shook it off. "Was so pissed. That his kid was crying over some small wound like that."
"What's your point." He growled though his ears were folded back.
"Piss ant." I tabbed my chin thinking it over. "I think that was his favorite insult for us. A bunch of piss ants. An ant that was only good for being pissed on." I chuckled, shaking my head. How many times did we hear that? That stupid saying dad would always bring up no matter how good we were. Probably why we were such little bastards growing up, causing all kinds of miss haps and choas. "And remember what I did?"
"You began marking fart jokes." Marco just frowned looking at me. "Why are you bringing this up all of a sudden."
I stopped at that looking down at his submerged feet, his paws. The water moved next to him but it stayed away, keeping a distance from him while it always drew closer to me. Even the things under the water were weary of him.
"Because you scare the shit out of me." I admitted not only to him but to myself. "Show up out the blue and then all this." I chuckled weakly, my laugh rather dry and empty. "I mean for fuck sake look at yourself!" I said a bit harsh pointing at him.
He flinched. I glared before ruffling my hair and looking away.
"I just...I just had to make sure was all." I found myself muttering.
"Of what?" His voice was soft almost a whisper.
"That you were still in there." I said and with that began moving down the walkway once more leaving it at that. I'm not sure what the hell happened in the years we had been apart. But our past was something only the two of us could ever fully understand.
It was another Five, Ten minutes max before I could see the shack we were heading towards. The wood was rotting, water logged. Moss grew all over the place and the old rickity boards keeping the house afloat were drifting back and forth, bobbing in and out of the water. If we headed over there I was sure the whole place would sink in.
The trees grew in a circular opening around it, never straying too close to the old shack in the middle of the swamp. If I could I would've done the same, I could practically hear the banjos already. The roof was made of some sort of straw and at the very tip smoke was billowing out. Gray ashen smoke puffed in large clouds out of it as if someone inside was making smoke signals. The smell of the swamp was pleasant compared to that.of the shack.
I couldn't be sure what it was. But it was putrid. Like old rotting fruit that had been left to grow into a nice composed, fungus covered pile. Damn hippies.
I wasn't stupid and waited for Marco to do the knocking and the talking.
"She's a bit eccentric. Fair warning." Marco shot me a look before waiting for the door to open. Marco was back, thankfully, in human form. This was probbly due to the fact he could barely fit into my rooms doorway let alone this tiny shack. His face had a bad five o'clock shadow and his side burns and goatee were growing out of control. His hair was a tangled mess and he wasn't wearing a shirt. I glared spitefully at the chiseled six pack on his chest.
There were sounds inside of someone moving around, bumping into practically any and everything. The door flew open and I took a step back.
She might've been a wild dog or possibly a hyena. A large bone was sticking through her black fur nose. White tribal markings dotted the rig of her snout, masked her face and covered her arms and legs in white stripes. Her main body was hidden under some kind of hollow wood linked vess. Feathers, I could only assume from a vulture, was in her tangled mess of hair that draped down over her face (it was like a female Marco, heh). She held an odd fetish totem in her left hand some kind of voodoo doll with it's eyes stitched over, needles stabbing into it and being propped up by the broken bone stabbed into it, beads hung from strands of hair off of it. Bone necklaces hung from her neck, large hoops were in her ears and bone white metal rings raised up her neck longer than it should've been.
"Eh, greetings fellow travelers of the road of death!" Her voice was almost whimsical, something a con artist would pull when trying to read your future. And a bad one at that. No wonder why Marco hated practioners. "How can I heeelp you." She waved some strange wind chime made of bones at us from her right hand. The clanking of bones sounded fake but looked all too real, bleach white. I only hoped they were just animal bones. Then noted that might not be a great case seeing the man I was with.
"Save it." Marco said pushing past the wild dog and moving inside. "I called ahead. You knew we were coming. Can you help or not?" He growled, barking the last bit and glaring at her.
It was a single room building. A large cauldron bubbled and boiled in the middle, black smoke rising up above it and was the source of the horrible odor. The smell was making my eyes water and Marco looked like he was about to hurl any second. Like someone had really mixed rotting fruit with incense.
Lining the shelves were various jars of floating eyes in toad bile. Lizard tails were strung up next to it, with bat wings and of course more skeletons linging the wall above the jars and bowls full of various substances. Various plants grew on the other side of the wall, most of them growing unchecked into the already small room. Next to them were several more voodoo dolls of various sizes and shapes. Some human like, others anything but human. Some had several needles, others with their head face first in half filled jars of water and one in particular that looked as if it's groin had been burned with a candle. I shuddered as one of the plants moved to strangle the nearest doll and pulling it into its foliage to never be seen again.
"Well fine. Fuck you too." The wild dog said dropping the act. Holy fuck balls batman, it was a dude. I couldn't even tell with that high girly voice and without asking if she had a ding'a'ling or not. "This the dude?" He jabbed a finger over at me. The act dropping and his voice actually reasonably masculine now.
He must've caught the look on my face as his eyes widened and a grin spread across his muzzle. "This is the lost soul that has wandered into my mists, seeking aide from the beYOND!" The charlatan began once more. It was hard to believe that this freak could actually help.
"Yeah. No." I just said frowning at him and moving past before shutting the door. The insects at least avoided this place, the smell alone was reason enough too.
The wild dog frowned, ears falling and looking between the two of us before scowling and putting his trinkets away on a shelf. Pulling off the beads and feathers and necklaces. "I dressed and everything for this! Spent hours on it!" He said licking his black paw pad thumb and trying to scrub off the white pant. It didn't even smear. "Trying to look good for your cute brother."
I raised an eyebrow at the last part but didn't ask.
"Yeah, yeah. Can you help or not Lewis?" Lewis? That was not a name I expected a witchdoctor to have.
"Give me a moment." Lewis said waving him off and moving into the back behind a curtain I could only assume hid his bed from view as his outline began to change out of the git up he had on. I looked around, there wasn't a toilt in sight. Ew.
"Can he seriously help?" I mouthed to Marco. He gave me a shrug and began looking over the random nick nacks around the room. He picked up one of the voodoo dolls and frowned. It was like a smaller plush version of my brother in his wolf form.
"Is this suppose to be me?" Marco said shooting a look over at the wild dog who reappeared wearing nothing but a tattered old leather loin cloth, possibly of some poor lion that had crossed his path. The white body paint still covered his whole body. He was a lithe man, a runner build maybe thinner. He kept looking over at me, creepy. Then again I was staring.
"No, no, no, no, no." Lewis waved it off. "Yes." He admitted swiping it from his hand. "Damn werewolves," he muttered brushing it off with his fingers and kissing it's cheek. "Doesn't even work." I'd hope not the way he lovingly placed it back on the shelf. The only one undamaged or tortured in some way. I could only imagine the horrible things it had been through or seen.
His eyes darted towards me and I stepped back. I was not wanting to have a sex voodoo doll made of me either.
"He's cursed defiantly." Lewis said cleanly looking back at my brother. He turned his palm upwards. "Payment."
Marco grumbled before fishing out something in his pants pocket before placing a tattered magazine into his palm. It was the latest issue of one of the popular sports magazines and I could see already several large male foot ball players on the cover. The witchdoctor's eyes widened in glee and he licked his lips before stashing it away.
"Genuine. Good. Good." He said shacking it off to the side and looking in the other direction and walking around several times before looking back to where he was. "Where am I going?" Lewis mutterd before turning a 360 and moving back towards the curtain before stopping. "Where are you going?"
For a second I thought he was talking to me before Marco just shook his head. I didn't press the issue. Crazy is what crazy does.
"I thought he owed you a debt." I muttered moving next to him and crossing my arms.
"She did." Marco leaned back once more looking around the room before focusing on a pair of several shrunken heads tied up by their long hair and hanging off the back of the door we had come in from. "It allowed us to get moved to the front of the line. Payment on the other hand still need to be given."
I looked down wanting to say thanks for that but my stupid pride made me hold my tongue. And here I was assuming Marco was the big bad wolf. Then again I had little to go on to prove he wasn't. And that worry began rising up in the back of my head once more.
Damn. I rubbed the brow of my nose and looked down with closed eyes finding myself getting stressed out about something I couldn't do anything about.
"Curses, curses, curses." I looked up to see the wild dog walking around the room and grabbing random things from the shelves. I thought he was cursing until I realized he was talking about my predicament. "Venom of a basilisk, droppings of a mule-toad, wart of a hag and...where is my mermaids tear! Clark!" He shouted looking underneath a table and crawling around the floor. "Clark! Where is my mermaids tears?"
There was a low hissing sound and I nearly jumped into Marco's arms as a cold, scaley body slithered across my leg and around the cauldron towards the wild dog. Who yipped and grabbed the chicken by the throat and lifted it up. That's right. A fucking chicken. Chicken might've been a strong word for it...
It had a body of a chicken, the head of a rooster, a snake tail and large vibrant feathers around it, talons of a bird far larger than its own and it's beak looked like it had gone through a jiggsaw. It's head kept twitching, eyes bugging out and looking around the room randomly in different direction like a chemilion. A large hand covered my face.
"For fuck sake!" Marco growled as he covered his own eyes. "Put eye patches on that thing!"
"Why?" Lewis said still strangling the neck of the chicken and shaking it around like some kind of rag doll, feathers flying everywhere revealing bright scales under them. I almost felt sorry for it until I saw one of the shrunken heads turn to stone. Note to self. Don't look into the eyes of ANY creature. "Clark is harmless! Harmless!" And with that began walking around the room looking for the missing ingrediant. The poor chicken still dragging around with him as he shook it here and there going on about his lovely home now.
"Inherited it from my grandmother, that I did!" Lewis smiled widely as I peaked through my brothers fingers who still had my whole face covered, nearly suffocating me in the process. It smelled of fresh earth. "Been expanding it for the past several years, cleaning it up and making it look all nice and neat! Costumers like a nice shop. They come to a nice shop. They want to be in a nice shop. My shop is nice. So they come to my shop. They like my shop." And this continued for some time, random babbling about any and everything about his shop.
Finally he stopped talking and there was a loud cluck and I heard a heavy thunk on the floor. A stone rolled over to hit my leg, in the shape of an egg no less. It was promptly picked up and tossed into the cauldron that gasped and coughed more smoke as if choking on the stone.
"Found them." Lewis said literally tossing the chicken over his shoulder. It made a sound...of well when you toss a chicken over your shoulder kind of sound. It smacked into the wall and fell hard to the floor, it's leg twitching. "Mermaid tears!" He held up the small pearl and I was about to correct him but once more Marco just shook his head.
"Did you know," the wild dog began beginning to mix random things into a cauldron. "That mermaids cry? Just like crocodiles! Or is it alligators?" Once more I was about to correct him, force of habit I guess, but Marco just was motioned for me not to even bother as I saw him pocket the voodoo doll of himself while the wild dog was distracted. "Poor things. All sad and weepy. Maybe they shouldn't eat." Lewis nodded. "Then they wouldn't cry. They wouldn't be sad then, right?" He asked. I almost answered him and Marco just shook his head once more. "Right!" Lewis answered himself as he cracked open the pearl and an egg like substance fell into it. An egg like substance containing caviar. I gagged looking away. The smell of rotten eggs filled the room.
"I'm not going to have to drink that am I?" I whispered to Marco using a hand to cover my mouth a bit hoping the wild dog wouldn't hear. Lewis large ears perked up even with those heavy rings in them.
"No!" He growled glaring jabbing a finger at me. I lifted my hands innocently. "This is my dinner! Not yours. Mine. Not yours. Mine. Not yours mine." He repeated several times motioning between us. Each time leaning a little closer, growling a bit more and talking a bit slower.
"Sorry, sorry." I said rolling my eyes the second he looked away. "Some friends you have."
"She's the only one I know who could possibly help." Marco himself seemed to be annoyed with that factor. "She's a crazy drag queen," I shot the wild dog a look but he didn't even seem to hear a thing. "But she can get the job done. Or at least give us clues to what to do next."
"And you came to him with your...issue?" I asked once more trying not to bring up bad memories but trying to figure out...well a lot of damn things actually.
Marco stayed silent and I figured it'd just be that but then he spoke as the wild dog began grabbing more things off the shelves. Lewis was beginning to draw some kind of crude circle on the ground with the same white powdery substance I was sure he used to draw those tribal tattoo's on himself with.
"My situation is unique. I knew the werewolf in question. So when I was...bitten, it seemed to be a huge factor on the matter." I scrunched up my brow at the crude explaniation. Maybe hollywood had it wrong, who'dimagine that heh. Werewolves didn't just maul people.
"It's because you were marked." Lewis jumped in on his hands and feet drawing out the circle as if it were finger paint, and seeming to be enjoying himself. He had pulled down several candles and were places them in very specific places around the crude circle.
"Marked?" I eyed him as he began sniffing along the floor as if trying to smell out where he wanted to draw the next line.
"The werewolf had marked him from the beginning. Wanted to turn him from the start. Very specific and very rare thing to happen. No matter what was going to go down Marco was, as far as it was concerned, already his. So," Lewis pulled out an actual nice lighter and began lighting each candle. No voodoo magic just a simple lighter, how...disappointing. "When he bit himself," that didn't make much sense but little of this did. "The wolf curse was more than happy to jump inside him."
"So it is a curse then." I raised an eyebrow at that.
"Well, not really..." Marco flustered though and Lewis stood up.
"I have a doctorate in curses." He was a doctor? I'm not even sure how that works. "I majored, specialized and created my own share of curses. I know more about them than anyone in the known world." He glared coldly now at Marco. "It's a curse. Rather you want to admit it or not." And with that clapped his hands together spun towards me and, tilting his head to the side and batting his eyes at me, said "You are too! Brothers!" He threw his hands up walking around towards me. "Curses one and both of you. Fate is truly a mysterious mistress."
Marco scoffed. "Like you would know what a mistress was." Lewis shot him a cold glare before laying his, somewhat large, hands on my shoulder.
"Now then. I'll need you to strip for me." He smiled innocently and I nearly punched him.