Charlaine Harris - An Apple for the Creature

The dogs were on the brink of madness now, throwing themselves against their cages.

“No, it was an accident,” Remy bellowed above the din, trying to keep his own emotions in check so as not to rouse the angelic fury within himself.

“She was responsible for my baby . . . for his life, and now he’s gone because of her!”

“And that’s all true,” Remy said. “But it doesn’t mean that she did anything on purpose. Yes, she’s responsible, but she didn’t kill Petey. You’re as guilty of his death as she is.”

Patricia looked to the living mass of darkness that had practically enveloped all of Jackie Kinney, the look upon her face telling him that perhaps his words had managed to permeate through the thick cover of anguish, and sadness.

The cloud of black receded, and Jackie began to cough uncontrollably as she was able to breathe again.

“You’re right,” Patricia said, as the Bad Hour angrily tossed the trainer to the floor. The living shadow began to transform, taking the shape of the little black dog, lying upon the ground, its limbs twisted and broken as if having just suffered some major trauma—as if struck by a car.

“No,” Patricia screamed at the sight, trying to look away, and as she turned her head, the dog began to pathetically cry out, and Remy could understand the words and emotions being conveyed.

As could the old woman.

She killed me, said the Bad Hour, using the form of Petey as its mouthpiece. If it wasn’t for her I’d still be alive. . . . You would still have me to love. . . .

The words were burrowing their way inside her, rekindling the fire that Remy thought he’d begun to extinguish.

Jackie had managed to struggle to her knees and Remy found himself crawling over to the woman, blocking her from the next assault that was about to occur.

“Leave her alone,” Remy roared, as some of his Heavenly might slipped from his control. The kennel was suddenly filled with an unearthly glow, and wings of golden fire erupted from his back, expanding to fan the growing darkness away from them with their Divine brilliance.

The Bad Hour lost its little dog shape, returning to that of living darkness. And just as it flowed toward them, about to encroach upon the barrier of Divine light that had been placed between it and its prey, there was a flurry of movement, and Remy saw Marlowe bounding to his aid.

Both the Bad Hour and Patricia reacted to the dog’s sudden appearance, recoiling from his frantic barking.

The Labrador charged at the Bad Hour, with not even the slightest hint of hesitation, his jaws snapping at the living shadow, attempting to bite the thing that was threatening his master.

“Marlowe, no!” Remy said, torn between leaving Jackie and going to his best friend’s side.

The living darkness swatted at the attacking beast, knocking Marlowe across the room where he landed upon his side. The Bad Hour surged at the Labrador, and Remy tensed to leap into the fray to prevent his dog from being harmed, when he heard another voice.

“Stop this,” Patricia commanded, a sudden strength in her voice that had not been evident before.

Marlowe jumped to his feet, moving back toward the kennel cages, the dogs within them still carrying on. The Bad Hour hung above him like a frozen wave of oil, its master’s command halting it in mid-attack.

The demonic entity spun angrily in the air, turning its fluid mass to confront the old woman.

“No more,” she said with a shake of her head. “This is done now. . . . We’re not going to hurt anybody else.”

The Bad Hour again transformed itself into the injured Petey, but Patricia looked away.

“Don’t show me that anymore,” she said. “Petey is gone, and as much as that hurts me to admit, nothing’s going to bring him back.”

The Bad Hour did not care to hear this, swirling around the older woman, trying to get her to look at it, trying to get her to reconsider her words.

But Patricia refused.

“I’m done with this,” she said. “Done with feeling this way . . . done with all the violence that my pain has caused. . . .”

The Bad Hour’s roar was deafening as it gripped the old woman in hands crafted in shadow.

“I’m done with you,” she said, looking into the bottomless hollows of its empty eyes.

Something seemed to pass between them, a conversation not meant for anyone else.

“I know there’s a price to pay,” the old woman said, still looking into its churning face. “I knew that when I called you to me, and it was a price I was willing to pay.

“And one that I’m still ready to pay to send you back to the Hell that I summoned you from.”

The Bad Hour roared once again, feeding upon the anger exuded by the older woman that had caused it to grow larger, and larger still. It held her in its nightmarish grasp as a terrible mouth formed upon its indistinct shape and it lowered itself down onto her, swallowing her up in one tremendous bite.

The thing of darkness hovered there above the kennel floor, digesting its latest meal.

Remy watched the shapeless thing, curious as to whether or not its hunger had been sated. The demon surged toward him with a thunderous growl, and a rush of air, but Remy stood his ground, still managing to keep the angelic power inside him under control.

The Bad Hour kept its distance, as if the glow of Heavenly fire radiating from Remy made it reconsider what it might do.

Then the revenge-fueled beast suddenly turned its amorphous head to one side, and with a sound akin to a chuckling laugh, the undulating mass of darkness seemed to collapse in upon itself until only the tiniest dot of the deepest black remained.

And that was soon gone as well.

Confident that he could now control it completely, Remy pulled back upon his angelic nature, quickly returning to his human guise, and checked on the health of the dog trainer. Her pulse was steady, and she didn’t appear to be physically injured in any way, but she moaned in the grip of delirium, repeating the words I’m sorry over and over again.

The dogs in the kennel had ceased their barking, as if sensing that the danger had passed, and Remy turned to see Marlowe cowering in the corner by the open back door as if preparing to flee.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Bad dog,” Marlowe said, hanging his head in shame.

“Why are you a bad dog?”

“Not listen,” Marlowe said. “Remy told Marlowe to stay . . . good dogs stay.”

Remy smiled, raising his hand to motion the dog to come to him.

“You’re not a bad dog,” Remy told the Labrador as he came, muscular tail wagging crazily. “You’re a very good dog.”

“No more school?” the dog asked.

“No more school,” Remy repeated with a laugh, the dog lovingly licking at his face and ears.

As only a good dog could.

Toni L. P. Kelner coedits urban fantasy anthologies with Charlaine Harris—including the one in your hands right now. She is also the author of the “Where are they now?” mysteries and the Laura Fleming mysteries. Kelner was awarded a Romantic Times Career Achievement Award for the Laura Fleming series, and an Agatha for Best Short Story. She’s also been nominated for the Anthony, the Macavity, and the Derringer awards. You can find more of her bragging on Facebook, on Twitter, and at www.tonilpkelner.com. “Pirate Dave and the Captain’s Ghost,” her contribution to this anthology, is the second short story featuring Joyce and her beau, Pirate Dave. “Pirate Dave’s Haunted Amusement Park” was published in the Harris/Kelner anthology Death’s Excellent Vacation .