Nothing But Bones

32: The Front Left Burner Theory

Elton lets his gaze land on the fallen, pantsless necromancer who incoherently mumbles to himself— and the rolling pin next to him. Gingerly, he moves to stand next to Tiff, leans down, picks it up, and hands it to her. The scene is still dark, but his eyes have adjusted enough to see that Dingus, Frederick, and Kepler are still circling the shadow creature. It snarls at them like a feral beast, looking like it could keep doing this all night. Somehow, Elton doesn't think letting it do that is a good idea.

"You said—" He swallows. "You said fire can kill it?"

Her voice gets steadily less hollow as she speaks. "Yeah, it— Last year, before Chip revealed himself, it was the— it was the thing. Fire. Light. Hope."

The Other One turns its head to Tiff and hisses, "We do not forget, Tiffany May Sheridan."

"Aw, you almost got my name right! Tell your daddy there's a Cain on there now." She blows it a mocking, bloody kiss.

"There will be another way back. When we find it, we will not play games or work with one of your kind again."

"Oh, come on, baby. Can't we work it out?"

"There will be nothing left of your world other than the bloated, stinking corpses we leave behind. Your world will be a wasteland. Your world will be an inversion of what it used to be. And they will know it's your fault, Tiffany May Sheridan."

"Cain. You forgot the Cain." She stands up from her knees, brushes off the glass, and picks up the rolling pin. "And that's the thing, isn't it? You guys talk a big game, but I've been to where you're from. We kicked your shitty dad's ass and we'll do it again. I tried to be nice, but there comes a point when you can't be nice to something bent on destruction."

It laughs, a grating sound to everyone's ears. "Then you must not be aware of what's happening. The walls between worlds are crumbling. And never forget we are what's in between."

"It's a good thing I guard the boundary, then."

Elton looks to Tiff— or, mostly, at the side of her blood-spattered face. "I think it's time we shut this thing the fuck up."

"Yeah, I think so."

"Dingus, I know you're tired, but you're the only one who can do anything."

She holds up a hand. "Maybe not. This place has a stove."

"Let's kill it," he nods, "and then we can burn this fucking place down."

"I was going to suggest holding its face against the burners."

"I'd rather not have us get close to it and it do... whatever it did to you again. That can always be plan B!"

"I really don't think we should burn the house down. Also, there's still a federal agent on the phone and I need for him to—" She lifts Elton's hand (he had honestly forgotten he was holding her phone) and leans into it. "I need him to know that I'm going to be stealing books from this man and jarring his genitals. That's America."

She hangs up before she takes her phone back and puts it in her pocket.

Elton's still trying to figure out the logistics. "Then what do we do? I think anything Dingus can do that will sufficiently burn it to death will also burn this house."

"I don't suppose you're the kind of guy who wears aerosol deodorant?"

She takes his stunned silence as a no. Truth be told, it might be because the creature lunges at the two of them. Dingus and Kepler push it back; the Hellhound's teeth sear its arm and leave holes behind. It hisses in frustration and apparent pain, swiping at the hellhound hard enough to make him let go.

Having had quite enough of this, Tiff grabs the Other One and, caring little for the consequences, drags it back up the stairs and into the kitchen. The creature tries to fight back, but it's been weakened just enough both by its link with Boris and the fight it has been enduring that it can't actually get free. It can't suffocate, either, but that doesn't stop her from trying.

Wounded arm still wrapped around its neck, she uses her free hand to set the rolling pin on the counter, lights the front left gas burner, and moves the dirty black grate to the right back. It's time to let herself engage in a little brutality, isn't it? She presses its face toward the flames. Soft blue kicks up around inky shadows. She leans in close until she feels like she's looking into its face, until gold eyes meet green, until she can feel the yellow counter's cool tiles on her cheek.

"You know, I've got a lot to live for. My fascination with your kind isn't the only thing. And you hate hope, don't you?" She smiles, feeling that old familiar off-kilter timbre come back to her. "You wouldn't think it, but there's a lot I'm looking forward to. I know I'm wracked by guilt all the time, but that doesn't mean I'm not doing things I believe in. It's a conspiracy, you know. Hope? It's a conspiracy. I've got strings connecting all the desperate optimism in my head, and half of them are things I want to learn about."

She presses it down further, until all she hears is burning shadows, and all she feels is the familiarity of hot metal under her hand. She ignores the burning; she ignores the blood pooling on the tiles; she ignores a cockroach on the cabinets she spots out of the corner of her eye. All that exists is the here and now, and the words tumbling from her tongue like frogs and jewels. "I'm not going to let you fuck it up. I have people to fall back on. I have goals to look forward to. I have two amazing mother figures, two father figures, mentors, friends— I have so many fucking friends— and I can interact with you on my own terms, but I'm not going to let you and your kind fuck up their lives."

She presses its head down further when it bucks against her. It sizzles. She's sure it screams, even if it doesn't let anyone hear it.

"I want to go to space, you know. And I want to meet my niblings. And my friends' children. And I want to see my sister graduate from high school and my friend become a goddamn goth pediatrician, I want to get a tattoo from my other friend, and I want to make life better for everyone." She presses it down further, harder. A bit of spit drips down her snarling teeth. "You don't win. There are infinite possibilities, and infinite futures. I don't think you win in most of them. At least I can stand in the sunlight and look at the strings. At least I can stand in the sun and know that, whether or not there's a meaning to what I'm doing and the way that I am, the sun is still going to come up and the shadows are still going to wane. I might be a fucked up mess, but I can see the stars in the sky. I will still be alive. I will still be loved. And the universe will still be loved, and protected— kept in balance."

The shadow creature writhes in Tiff's grip. Its shrieks only serve as reminders of its inhumanity. Elton is watching Tiff, eyes fixed on the horror before him. As Tiff grinds its face into the flame and the burner, inundating it with heat and hope, it hisses out one last thing. "You know nothing of what's to come. Not just us. Not just us."

"Then tell everyone that I'm fucking waiting."

The Other One folds in on itself. Like a change in the pressure, it's simply gone.

Left in unease, she turns off the stove and keeps facing the wall.