Monster - A. Lee Martinez [64]
Chester landed on the sidewalk and tried to fold himself into his gnomish shape. One of his arms snapped off and fluttered to the ground.
“I think this body has had it,” he said. “Might be time to get a new one. I have to get going anyway. The wife isn’t too happy as it is. Says I spend too much time in this dimension already.”
“Get going. I can handle things now.”
“Are you sure?”
“This may come as a surprise to you, but I did get along just fine without you for many years.”
“Sure, boss, sure.” Chester sounded skeptical, though. “Catch you later.”
He left his borrowed body. A stiff breeze kicked up and carried it away like the lifeless paper it now was.
“Good riddance,” muttered Monster.
16
Without Chester around to question Monster’s every decision, he figured he could get back to his life. He checked his wallet. He didn’t have enough for a cab. He had his credit card. Liz paid the bill on it, and he didn’t use it if he could help it.
He found a space on a nearby bus stop bench to brood. There was a wide-shouldered bodybuilder type taking up most of it, and Monster had to settle for the half a butt cheek’s worth of sitting space. It was more exhausting than standing, but there was an old lady eyeing the spot greedily. He wasn’t about to give it to her.
He checked his burns. The expired elixir had healed the damage, though they were still tender.
Hot and moist breath blew on his neck. He tried to ignore it. Nothing was going to drive him from his hard-won two and a half inches of bench. Even if his legs were trembling under the strain of claiming it.
The breather snorted and pressed warmly against him.
“Hey, come on! Don’t make me—”
He stared into the flaring nostrils of a winged white stallion. The horse pushed its muzzle against his face. Monster pulled away, slipping off the bench and slamming his tailbone against the sidewalk.
“Son of a bitch.” He stood, rubbing the base of his spine.
The horse flapped its wings and grabbed Monster’s collar in its teeth.
“No, no, no!” He jumped away. The horse tore off a long slash of fabric from his shirt. “Back off!”
Monster turned back to the bench. The old lady had swooped in to claim his space. She smiled at him sinisterly, but he knew her varicose-veined legs couldn’t hold up forever. It was just a matter of time.
The horse wrapped its wet lips around his ear. Monster put both hands on its head and pushed it away. “Get lost! Scram!”
The horse moved its head to one side and focused one solid blue eye on Monster. It whipped its head, slapping him in the face with its long mane. It whinnied derisively.
Sputtering, Monster checked the horse for tags or a brand of ownership. It didn’t have one. He didn’t know where it came from, but winged horses didn’t just fall out of the sky. Well, maybe they did sometimes, but a specimen this well bred and friendly had to belong to someone.
The horse stomped its right hoof three times on the sidewalk as it continued to look at Monster with some indefinable expectation.
“Hell, let’s get you bagged and worry about the reward later.”
Monster pulled out his dictionary. The horse snatched the book. After a brief struggle, a corner of the book and a few scraps of paper came off in Monster’s hand. The horse chewed on the rest, then dropped it into a sewer drain.
The stallion reared upward, spread its wings, and whinnied. It settled down and kicked over a garbage can. The nearby incogs glanced over with annoyance as they stubbornly pretended nothing weird was happening.
“Nice horse,” said the bench-stealing old lady. “Is it yours?”
He pushed it away. “Does it look like mine?”
“Kind of.”
The stallion tried to enfold one of its wings around Monster. He slipped underneath the mass of feathers.
“He sure seems to like you,” she observed.
The horse turned around and slapped Monster with its tail.
“I think he wants you to ride him,” said the old lady.
The horse snorted