The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [168]
Death.
A coldness flowed over her, and this time it wasn’t just imagination and skimpy clothes. The velvet curtain covering one of the small windows fluttered, and icy autumn air swirled into the room.
Marji moved to the window. “I thought you were closed. Marji must have breathed in a little too much nail polish remover today.” She shut the window and started back toward the table.
Halfway there, she heard it: a low whuffling, almost like her uncle used to make after downing a couple of malt liquors and collapsing on the couch.
Marji froze, listening. The whuffling ceased. Then she heard the bright sound of glass breaking out in the main shop.
Indignation rose within her. So some creep had let himself into her store and was now trampling around like a buffalo. She grabbed a stainless-steel nail file from a shelf. Whoever was out there had balls. But not for long.
Marji walked down a hallway, past several doors, then reached the curtain of beads. A stench hit her a second later, so strong she batted her eyelids, but the tears came anyway, and her mascara started to run. Whoever was out there, it smelled like he had rolled in a Dumpster before coming in. Breathing through her mouth, she reached out and parted the beads.
There was a wet grunt, then something dark and sinuous moved from the shadow between two rows of shelves. A small, low-browed head looked up, and pale eyes stared at Marji. With an easy, loping motion, it started for her, letting talons run along the shelves as it came.
More bottles fell to the floor, and Marji’s scream was absorbed by the sound of shattering glass.
She stumbled back, letting the beads clack into place, concealing the sight of the thing. But she could still smell it, could still hear it. Whatever that monster was, it was coming for her. Fast.
Groping behind her, she found a doorknob, turned it, and backed into her dressing room. The walls were lined with mirrors, and the top of a large white vanity was cluttered with makeup, hairbrushes, nail polish, and curlers. Beauty like Marji’s didn’t come naturally; it came in lots and lots of little bottles.
She shoved against the door, but she was too slow. Something struck it, hard and furious, and she stumbled against the vanity. The back of her head smacked the mirror, and jars and vials clattered as they fell.
It came through the door slowly, cautiously. Whatever it was, it was smart enough to know it had her cornered. She could see it clearly now in the bright light reflecting off the mirrors, and her gorge rose in her throat.
“You are one ugly boy.”
The thing reminded her of an ape. Its arms dragged the ground, claws cutting the rug to shreds. Long, matted hair covered its body, and its short snout wrinkled as it bared fangs in a drooling grin. Yet the eyes were the worst: too large, slanted, white as moons. Nothing had eyes like that. Nothing on this planet, anyway.
The creature stalked forward. Marji reached behind her, fumbling with numb hands on the top of the vanity. The stench was enough to induce unconsciousness. Dizziness swept over her. The monster braced short legs and reached for her as it opened its maw.
Marji’s hands closed around a pair of hard, familiar objects, and in a motion as smooth as a diva’s she whipped them out before her. With one finger she let loose a billowing cloud of hairspray from a can, and with another she flicked the lighter she used to heat eyebrow pencils.
She flashed a wicked grin. “Looks like you’re having a bad hair day, sugar.”
Fire roared forth, engulfing the creature. It shrieked, lifting impossibly long arms as flames licked up its greasy hair, and fell back.
Marji followed after, can thrust out before her, spraying a gout of flame. Again the thing let out a squealing cry, then it fell backward into the hallway. It jerked, limbs tangling in spasms as the flames ate it.
Marji lowered the can. The thing grew still, curled in on itself like an insect as it burned.