The gleaming metal skeleton that was once Mike Schmidt paused, Mr. Stein's work dropping in smoking clots to the melting snow beheath the burning trees Sebastian had left in his wake.
The son of a bitch Charlie sent had messed with his family.
Both were gonna pay because family was family – and Mike Schmidt was no longer a cop.
As of right now.
No more half-asleep mechanically directing traffic and checking lockers for pot.
But first he would pay them both off – yippie-kay-yay, mother fucker, yippie-kay-yay.
Because that's how a man protected his own in the Bootheel.
Settle the debt, settle your enemies.
He'd been too easy on the bitch and her fancy-ass proxy.
Mike's frame shuddered, settling the weight of the money he'd Tetrised dollar by painful dollar into his torso.
He'd pay them all right, and then they'd pay.
Yippie-kay-yay, mother fucker, yippie-kay-yay.
Mike's hips and knees squealed in protest as he resumed his stiff, mechanical run through the burning pines, heading for the burning house and the burning lake beyond.
Yippie-kay-yay, mother fucker, yippie-kay-yay.
Delivering mail to the Augua Clara development meant that Patador Sargent knew shortcuts that even the property owners didn't know about – giving him lots of time to take selfies with his favorite telephone poles on his unofficially extended lunch breaks, which was why he ended up on the shores of Lake Augua Clara way before Mike Schmidt.
He paused his easy lope, the burning water and first responder flashers glinting off his heated breathing mask through the falling snow.
This was going to be the honor battle of all honor battles, and he had the honor of witnessing it.
Too bad the spawn were at a wrestling tournament in Portland and the big woman who'd chosen him above all others was on duty.
Patador brightened, mandibles beating a happy tattoo on the inside of his mask: maybe she was already here directing traffic, of which there suddenly was a lot of on the usually quiet streets.
He spotted her directing traffic up ahead and politely shimmered into visibility just in the edge of her vision so he wouldn't distract her – "Honor battle of all honor battles – meet me on the lake's edge?" he clattered at her.
Without pause, Sargent rattled back just at the edge of human hearing, "Let me get this parking situation sorted out first – did you bring snacks?"
(Clatter clatter) "Beef jerky, Windex, and Skittles!"
(Tikkity takkity) "Save me a seat, honey bun!"
Satisfied, because an honor battle like the one he anticipated, even if it was between Oomans, needed to be witnessed in order to be a proper honor battle – who would drum out the story afterwards so it wouldn't be forgotten?
Patador sauntered unseen through the first responders and fellow RADS towards the burning lake.
He paused. THAT ONE, the shaman-in-training, needed to witness this.
Fully materializing, Patador put a fatherly hand on Marlene's shoulder, rattled out a reassuring tattoo, and firmly steered the protesting Marlene towards a better place to view the upcoming fight, shaking his head over the shaman-in-training's negligent family.
Didn't they know that a shaman-in-training needs to see things like this?
"Watch." Patador rattled, pointing towards the collision of fire and ice, "And learn."
"If you let me know, I'm gonna be around!" ABBA gurgled on unheeded.
Josie clawed at the rotting ice around her with numb fingers, legs flailing in the frigid, dirty water, unable to lever herself out of the frigid dirty water, only to be sucked back under like at the water park so long ago as the tatty sea serpent and its stinking passenger crashed back down through the burning ice, disappearing in a wake of ice needles and soot as Sebastian, who'd stepped aside, stood casually in a corona of black fire above her, watching her struggles.
The little Nephilim showed spirit – most would have given up by now.
How droll.
Droll or not, prey was prey – and Sebastian was hungry.
Very, very hungry.
The demon casually reached down, long pale fingers twining in Josie's now ragged locs and jerked her upright out of the water, unhinging his jaw, raising the whimpering meal over his head— "Put her down, MOTHERFUCKER!"
A steel skeleton slammed into Sebastian in a trail of burning flesh and stinking water as Nessie and her passenger dolphined once more through the ice, and disappeared into the Liminal with a bang, decaying blue bunnyman and all.
"What the fuck IS this?"
Marlene angrily turned towards Patador Sargent.
Patador rattled something incomprehensible and turned Marlene back towards the inexplicable events on the lake pointing at Nessie's wake and then the blazing light just as it began pulsating red and black silent explosion after silent explosion. He then took a knee, pulling Marlene down beside him, masked face intent on the scene on the lake.
For once not arguing, Marlene knelt in the trampled, dirty snow, sensing the inexplicable terror of the RADS behind her – "Hunter."
"What?" Startled, Marlene glanced at Patador and then gaped.
Beneath the mask, the postal worker she'd mocked for his poor fashion sense despite being a black man, proved that he too was a RAD and not some big dude with a bad case of asthma.
Eyes glued to Patador's clicking mandibles she heard as if from far away, "Hun-TER. Hunter hunts RADS."
Another bang out over the water, stirred his heavy dreads and Marlene's fake long blonde ponytail.
Vaguely nauseated, Marlene for once attempting tact, now stared at the activity on the lake, "Ummmmmmm…" she mumbled.
"Hunter." Patador's mandibles spread wide, exposing a small mouth. He gestured at the water and then behind them, "Hunter hunts RADS – Schmidt challenges!" He added in a soft, cooing rasp, "We witness!"
Oh my God, these thi- I mean PEOPLE, have predators?
"Witness needed. Song after so we don't forget!"
Forget? Forget what?
Speaking of predators, where was Josie? In the confusion of Bekka's house catching on fire, Josie had disappeared.
Not that Marlene had noticed at the time.
But Josie had torn through Bekka's house with a thing, a thing of blinding light right behind her… oh my God, it was right there in front of us and we didn't recog-
"Schmidt, challenges."
"W-who?" Marlene stammered, and then she saw a steel skeleton striding past them trailing burning flesh and smoke.
"Schmidt challenges that what hunts his Josie."
"Oh my God." Marlene knew that walk. It was the walk of the man who'd once delivered pizzas to Marlene's dad's house – the same man they'd stiffed of a tip, slamming the door in his face. The same cop who wandered the halls of Merston High that they made fun of for having to duck to enter the front door, for overflowing his converted broom closet of an office when filling out reports.
Josie and Maggie's Uncle Mike.
And like the creature, the MAN, Marlene corrected herself, who knelt beside her, he'd taken off his mask and gone after Josie's hunter when everyone else stood by watching it happen.