October 29, 2023 • 41 mins
In this episode of the Cool Zone Media Book Club, Margaret Killjoy reads the final two chapters of her folk horror novella the Lamb Will Slaughter the Lion to Robert.
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Speaker 1 (00:05):
Uh, I'm doing the intro right now. I'm Robert Evans.
This is the podcast. It could happen here book club edihione,
and that's my job.
Speaker 2 (00:16):
I'm done. Yep. You know that's that's closer to true
than it usually is. That that that's my job or
that I'm done both. Oh good, okay, because Cool's own
book club is where at least this month is where
Margaret reads you stories. Oh yes, and particular I read
(00:37):
you from the Lammle Slaughter of the Lion my the
first book in the Danielle Kine currently duology of novella's.
A novella is a short novel. They're fun to write.
I recommend them. They're fun to read.
Speaker 1 (00:51):
In the Spanish that a novella was a lady novel,
I don't. I hope that's a correct joke about Spanish.
Speaker 2 (01:00):
I may be wrong. My Spanish is terrible, you know.
It's funny. It's like, for a little while I knew
enough Spanish to actually kind of answer these things about
like because I used to pay attention to old Spanish
fiction projects. But I don't know enough to play off
of that joke successfully.
Speaker 1 (01:18):
No, no, so probably not a joke. No, was reasonable
or a good idea to make because I don't know
enough Spanish.
Speaker 2 (01:26):
And here we are and it's a shame. There's no
it's been done live editing or we're just only forward.
The only direction, the only way out is through Robert.
That's right, that's right. What hand dare? Seize the fire?
I feel like I could seize the fire. I feel
like it wouldn't be hard. Yeah, yeah, what's that there's
that study that like it's like like twenty five percent
(01:49):
of American men think they could find a grizzly bear
or whatever it is.
Speaker 1 (01:54):
Yeah, I mean I I feel like I feel like
I have a shot. The other years ago, I read
a story there's a guy who got attacked by I
think it was a grizzly up in Canada. Like his
dog got attacked and he just like threw just a
sheer crapshoot of fate, swung at it with like a
stick he found on the ground and killed it, and like, yeah,
like I feel like there is some some percentage of
(02:16):
people who will get lucky. So all we need to
do is have enough of us try to fight a
grizzly bear. A couple of people will make it work right.
Speaker 2 (02:25):
I have found I often run combat simulations and there's
always a five percent chance of success no matter what,
because if you roll a natural twenty, it's a critical hit.
That is that every time you do.
Speaker 1 (02:40):
Occasionally come across stories like that where it's like, oh yes,
some dude just roll a twenty.
Speaker 2 (02:44):
Yeah yeah, yeah, yeah, good stuff. Well, shall we get
back into it. Yeah, we are on chapter seven out
of eight. So this is the last episode of the
Lamoslaughter of the Lion. Wow. And if you like this book,
you can go out and buy it. It's a book.
You can buy it in print. They can't stop you.
The man will try to stop you. Yeah, that's right,
(03:04):
but he hasn't the power. Yeah. The man might try
and stop you from stealing the book, but I'm not
going to stop you from stealing the book. Yeah either way. Yeah. So,
where we last left our heroes, they are in a
treehouse and they're like, ah shit, we figured out the
obscure clue, but it didn't really do us any good.
And truly the complicated thing. Eulixes down below the treehouse
(03:28):
waiting for him. What are they going to do? Well?
For an hour at least Brynn cried in the hammock
about the death of her friend as I tried to
comfort her. The sun set behind the hill after an
interminable day, and Eulyixi ran off into the gloaming, his
guardian bowl keeping pace alongside. The birds remained watching us
with their dead eyes, but they made no move to
(03:50):
follow us. As we went down the ladder and headed
for town. We were hungry and thirsty, and there weren't
really words left for us to say. By the time
we made it as far as the look out rock,
it was full dark and every light in town was
on the streets below us were swarming with a commotion
of lanterns, headlamps, and torches. Brynn broke into a run,
and I went after her down the hill, taking the
(04:12):
steps two at a time. The first house we reached
was a run down split level. A pickup truck was
idling out front, and a family was loading bags and
boxes onto its bed. What's going on, Brenn asked. A
white woman in her mid thirties set down a laundry
bag full of clothes and put her hands to her
head to rubber temples. Bren where have you been out
(04:33):
in the woods. What's going on? We're leaving, she said,
everyone's leaving. The cops are on their way. What that
punk kid, Eric, the tall one, he said he went
into town to cool off. Says he saw more cops
in the parking lot at Walmart than he could count.
The manager at the food bank, that old guy with
the ponytail, the one that likes us. He told Eric,
(04:54):
the cops are going to raid. He's lying, I said, what.
The woman looked at me for the first time. He's
fucking lying, I said, I looked at Brynn. He's just
trying to get everyone panicked so that we leave Doomsday alone.
I don't know, Brynn said. The next house down was
overgrown and covered in graffiti. Vulture and a stranger were
(05:15):
walking out of it, each with a sack of concrete
over their shoulder. Brynne and I saw them and started running.
Brynn Danielle. Vulture loped over like he wasn't holding fifty pounds.
You're all right, What the fuck? Brynn asked the cops.
Vulture started, we heard, Brynn said, who's watching Doomsday? I
asked Thursday, As Vulture said, the rest of us are
(05:35):
getting ready. Where's Rebecca. She's dead, I said, Doomsday might
end up that way too, and soon she was the
only one left who could dismiss Ulixey and Eric knew it.
Bryn stayed behind to help Vulture, but I ran down
the hill. Barricades of lumber, brick and trash blocked the
street at every bend, with only small gaps still left
open to let through the vehicles of those who sought escape.
(05:59):
Lengths of rebels are thrust forth from anchors long ago
embedded in the concrete. Freedom Iowa had been preparing for
this night since its first day. There was a fire
in the air, a certain spark that's only found in
the otherworldly calm of conflict. But it was all wrong.
It was all a distraction. The cops weren't coming. I
(06:19):
was sure of it. I ran downhill, my feet slapping
on the pavement. I ran past anxious people, excited people,
terrified people. I wasn't any of those things. I was furious.
The largest mass of lights and people was by the bridge,
the most logical choke point. Probably people there were getting
ready to delay the police long enough for Doomsday's ritual
(06:41):
and for everyone else to escape through the woods. That's
how I would have planned it. I reached the block
with Doomsday's house, but the place was unlit. It looked abandoned, No,
not abandoned. A hooded figure crouched over in the side
yard the wardstone. Whoever it was they were pulling up
the ward stone. My fast beating heart, my ragged breath,
(07:03):
and the rhythm of my feet were all I could hear.
My legs burned and ached, I could feel my pulse
in my wounded hand. My lungs had long since given
up complaint. Anger alone fueled my body. Hey, I shouted,
which was all I could get out between my failing breaths. Hey.
The figure stood up just as I started up the embankment.
(07:25):
They turned toward me, a crowbar in one hand. You
shouldn't fuck with someone who has a crowbar. I launched
myself toward them a desperate tackle. The crowbar struck my
left shoulder. I was lucky, I suppose, since as likely
as not they'd aimed for my head. The claw that
split my skin and sent blood into the air. My
(07:46):
antagonist went down me on top. I spun around behind them,
got their neck in the croak of my right arm,
and applied pressure a sleeper hold, choking off the blood
to their brain. Useful self defense for someone as small
as me. They fell unconscious. It wasn't Eric, it was Kestrel.
The white wardstone lay cracked open to a black geode.
(08:10):
The house was no longer protected. Shit. I stood up.
He wouldn't be out for long, just ten seconds or so.
I needed something to tie him up with. The world exploded,
sort of, it felt like it at the time. It
was a gunshot, really, but it was louder than noises
of any right to be. And the bullet crashed into
(08:31):
the wall of the house not two feet fet from
my head. Get down, I heard. I didn't register the command, though,
so I didn't follow it. Another shot, this time from
behind me. Gunshots are kind of like a nonverbal way
of communicating get down. And after that second shot, I listened.
I dropped down next to Kestrel. If he was conscious,
(08:51):
he wasn't showing it. I might have killed him. It
never killed anyone before. It turned out that I didn't
very much like the thought of having killed somebody. It
bothered me more than I expected. Then a rapid back
and forth of bullets, and I saw the squat figure
of Thursday on the porch, calmly firing and a two
(09:12):
handed grip. A figure ran off toward the tree line.
A tall figure, an Eric tall as fuck figure, more accurately,
his punk rock spikes gleaming in the muzzle flash as
he fired wildly behind himself. I staggered to my feet
to go after him. Then my brain turned itself back
on and I dropped to the ground again because there
(09:33):
might be bullets up there, and because I had just
taken the pointy end of a crowbar to my central mass.
So what the fuck did my body know about still working?
Eulyxe is the revolution, It was kestrel talking his mouth
right next to my head. Eulixe is the lamb that
will slaughter the lion. Doomsday is going to end it.
Doomsday is going to end the revolution. At least I
(09:56):
hadn't killed him. I was going to add it to
my bucket, right next to visit Antarctica and torch something
evil was going to be make it through the whole
of my life without killing anyone. You're fucking wannabe, he
whispered conspiratorily, like he was imparting the wisdom of the ages.
You act like you're a revolutionary, but you're a fucking poser.
(10:19):
On the other hand, maybe it would have been okay
if I'd killed him. It wasn't like I was probably
gonna make it to Antarctica either. I staggered to my feet,
then almost fell back over when the report of a
pistol exploded in my ear. Thursday was next to me,
his arm around my back supporting me. Get inside, Thursday said,
Jesus Danielle, Get the fuck in the house. Hestrol was gone.
(10:41):
I saw him running after Eric. What kind of asshole
calls someone a poser? No one's answering, Doomsday said. All
of her composure had been stripped away by days of
stress and fear. Her hair was a wild tangle, and
she clutched at her phone in a shaking fist. She
(11:04):
hadn't taken it well when I told her what Kestrol
had done to the Wardstone. She'd taken it even worse
when I told her what had happened to Rebecca. I
sat on the edge of the bathtub in my sports
brawl while Thursday cleaned the wound on my shoulder. They're
mixing and pouring cement, Thursday said, would you answer your
phone while you're mixing and pouring cement. Yes, Doomsday snapped,
(11:25):
I'd answer my goddamn phone. This is pretty bad, Danny,
Thursday said, trying to mop at the blood that dribbled
down my chest. Danielle, I said, for fuck's sake, my
name is Danielle. Like I can clean it out, and
if you want, I've got a sewing needle. I've never
been given no one's stitches, never even read a book
about it. The basic idea seems kind of simple, right,
(11:47):
Clay could stitch a wound. I mean, you're not like
bleeding out or something. I think I'm at least as
worried about the blunt trauma as the cut. Your confidence
is really inspiring, I said, Hey, I never signed up
to be a doctor. I'm just doing what needs doing. Okay, Sorry,
I said it didn't mean anything by it your hand
(12:08):
all right? I still had the bandana tied tight around
my right hand. The pain was a dull throb but
nothing compared to how bad my left shoulder hurt. It's fine,
Come on, come on, Doomsday said, praying to the room
with her phone to her ear. You ever read the
Man Who was Thursday Thursday asked, what I'm trying this
(12:30):
bedside manner thing. You're looking pretty pale, even for you.
I'm trying to keep you thinking about something else. No,
I've never read it. That's where I got my name,
Thursday said. It was written about anarchists, like a one
hundred years ago. There are these seven anarchist leaders, each
named after a day of the week, and Thursday, well,
the first Thursday. He's the only one of him who,
(12:50):
it turns out, wasn't a cop the whole time. You
know how the first Thursday gets it in the end, well,
actually the beginning how, I asked. He's so committed to
his ideals of anti oppression that he refuses to drink milk.
But since he is you know, British, he has to
like drink something I guess in his tea or whatever.
So he drinks powdered chalk all the time, and one
(13:11):
day it kills him. Huh, I said, No, seriously, it's
hilarious that shit was making fun of vegans before vegan
was a word. Okay, I said, Anyway, Doomsday named me
after the book. She told me I was the only
person in the world she knew wasn't a cop undercovers. Right,
they're lying anyway, so they'll swear up and down their
God's gift to revolutionary politics. Me. I was set on
(13:34):
this no politics thing for a long ass time. Now
I'm a damn third generation Central American leftist, and I
didn't even want to be a leftist at all. I
guess my dad would be proud. All right, Hey, look
at that. The bleeding stopped, he said, I smiled. No, no,
it started again. Shit, don't smile. The bathtub was slowly
(13:55):
filling with bloody toilet paper. God, God, God, fucking Doomsday.
Put her phone down carefully on the porcelain sink, barely
containing her rage. Clay's dead, Anchor's dead, Rebecca's dead. You're
not dead, and you're not going to be dead, Thursday said.
The wards are down. I don't even know how to
dismiss you, Lixy. And now now the fucking cops are coming.
(14:18):
The cops aren't coming, I said, Eric, he just said
that to stir up the town. You've been here two years.
The cops aren't coming tonight. If they were evicting us,
you'd have heard about it before tonight, probably been warned
to clear out, not unless the cops were serving a
warrant for something serious. Thursday and Doomsday looked at each other.
Someone's got a warrant, I said, Kestrel knew. Doomsday said, yeah,
(14:43):
Kestra would have known. Thursday agreed, knew what the cops
are coming for. Doomsday. Thursday said what I used to
live in Alaska. Doomsday said, I was married for fifteen years.
It was good for a while, but I couldn't get pregnant.
My husband got worse and worse. I shot him. He
(15:05):
deserved it. It wasn't self defense, not in the immediate sense,
not in the way that I could have proved in court. Jesus,
I said. Doomsday took a deep breath. Neighbors heard the shots.
I guess sheriff showed up. I tried to talk to them,
tried to make them understand. They didn't understand. Damn, I said,
(15:25):
you shot them too. I wasn't going to prison. Doomsday said,
for that, motherfucker. Okay, so maybe cops are coming, I said,
Kestrel must to snitched me out. I never would have
thought fucking hell. Thursday said, it's almost like you can't
summon other worldly beings into existence. Let them loose on
(15:46):
your enemies and set up a culture of worship around
them without people getting all crazy. You were in favor
of summoning him, Doomsday said, I know. Thursday said, Hell,
I'm still glad we did it. It was worth a shot.
I've got until dawn to figure out how to un
some in him. Doomsday said, what hand dare sees the fire?
I said, pardon? I told them what I learned from
(16:07):
Clay's notebook, which wasn't much. Doomsday put her hands to
her temples. I think you read the signs right. Clays
mis quoted poetry Rebecca's figuring Solstice's solstice? But how how
do we dismiss him? And with the police there as
likely as not, Oh Jesus, I said the cops. If
eulyxes around cops, he'll slaughter them, Doomsday said, and everyone
(16:29):
who's ever lived here will wind up running or in prison.
I don't want to be on the run, I said,
No one does. Doomsday said, then what's the plan? I asked.
We somehow get everyone out before the cops show up,
somehow on smmon Eulyxe before the river runs red, and
somehow evade the remaining police somehow. Thursday asked, all the
(16:51):
while avoiding Eric in Kestrel, I would go with stop
more than avoid. Thursday said, but yeah, what was the line?
Doomsday asked suddenly, what hand dare sees the fire? And nodded.
Doomsday got a Glinton Or I had never seen before.
It was frightening. Maybe Elixie took down Anchor for the
(17:13):
same reason I took down those sheriffs self defense. Maybe
we summoners can control him. Maybe I could turn him
on Eric Hell after that, when we summoned him in
the first place, we named these hills this river as
his territory. If I renew the summoning, I could name
a whole lot more than that. I could name the world.
(17:35):
The only way out is through. Thursday asked what hand
Dare sees the fire? Doomsday agreed no, I said. I
didn't want to fight with them. I just wanted to
go home. Only I had a home. What I've been
through Way too much shit for you to switch sides
on me now, I said, And I know what the
(17:55):
other side looks like. Eric Kestrel, All of them, they
say they want to make the world better, but they're
just supplanting one authority for another. And they'll fucking murder
anyone who tries to stop them, because that's what power
does to people. I believe in a messy, imperfect world
where we just collectively or individually figure things out. So no,
I'm not gonna let you switch sides. And what do
(18:15):
we do? I don't fucking know, I said, we figure
something out, Brennan. Vulture came in, slamming the door behind
them and startling all of us. Brynn took the gun
from Thursday, knelt with one knee on the dining room chair,
and started reloading the mag How many bullets do you
think Eric shot? I asked four in Rebecca, and it
(18:36):
had to be at least three more outside the house.
How many can it's mag hold can't like think like that,
Brynn said. Bullet County is some next level shit. You
see some with a gun. It's loaded, same as you
treat your own gun like it's loaded, even when it's not.
Still I said, still nothing, Danielle. You see a gun,
it's got a bullet ready to shoot. Vulture, for his part,
(18:58):
took over treating my shoulder. He want stitches, he asked,
what are my options? I can stitch you up and
I'll probably do a decent job, but not a great job.
I could not stitch you up, maybe hit it with
butterfly bandages and splitting your shoulder and to keep you
from moving and reopening the wound. Or you do what
you should do, which is get someone to take you
out of here, get you to an emergency room. What
(19:20):
would you do, I asked? He bit his lip. If
I were you, just come to town chasing after your
old friend's ghost, I'd use the excuse to cut out.
You're not in any shape to stand behind a barricade.
You're not any shape to go to jail. There's no
shame in leaving now. He was right, of course, it
was a liability still just leaving after all of that.
(19:42):
But what I'd do if I were me, Vulture continued,
Let's stick around and see what goes down. I watched
Brynn through the open bathroom door as she loaded an
extra mag Dozens of cops were en route. A demon
slept nearby. I had seen two corpses already, and the
wards were down. I had already been bitten by an
undead goat, crowbarred by fanatic, and shot at by an
(20:05):
asshole fucket I said, I'll go down fighting. Vulture put
his fingers to his lips and hopped with joy. Then
he took out his phone and took a photo of
my wound. I've always wanted to stitch someone up, he said,
I'll do it before and after for Instagram. It turned
out he'd done it plenty of times on dogs as
(20:25):
part of an animal rescue operation in New Orleans. I
was long past the point of nervousness regardless, but he
did a fine job. You're right about kestrel, I asked,
as he was fussing with the last stitch. Well, I
thought I loved him, but I don't anymore. As easy
as that, as simple as that, not easy. He didn't
(20:47):
want to talk about it, and I realized I shouldn't
risk upsetting a man who was in the process of
reassembling my body with needle and thread. When he was
done with my shoulder, he unwrapped the bandana around my
bit in hand. I don't know what I'd expected, maybe blood,
maybe open wounds or teeth marks. Instead, my skin was whole,
already healed, but my hand was modeled with the pale
(21:08):
gray of overcooked steak, not the white of scar or
the pink of new skin. It hurt like it was
still healing, though, and I had the sudden fear that
the pain would never stop. Then I remembered the rest
of my situation, and honestly, my hand didn't seemed like
the worst of my problems. Vulture tied a spare t
shirt around my arm as a sling and chastised me
(21:30):
not to move my arm, and I stood up. As
a group, we made our way out to the front door,
heading for the bridge and the relative safety of the crowd.
The moon hung heavy and low on the horizon, and
I focused on my breathing, reminded myself just how tough
I was, how not close to panic I was. We
had it made it halfway down the block when the
(21:51):
cop cars poured out of the woods in a cacophony
of red and blue light. A crowd on the bridge
overturned a school bus and it began. Police raids are
always at like four am or some shit, always after
(22:11):
the witching hour, when they think everyone's not only asleep,
but going to be groggy as hell when they wake up.
It's honestly pretty smart. That's actually why Robert Evans stays
up very late. Just yeah, I don't I want to
go to bed after I know we're safe from a raid. Yeah,
there were a couple hours of night left, but only
a couple of hours. None of us were sleeping. We'd
(22:33):
had enough warning that most of the town had cleared out.
The fifteen or so who remained were there for the
same purpose. We were to keep Doomsday safe long enough
for her ritual whatever it was going to be safe
from the police, safe from Eric. Most of us were
veterans of riots and demonstrations across the country. It wasn't
going to be a mourning of civil disobedience. However, the
(22:54):
police were there and forced to arrest a cop killer,
and we had no way of knowing if they'd come
in with less ethal weapons like pepper spray, or just
come in guns drawn. The police were massed up on
the far side of the bridge, dozens of cruisers, four vans,
two swat humvi's, and a prison bus. It wouldn't have
been enough to handcuff and drag off everyone in town,
but it was more than enough to mass arrest those
(23:16):
of us who remained. Their preparedness to arrest us was
bizarrely comforting. They were stopped in their tracks, though by
an overturned school bus. You can block a hell of
a lot of road with fifteen tons of yellow steel,
And there was something beautiful about watching the military style
of police vehicles emasculated by something designed to get kids
to school. Brinn helped me get a black t shirt
(23:38):
oh it tied over my face as a mask, then
donned her own. The police had cameras, and it wouldn't
do much good to escape now, only to be arrested later. Still,
with everything that had happened, I couldn't bring myself to
believe it mattered. I had no real expectation of surviving
the coming day. We made it to the bridge just
as the police rammed the bus. The steel of the
(23:59):
humbva struck, the steel of the bus struck the steel
of the guardrail, and the whole bridge shook from the impact.
Townspeople lined up to push broken down vehicles up against
the back of the bus. A band's touring van replete
with black metal stickers, joined a DIY ice cream truck
and a box truck as reinforcements. We set the brakes
and slashed the tires. The police backed up to ram
(24:21):
again again with each impact. I prayed our side had
been smart enough to drain the bus's fuel tank. They
gave up ramming, leaving us with a moment's calm, presumably
while they awaited further orders. We crowded around Doomsday and
never realized she was so short, not until she was
masked and hiding. Most people had their attention on the
(24:43):
bus and on the bridge, and the police gathered on
the far bank. But my friends looked elsewhere. They looked
at the woods, at the street, at the masked figures
gathered around. They watched for hands that might reach for waistbands.
As unpleasant as it was to have the massed power
of the state waiting to take us into custody, waiting
for comrades to betray us was worse. The woods were inviting.
(25:05):
I could make my way over the hill, and by
daylight I might be out of range of police blockades
and eulyxes wrath alike travelers. They say, watch out for themselves.
The situation was hopeless, no reason for us to all
go down. Brynn found my hand with hers, and her
strength made its way into me. Collective safety sometimes Trump's
(25:26):
personal safety. Friends who aren't willing to fight alongside one another.
Aren't friends. Ten long minutes later, a helmeted cop stuck
his head over the top of the bus, then another
Things were about to get worse. A masked figure threw
the first stone. Her aim was true, and the cop
dropped down from the edge of the bus. More rocks
(25:48):
followed a hailstorm to keep them at bay. They were
too armored for us to hurt, but hurting them wasn't
the point. The point was to drive them back. Tear
gas canisters arked through the sky, and people with work
gloves throw them back or tossed them down to the river.
Then flashbanks. You never get used to flashbanks. It could
have been one, or it could have been several, a
(26:09):
blinding flash of light that stops her vision, like a
stuttering film that holds too long on a single frame.
By the time I regained my senses, several cops had
made it to the roof of the bus. Two had
riot guns aimed at us, one had his pistol drawn.
More tear gas rained down, and the poisonous smoke was
soon indistinguishable from the morning fog. Visibility dropped to only
(26:31):
a dozen yards, only enough to see the bridge and
the bus. The forest behind us was scarcely a silhouette.
The cars on the far bank were invisible but for
the red and blue light that lit up the air.
It wouldn't be long before dawn. If I were Eric,
I told Doomsday, it come now. With the fog and
the gas. I know five cops were atop the bus,
(26:54):
and enough guns were drawn that some of the fight
went out of us. Next to me, Thursday was sweating
with fear. Both his hands were in the kangaroo pocket
of his hoodie, holding the gun. He wanted to use it,
he knew he shouldn't. I was living a nightmare. When
Eulyxie comes, Doomsday said, I need three of you. I'm
(27:15):
standing guard, Thursday said, which left Vulture, Brynn and me.
A public address system on the hum v began an announcement.
I scarcely registered it, something about being under arrest, something
about her hands in the air. Eric says, he doesn't
want to hurt you. I whirled at the voice. A
masked figure stood a few feet from us. He must
(27:37):
have come from the woods. Kestrel. Vulture put his body
between Doomsday and his so recently ex lover, What the
fuck do you want? Look, just drop this, drop all
of this. Let you lyxe be. I heard Bryn's baton
flick open, saw a flash through the air. She put
all of her nod in considerable weight into the blow.
I saw Kestrel's face twist to the side, his body
(27:59):
soon follow He didn't fall, so she shoved him. He dropped.
You told the cops about Doomsday. You beat Danielle with
a crowbar. You think we'll listen to you? Do you
know who the fuck we are? Do you drop it?
A policeman atop the bus aimed his handgun directly toward us,
twenty yards through the fog. If he fired, there was
(28:22):
no telling whom he'd hit. Brynn dropped her baton. It
clattered to the pavement, not six inches from Kestrel's face,
and the shiny black steel glittered in the morning light.
The morning light, the small crew of us met each
other's eyes, and we waited breathless. Doomsday put her cold
hand in mine. I took Brind's and she took vultures,
(28:43):
and we were a circle. EULIXI crawled out of the
river to the bank, then leaped thirty feet to the bridge.
A policeman atop the bus, dropped his riot gun and
it clattered. No one spoke a word, only the sound
of idling police vehicles fought against the subtle of the river.
Eulixe bounded atop the bus began weaving his way through
(29:06):
the five cops eyeing them stop. An officer commanded, as
though he were speaking to a person. Eulixe lowered his
head three horns, facing the man, he edged forward. The
cop planted his feet, but the antlers pushed him back
back towards the edge of the bus.
Speaker 1 (29:23):
Stop.
Speaker 2 (29:23):
The officer shouted fired. Time froze, we froze with it,
but Eulixe kept moving. The officer tipped over, collapsing atop
the bus, and the demon punctured the man's chest with
his antlers. Time returned. Just as his death cries shattered
the air. Another officer opened fire. His gun exploded in
(29:45):
his hand, and his face went up at a flash
of fire, searing his flesh to the bone. He collapsed,
never to rise. I threw up fear revulsion. I don't know,
but the contents of my stomach were out on the ground.
I wasn't the only one. Eulyxe turned toward the police
raised his front hoofs and slammed them down onto the
(30:06):
steel of the bus like startled birds. The police scattered
to the woods, away from the river and away from
our town, leaving their cruisers and compatriots behind more of
Eulyxes's magic. The wounded officer on the bus continued to
cry out sobbing. He kept crying until Eulyxe pried open
his ribs and masticated his organs. I couldn't wish that
(30:29):
on a soul, no matter how much I despised them.
Doomsday started chanting, too low under her breath for me
to follow. Doomsday. The voice came from town, and it
was angry. Eric approached, unmasked and seemingly unarmed. He strode
up like he owned the place, like everything was going
(30:49):
according to plan, never mind the corpses. Thursday turned and
his hands started out of his pocket. Don't Doomsday, said,
dropping the ritual. He's goading you Eulxes watching Doomsday, you
pretentious fuck. You don't have an ounce of magical power
in your body. Thursday was twitching. I looked over my shoulder.
(31:10):
Eulixe was staring intently. Whatever we were going to do,
we had to do it soon. We had to do
it now. As soon as Eric was done trying to
wield Eulixe like a weapon, the demon was going to
turn on Doomsday. Who knew what would happen from there.
Eric was trying to wield Eulixe like a weapon. It
came over me in a flash. Oh fuck this, I said.
(31:34):
I dropped out of the circle and went to Thursday.
I reached into his pocket, took out the gun and
pointed it at Eric. Eulixe bounded down from the bus
and was halfway between us. Eric a grin across his face,
raised his hands in surrender. Eulixe looked at me, looked
at Eric. Don't hurt me, Danny, Eric said, in a
(31:54):
mocking tone. Eulixe charged Eric. The beast took the young
man by the throat and dragged him thrashing down to
the river. He didn't scream. As soon as his face
touched the water. He stopped struggling as soon as he
shot Rebecca. He must have known how he would meet
his end. He tried to meet it with dignity. We
(32:16):
watched from the bridge, all of us strangely calm as
Eulxe drowned him in the waters. After Eric was dead,
Eulxe let go of his throat, and the body lay
half in the river and half on the rocks. The
water's slow current tugged at him, gave him a strange
semblance of life and motion. Eulyxes stepped gingerly over the
(32:37):
corpse to stand knee deep in the water. He cast
a long look back at us. I can't pretend to
read a deer's expressions, and even less so a demon's.
But for once, the beast's eyes seemed passive. They didn't
pry into my soul anymore. They didn't read my thoughts
and desires. He stepped deeper into the river until the
(32:58):
water was at his neck. He ducked his head under,
and he was gone. Thursday took the gun out of
my shaking hand, and everyone turned their gaze from the
river to me. We thought he was hunting as summoners
to save his own skin. I said he wasn't. He
was hunting as summoners because his summoners were predators, hands
(33:19):
that dared seize the fire. He attacked Eric, not me,
because Eric was goading us to attack. Eric was trying
to use him as a weapon. Eulyxe knew that Anchor,
Rebecca and Clay used it as a weapon. Clay ran
when he figured that out. Then he killed himself because
he knew Eulxe was right to be after him. I
(33:40):
don't know how many times he and I talked about it.
The revolution is about taking power away from the oppressors,
not becoming them. Ourselves were in this case, not crowning
an endless spirit as king. I thought Clay had killed
himself because he couldn't come back to freedom. That wasn't
it at all. Clay killed himself because he recognized the
full weight of what he'd done to the world. I
(34:00):
was the innocent summoner, Doomsday said. Eulxe didn't kill me
because I was the innocent summoner. And you know it
don't need to go out like Clay either. Thursday said,
is Eulyxe gone? Then? Vulture asked on the twelfth page,
what hand dare sees the fire? Doomsday said, on Solstice today,
(34:21):
Eric tried to use him Today, Solstice thins the veil
between worlds being used like a weapon. Today it was
enough to convince Eulyxey to depart. Since departure was an option,
I nodded. That's what Clay was trying to tell us.
The world was quiet there in the morning. As people
limped to their feet, the sirens still flashed, though no
(34:42):
cops remained to drive the cars. Bird song came though
after some time, and the sun began to burn off
the fog. What will you do now, I asked Doomsday.
Five of us were crowded into a booth at a
diner in the middle of nowhere, Minnesota. Next Hi Brynn
was cleaning her nails with a folding knife. Across from us,
(35:04):
Doomsday and Thursday sipped black tea, their faces deadpan. Vulture
sat with his legs astride a backward chair, and he
was grinning like the sun had never been brighter. I
don't know, Doomsday said, find somewhere else, I suppose you guys,
You guys. Vulture tilted his chair dangerously forward and to
lean toward us conspiratorily. I was thinking, Clay and Rebecca
(35:26):
camp be the only ones who knew magic like that, right,
Elixie can't be the only endless spirit out there. So
I was checking my phone in the car right because
Doomsday told me I wasn't allowed to post any more.
Pictures that were going to incriminate us to Instagram, so
I had to waste my time some other way. And
there's this forum I found where people track things like
you Lyxi and most of his bullshit, but like, I
don't know, some of it's probably not. Like there's this
(35:46):
private club in Oregon and every couple of years local
kids try to sneak in, but most of them go missing,
and some of them just go crazy telling everyone about
a bear without any skin. And there's a coal mine
in West Virginia where translucent dogs had been attacking active
And there's this bank in Canada that's being guarded by
a headless man and and he was actually hyperventilating. He
(36:07):
waved his hands up and down, unable to control his joy.
And we could be demon hunters, I asked, coordinated. The
Days reached down and sipped their tea. Brynn folded, shut
her knife and put it on the table. Yeah, Brynn said,
all right, of course, Doomsday said. Thursday nodded. I put
(36:29):
my hand, still modeled with a lifeless gray though no
longer painful, in the center of the table. The rest
put theirs on mine. Vulture took a picture with his phone.
You can't be serious, Doomsday said to him. We're wanted.
We shouldn't even be talking about this here, let alone
taking pictures. Yes for Instagram, though she'd glared, buy, I'll
(36:50):
delete it. Jesus fucking Christ. He was still grinning. The
server brought her hash browns and refilled my coffee, and
I swirled the thick black stuff of life around the
mug as I sorted out my thoughts. Looks like we're
all outlaws now, I said. The police will be back
and they'll be investigating the hell out of Free tom Iowa.
It's not so bad as you'd think, Doomsday said. She
(37:11):
pulled her hand off the stack, and the rest of
us followed suit. Oh, no matter who you are, you
go through your life every day of your life, sure
that one day you'll die, One day the light will
be gone from your world and the grave awaits right. Well,
I don't think about as often as that, I lied.
I looked at each of my new friends in turn.
(37:32):
The days stern and serious brin As waled off as
me a slight smile on her lips. Vulture, who clearly
wasn't happy about being awake while the sun was up
and was just as clearly had as much energy as
the rest of us combined. It felt good to cast
my lot with them. It felt good even to have
friends to cast my lot in with. One day you'll die,
(37:53):
one day you'll be in prison. Doomsday Face was impassive
as always, but I was learning to read its warmth.
Today though you're alive, today, you're free. That duh dun
dunt dunt dun. Oh.
Speaker 1 (38:12):
I am excited for the second one, which I've read,
and I'm excited to force you to write a third one.
Speaker 2 (38:19):
Oh. I started drafting it. Oh, excellent, excellent, So I
may not need to actually invite you back here and
trap you and and and some sort of Yeah, the
book is just about escaping Robert Evans's.
Speaker 1 (38:33):
Yeah, exactly. It's like a reverse whatever that Stephen King
novel is. Yeah, it's very you know, I thought a
lot about that line that you had in there about
how you never get used to flash bangs, because I
had a slightly I have a slightly different relationship with
flash banks, where maybe it'll be different now, but I
got extremely used to flash bangs, but as a consequence,
(38:54):
got less use to everything else, Like the thing that
would particularly fuck me up was that the sound of
the sound of a flash bang grenade landing next to
you was almost the same as the sound of a
glass bottle hitting the ground without shattering, And anytime that
would happen, I would just like clinch up and immediately
be like in hell. And it was the same with
(39:14):
like little fireworks or poppers or anything like that, Like
it was it was everything. Everything that was vaguely similar
to a flashbang fucked me up. But the flash bangs
themselves I was used to.
Speaker 2 (39:27):
Honestly, that makes sense to me, Like I've only had
my vision stuttered by a flashbang once, and actually it
was in Portland also, and yeah, we're a real flashbang town. Yeah,
two thousand three, March twentieth, two thousand and three, somewhere
in southwest Portland maybe northwest Portland. Before they charged us,
(39:49):
they flash banged us. And yeah that like that freeze frame.
I'm never forgetting that freeze frame, like I've forgotten most
things that happened twenty years ago. Yeah, yeah, but no,
that makes sense. The fireworks have never have not been
my friend since then, although I slowly, yeah, pulled out
of it a little bit.
Speaker 1 (40:08):
Yeah, I go back and forth on them. But yeah, Margaret, wonderful,
very excited to continue this. But next we will have
a different set of stories for you all.
Speaker 2 (40:17):
So every Sunday we're being at either a different story
or a new start for a story that will continue
for a different length of time, or possibly sometimes Robert
and I will jabber about books, or maybe other people
will jabber about books. Yeah, exactly, it's a miss, So
look forward to that, everybody, and until next time, stay spooky.
(40:40):
Yeah bye,
Uh, I'm doing the intro right now. I'm Robert Evans.
This is the podcast. It could happen here book club edihione,
and that's my job.
Speaker 2 (00:16):
I'm done. Yep. You know that's that's closer to true
than it usually is. That that that's my job or
that I'm done both. Oh good, okay, because Cool's own
book club is where at least this month is where
Margaret reads you stories. Oh yes, and particular I read
(00:37):
you from the Lammle Slaughter of the Lion my the
first book in the Danielle Kine currently duology of novella's.
A novella is a short novel. They're fun to write.
I recommend them. They're fun to read.
Speaker 1 (00:51):
In the Spanish that a novella was a lady novel,
I don't. I hope that's a correct joke about Spanish.
Speaker 2 (01:00):
I may be wrong. My Spanish is terrible, you know.
It's funny. It's like, for a little while I knew
enough Spanish to actually kind of answer these things about
like because I used to pay attention to old Spanish
fiction projects. But I don't know enough to play off
of that joke successfully.
Speaker 1 (01:18):
No, no, so probably not a joke. No, was reasonable
or a good idea to make because I don't know
enough Spanish.
Speaker 2 (01:26):
And here we are and it's a shame. There's no
it's been done live editing or we're just only forward.
The only direction, the only way out is through Robert.
That's right, that's right. What hand dare? Seize the fire?
I feel like I could seize the fire. I feel
like it wouldn't be hard. Yeah, yeah, what's that there's
that study that like it's like like twenty five percent
(01:49):
of American men think they could find a grizzly bear
or whatever it is.
Speaker 1 (01:54):
Yeah, I mean I I feel like I feel like
I have a shot. The other years ago, I read
a story there's a guy who got attacked by I
think it was a grizzly up in Canada. Like his
dog got attacked and he just like threw just a
sheer crapshoot of fate, swung at it with like a
stick he found on the ground and killed it, and like, yeah,
like I feel like there is some some percentage of
(02:16):
people who will get lucky. So all we need to
do is have enough of us try to fight a
grizzly bear. A couple of people will make it work right.
Speaker 2 (02:25):
I have found I often run combat simulations and there's
always a five percent chance of success no matter what,
because if you roll a natural twenty, it's a critical hit.
That is that every time you do.
Speaker 1 (02:40):
Occasionally come across stories like that where it's like, oh yes,
some dude just roll a twenty.
Speaker 2 (02:44):
Yeah yeah, yeah, yeah, good stuff. Well, shall we get
back into it. Yeah, we are on chapter seven out
of eight. So this is the last episode of the
Lamoslaughter of the Lion. Wow. And if you like this book,
you can go out and buy it. It's a book.
You can buy it in print. They can't stop you.
The man will try to stop you. Yeah, that's right,
(03:04):
but he hasn't the power. Yeah. The man might try
and stop you from stealing the book, but I'm not
going to stop you from stealing the book. Yeah either way. Yeah. So,
where we last left our heroes, they are in a
treehouse and they're like, ah shit, we figured out the
obscure clue, but it didn't really do us any good.
And truly the complicated thing. Eulixes down below the treehouse
(03:28):
waiting for him. What are they going to do? Well?
For an hour at least Brynn cried in the hammock
about the death of her friend as I tried to
comfort her. The sun set behind the hill after an
interminable day, and Eulyixi ran off into the gloaming, his
guardian bowl keeping pace alongside. The birds remained watching us
with their dead eyes, but they made no move to
(03:50):
follow us. As we went down the ladder and headed
for town. We were hungry and thirsty, and there weren't
really words left for us to say. By the time
we made it as far as the look out rock,
it was full dark and every light in town was
on the streets below us were swarming with a commotion
of lanterns, headlamps, and torches. Brynn broke into a run,
and I went after her down the hill, taking the
(04:12):
steps two at a time. The first house we reached
was a run down split level. A pickup truck was
idling out front, and a family was loading bags and
boxes onto its bed. What's going on, Brenn asked. A
white woman in her mid thirties set down a laundry
bag full of clothes and put her hands to her
head to rubber temples. Bren where have you been out
(04:33):
in the woods. What's going on? We're leaving, she said,
everyone's leaving. The cops are on their way. What that
punk kid, Eric, the tall one, he said he went
into town to cool off. Says he saw more cops
in the parking lot at Walmart than he could count.
The manager at the food bank, that old guy with
the ponytail, the one that likes us. He told Eric,
(04:54):
the cops are going to raid. He's lying, I said, what.
The woman looked at me for the first time. He's
fucking lying, I said, I looked at Brynn. He's just
trying to get everyone panicked so that we leave Doomsday alone.
I don't know, Brynn said. The next house down was
overgrown and covered in graffiti. Vulture and a stranger were
(05:15):
walking out of it, each with a sack of concrete
over their shoulder. Brynne and I saw them and started running.
Brynn Danielle. Vulture loped over like he wasn't holding fifty pounds.
You're all right, What the fuck? Brynn asked the cops.
Vulture started, we heard, Brynn said, who's watching Doomsday? I
asked Thursday, As Vulture said, the rest of us are
(05:35):
getting ready. Where's Rebecca. She's dead, I said, Doomsday might
end up that way too, and soon she was the
only one left who could dismiss Ulixey and Eric knew it.
Bryn stayed behind to help Vulture, but I ran down
the hill. Barricades of lumber, brick and trash blocked the
street at every bend, with only small gaps still left
open to let through the vehicles of those who sought escape.
(05:59):
Lengths of rebels are thrust forth from anchors long ago
embedded in the concrete. Freedom Iowa had been preparing for
this night since its first day. There was a fire
in the air, a certain spark that's only found in
the otherworldly calm of conflict. But it was all wrong.
It was all a distraction. The cops weren't coming. I
(06:19):
was sure of it. I ran downhill, my feet slapping
on the pavement. I ran past anxious people, excited people,
terrified people. I wasn't any of those things. I was furious.
The largest mass of lights and people was by the bridge,
the most logical choke point. Probably people there were getting
ready to delay the police long enough for Doomsday's ritual
(06:41):
and for everyone else to escape through the woods. That's
how I would have planned it. I reached the block
with Doomsday's house, but the place was unlit. It looked abandoned, No,
not abandoned. A hooded figure crouched over in the side
yard the wardstone. Whoever it was they were pulling up
the ward stone. My fast beating heart, my ragged breath,
(07:03):
and the rhythm of my feet were all I could hear.
My legs burned and ached, I could feel my pulse
in my wounded hand. My lungs had long since given
up complaint. Anger alone fueled my body. Hey, I shouted,
which was all I could get out between my failing breaths. Hey.
The figure stood up just as I started up the embankment.
(07:25):
They turned toward me, a crowbar in one hand. You
shouldn't fuck with someone who has a crowbar. I launched
myself toward them a desperate tackle. The crowbar struck my
left shoulder. I was lucky, I suppose, since as likely
as not they'd aimed for my head. The claw that
split my skin and sent blood into the air. My
(07:46):
antagonist went down me on top. I spun around behind them,
got their neck in the croak of my right arm,
and applied pressure a sleeper hold, choking off the blood
to their brain. Useful self defense for someone as small
as me. They fell unconscious. It wasn't Eric, it was Kestrel.
The white wardstone lay cracked open to a black geode.
(08:10):
The house was no longer protected. Shit. I stood up.
He wouldn't be out for long, just ten seconds or so.
I needed something to tie him up with. The world exploded,
sort of, it felt like it at the time. It
was a gunshot, really, but it was louder than noises
of any right to be. And the bullet crashed into
(08:31):
the wall of the house not two feet fet from
my head. Get down, I heard. I didn't register the command, though,
so I didn't follow it. Another shot, this time from
behind me. Gunshots are kind of like a nonverbal way
of communicating get down. And after that second shot, I listened.
I dropped down next to Kestrel. If he was conscious,
(08:51):
he wasn't showing it. I might have killed him. It
never killed anyone before. It turned out that I didn't
very much like the thought of having killed somebody. It
bothered me more than I expected. Then a rapid back
and forth of bullets, and I saw the squat figure
of Thursday on the porch, calmly firing and a two
(09:12):
handed grip. A figure ran off toward the tree line.
A tall figure, an Eric tall as fuck figure, more accurately,
his punk rock spikes gleaming in the muzzle flash as
he fired wildly behind himself. I staggered to my feet
to go after him. Then my brain turned itself back
on and I dropped to the ground again because there
(09:33):
might be bullets up there, and because I had just
taken the pointy end of a crowbar to my central mass.
So what the fuck did my body know about still working?
Eulyxe is the revolution, It was kestrel talking his mouth
right next to my head. Eulixe is the lamb that
will slaughter the lion. Doomsday is going to end it.
Doomsday is going to end the revolution. At least I
(09:56):
hadn't killed him. I was going to add it to
my bucket, right next to visit Antarctica and torch something
evil was going to be make it through the whole
of my life without killing anyone. You're fucking wannabe, he
whispered conspiratorily, like he was imparting the wisdom of the ages.
You act like you're a revolutionary, but you're a fucking poser.
(10:19):
On the other hand, maybe it would have been okay
if I'd killed him. It wasn't like I was probably
gonna make it to Antarctica either. I staggered to my feet,
then almost fell back over when the report of a
pistol exploded in my ear. Thursday was next to me,
his arm around my back supporting me. Get inside, Thursday said,
Jesus Danielle, Get the fuck in the house. Hestrol was gone.
(10:41):
I saw him running after Eric. What kind of asshole
calls someone a poser? No one's answering, Doomsday said. All
of her composure had been stripped away by days of
stress and fear. Her hair was a wild tangle, and
she clutched at her phone in a shaking fist. She
(11:04):
hadn't taken it well when I told her what Kestrol
had done to the Wardstone. She'd taken it even worse
when I told her what had happened to Rebecca. I
sat on the edge of the bathtub in my sports
brawl while Thursday cleaned the wound on my shoulder. They're
mixing and pouring cement, Thursday said, would you answer your
phone while you're mixing and pouring cement. Yes, Doomsday snapped,
(11:25):
I'd answer my goddamn phone. This is pretty bad, Danny,
Thursday said, trying to mop at the blood that dribbled
down my chest. Danielle, I said, for fuck's sake, my
name is Danielle. Like I can clean it out, and
if you want, I've got a sewing needle. I've never
been given no one's stitches, never even read a book
about it. The basic idea seems kind of simple, right,
(11:47):
Clay could stitch a wound. I mean, you're not like
bleeding out or something. I think I'm at least as
worried about the blunt trauma as the cut. Your confidence
is really inspiring, I said, Hey, I never signed up
to be a doctor. I'm just doing what needs doing. Okay, Sorry,
I said it didn't mean anything by it your hand
(12:08):
all right? I still had the bandana tied tight around
my right hand. The pain was a dull throb but
nothing compared to how bad my left shoulder hurt. It's fine,
Come on, come on, Doomsday said, praying to the room
with her phone to her ear. You ever read the
Man Who was Thursday Thursday asked, what I'm trying this
(12:30):
bedside manner thing. You're looking pretty pale, even for you.
I'm trying to keep you thinking about something else. No,
I've never read it. That's where I got my name,
Thursday said. It was written about anarchists, like a one
hundred years ago. There are these seven anarchist leaders, each
named after a day of the week, and Thursday, well,
the first Thursday. He's the only one of him who,
(12:50):
it turns out, wasn't a cop the whole time. You
know how the first Thursday gets it in the end, well,
actually the beginning how, I asked. He's so committed to
his ideals of anti oppression that he refuses to drink milk.
But since he is you know, British, he has to
like drink something I guess in his tea or whatever.
So he drinks powdered chalk all the time, and one
(13:11):
day it kills him. Huh, I said, No, seriously, it's
hilarious that shit was making fun of vegans before vegan
was a word. Okay, I said, Anyway, Doomsday named me
after the book. She told me I was the only
person in the world she knew wasn't a cop undercovers. Right,
they're lying anyway, so they'll swear up and down their
God's gift to revolutionary politics. Me. I was set on
(13:34):
this no politics thing for a long ass time. Now
I'm a damn third generation Central American leftist, and I
didn't even want to be a leftist at all. I
guess my dad would be proud. All right, Hey, look
at that. The bleeding stopped, he said, I smiled. No, no,
it started again. Shit, don't smile. The bathtub was slowly
(13:55):
filling with bloody toilet paper. God, God, God, fucking Doomsday.
Put her phone down carefully on the porcelain sink, barely
containing her rage. Clay's dead, Anchor's dead, Rebecca's dead. You're
not dead, and you're not going to be dead, Thursday said.
The wards are down. I don't even know how to
dismiss you, Lixy. And now now the fucking cops are coming.
(14:18):
The cops aren't coming, I said, Eric, he just said
that to stir up the town. You've been here two years.
The cops aren't coming tonight. If they were evicting us,
you'd have heard about it before tonight, probably been warned
to clear out, not unless the cops were serving a
warrant for something serious. Thursday and Doomsday looked at each other.
Someone's got a warrant, I said, Kestrel knew. Doomsday said, yeah,
(14:43):
Kestra would have known. Thursday agreed, knew what the cops
are coming for. Doomsday. Thursday said what I used to
live in Alaska. Doomsday said, I was married for fifteen years.
It was good for a while, but I couldn't get pregnant.
My husband got worse and worse. I shot him. He
(15:05):
deserved it. It wasn't self defense, not in the immediate sense,
not in the way that I could have proved in court. Jesus,
I said. Doomsday took a deep breath. Neighbors heard the shots.
I guess sheriff showed up. I tried to talk to them,
tried to make them understand. They didn't understand. Damn, I said,
(15:25):
you shot them too. I wasn't going to prison. Doomsday said,
for that, motherfucker. Okay, so maybe cops are coming, I said,
Kestrel must to snitched me out. I never would have
thought fucking hell. Thursday said, it's almost like you can't
summon other worldly beings into existence. Let them loose on
(15:46):
your enemies and set up a culture of worship around
them without people getting all crazy. You were in favor
of summoning him, Doomsday said, I know. Thursday said, Hell,
I'm still glad we did it. It was worth a shot.
I've got until dawn to figure out how to un
some in him. Doomsday said, what hand dare sees the fire?
I said, pardon? I told them what I learned from
(16:07):
Clay's notebook, which wasn't much. Doomsday put her hands to
her temples. I think you read the signs right. Clays
mis quoted poetry Rebecca's figuring Solstice's solstice? But how how
do we dismiss him? And with the police there as
likely as not, Oh Jesus, I said the cops. If
eulyxes around cops, he'll slaughter them, Doomsday said, and everyone
(16:29):
who's ever lived here will wind up running or in prison.
I don't want to be on the run, I said,
No one does. Doomsday said, then what's the plan? I asked.
We somehow get everyone out before the cops show up,
somehow on smmon Eulyxe before the river runs red, and
somehow evade the remaining police somehow. Thursday asked, all the
(16:51):
while avoiding Eric in Kestrel, I would go with stop
more than avoid. Thursday said, but yeah, what was the line?
Doomsday asked suddenly, what hand dare sees the fire? And nodded.
Doomsday got a Glinton Or I had never seen before.
It was frightening. Maybe Elixie took down Anchor for the
(17:13):
same reason I took down those sheriffs self defense. Maybe
we summoners can control him. Maybe I could turn him
on Eric Hell after that, when we summoned him in
the first place, we named these hills this river as
his territory. If I renew the summoning, I could name
a whole lot more than that. I could name the world.
(17:35):
The only way out is through. Thursday asked what hand
Dare sees the fire? Doomsday agreed no, I said. I
didn't want to fight with them. I just wanted to
go home. Only I had a home. What I've been
through Way too much shit for you to switch sides
on me now, I said, And I know what the
(17:55):
other side looks like. Eric Kestrel, All of them, they
say they want to make the world better, but they're
just supplanting one authority for another. And they'll fucking murder
anyone who tries to stop them, because that's what power
does to people. I believe in a messy, imperfect world
where we just collectively or individually figure things out. So no,
I'm not gonna let you switch sides. And what do
(18:15):
we do? I don't fucking know, I said, we figure
something out, Brennan. Vulture came in, slamming the door behind
them and startling all of us. Brynn took the gun
from Thursday, knelt with one knee on the dining room chair,
and started reloading the mag How many bullets do you
think Eric shot? I asked four in Rebecca, and it
(18:36):
had to be at least three more outside the house.
How many can it's mag hold can't like think like that,
Brynn said. Bullet County is some next level shit. You
see some with a gun. It's loaded, same as you
treat your own gun like it's loaded, even when it's not.
Still I said, still nothing, Danielle. You see a gun,
it's got a bullet ready to shoot. Vulture, for his part,
(18:58):
took over treating my shoulder. He want stitches, he asked,
what are my options? I can stitch you up and
I'll probably do a decent job, but not a great job.
I could not stitch you up, maybe hit it with
butterfly bandages and splitting your shoulder and to keep you
from moving and reopening the wound. Or you do what
you should do, which is get someone to take you
out of here, get you to an emergency room. What
(19:20):
would you do, I asked? He bit his lip. If
I were you, just come to town chasing after your
old friend's ghost, I'd use the excuse to cut out.
You're not in any shape to stand behind a barricade.
You're not any shape to go to jail. There's no
shame in leaving now. He was right, of course, it
was a liability still just leaving after all of that.
(19:42):
But what I'd do if I were me, Vulture continued,
Let's stick around and see what goes down. I watched
Brynn through the open bathroom door as she loaded an
extra mag Dozens of cops were en route. A demon
slept nearby. I had seen two corpses already, and the
wards were down. I had already been bitten by an
undead goat, crowbarred by fanatic, and shot at by an
(20:05):
asshole fucket I said, I'll go down fighting. Vulture put
his fingers to his lips and hopped with joy. Then
he took out his phone and took a photo of
my wound. I've always wanted to stitch someone up, he said,
I'll do it before and after for Instagram. It turned
out he'd done it plenty of times on dogs as
(20:25):
part of an animal rescue operation in New Orleans. I
was long past the point of nervousness regardless, but he
did a fine job. You're right about kestrel, I asked,
as he was fussing with the last stitch. Well, I
thought I loved him, but I don't anymore. As easy
as that, as simple as that, not easy. He didn't
(20:47):
want to talk about it, and I realized I shouldn't
risk upsetting a man who was in the process of
reassembling my body with needle and thread. When he was
done with my shoulder, he unwrapped the bandana around my
bit in hand. I don't know what I'd expected, maybe blood,
maybe open wounds or teeth marks. Instead, my skin was whole,
already healed, but my hand was modeled with the pale
(21:08):
gray of overcooked steak, not the white of scar or
the pink of new skin. It hurt like it was
still healing, though, and I had the sudden fear that
the pain would never stop. Then I remembered the rest
of my situation, and honestly, my hand didn't seemed like
the worst of my problems. Vulture tied a spare t
shirt around my arm as a sling and chastised me
(21:30):
not to move my arm, and I stood up. As
a group, we made our way out to the front door,
heading for the bridge and the relative safety of the crowd.
The moon hung heavy and low on the horizon, and
I focused on my breathing, reminded myself just how tough
I was, how not close to panic I was. We
had it made it halfway down the block when the
(21:51):
cop cars poured out of the woods in a cacophony
of red and blue light. A crowd on the bridge
overturned a school bus and it began. Police raids are
always at like four am or some shit, always after
(22:11):
the witching hour, when they think everyone's not only asleep,
but going to be groggy as hell when they wake up.
It's honestly pretty smart. That's actually why Robert Evans stays
up very late. Just yeah, I don't I want to
go to bed after I know we're safe from a raid. Yeah,
there were a couple hours of night left, but only
a couple of hours. None of us were sleeping. We'd
(22:33):
had enough warning that most of the town had cleared out.
The fifteen or so who remained were there for the
same purpose. We were to keep Doomsday safe long enough
for her ritual whatever it was going to be safe
from the police, safe from Eric. Most of us were
veterans of riots and demonstrations across the country. It wasn't
going to be a mourning of civil disobedience. However, the
(22:54):
police were there and forced to arrest a cop killer,
and we had no way of knowing if they'd come
in with less ethal weapons like pepper spray, or just
come in guns drawn. The police were massed up on
the far side of the bridge, dozens of cruisers, four vans,
two swat humvi's, and a prison bus. It wouldn't have
been enough to handcuff and drag off everyone in town,
but it was more than enough to mass arrest those
(23:16):
of us who remained. Their preparedness to arrest us was
bizarrely comforting. They were stopped in their tracks, though by
an overturned school bus. You can block a hell of
a lot of road with fifteen tons of yellow steel,
And there was something beautiful about watching the military style
of police vehicles emasculated by something designed to get kids
to school. Brinn helped me get a black t shirt
(23:38):
oh it tied over my face as a mask, then
donned her own. The police had cameras, and it wouldn't
do much good to escape now, only to be arrested later. Still,
with everything that had happened, I couldn't bring myself to
believe it mattered. I had no real expectation of surviving
the coming day. We made it to the bridge just
as the police rammed the bus. The steel of the
(23:59):
humbva struck, the steel of the bus struck the steel
of the guardrail, and the whole bridge shook from the impact.
Townspeople lined up to push broken down vehicles up against
the back of the bus. A band's touring van replete
with black metal stickers, joined a DIY ice cream truck
and a box truck as reinforcements. We set the brakes
and slashed the tires. The police backed up to ram
(24:21):
again again with each impact. I prayed our side had
been smart enough to drain the bus's fuel tank. They
gave up ramming, leaving us with a moment's calm, presumably
while they awaited further orders. We crowded around Doomsday and
never realized she was so short, not until she was
masked and hiding. Most people had their attention on the
(24:43):
bus and on the bridge, and the police gathered on
the far bank. But my friends looked elsewhere. They looked
at the woods, at the street, at the masked figures
gathered around. They watched for hands that might reach for waistbands.
As unpleasant as it was to have the massed power
of the state waiting to take us into custody, waiting
for comrades to betray us was worse. The woods were inviting.
(25:05):
I could make my way over the hill, and by
daylight I might be out of range of police blockades
and eulyxes wrath alike travelers. They say, watch out for themselves.
The situation was hopeless, no reason for us to all
go down. Brynn found my hand with hers, and her
strength made its way into me. Collective safety sometimes Trump's
(25:26):
personal safety. Friends who aren't willing to fight alongside one another.
Aren't friends. Ten long minutes later, a helmeted cop stuck
his head over the top of the bus, then another
Things were about to get worse. A masked figure threw
the first stone. Her aim was true, and the cop
dropped down from the edge of the bus. More rocks
(25:48):
followed a hailstorm to keep them at bay. They were
too armored for us to hurt, but hurting them wasn't
the point. The point was to drive them back. Tear
gas canisters arked through the sky, and people with work
gloves throw them back or tossed them down to the river.
Then flashbanks. You never get used to flashbanks. It could
have been one, or it could have been several, a
(26:09):
blinding flash of light that stops her vision, like a
stuttering film that holds too long on a single frame.
By the time I regained my senses, several cops had
made it to the roof of the bus. Two had
riot guns aimed at us, one had his pistol drawn.
More tear gas rained down, and the poisonous smoke was
soon indistinguishable from the morning fog. Visibility dropped to only
(26:31):
a dozen yards, only enough to see the bridge and
the bus. The forest behind us was scarcely a silhouette.
The cars on the far bank were invisible but for
the red and blue light that lit up the air.
It wouldn't be long before dawn. If I were Eric,
I told Doomsday, it come now. With the fog and
the gas. I know five cops were atop the bus,
(26:54):
and enough guns were drawn that some of the fight
went out of us. Next to me, Thursday was sweating
with fear. Both his hands were in the kangaroo pocket
of his hoodie, holding the gun. He wanted to use it,
he knew he shouldn't. I was living a nightmare. When
Eulyxie comes, Doomsday said, I need three of you. I'm
(27:15):
standing guard, Thursday said, which left Vulture, Brynn and me.
A public address system on the hum v began an announcement.
I scarcely registered it, something about being under arrest, something
about her hands in the air. Eric says, he doesn't
want to hurt you. I whirled at the voice. A
masked figure stood a few feet from us. He must
(27:37):
have come from the woods. Kestrel. Vulture put his body
between Doomsday and his so recently ex lover, What the
fuck do you want? Look, just drop this, drop all
of this. Let you lyxe be. I heard Bryn's baton
flick open, saw a flash through the air. She put
all of her nod in considerable weight into the blow.
I saw Kestrel's face twist to the side, his body
(27:59):
soon follow He didn't fall, so she shoved him. He dropped.
You told the cops about Doomsday. You beat Danielle with
a crowbar. You think we'll listen to you? Do you
know who the fuck we are? Do you drop it?
A policeman atop the bus aimed his handgun directly toward us,
twenty yards through the fog. If he fired, there was
(28:22):
no telling whom he'd hit. Brynn dropped her baton. It
clattered to the pavement, not six inches from Kestrel's face,
and the shiny black steel glittered in the morning light.
The morning light, the small crew of us met each
other's eyes, and we waited breathless. Doomsday put her cold
hand in mine. I took Brind's and she took vultures,
(28:43):
and we were a circle. EULIXI crawled out of the
river to the bank, then leaped thirty feet to the bridge.
A policeman atop the bus, dropped his riot gun and
it clattered. No one spoke a word, only the sound
of idling police vehicles fought against the subtle of the river.
Eulixe bounded atop the bus began weaving his way through
(29:06):
the five cops eyeing them stop. An officer commanded, as
though he were speaking to a person. Eulixe lowered his
head three horns, facing the man, he edged forward. The
cop planted his feet, but the antlers pushed him back
back towards the edge of the bus.
Speaker 1 (29:23):
Stop.
Speaker 2 (29:23):
The officer shouted fired. Time froze, we froze with it,
but Eulixe kept moving. The officer tipped over, collapsing atop
the bus, and the demon punctured the man's chest with
his antlers. Time returned. Just as his death cries shattered
the air. Another officer opened fire. His gun exploded in
(29:45):
his hand, and his face went up at a flash
of fire, searing his flesh to the bone. He collapsed,
never to rise. I threw up fear revulsion. I don't know,
but the contents of my stomach were out on the ground.
I wasn't the only one. Eulyxe turned toward the police
raised his front hoofs and slammed them down onto the
(30:06):
steel of the bus like startled birds. The police scattered
to the woods, away from the river and away from
our town, leaving their cruisers and compatriots behind more of
Eulyxes's magic. The wounded officer on the bus continued to
cry out sobbing. He kept crying until Eulyxe pried open
his ribs and masticated his organs. I couldn't wish that
(30:29):
on a soul, no matter how much I despised them.
Doomsday started chanting, too low under her breath for me
to follow. Doomsday. The voice came from town, and it
was angry. Eric approached, unmasked and seemingly unarmed. He strode
up like he owned the place, like everything was going
(30:49):
according to plan, never mind the corpses. Thursday turned and
his hands started out of his pocket. Don't Doomsday, said,
dropping the ritual. He's goading you Eulxes watching Doomsday, you
pretentious fuck. You don't have an ounce of magical power
in your body. Thursday was twitching. I looked over my shoulder.
(31:10):
Eulixe was staring intently. Whatever we were going to do,
we had to do it soon. We had to do
it now. As soon as Eric was done trying to
wield Eulixe like a weapon, the demon was going to
turn on Doomsday. Who knew what would happen from there.
Eric was trying to wield Eulixe like a weapon. It
came over me in a flash. Oh fuck this, I said.
(31:34):
I dropped out of the circle and went to Thursday.
I reached into his pocket, took out the gun and
pointed it at Eric. Eulixe bounded down from the bus
and was halfway between us. Eric a grin across his face,
raised his hands in surrender. Eulixe looked at me, looked
at Eric. Don't hurt me, Danny, Eric said, in a
(31:54):
mocking tone. Eulixe charged Eric. The beast took the young
man by the throat and dragged him thrashing down to
the river. He didn't scream. As soon as his face
touched the water. He stopped struggling as soon as he
shot Rebecca. He must have known how he would meet
his end. He tried to meet it with dignity. We
(32:16):
watched from the bridge, all of us strangely calm as
Eulxe drowned him in the waters. After Eric was dead,
Eulxe let go of his throat, and the body lay
half in the river and half on the rocks. The
water's slow current tugged at him, gave him a strange
semblance of life and motion. Eulyxes stepped gingerly over the
(32:37):
corpse to stand knee deep in the water. He cast
a long look back at us. I can't pretend to
read a deer's expressions, and even less so a demon's.
But for once, the beast's eyes seemed passive. They didn't
pry into my soul anymore. They didn't read my thoughts
and desires. He stepped deeper into the river until the
(32:58):
water was at his neck. He ducked his head under,
and he was gone. Thursday took the gun out of
my shaking hand, and everyone turned their gaze from the
river to me. We thought he was hunting as summoners
to save his own skin. I said he wasn't. He
was hunting as summoners because his summoners were predators, hands
(33:19):
that dared seize the fire. He attacked Eric, not me,
because Eric was goading us to attack. Eric was trying
to use him as a weapon. Eulyxe knew that Anchor,
Rebecca and Clay used it as a weapon. Clay ran
when he figured that out. Then he killed himself because
he knew Eulxe was right to be after him. I
(33:40):
don't know how many times he and I talked about it.
The revolution is about taking power away from the oppressors,
not becoming them. Ourselves were in this case, not crowning
an endless spirit as king. I thought Clay had killed
himself because he couldn't come back to freedom. That wasn't
it at all. Clay killed himself because he recognized the
full weight of what he'd done to the world. I
(34:00):
was the innocent summoner, Doomsday said. Eulxe didn't kill me
because I was the innocent summoner. And you know it
don't need to go out like Clay either. Thursday said,
is Eulyxe gone? Then? Vulture asked on the twelfth page,
what hand dare sees the fire? Doomsday said, on Solstice today,
(34:21):
Eric tried to use him Today, Solstice thins the veil
between worlds being used like a weapon. Today it was
enough to convince Eulyxey to depart. Since departure was an option,
I nodded. That's what Clay was trying to tell us.
The world was quiet there in the morning. As people
limped to their feet, the sirens still flashed, though no
(34:42):
cops remained to drive the cars. Bird song came though
after some time, and the sun began to burn off
the fog. What will you do now, I asked Doomsday.
Five of us were crowded into a booth at a
diner in the middle of nowhere, Minnesota. Next Hi Brynn
was cleaning her nails with a folding knife. Across from us,
(35:04):
Doomsday and Thursday sipped black tea, their faces deadpan. Vulture
sat with his legs astride a backward chair, and he
was grinning like the sun had never been brighter. I
don't know, Doomsday said, find somewhere else, I suppose you guys,
You guys. Vulture tilted his chair dangerously forward and to
lean toward us conspiratorily. I was thinking, Clay and Rebecca
(35:26):
camp be the only ones who knew magic like that, right,
Elixie can't be the only endless spirit out there. So
I was checking my phone in the car right because
Doomsday told me I wasn't allowed to post any more.
Pictures that were going to incriminate us to Instagram, so
I had to waste my time some other way. And
there's this forum I found where people track things like
you Lyxi and most of his bullshit, but like, I
don't know, some of it's probably not. Like there's this
(35:46):
private club in Oregon and every couple of years local
kids try to sneak in, but most of them go missing,
and some of them just go crazy telling everyone about
a bear without any skin. And there's a coal mine
in West Virginia where translucent dogs had been attacking active
And there's this bank in Canada that's being guarded by
a headless man and and he was actually hyperventilating. He
(36:07):
waved his hands up and down, unable to control his joy.
And we could be demon hunters, I asked, coordinated. The
Days reached down and sipped their tea. Brynn folded, shut
her knife and put it on the table. Yeah, Brynn said,
all right, of course, Doomsday said. Thursday nodded. I put
(36:29):
my hand, still modeled with a lifeless gray though no
longer painful, in the center of the table. The rest
put theirs on mine. Vulture took a picture with his phone.
You can't be serious, Doomsday said to him. We're wanted.
We shouldn't even be talking about this here, let alone
taking pictures. Yes for Instagram, though she'd glared, buy, I'll
(36:50):
delete it. Jesus fucking Christ. He was still grinning. The
server brought her hash browns and refilled my coffee, and
I swirled the thick black stuff of life around the
mug as I sorted out my thoughts. Looks like we're
all outlaws now, I said. The police will be back
and they'll be investigating the hell out of Free tom Iowa.
It's not so bad as you'd think, Doomsday said. She
(37:11):
pulled her hand off the stack, and the rest of
us followed suit. Oh, no matter who you are, you
go through your life every day of your life, sure
that one day you'll die, One day the light will
be gone from your world and the grave awaits right. Well,
I don't think about as often as that, I lied.
I looked at each of my new friends in turn.
(37:32):
The days stern and serious brin As waled off as
me a slight smile on her lips. Vulture, who clearly
wasn't happy about being awake while the sun was up
and was just as clearly had as much energy as
the rest of us combined. It felt good to cast
my lot with them. It felt good even to have
friends to cast my lot in with. One day you'll die,
(37:53):
one day you'll be in prison. Doomsday Face was impassive
as always, but I was learning to read its warmth.
Today though you're alive, today, you're free. That duh dun
dunt dunt dun. Oh.
Speaker 1 (38:12):
I am excited for the second one, which I've read,
and I'm excited to force you to write a third one.
Speaker 2 (38:19):
Oh. I started drafting it. Oh, excellent, excellent, So I
may not need to actually invite you back here and
trap you and and and some sort of Yeah, the
book is just about escaping Robert Evans's.
Speaker 1 (38:33):
Yeah, exactly. It's like a reverse whatever that Stephen King
novel is. Yeah, it's very you know, I thought a
lot about that line that you had in there about
how you never get used to flash bangs, because I
had a slightly I have a slightly different relationship with
flash banks, where maybe it'll be different now, but I
got extremely used to flash bangs, but as a consequence,
(38:54):
got less use to everything else, Like the thing that
would particularly fuck me up was that the sound of
the sound of a flash bang grenade landing next to
you was almost the same as the sound of a
glass bottle hitting the ground without shattering, And anytime that
would happen, I would just like clinch up and immediately
be like in hell. And it was the same with
(39:14):
like little fireworks or poppers or anything like that, Like
it was it was everything. Everything that was vaguely similar
to a flashbang fucked me up. But the flash bangs
themselves I was used to.
Speaker 2 (39:27):
Honestly, that makes sense to me, Like I've only had
my vision stuttered by a flashbang once, and actually it
was in Portland also, and yeah, we're a real flashbang town. Yeah,
two thousand three, March twentieth, two thousand and three, somewhere
in southwest Portland maybe northwest Portland. Before they charged us,
(39:49):
they flash banged us. And yeah that like that freeze frame.
I'm never forgetting that freeze frame, like I've forgotten most
things that happened twenty years ago. Yeah, yeah, but no,
that makes sense. The fireworks have never have not been
my friend since then, although I slowly, yeah, pulled out
of it a little bit.
Speaker 1 (40:08):
Yeah, I go back and forth on them. But yeah, Margaret, wonderful,
very excited to continue this. But next we will have
a different set of stories for you all.
Speaker 2 (40:17):
So every Sunday we're being at either a different story
or a new start for a story that will continue
for a different length of time, or possibly sometimes Robert
and I will jabber about books, or maybe other people
will jabber about books. Yeah, exactly, it's a miss, So
look forward to that, everybody, and until next time, stay spooky.
(40:40):
Yeah bye,
Host
Margaret Killjoy
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