Shadow Street Chapter 8
Shadow Street Chapter 8
From the Blog
Fiction Excerpt
Shadow Street Chapter 8
Up we went, grabbed and yanked into the sky. Clutched around our dangling arms and legs were the strong talons of an enormous beast. It flew silently. I could see brown and white in the feathers. I can't otherwise see anything. Feathers are on my face. Those silent soaring wings. Mr. Curtis’s legs dangled below me as I watched our street fall away from us and the smoky city leave us behind.
They dropped us. I assumed it was to our deaths. I thought for sure that Mr. Curtis’s legs next to me were lifeless. We landed roughly on a tiled rooftop and rolled.
Mr. Curtis’s hat flopped by. I picked it up and sat up, then turned around quickly as a shadow crossed over me.
“What? Who?”
“It is I.”
It was Arthur, the owl.
Mr. Curtis stood up next to me and took his hat. I gave it to him, forgetting for a moment that I thought him dead just a moment before.
“I uh,” I said.
“No need,” said the owl.
Mr. Curtis reached into his hat and found another fresh outfit and started putting it on.
“Where'd you get…”
“This old thing…”
It looked freshly pressed.
The owl paced. Every few moments a ruffle would send fresh down feathers upon us. I brushed them out of my face.
“You boys,” said the owl. I swear his eyes lit up, but I don't think they did. “You boys may be in way over your heads here.”
“What are we up against?” said Mr. Curtis, tying his tie.
The owl scraped the roof, sending tiles plummeting down to the ground below.
“I thought it might come to this.” The bird turned around. He was pacing. I thought he was preparing for liftoff.
“The bakery must be closed and cleansed. The tunnel must be closed that leads into the cave, and that will not stop them.”
“What will?” I asked.
“We’ll eventually have to find their lair and storm it. No one is safe, but in the short term, we can keep things under control.”
“How do we cleanse the bakery?”
“Salt. Holy water. Don't eat the…” he coughed.
“And blocking the…”
“The drain…”
The owl tripped and landed in front of us. One eye was wide, the other tightly shut. He wasn't breathing well. His beak opened, but it wouldn’t open wide enough for the creature inside to make its way clear. The first two sickly yellow tentacles pushed forth, trying to open his mouth.
I watched them in awe. We felt lost. “The surrounding town, Mrs. Constellation, the bakery, everybody, now this.” Mr. Curtis didn’t flinch.
“Thank you, my friend,” he said to the body of the owl lying before us, the creature inside trying unsuccessfully to take control of his large body. The failing eye winked at him as Mr. Curtis replaced the monocle in his left eye.
He handed me a flask and pulled quickly from his hat. It was a small one, glass with a stopper in the top
“Water?”
I saw the frog had in his hand a small salt cellar. He opened the lid, bidding me to do the same with mine. I popped it open.
“Holy water?”
“I thank you. You've told me enough. Now let's cleanse my friend here.” He sprinkled the tentacles with salt. They retreated into the bird’s beak.
“Quickly friend,” he said to me.
I sprinkled some of the water onto the bird’s face, getting as much as I could on the beast.
“That's right.” He did some more salt, going around the roof a little too. I did some more, following his lead.
The owl’s body convulsed. It flipped over. It shook. I poured a measure down the owl’s throat. The creature slowly emerged after it choked. It slid out and flopped to the rooftop, but it couldn't cross the salt sprinkled around.
It was yellow, slimy, and pale. It resembled an octopus, but it had five tentacles instead of eight, and couldn’t easily supply support for its body weight. It blinked, looked around with a single bulbous bright blue eye, and stared us down. The person looked around.
“Looking for a way yet?” said the frog. “I'm onto you.” He faced the creative eye to eye, closing one of his own.