The sun had sank lower in the sky, maybe two hours until sunset. I stretched in the tall grass, feeling my bones and joints pull and settle comfortably back into place. I felt good. Really, really good. Except for my mouth.

Pulling out my denture, I stuck my tongue into holes where I was missing a half dozen teeth. I could feel bumps under the gums, tender and sore. Running a grubby finger over the afflicted area I recognised what was happening — new teeth were coming in. You don’t raise four kids and not recognise the feel of new teeth. It hurt like a bitch too, no wonder they squalled so much.

Sticking the denture in my shirt pocket, I fastened it then sat up and looked around. My shirt stuck to me, covered in half coagulated blood. Staggering over my two companion corpses on my way to the road, I got my feet back under me and went to collect my belongings, then tightened my belt another notch. The weird stones Brown-teeth had tossed to the ground went back in my pocket. My wallet, relieved of the useless cash and credit cards it contained. Clothing and bedding discarded from the horses.

The railroad spikes.

I gathered all my stuff and leapt over to Marcus road in four bounds, depositing it in the weeds next to the corpses. I drank down the remains of my dead companions, pocketed their stones, and thirsted for more. Grabbing up three spikes in each hand, I bounded down the road on wobbly psychic legs, eating up the ground at a terrific pace. Five minutes later, I was at the dirt drive casting out with my aura. I could sense four people in the living room and another two in the back. One was out by a metal shed next to a scorched RV, and a blurry one inside it. The horses were tied up on the west side of the house near me. The fuckers didn’t even bother to water or unsaddle them.

Sending out thoughts of comfort along the bond, I assured the horses that I would be there soon and to stay put.

Skulking up the dirt road, I decided to take out the two near the RV [1] first. A tall, muscular guy was smoking a cigarette under the shed and scraping at something with a metal file. I could see dark filaments wrapped around the black spark in his chest, winding through his body like veins of corruption. What the hell were they feeding kids these days? This guy was fucking huge. I watched him for a bit, noticing that the other aura was inside the RV itself.

There was too much open space between Mr. Muscleus Maximus and me for comfort, maybe 20 yards or so. I’d have to rush him, or come up with an alternative. Backing down the dirt road, I snuck around to the front of the RV and peeked around. Mr. Muscleus was still working on his project, completely absorbed in whatever he was filing down.

I reached out with both tentacles and wrapped them around his neck, squeezing as hard as I could and yanking him towards me. He felt slimy, like I was grabbing something covered in vaseline. Off balance, he fell on his ass and began sliding towards me across across the dirt, clawing at his throat and making ‘Gurk…gurk’ noises until he was struggling at my feet. I tightened my psychic grip and watched his eyes bulge, face purpling as he clawed at his neck. His eyes were the same feral yellow as Brown-Teeth and Blue-Shirt, and there was a definite greenish cast to his skin. Was he mutating like the porcuweiler?

He stopped moving a minute later, and two minutes after that the motes appeared. I drank them eagerly, impatient for the black ones to change colour and filter through. It was like shooting rotgut whiskey, leaving me breathless and lightheaded. When his body crumbled to dust, I pocketed the black stone he left behind and checked his clothing, finding nothing of interest.

Casting a quick peek at the status of the six auras inside the house, I slunk up to the door of the RV where the blurry aura was curled up in the rear. If my psychic arms could penetrate metal walls, this would be so much easier, I mused. Easing the door open, I crept inside, keeping low.

Sneaking a glance around the cabinets, I could see someone laying on the bed in the back. I eased my way towards the master suite, keeping low. A woman, no, a girl with a clear aura and a bright orange spark inside her head was curled on the bed in a tight ball with her eyes squeezed shut.

There was a chain locked around her ankle. Glancing down I saw the chain ran past my feet and was bolted to the floor, giving her just enough slack to use the bathroom or sit at the table.

…I didn’t need this. I need targets for my anger. I need fire and blood and vengeance for the wrongs done to me. I didn’t need, and I didn’t want, another charity case.

Am I a bad person because I feel angry at her for being here? I could really use a therapist right about now.

I edged around the narrow space between the bed and the wall and leaned close, clapping a hand over her mouth and trying to wrap her up with my tentacles. They kept bouncing off her aura like it was made out of rubber, so I adapted and spread them like a net pinning her to the mattress. I made a mental note of her orange spark and added it to my growing list of shit that don’t make sense anymore.

She yelped as my fingers closed around her mouth and her eyes shot open, wide, terrified. The eyes of a trapped animal.

“I’m going to kill them all,” I said. “And then I’ll come back for you.”

She started bawling hysterically, thrashing under my tentacles.

“No! Stop… I mean, I’ll come back and release you, okay? But until then I need you to remain quiet, capisce?”

She calmed down and tried to say something.

I cast a glance back at the house, peering through the metal walls with my auric sight and getting nothing but blurs in return.

“Quietly. What is it?” I asked, removing my hand slowly and taking a look at her.

She was a bit older than my daughter, early 20s with skin the colour of mocha and covered in a piss-yellow aura. One eye was swollen shut, the side of her face a bruised from where some asshole had hit her.

I assume some asshole hit her. Maybe she “walked into a door” before chaining herself up.

“Get me loose,” she demanded.

I looked at the lock holding the chain around her ankle. It wasn’t substantial, but considering its position it would be finicky to remove without a key.

“You know where the key is?”

She shook her head.

“Wait a minute,” I told her, backing away.

A quick search under the shed turned up a hammer and Mr. Muscleus’s iron file. I brought them back inside and handed them to her. “That’s the best I can do for now. Don’t make any noise.”

“Mike can make fire come out of his hands,” she whispered, looking at me with terror in her eyes. “He likes to burn people.”

I nodded. “He’s not the only one with super powers.”

I walked back to the front of the camper, paused, then headed back.

“Is there anyone in the house I shouldn’t kill?” I asked.

She shook her head violently.

“Good. Don’t go anywhere.”

I exited the camper, cringing at my choice of words.

I paused outside the door for a couple of minutes, but there was nothing but a faint scraping noise from inside. Good girl.

Five of the auras were gathered inside one section of the house, and one was isolated further back. Maybe he was having a push or something.

So how do I handle this? I can have the horses create a commotion and lure them outside. Or I could just burst in with spikes and tentacles and go medieval on their asses. Or maybe just set fire to the place?

Por que no todo?

Slinking over to the horses, I untied their reins and commanded them to head into the woods on the west side of the property, instructing them to wait for me.

Back over at the RV shed, I looked around for flammables but didn’t discover anything useful. I climbed inside the RV again and ripped out the cushions with my tentacles. Tossing through the cabinets, I located a butane lighter. Testing it was a good idea, because it refused to work. I found a pack of kitchen matches a minute later.

“I’m going to burn the fuckers out,” I said to my captive audience. “Enjoy the screams.”

Gathering my spikes and floating the cushions behind me, I skulked around to the backside of the house and piled them against the backdoor. Heading back to the RV, I popped open the cap on the petrol tank and snaked a tentacle inside. I could feel fuel in there.

So how do I get it out?

I figured it out after a bit, siphoning maybe 20 gallons of fuel into a psychic tentacle that swelled up like a balloon. Walking back around the house, utterly confident with my petrol tentacle, I doused the cushions with half the fuel and then walked a circle around the house liberally dousing the wooden structure, only ducking when I passed near the living room windows.

I made note of cover along the way; an old wooden pump shed in the back yard, shrubbery along the fencerow on the east side of the house. Trees along the west and front of the house.

The auras were scattered around now, two heading towards the back door and others remaining in the living area. I suppose the smell of 20 gallons of petrol will draw at least a little interest, won’t it? Striking a match, I tossed it towards the fuel.

It went out.

I backed away to a good cover spot, a pin oak about 5 yards from the front door that shaded the entire house. Lighting the entire matchbox, I floated it over to the fuel soaked ground.

How do you make a dead dog bark?

Douse it in petrol and toss a match.

WOOOOOOOF!

Orange flames blazed around the house, including the backdoor that had been opened to reveal the petrol soaked cushions propped against it. Muted yells of panic and a scream of pain carried to my ears. I rejoiced with a grim smile. Burn motherfucker, burn.

The auras were all piss-yellow now, streaked with dark red and orange. They ran around the interior like scared chickens, then one jumped through a window on the west side. I ran over there and confronted Brown-teeth. Grinning, I launched a railroad spike into his chest. It burst through his body and smashed into the wooden wall behind him. He spun like a rag doll and landed on his face.

Running back to the front of the house, I spiked two more as they leaped through the flames. The spikes exploded through them and detonated against the interior walls of the house. Screaming in agony, they clutched their guts and fell like broken dolls.

Ducking back behind the tree, I waited to see what happened next.

Another aura jumped from a bedroom window on the south side of the house. Leaping on top of the house with my auric legs, I ran to the other side and lashed out with a tentacle, grabbing my victim by the neck and dragging them into the flames by the back door. Blue-shirt tried to stop-drop-and-roll but I spiked him from the rooftop and watched him flop around like a fish on the grass.

Walking back to the other side of the roof, I watched the two remaining auras under me gather in the living room. One of my previous victims had stopped screaming and stared glassy eyed into the sky. The other was trying to crawl away, blood pouring from his wound. I donkey punched him with a tentacle, grinning sadistically as his face smacked against the ground.

Somewhere inside my head, the monkey brain was kicked back with a bucked of buttered popcorn, nodding in approval. Some fuckers just needed to die.

Inside the house, one of the auras flickered and brightened, heading towards the front door. I watched as the flames churned, agitated, then boiled around a new figure with a cherry red spark in its head that stepped onto the front lawn. Wrapped in a vortex of flames, I could see what could only be Mike looking around for someone to toast.

“Yoo hoo!” I yelled gleefully, launching a spike. “Up here!”

The spike missed.

Flames gathered around Mike as I concentrated and launched another spike, then they washed over me.

Screaming in agony, I scrambled backwards up the roof, tumbling down the other side and falling onto the petrol soaked cushions. I rolled around frantically, burning and unable to douse the flames. I pushed out with my aura again and again, trying to get the flames off of me until a sheen of petrol erupted from my skin and vanished in a poof of orange.

Rolling a few more times in sheer panic, I scrambled to my feet in agonising pain. Everything hurt. My clothing was a smoking ruin, my skin red and raw, my back a twisted mass of misery where I had fallen on it. The smell of burnt hair filled my nostrils.

Pushing off with my psychic legs, I leaped back onto the roof. Scrambling to the peak, I snatched up the railroad spike I had dropped and cast out for the aura of Mike. He was a mass of deep red at the rear of the house, then he darted back inside through the flames, pulling them behind him.

Fucker.

I jumped back over the roof to the ground at the rear of the house and reached out with my left tentacle, tossed the burning cushions into the kitchen. I nearly went inside, then talked myself out of it. Why the hell should I venture into his home territory? I jumped back on top of the house and suffered my burns in silence, observing the auras inside.

The wood siding on the east side of the house was catching nicely, but the flames were dying down elsewhere. I figured the structure would eventually burn if I was patient enough, but my stuff was inside and I’d like to have it back. I probed with my psychic radar from the peak of the roof until I found the two spikes I had launched at Mike, then crouched like an angry spider and waited.

Red-hat bounced out the front door with his bow once the flames died down a bit. I reached out with a tentacle and hauled him onto the roof with a grunt. He tore at his throat, thrashing on the asphalt shingles while I grinned at him.

“Imagine meeting you again,” I croaked, my throat raw from the smoke and flames.

He kicked a bit more when his throat cracked, then went limp. I tossed his body from the roof into the front yard, then snatched up his bow and sent it towards the RV shed as an afterthought.

“What do you want, you fucker!” Mike screamed from inside the house. “Money? You want the horses? Take them! I’ll burn you to a cinder!”

“You’re sending mixed messages,” I murmured, not willing to waste my breath yelling back. I followed as he prowled around the house like a trapped animal.

Mike’s aura moved through the house, a cancerous lump of hateful red checking the windows in every room before going back to the kitchen. It gathered in intensity, smoke from the backdoor shifted and reversed course, sucking back into the house.

I waited over the back door. Step outside. I dare you.

“Warrrriooorssss, come out to plaaaaayyyy!” I rasped, hoping a line from a 70s cult classic would goad him into action.

The roof erupted underneath my feet, flames and fiery bits of shrapnel propelling me into the air. I waved my arms madly trying to maintain my balance before snatching at the house with a tentacle and landing awkwardly by the pump shed. An elemental [2] from the pits of Hell burst from the remains of the kitchen, ten feet tall with yellow eyes. It leered at me, orange flames licking around a fiery mouth. I took a step back from the monstrosity, then sent my three remaining spikes through Elemental Mike. They impacted deep inside the house with a rumble. The newborn elemental ran a hand over its chest, then chortled, belching sparks and soot.

I could still see his spark though, a cherry red beacon in his forehead. Best of all, it was 100% in my strike zone.

I reached out with both tentacles, pushing through the brilliant aura surrounding the flaming piece of shit. He bellowed in agony as I burrowed through his defences, flaring even hotter than before. The heat was like a living thing, licking my skin with a scalding tongue while I forced my way through the barriers. I closed my watering eyes as my clothes began to smoulder, gouging desperately for the cherry coloured surprise inside the creature.

When my psychic hands wrapped around the blazing spark, I squeezed with everything I had. Elemental Mike howled, lashing around with fiery arms as I applied pressure, stomping towards me. Thirty feet. Twenty feet.

Crack.

The horror burst into wild flames and stumbled. Dropping to its knees, it clutched at its forehead and roared in agony. I kept up the pressure, focusing every fibre of my being on smashing that spark into nothingness. Elemental Mike wailed when it shattered in my aetherial hands.

Flaming out, it began to dissolve into motes. I snatched up the glowing embers of his soul and drank, guzzling until nothing remained. I was so very, very thirsty.

Limping over to the ashes, I claimed my reward — a brilliant red stone the size of my thumbnail.

* * *

Footnotes

1. RV. Recreational Vehicle. Similar to a Tinker’s wagon.

2. Possibly the first recorded fire elemental (Novis elementum ignus). Status: Hazard.

Elementals are the subject of much debate because they exist as a fundamental force. While their material bodies are apparently composed of their primary element (air, fire, etc) they possess a mana stone. Some have been known to be sapient, although their intelligence is quite alien in nature.

See Also: “Elemental Studies” by Cristofer Jamie Manansala Hermano

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