Un2talented (Book 3 of the Un2 Series)

The torchlight from the grotto silhouetted the dog-man and the bird-man-dog at the mouth of the tunnel. They turned to greet the footfalls coming from behind them.

“Gary?” Cadence was taken aback.

“Apparently, it’s nightfall,” Gary responded. “ A dayhound might have worked as a substitute for a dwayyo, but the snallygaster doesn’t find anything about me intimidating.”

“It ain’t seeing what I’m seeing!” Reese chirped.

“Amen, sister,” Cadence agreed.

Griffin shifted a wing to conceal Gary’s intimidator.

“Nice!” Gary huffed. “We’re faced with defeating a giant hell-beast and you’re making dick jokes!”

“Is there ever a bad time to make a dick joke?” Dorian asked.

“That’s a hard one. It depends on how long it is!” DeLeon chimed in.

“That’s what she said!” Griffin added.

Everyone, sans Gary, laughed. “E Tu, Griffin?”

“It’s a classic! I couldn’t resist.!” Griffin faux-pologized.

“C’mon, guys!” Leslie scolded. “Gary’s dick is nothing to joke about!”

“You can say that again!” the group rebutted in unison.

As the laughter subsided, Dorian offered his vest and DeLeon held forth his shirt, providing Gary a choice. Gary took the shirt and fashioned a surprisingly stylish diaper by tying the arms around his waist, pulling the shirt’s body through his legs, and wrapping it up and around the knotted sleeves. Dorian tossed the vest to DeLeon.

“It’s damp down here,” he said. “You might catch your death.”

DeLeon stared back.

“Your death of cold! It’s a saying. I meant it to be nice.”

“It is. Thanks.” DeLeon slipped into the wolf pelt.

The group gathered to gaze at the beast that had formed from thousands of lesser beasts. It had grown to the size of a typical two-story suburban tract home. Its head, the size of a soccer mom’s SUV, was primarily Phoecock in appearance. Crimson feathers continued down its neck and chest and onto T-rex-type arms that looked like chicken legs on steroids. Its giant talons seemed useless, situated so far from the ground below. Plumage wrapped around its shoulders and flowed out into wings that spread as wide as the creature was tall. Velvety feathers gave way to pearlescent scales as the avian torso transitioned into an aquatic mid-section. The torchlight shimmered off of metallic fins that traced the middle of its spine. Pectoral fins flitted back and forth beneath each of the drumstick-like arms. The large overlapping plates that created its underbelly tapered into a coiled tail of marbled turquoise snakeskin, culminating in a feathered fluke with flickering golden highlights that mimicked its head and shoulders.

“It’s magnificent!” Reese sighed. “And, no, I’m not talkin’ about Gary.”

“It truly is, but it has no place in this lifestream,” DeLeon asserted.

“It may be beautiful, but it’s made from the echoes of horrible souls.”

“And the rivers of the underworld,” Dorian added. ”Instant monster. Just add water. I think that we can all agree that Plan Pinkie has gone out the window. There’s no way we’ll be able to get past that beast and make it to the lagoon.”

“Are you willing to try Plan B?” Leslie inquired.

“It’s worth a shot,” Reese replied. “Step aside.”

“What’s Plan B?” Gary asked.

“Reese and the snallygaster have that ‘undead’ thing in common. We’re hoping that it may let down its guard because of it.”

“What if it does? Do you think you can defeat it by yourself?”

“Let me try,” Reese insisted.

“Seasoned warriors are standing right here that couldn’t defeat that thing! Do you think that being undead is enough to tip the scales? You take one swipe at that thing and it will know your intentions.”

“Gary’s right!” Dorian concurred. “You need help. Let me help.”

Reese stepped up to Dorian, drew him close, and whispered in his ear.

“Good idea.”

She attached herself to his neck and siphoned a mouthful of his blood.

“Mmm, apples. Is that cardamom?”

“What did you do? Am I a vampire, now?” Dorian grabbed the side of his neck and then covered his mouth with both hands. He ran his tongue across his teeth and checked for fangs.

“No!” Reese exclaimed. “I wouldn’t turn you without your permission. I just want to improve my chances by borrowing your enhancements. We should know if my theory worked in a few moments.”

A few moments passed.

“Well? Do you feel any different?”

“Nothing worth mentioning.”

“Try grabbing your crotch and moonwalking,” Dorian skated backward and let out a “Whee-Hee-Hee!”

“Um, no, stop,” Reese held out her hand in protest. A ripple of flesh pulsed down from her shoulder toward her wrist. It left a mass of muscle and sinew in its wake. A second ripple traveled back up her arm and then split at the neck. One pulse raced down her torso while the other traveled across the other arm causing Reese to do the wave, followed by an involuntary moonwalk, crotch grab, and a blurted “Whee-Hee-Hee!”

“I didn’t mean to do that!” She blushed.

“Whee-Hees happen,” Dorian defended. “Do you feel okay?”

“My clothes feel a bit tighter, but I feel pretty good for the most part.”

“What now?” Gary asked.

“Now, I slay the snallygaster.”

“And you plan to do that how?”

“I’ll know how when the time comes.”

Reese readied her blade and stepped forward from the group. Gary attempted to stop her but was restrained by Leslie.

“Let her do this.”

“Do what? Get herself. . .whatever you call killing someone already dead?”

“Slay. I think the word slay is an appropriate term for killing something undead,” Griffin replied.

“Get herself slayed?”

“Slew. The proper word is slew,” Dorian corrected.

Gary stared in disbelief.

“It’s not going to happen!” Dorian was quick to add.

The creature focused on her as soon as she entered the grotto. It leaned toward her and cocked its head for a better view. Reese moved forward with slow, fluid strides to ensure that she did not make any sudden moves or appear threatening. The snallygaster shifted its posture, tilting with her as it tracked her steps. A continuous thrum within its throat amplified with each step as Reese drew closer and closer.

“Is that purring?” Cadence asked.

“Or growling,” Gary replied. “It can go either way.”

“I don’t like this,” Griffin added. “It ain’t exactly wagging its tail.”