The Cavalry is Dead

Chapter 11: A Gigantic Scarecrow Attacks Us and Other Fun Times

"It's not her fault," Jax said defensively.

He scooped the pegapiglet up. Bibi shivered in his arms, her ears pricked up and swivelling. The scarecrow was lurching towards them, like a drunken sailor sloshing across a deck; that lopsided smile was still affixed to its face.

"I will kill that pig," Asa muttered. "I actually will."

"She can't help it." Jax pulled her closer. "There's a scarecrow in our garden and it fell on her once. Broke her wing and everything."

He felt it best not to mention that his father — the famed Antonius Blackwater — had been the one to push the scarecrow over. He'd denied it later, but Jax had watched the whole thing happen through the window. Bibi's wing had never recovered.

"How do we kill it?" Romes asked.

They all looked to Xander. He shrugged.

"You can't," Xander said.

Romes clutched her knife. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you can't kill it like this," Xander clarified. "You have to stop being afraid of the thing. The squidarium monster loses its power, and it's forced to change back to its original form. Then you can cut off its head and burn it."

Romes considered this. "Sounds simple enough."

She stepped forward. The monster whipped its head around. Romes raised her knife; the metal flashed like a star in the darkness.

"What are you doing?" Jax demanded.

Her voice was grim. "Making it change."

The creature rippled.

The monster began to shrink, sprouting nails and teeth and skin. Black hair sprouted from its head, skittering down its forehead like spider legs. Veins bulged in its arms. Romes didn't move, but her shoulders tensed. The knife gleamed in her hand.

"Who is that?" Asa asked.

He was staring at the man with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. Jax's throat felt dry. He knew exactly who the monster had changed into.

Jax swallowed. "It's..."

He couldn't bring himself to say it. Wasn't sure that Romes wanted him to say it.

"My father," Romes finished.

She didn't turn. Her eyes were fixed on Roan, who smiled at them with yellowing teeth. The butcher was dressed in a filthy white apron, and there was dried blood on his wrists. He stroked his red beard.

"Hello, Romes," Roan said.

Jax's stomach plunged. "It can talk?"

"Is it just me," Asa muttered, "or did you prefer when its mouth was sewn shut?"

Romes took a step forward. There was something determined about her, Jax thought; something that made him think of moonshine flowers, a periwinkle bloom that sprouted even in tough rock or frozen deserts.

"I'm not afraid of you," Romes said, her voice steady.

"No?" Roan raised an eyebrow. "And who are these lovely young gentlemen?" He looked over her shoulder. "Suitors? Lovers? Men that you roll around in the fields with? Maybe you have more than one of them at once." That yellow smile grew. "I bet you'd enjoy that, wouldn't you?"

Romes raised her knife. "Bugger off."

"Oh, I see." Roan's voice was amused. "You think they're your friends. But you had to trick them into letting you come along, didn't you? Sensible. I can read their minds too, you know. They never wanted you here. Still don't."