Something Wicked This Way Comes

Chapter 50

"You need to be nicer to the people who feed you," Harley told his dinosaur.

Pickles warbled in the back of his throat, then made a crooning noise—affectionately rubbing his long nose against Harley's leg like a cat as the demigod fed him.

"I can't watch you 24/7," Harley told Pickles, standing back as a bit of blood sprayed on the old stones. "You've gotta be okay with other people giving you food."

Pickles continued to scarf down his breakfast, uncaring and unbothered.

Harley rolled his eyes, turning back to Antigone and Claire, physically recoiling when he saw the others had all gathered to watch him.

"What?" He demanded.

Claire snorted a laugh. "You definitely have your hands full, Spooks."

Harley frowned. "Is that nickname sticking?"

"Yes it is."

He huffed and rolled his eyes. "Great."

Jim came into the courtyard, lugging a slightly miffed looking Carter behind him. Pickles looked up at the newcomers, suddenly bristling. His pupils contracted to slits and he shot upright, snarling deeply.

"Woah!" Jim and Carter both shot back a bit, clearly unnerved by the sudden hostility.

"Pickles what the hell is your problem?" Harley demanded, irritation spiking.

Pickles bared his teeth at the Trollhunter and demigod, scooting towards Harley, almost shielding him with his massive body.

"I think he's protecting you," Steve suggested.

"Yeah, but why?" Harley shoved at the spinosaurus' massive neck as he continued to inch closer. "Back up."

Pickles looked at him sideways, expression clearly wondering, "are you crazy"?

"It's my fault," Carter clarified, sticking to the edge of the courtyard. "Sorry, I um..."

"He's got a divine rage thing going on right now," Jim said. "I guess all Pickles smells is danger."

Harley sighed, absently petting the aforementioned beast's long snout as he lowered his head. "It's okay, he's not going to hurt me."

Pickles whined, clearly not convinced. Harley glanced at Mama for help, but she was also eyeing Carter untrustingly. Not quite as aggressive as Pickles, but definitely not civil.

"I don't think either of them like the way "divine rage" smells," Toby suggested.

Harley frowned, rubbing a quivering muscle on his dinosaur's face. "What to do about that, then?"

"Beat the shit out of my sister," Carter muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

"Hey," Jim reprimanded, then said something to him Harley couldn't hear.

Carter's face went through multiple expressions as Jim talked, none of them particularly happy. But he listened, occasionally nodding in solemn agreement. After having said his piece, Jim made a soft gesture—briefly cupping Carter's cheek, then much more firmly grasping his shoulder. Carter grasped his forearm in turn, nodding.

Satisfied, Jim let go of him and turned back to the "Harley and Friends" show. "Had any luck with him yet?"

Harley rolled his eyes, using both hands to pet his scaly new friend. "No, he's a brat."

"Sounds like someone I knoooow," Steve called obnoxiously in a sing-song voice.

Harley flipped him off. Pickles watched the gesture, nictating membrane flashing out for a split-second across his eyes. Then his eyes brightened and he rose to his full height, unleashing a sudden and very loud squawk of a roar at Steve.