Three Truths and Other Unsettling Tales Read online

  The creature left the barn and disappeared down the path, dropping back to all fours as the fog enveloped him.

  Edmond watched as Matthew disappeared. “There’s a small hamlet in that direction. They’re totally unprotected,” he sighed.

  “They’re to be sacrificed for the greater good. There’s nothing that can be done for them,” said Magnus as he dropped the gun to the ground.

  Edmond, after determining that Magnus had only given him a flesh wound, stood up. He faced the older man and he saw the deep lines etched in his face. His tired eyes begged for sleep. He raised Antonio’s revolver to the older man’s head.

  “It’s okay, Edmond. I told you that you would have this opportunity. You have my forgiveness beforehand, if you feel you need it.”

  Edmond’s hand shook, but he didn’t pull the trigger.

  Magnus continued, “My Angelica has been gone for ten years. I’m old, lonely, my body aches daily, and tonight, I was compelled to murder a man who was like a son to me. Please, do it.”

  Edmond lowered the gun. “You should just bite down on that capsule in your mouth if you’re so determined to die.”

  Magnus frowned. “That’s not something I would receive absolution for.” He spit out the capsule. “If you’re not going to end me, then at least help me bury Antonio.”

  The two men worked together to dig an appropriate grave for their fallen friend. The site was marked with a heavy rock and a cross that Edmond carved from some wood. They both spoke their words of sadness and loss over the grave.

  “What happens next?” Edmond asked as the impromptu ceremony ended. “Do we stop hunting the creature?”

  “No,” came the response. “You’ll accompany me back to the cathedral. I want you to get a new team together. You’re the lead hunter now. The beast will have time to recover, but more importantly, he’ll have time to create others in his image.”

  “And what if I manage to hunt them all down again? Do you expect me to hold back?”

  Magnus gave an unexpected smile and spoke, “You’re not half the hunter that Antonio was. I expect that you’ll use all of your skill and cunning. And with that, we’ll achieve balance.”

  Edmond nodded his head in agreement. “When we take up the hunt again, we’ll start with Matthew.”

  “Yes. He will be first,” Magnus agreed. “I demand it.” With that, the two men left the area, walking in the direction opposite from that of the creature.

  Candyboot

  If you ever asked Candyboot to describe himself, the first thing he'd tell you is that he's devilishly handsome with an excellent sense of humor. He'd probably brag that he can speak every language known to man. He would add that he's polite, forgiving, and an overall great guy. If you let him go long enough, I’m sure he'd mention that he has friends all over the world who he loves to spend time with.

  If you asked me to describe Candyboot, it would be a hell of a lot closer to the truth. I'd tell you that he's about two feet tall with a reddish Mohawk, sharp little teeth, and pointy talons. He's definitely NOT handsome. As for his sense of humor, some people might find him funny, as long as they’re not the ones who are the butt of his pranks. The boast about speaking every language is most likely true, though his politeness exists only in spurts. And the claim about having friends all over the world? Well he certainly has acquaintances, but I doubt that any of them would consider him a friend.

  Candyboot is an imp, a sprite, or a gremlin - I don’t really know what his species is, but what’s certain is that he’s a magical prankster of the most vicious sort. At best he's a nuisance, and at worst... well, you'll see shortly.

  And that leads to me, Evan. I'm one of Candyboot's many worldwide acquaintances. He tells me that of all the people he stays with, I'm his favorite, but I suspect he says that to all of his "friends." His modus operandi is to jump from location to location, usually staying for no more than two weeks at a time in any one spot. If you’re lucky, and if you catch him in the right mood, he can actually be very interesting and chatty (he’s the reason I can swear in fifteen languages). I didn’t choose to be one of his acquaintances - I want to make that much clear. He just showed up one day, telling me that I was to be congratulated on becoming his newest friend. That was ten years ago, when I was eight. It was terrifying the first time I saw him, but I won’t go too much into that first meeting now – that story is best saved for another time.

  I don’t know why he picked me to be one of his hosts, and he never gives me a fixed response when I ask him. Once, he told me that it was because he heard me playing “bloody Mary” in the bathroom one day. “You called to me,” he explained. I tried to argue that he was neither bloody nor named Mary. He just laughed. After a while his answers became more and more ridiculous, so I stopped putting too much thought into the reason for our relationship.

  The only thing that makes him somewhat tolerable is the shortness of his visits. He poofs in with a little cloud of smoke, stays two weeks or less, and then he’s gone again, off to other corners of the world for months at a time. I suppose there's some unfortunate kid in China who has the same Candyboot problem that I have. I don't know how many “friends” he has, but I'm glad he spreads himself around.

  By the way, when he’s here, he only shows himself to me. When I was younger I had a hell of a time trying to convince my mother that a little imp had been spending the past few nights sleeping on a pile of my dirty underwear. I finally gave up on that since he can go invisible at a moment’s notice. In the end it was easier simply to accept his presence and shut up.

  He operates within some set of guidelines that I don’t completely understand, scoring non-existent points when he pulls off a successful prank. “Ten points to me!” he said after magically changing my completed homework into a multi-page love note to my sixty-year-old teacher. I actually turned it in, thinking it was still my report on the Civil War. What followed was probably the most embarrassing parent-student-teacher conference ever. Another time, he woke me up by giving me a decidedly non-magical atomic wedgie. “Five points...” he huffed and puffed as he tried to pull my underwear over the back of my head. “Poin...points to me!” he said triumphantly as he finally succeeded. For the most part though, he just skulks around mumbling to himself and getting into things. I try to ignore him, but it’s hard when you’re studying and you see him out of the corner of your eye using your toothbrush to style his nose hair.

  I could go on and on about life with Candyboot, but it’s easiest just to say that you get used to having him around - and as I already alluded to, sometimes he’s not even that bad. If you ask nicely, he’ll tell you all sorts of interesting stories about his brothers (he has fifty of them). So that’s how it is with Candyboot, him popping in unannounced and uninvited, playing practical jokes, acting like a jackass, and then leaving. Rinse, repeat.

  If you don’t count Candyboot (and please don’t), our household consists of me, my mother, and my little brother Kyle. Around this time last year, we were busy planning a party for my brother’s tenth birthday. Candyboot had been out of the picture for several months at that point, and I prayed that he’d still be gone at least until the party passed. As far as my little brother was concerned, I have to say, the little guy had really earned himself a big bash. For a long time, he’d been a bit of a pistol - it probably had something to do with my dad leaving. However, he’d gotten his grades up and the teacher was no longer sending home conduct reports, so my mom and I wanted to reward him. The party was going to be really kick-ass, with tons of people, a huge cake, a piñata, a bounce castle, and Pickles the Clown.

  It was the night before the party when Candyboot returned. I have a sneaking suspicion that he knew about it all along, but he acted as if he had no clue what was going on. “What’s this?” he demanded in his croaky voice only moments after magically appearing right next to me. I saw he was pointing at a paper mache horse.

  “Hello, Candyboot,” I said with a sigh. “It’s a pi
ñata. I can’t believe you don’t know what it is.”

  “Sé exactamente lo que es, idiota,” came the hoarse reply.

  “Then why did you ask me what... ya know, never mind.”

  Candyboot let out a cackle to let me know he was pleased with himself. He opened the box that held the cake. “What flavor is this?” he asked as his dirty little talon skimmed some frosting off the top.

  “Get away from that!” I shouted as I shooed him away. He gave an excited chuckle and jumped up from the counter onto one of the rotating blades of the ceiling fan. “You can’t have any!” I added as I closed the box back up.

  Candyboot slowly licked the frosting that was still stuck to his talon. “Sweet,” he commented. “We’re going to have a good time tomorrow.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” I said. “WE - as in me, my mom, my brother, and all our guests. That doesn’t include you.” I spoke as if I could actually control Candyboot. I was praying that just once, he’d sense that something was important to me and just leave. it. alone.

  Candyboot didn’t acknowledge his uninvitation. “It’s getting late,” he said. “And anyway, I just came from Sweden. Jag tillbringade bara hela dagen jävla ett får.” He yawned, exposing his dirty little teeth to all the world, then clapped his hands and disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Moments later, I could hear a tiny snore emanating from my bedroom.

  I checked one last time on all the supplies. The decorations were already hung up. They looked great. I checked my email for the tenth time to make sure the catering was confirmed for the correct date. It was. I walked into my bedroom where I saw Candyboot lying across my bed, slowly humping my pillow in his sleep. I shook my head and pulled a spare blanket out of my closet, then, I laid myself on the floor and took way too long to fall asleep.

  The next morning I was woken by the sounds of the household. Kyle was talking excitedly and my mother was setting up tables and chairs. Candyboot was nowhere to be found, though I knew he had to be close. I got dressed and joined my family as they set up. We were expecting about seventy guests – nearly all of Kyle’s classmates and a bunch of our neighbors and friends.

  The morning hours zipped by, and soon people began arriving. Pickles the Clown showed up and entertained the kids with magic. The younger crowd had fun in the bounce castle while the adults looked on in joy. It seemed that everyone was having a great time.

  About an hour into the party Candyboot made his reappearance. I’d spilled a little soda on my shirt and stepped into my bedroom to change. “How’s it going out there?” the gruff voice asked from behind me.

  I didn’t even bother to turn around. “It’s going great. Let’s keep it that way.”

  “How old is that brother of yours?”

  I wanted to ignore him, but I knew it was never wise to ignore the ignoble imp. “He’s turning ten today.”

  “Hmmm.” Candyboot stroked the few small beard hairs the dropped from his chin. “I never really liked him.”

  “Kyle? You don’t even know him.”

  “I know him well enough,” he shot back. “He’s a bully. He hurts the other kids.”

  “He was acting out when my dad left,” I responded, “but he’s totally different now. That’s why we’re doing this for him.” I could’ve said more, but I knew that it would be a waste of time to point out the irony of Candyboot being offended by a bully. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back out there,” I said as I high-stepped over Candyboot.

  “It’s my birthday too, you know,” Candyboot said.

  I paused before reaching the door. “I didn’t realize you had an actual birth. I thought you just... spawned out of a magical pile of garbage somewhere.” It was a risky move to insult him, but the words felt good spilling from my mouth.

  “My mother would be very unhappy to hear you say that, but I’m sure she’d forgive you if you threw me a party too.”

  “Okay.” I paused, exasperated. “I’ll do something for you tomorrow.”

  “It’s not my birthday tomorrow.”

  “It’s probably not even really your birthday today!” I argued.

  “Yes it is. And if that bully is getting a party, I want one too. Right now.”

  “You want me to throw a party, in this bedroom, with just you and me, while the real party is going on out there?”

  Candyboot nodded his pointy gray head up and down.

  “I can’t do that, Candyboot. I have to help my mom run things out there.” I opened the door and took a step into the hallway.

  “Don’t leave,” he said slowly. I took another step out the door, determined not to be pushed around. His voice lowered. “Don’t think you can insult my mother and then simply walk away. You’ll regret it.”

  “I’m not going to let you push me around,” I said. Standing tall, I walked out of the room, proud of my own determination. But then, before I could close the door behind me, I heard his little bony hands clap together two times. Magic – he’d just done something magical. I stepped back inside and closed the door, expecting to find Candyboot grinning and laughing to himself at whatever prank he’d just pulled. What I saw was much more concerning, Candyboot looked completely spent. Instead of his healthy gray patina, his skin was almost completely white. His eyes drooped, he was breathing heavily, and his dog-like ears pointed toward the ground.

  What you have to know about Candyboot is that whenever he performs magic, it always takes a physical toll on him. The greater the magic, the bigger the toll. I’d never seen him look so bad. Whatever he had just done, it was something BIG.

  I stomped over to him. “What did you just do?” I demanded.

  A chuckle, interrupted by a cough, was his only response.

  In anger, I grabbed his bony little arm and pulled him to me. “Tell me!”

  Despite his drained state, he responded in inhumanly quick fashion. His free arm lashed out and slashed me directly below my elbow, his claws tearing deeply into my skin. I released my grip on him and screamed out in pain.

  Candyboot’s face was in a snarl. I must’ve had a look of absolute fear on my own face. His eyes shifted to my bleeding arm and his snarl slowly dissipated. Blood ran down to my fingers and dripped onto the carpet. I could only stare at him in shock. Nothing like that had ever happened between the two of us. Without a word, he clapped his hands together twice and I felt a jolt go through my injured arm. When I looked down, I saw that the bleeding had stopped and scabs had begun to form over the cuts. It wasn’t completely healed, but it was no longer a serious injury.

  At that point Candyboot was completely wiped out. He fell over backwards and landed with a dusty little thud. Then, while making little grunting noises, he rolled over and crawled to my closet. The door was ajar, and with his last bit of energy he pulled it open and climbed up a pile of my dirty laundry. “Spero vi piacciano gli insetti,” he said to me with the last of his wakefulness. “It’s going to be sweet. One-thousand points to Candyboot.” He gave a weak chuckle as he shaped a pair of my underwear into a tiny pillow. Then, he passed out. His little snores echoed around my room.

  I took off my T-shirt and put on a long-sleeve shirt in its place. The sounds coming from the rest of the house indicated that everyone was still having a good time. Candyboot’s prank, whatever it was, hadn’t been unleashed yet. I stepped out into the hallway and looked around. There was Aunt Chloe with a soda in her hand, the neighbors were eating some pizza, children were running around laughing. Pickles the Clown was juggling some balls for the amusement of the smaller kids. Nothing seemed amiss.

  I cautiously walked around, examining every corner and nook. I thought back to the last thing he said to me. It’s going to be sweet. It was a clue. Sweet. Like cake maybe. I turned around and looked at the birthday cake. It was a huge single layer sheet, big enough so that everyone could have a piece. I have to say, it was a visual masterpiece of colorful icing and decoration. As far as I could tell it was untouched, but Candyboot’s magic wouldn’t have left any ou
tward signs. I ran through scenarios in my mind, envisioning that anyone who ate it would be cursed immediately with explosive diarrhea, which is exactly the kind of thing that Candyboot would find funny. There wasn’t really time to think of a good plan, but I knew I had to get rid of it before it came time to serve it.

  “Hey Mom,” I shouted across the room, “don’t you think we should have the cake on the other table?” I pointed over to the card table that had been set up in the living room.

  My mother looked confused. “What? No, leave it where it is!”

  “No mom, I think more people can enjoy looking at it if I move it over there.”

  With some effort, I picked up the cake and started walking. My mom’s exasperated voice carried over the sounds of the party. “Just – just leave it. Be careful! BE CAREFUL!”

  As my mom spoke her final warning, I feigned a stumble and dropped the cake to the floor. For good measure, I fell forward and landed on top of it.

  The party became eerily silent. Seventy people – all looking at me with their jaws agape. Heck, even Pickles looked upset, which, if you can imagine, was especially difficult with his painted-on smile. I rolled myself off of the cake, further flattening it and removing any hope that it could be salvaged. Tiny bits of frosting had made their way into my mouth. They tasted delicious, but I had no choice but to spit them out.

  “Evan!” my mom yelled as she stormed up to me. “What were you thinking?”

  I apologized, and then apologized four more times, but my mom barely paid attention.

  “Kyle, go grab some cleaning supplies,” she said to my brother as she pointed under the kitchen sink. “Chloe can you help me with this?” she asked my aunt. She turned to the children who had gathered around to witness the idiot who had dropped the cake. “Why don’t you kids go start the piñata? There’s still more pizza, everyone!”

  With my mom taking charge the party started coming back to life. I looked like a fool, but secretly I considered myself a hero. My mother instructed me to go buy another cake, which I readily agreed to.