Snippet, the snippeting continues!
Okay, just wrote more on this story. So enjoy.
Melinda finished ushering the last few feathered fiends into their nests, walked to the door, turned off the light, and telepathically solaced her hungry children to sleep and rest their weary wings until the next night. Then they would hunt again ever so carefully for those who meant them harm. The ancients were getting restless since the new investigations were being conducted by forces who knew they existed. Melinda could sense them growing ever more cautious of their 'investment' in her power and her planning. But the freeing of some hundreds of thousands of demons of both low level and greater power endeared her to the greatest of evils, the ancients. Even the Old Ones feared the nightmares the ancients represented. Even their real name in the earliest tongues known to the universe represented a mind altering and cruel experience. If it hadn't been for Melinda's powerful and keen sense of preservation the bastards would have possessed even her. She shuttered at the thought.
Pleasing the ancients was brilliant in its plan. The forced possession of an extremely rare and supposedly extinct strain of Vampiric of Humming Birds was beyond genius. The trouble was channeling so many vile spirits through the tiny crevice she could create in this world to allow them to pass one at at a time into the itty bitty beasts. Just sensing the things passing through the portal caused her to cringe as the each pressed to take over her own body. They failed of course. She wasn't a fool to allow them any access to a human form. The birds were where they would stay in this world. She made sure of that with the crafting magic and seals.
The wicked bitch of the beasts exited the door and locked it behind her. Joe was waiting out in his Indiana made Chevrolet four by four pickup truck. Country music playing loud and Joe sipped on some beer he had picked up for the evenings festivities. July fourth weekend was just getting started and he really wanted to get to the misbehaving as soon as possible.
“Hurry up, Babe! We got Jack and Diane waiting at the Dippity Cone for us. Can't miss the VFW fireworks, they're better every year.” Joseph slurped another draw from his cold beer can in it's rebel flag coozy. Melinda just smiled a big old naughty grin as she hustled to the picked truck in her tight, emerald green yoga shorts, sans panties, and matching bikini top.
“Okay, Sugar! Sorry it took so long!” She made sure she bounced and jiggled a little extra getting into the jacked up truck to ease his mind and distract him more. It worked of course. “Ready to ride?” She winked at Joe who was still amazed that he had such a perfect hottie in he truck. “Mind if I have a swig?” She took his coozy and sipped some beer then handed it back as if it were no big deal.
“Well let's just haul some ass, Darlin'!” Joe clutched, revved the engine hard, then popped it hard as the tires plowed ruts in the soft dirt and gravel of his parking lot and spewed dust and dirt for yards behind the pickup. They left rubber scorch marks as they hit the pavement doing sixty.
Melinda made a show as she slid close and placed hands on his thigh and throttling equipment. This elicited more speed and showboating as Melinda truly enjoyed the exciting revery of gas fueled motor powered indulgences. “Woohoooo!” She yelled as she squeezed Joe's little Buckley. Joe almost left the pavement.
GREY
“We have waited many eons my brothers and sisters.” The ancient stated. “We must be a little more patient. The sacrifice is is going as planned. Once it is made, we shall be free.”
“Too long have we waited.” An impatient ancient replied with gastly intent. “We should consume her now and let ourselves out into the world of the living humans.”
“Not yet.” The coldest of cold and evilest of evil ones softly and tenderly spoke. “The sacrifice is almost ready and we will control her.” The other ancients quieted themselves. More than a few had challenged the cold one and regretted it fully. Being tossed into the abyss of forever burning torments was final. No escape at all. So they waited patiently for their turn to possess a birds body fo such fierce and evil power. Vampires were useful on occasion.
“For too long you have led us, cold one. I challenge you for..*Hurk!*...Aaaaaaaarrrrrrgghhhhh!!!!” The upstart was tossed through the realm and into the abyss at its edge.
“Any more challengers?” The cold one asked, knowing there were none.
It would be soon. The cold one had found a flaw in the witch's mental powers. This would allow him to take her over once she was distracted enough to lower that little guard ever so slightly. Tossing her into a temporary state between worlds where his minions would present her with glorious pleasures and absolute pain as they did to her what Joe Buckley had done to farm animals when he had been a teenager with too many hormones to count. Oh, she would pay dearly and exquisitely. He smacked his lips in anticipation of violations to come.
WHITE
“What the hell's yer probl;em, Mate? It's food ain't it?” Torg railed on Ralph for the third time that day as they ate at yet another of Torg's favorite spots. “Just wipe the grease off of it and putt it down the hole.”
“Hatch, you moronic Wombat. Put in down the hatch.” Ralph wasn't in any better mood. Six hours of travel to examine the two other houses and then discover yet a third place that reeked of blood and birdshit. “And these greasy dives you keep taking us is driving my stomach to revolt.”
“S'good tucker an you know it.” He bit into the greasy pork sandwich and slurped down the fat coated fries, sloshing the mix down with a slurp of sweet tea. Sweet tea being his favorite drink of salvation for eating southern foods. “You goin' ta eat that or sit there beetchin?” His Aussie was up and running full bore now. The last place had done them both in.
“Sorry, Torg. Just still not very hungry after that last one.”
“We'll ya gotta eat ta live, mate. Can't do it all on an empty gut.”
“Stomach. Empty stomach. And mine isn't keen on filling up soon either.” Ralph just stared at the cup of coffee he had ordered. Half full and still hot. He wouldn't finish it he knew.
The last place was a disaster area. Dead birds and blood everywhere. One survivor. A teenage girl holding her Mosseberg Competition twelve gauge. She had blasted some dozens of birds into oblivion when they had entered the home through an open garage door. They found out she was part of the three gun youth league of a nearby club. A hell of a shot. Not one poked her. That couldn't be said of her folks caught in their car as they were about to leave the garage. They had opened the car windows for the fair weather and had made a tragic mistake. Drained in under a minute. Her brother had tried to reach them but was run over then drained as the couple had desperately raced the car forward into the garage to escape the living daggers, mangling their own son by accident. The teen had grabbed her shotgun and loaded it up quick and reigned hell on the flock, most likely her training at competition had skilled her to do it without thinking and she had laid down the law with birdshot. At that distance it had the effect of clearing the small space without problems. The blod filled birds had been slow with their load and popped like bubble of congealing red slime. The effect was like someone had painted the garage with Burgundy wine mixed with milk. The birds, however, had shit themselves silly to relieve their burdens, escape the resistance by firepower, and flew away to kill another day.
Ralph had an idea and took out his smart phone. He called up the locations of the killing sprees and use an add on to make points on the map then coordinate the lines. The dowens of other related crimes led a trail all the way to Indiana. Even with the odd one offs it still crossed the lines just over into Illinois just north of Terre Haute. “Hurry up, roo boy. We're heading to Terre Haute.”
“Indiana?” Torg got out as he sloshed down another mouthful of potato grease combination.
“Nope. Terre Haute, Bumfukistan. Here's your sign.” Ralph offered Torg a napkin with the word “Stupid” written on it.
Torg's face screwed up a bit as his brain tried to fathom what the hell Ralph was getting at. “What?”
“Never mind. I have to use Netflix to educate you sometime.” Ralph got up and headed for the door as Torg read the napkin.
“I got a degree in criminal justice and forensics and Melbourne! I'm not stupid!” He tossed the napkin down and made his way to the door smiling like he was the one who had gotten one over on Ralph.