Really, Really Gross Stuff

Soon Aja came for the afternoon to evening shift at Cherished. She was a pretty African American girl with an adorable face and striking hazel eyes.

"Hey," she greeted Valentine.

"Hey yourself," Valentine replied. "How did you do on your test?"

"Got a ninety-seven. How's it been today?" Aja asked as she signed into the computer.

"Lively enough. Hey, did you see anyone weird out there?" Valentine asked. "There was this creepy couple who asked me some very personal questions and tried to steal my purse."

"No s**t? That's heavy. No, I didn't see anybody weird—uh, but there is a guy in a hoodie on the bench out there. Is he one of them?" Aja hooked a thumb toward the window.

Valentine went to look. "No. The man who was in here had on an old knitted hat and a navy peacoat. Okay. Well, I guess I'm heading out. Bye, Aja. Bye, Evelyn!"

"Goodbye, and stay safe out there," Evelyn called back.

"I will!," Valentine started out the door, and then saw a splotch of purplish goo on the top step outside. It had eaten a hole in the doormat. There was another spot a few feet down the walkway—at least it didn't seem to have damaged the concrete—and another on the sidewalk.

So the weirdo had left a trail of something behind him. Valentine went back in and got one of the spare wooden closet rods. "Just borrowing this," she explained when Aja gave her a quizzical look.

Now armed, Valentine set back out, seeing more purplish spots and drips along the way to her car. She had done some training with a bo staff; not enough to advance far in competitions, but enough to make an untrained mugger or stalker very unhappy.

It was now dusk, that time between proper day and true night when the sky went violet. It was difficult to make out the trail of goo now, if it was still there at all.

Sure enough, as she went down the main street, she could tell someone was following her. Whoever it was, they were staying far enough back that she could not see them without turning around. When she stepped up her pace, they did the same.

She turned onto the side street where she had parked and hid behind a large oak tree. When the follower turned, she leapt out on to the sidewalk in front of him, struck out with the clothes rod and whacked him in the chest.

It was the guy in the hoodie. He staggered, the hoodie falling back from his face. He hastily pulled it up again, saying, "What the bloody h**l was that for?" He sounded male, young, and…British? Not the refined upper-class sort of Brit, either. More like Kit Harrington as Jon Snow.

"You were following me!" Valentine snarled at him.

"Following you, yes. To get to them." He pointed behind her.

She whirled. It was the creepy guy from earlier, of course. Shifting her grip on the clothes rod, she went into a defensive stance. "What do you want?"

Creepy Man spoke. "What a pretty snowflake fairy. Sweeter than sugar. Eat you all up, chomp chomp chomp." His voice was even worse than the woman's, like he had a mouthful of pebbles. A strand of drool dripped from his slavering jaws, glinting in the half light.

Hoodie guy (his name until and if she learned his real name) stepped up and straight-armed her behind him. "Keep out of me way," he told her.

She heard a jangling sound as he pulled a dogchain out of his hoodie pocket. He let the chain unroll its full length until it ended in a bunch of jagged metal bits—keys?

"Heh, heh! It wants to play," the creepy man said.

"You know I do," Hoodie Guy said, and swung the chain out in a cruel glittering arc that ended when it wrapped around Creepy's arm. Hoodie Guy yanked hard, pulling Creepy off balance so he staggered.

Hoodie Guy followed up. Wrapping the chain around Creepy's neck, he twisted. "Ah tracked you and her all the way here, you foul parasites."

Creepy struggled in his grip. "Don't want to play with you! Don't want to!" His feet kicked feebly as Hoodie Guy lifted him off the ground by the chain around his neck, one handed.

"But you're going to," Hoodie Guy said. With his free hand, he snatched the knitted cap off Creepy's head and tossed it aside. Then he grasped the man's hair and pulled.

There was a sound like someone ripping a leg off a raw chicken. Creepy's hair was one untrimmed, matted mass, but it seemed like it had to be a wig, because—ugh!

It wasn't a wig. Valentine recoiled in disgust as the thing in Hoodie Guy's hand tried to curl up, kicking out with legs or feelers. Creepy's body fell to the ground, his eyes empty sockets and his open and empty skull oozing purplish goo.

Hoodie Guy hurled the hairy thing to the ground and stomped on it, hard. If Valentine wasn't still holding her makeshift Bo staff, she would have tried to cover her ears, because the sounds of things breaking and squashing and squealing in pain all at the same time were truly horrible.

She forced herself to look down on the mess on the ground. It was steaming a little—or, no, that was actually the grass and dead leaves smoking as the acidic purple goo consumed them. One of Creepy's muddy brown eyes was still spiraling wildly on its stalk before Hoodie Guy stomped on it again.

"Okay," her voice wavered as she spoke, looking up at Hoodie Guy's face, or rather, at the opening of his hood. "What was that, and who are you?" He did have a face, right? She had seen it for a split second when the hood fell back. Then she saw the creepy woman's face come up from behind Hoodie Guy.

"Look out!" Valentine shouted.

"Evan?" the woman asked, cowering back and looking pitiful.

Hoodie Guy turned and froze. "You—you're not Faith. You're not!" But where he had acted so swiftly against the creepy man, this time he backed away from the woman.

"Why are you doing this?" Not-Faith asked, but inside her mouth, something moved behind her cheek.

Suddenly she spat at Hoodie Guy/Evan, but he brought an arm up, so it hit his sleeve, not his face. Then her gaze fell on Valentine. "Oh, yummy, yummy."

"Oh, no you don't!" Valentine brought her staff around and hit Not-Faith on the side of the head. It was not a very impressive blow but it did sway the…thing. Oddly enough, it was suddenly very cold. Cold enough to see breath in the air. It was late October but it had been a mild day, so a sudden wave of cold like this was abnormal.

Then there was a high pitched squeal, and a sound like someone stepping on a frozen puddle. Not-Faith's eyes pulled back into her head and her scalp, which was probably her real body, spasmed and curled up. She fell to the ground in two pieces, the host body slumping like a normal body and the parasite body rolling away like a pillbug.

Meanwhile Hoodie Guy/Evan was frantically trying to rip the sleeve off his hoodie, with good reason because Not-Faith's spit was dissolving it rapidly and heading for his skin.

"Just take off the damn hoodie, already! What do I have to do to this to kill it! Do you have to stomp on it?"

The hoodie sleeve finally gave way, and he staggered over to the blond…thing which was curled up in a ball. "Looks like it's frozen solid. I don't know if it can survive that or not. Best not to take the chance." Hoodie Guy/ Evan raised a foot and smashed the creature. At least this time it didn't struggle and squeal.

"Okay, that's taken care of," Valentine said carefully. As when Brenda's brother Jack had tried to molest her, and something horrible happened to him, part of her brain wanted to shut things down and send her into shock until the bad stuff was over. However, she was much older now and could push back at that impulse.

"Now how about you…Evan? Are you okay?" She looked at him, only to see him looking at the woman's body, the woman who had looked Chinese except for her hair and her eyes, which belonged to the parasite.

"Yes. No. I don't know. That was—until a month ago, that was me sister Faith." The body was rapidly dissolving, probably because of the purplish goo.

His bare arm looked like it was starting to dissolve too. "I'm sorry," Valentine said. "Look, I don't think it's good to keep hanging around here, what with everything that's going on. Your arm needs medical attention and somebody is likely to call the police and ask questions I can't answer. Let's go to the emergency room and get your arm taken care of."

"I can't go to Emergency Care. I can't pay for it." Evan replied.

"All right—then how about I take you home to my aunts? Aunt Alison is a chef and always keeps plenty of first aid supplies on hand." Valentine tried.

"I don't know. I don't care. It's all over. That's all that matters."

"I think you're going into shock. Come on, get in the car." Valentine steered him into her car and then buckled him in when he didn't reach for the seat belt.

As she did, she caught a glimpse of Evan's face. He was Chinese or at least Asian, like Faith-Not-Faith, and he looked like he had a terrible bruise and a black eye.

"Were they responsible for that shiner, too?" she asked.

"What?" he asked.

"You look like you got banged up pretty good."

He flinched back. "Wasn't them. Life did that to me. It's a birthmark."

"Oh. Okay," she turned on the car and pulled out her phone. "Aunt Judy? Yeah, I'm bringing someone home."