It was late in the day by the time they reached Thais. Midas picked a house at random and headed up the path to the door as Babe hung back, a suspicious squint in her eyes. He stood on the stoop knocking on the door until Babe called out to him and he turned. “Hey Townie, maybe you should-“ was the last thing heard before something heavy landed on the back of his head and everything went dark.
The splitting pain in his crown and the sound of voices were the first things to come back to him. Next, he could feel the chill of a basement floor seeping into his back. Everything else returned like a sudden rainfall, and he sat up, immediately regretting it. While he was still groaning and cradling his head, a door opened above him. There was a creaking as someone descended the steps, the shaft of light from the solitary window falling on a pair of legs, then the man’s torso, and finally, his fearfully furry face.
“Werewolf!” squeaked Midas.
The man ignored Midas’ comment, grabbing him by the shirt and thrusting him towards the stairs. “Up,” growled the man.
“What do you plan to do with me?” Midas sat on the stair stubbornly, his knees knocking together with fear.
“Your sister has traded herself for you. You may leave.”
“I don’t have a-“ an image of Babe flashed through Midas’ mind, “She did that for me?”
“Yeah, guess she likes her baby brother,” the man rolled his eyes, “Now get out of my castle.”
Midas stood and walked up the basement steps. He had seen the house from the outside, and a castle it wasn’t. Perhaps the man meant it metaphorically. Either way, who would argue with someone who looked more animal than human?
As soon as Midas was outside, the beast shut the door with a thump, three deadlocks engaging in quick succession. Midas walked around the house, peering in the windows. Unable to see anything, he scampered up a dogwood tree and onto a branch near the rooftop. Peering through a clerestory window, he finally spotted Babe. She was seated on a settee, her knife held discreetly beside her thigh. The beast, unaware that she was armed, was offering her a drink from a decanter of brandy. Midas inched closer to the window, trying to make out the conversation. So intent was he on the scene before him, that he failed to notice the creaking of the limb on which he sat, until it gave way with a snap.
For the second time that day, he found himself laying on his back, moaning with pain. Above him the window opened, Babe leaning her face and shoulders out against the roof line. “I never noticed before how lovely her collar bone is,” Midas mumbled to himself, “It’s like the wings of a bird, and I really think I’ve hit my head too many times today.”
Babe made shooing motions at him with her hand, then spoke over her shoulder, “Nothing but a large rat, trying to jump from the roof to the tree. Branch must have been rotten.” She slid the window shut, leaving it open a crack.
“Large rat,” Midas repeated, dusting himself off. He climbed back up the tree, slowly this time, keeping his body near the trunk. The interior of the house swung back into view, the beast seating himself on the bench of a battered piano.
After playing a few bars of a popular tune, he turned to Babe. “Babe, nothing would please me more than to see you dance.”
Midas snorted, then covered his mouth with his hand. If he could hear them, they could surely hear him. Once he recovered, he almost again fell out of the tree; for Babe was dancing Romany-style, her energy incongruent with the stodgy thrum of the beast’s piano. He clung to the tree like a bewildered possum, watching Babe twirl and shake her hips. He could have remained there for an eternity, hypnotized by something he didn’t understand, were it not for Babe grabbing the beast from behind, her knife at his neck.
“Reach in your pocket and take out your purse,” Babe’s voice was calm, measured, “You will throw it towards the window.” The beast pulled a leather pouch from his pocket and tossed it across the room. Babe scrambled across the room, scooping up the purse and vaulting herself out the window. Almost as an afterthought, she called down to Midas as she jumped from the side of the roof, “Catch me.” Her confidence in him was unfounded, but she gave him no time to think or quibble. He tottered across a tree limb, grabbing her around the waist, her chin connecting squarely with his forehead. Off balance, they both tumbled into a prickly holly bush, Babe clinging to his chest.
“Oh, my jaw,” Babe winced, wiping her eyes on his shirt.
“Oh, my everything,” Midas didn’t know what was worse; the dull throb of his head, the bruises on his tailbone, or the fine teeth of the holly biting through his trousers.
There was the sound of a door opening, and Babe jumped to her feet, her eyes wild. She motioned for him to follow her, keeping her body low to the ground as they circled the rear of the rear of the house. She took him through several backyards and over a low fence, before returning to the front street of the town. They walked in silence until they passed a home with a light cart parked in front. Hanging from a lamp post near the house was a bloody apron.
“I think we found a doctor,” Babe nodded derisively at the apron, “Would never go to one myself, else I was at Death’s door.”
“Yeah, well, my mom is,” Midas walked stiffly up the path, not bothering to see if Babe followed him. He knocked briskly on the door, keeping his hand balled up into a fist. “Just let this one try anything,” he grumbled, “I’ll show him he has another think coming.”
————————
I haven’t posted in the past two weeks because I’ve had a fierce case of the blues. It was 28 degrees outside, snow was falling, and my synapses were covered by a thin layer of ice. But as soon as my feet touched the warm sand and loose shale of Phoenix, everything just . . . thawed.
I’ve been working on a new short story and I’m also hoping to hit up a really cool cemetery here. In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed the second installment of Midas and the Three Behrs.