Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their WIPs based on word and picture prompts. Today’s prompt is twenty, and the snippet is from a work in progress temporarily called Soul Double. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.
She stumbled back out of reach of snarling jaws and long clawed foot pads the size of ceiling fans, held the revolver at the ready despite trembling fingers, and sank to one knee. Getting her bearings was not easy with the unrelenting ferocity directed at her. Casting a small but brilliant pen light over the huge beast, she took account of the hybrid creature’s improbable appearance. Her inclination was to call it a hellhound, but the word was woefully inadequate. The three massive heads resembled those of dogs, if the Baskerville hound had mated with—hmm—a rhinoceros perhaps.
As for the creature’s body, there she drew the line. It was covered with hissing vipers that seemed to be an integral part of the beast’s hide.
Only one thing made her want to stay on bended knee and sing praises to the Goddess. The astral rope holding the monster appeared strong and well-wrought. As long as she maintained her distance, it couldn’t attack.
Of course, with such an oversized and savage guard, neither could she get past it into the entrance of the warriors’ enclave where she needed to go.
She stood and stretched her spine to reach her full 5’3”. “Hey, beastie, I don’t want to spit lead into your three thick skulls, but you need to move out of my way.”
Her dulcet tones appeared to disturb the uber hellhound, and its thunderous roars revved up another few decibels.
“One will get you twenty no lead pusher will do you a gol durn bit of good.”
Her chest tightened at the unexpected sound of the gravelly voice. “Who’s there?”
An older man’s scrawny head bobbled up behind the beast. He must be just inside the cavernous entrance. “See me now?” The last word rose in pitch as he jumped up again.
“Yes—or at least I did for a second. Oomph!” She jerked backward. While speaking she had wavered too close to the enraged hellhound.
“Watch the corners. The middle head is the least likely to chow down on an intruder.”
“Why did you say a gun won’t do any good? Is the magic on the beast so strong that nothing can kill it?”
“Spatter one ugly pate and another sprouts right up.”
A faint memory niggled in her mind about such a mythical creature. Maybe she should have paid more attention to Atropos’ longwinded classroom diatribes instead of focusing on the more practical Wytchfae applications such as weaponry and dimensional travel. “I need to get inside the cave. Lives depend on it. Can you help me subdue this monster?”
“Afeared not, missy. If lives depend on getting the best of ole six eyes here, you’d best call for the gravedigger.”
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Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Paranormal Fantasy Romance