Page 50 of Killer of the Bells
Unfortunately for me, the minmaxer managed to get a firm hold of my sweater—Vale’s sweater—and yanked me into them. Light flared against my face, and the heat was searing, forcing me to shut my eyes. I was pretty sure I’d accidentally found oneof the nastier minmaxers, because that sure didn’t feel like a disabling spell to me.
I fought the minmaxer’s grasp, but they had too good a hold on me, and it was pointless.
“Sucks to be you, little pissant,” The minmaxer snarled around a mouth full of tusks. “My night’s been ruined, and I’m making it your problem.”
“Ruined?” I asked. Had I missed something? Or was this guy just having a bad night in general?
He didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, but instead was raring to go for the kill, but he paused in his tracks and sniffed the air. He dropped his hold on me and stumbled backward.
“I-I didn’t know…” he stammered before turning around and running out of the church yard.
Or he would have made out if he hadn’t gotten darted in the butt on his way to freedom. I was happy to see the toxin worked on minmaxers and made a mental note to write my findings down as soon as possible.
I was eager to get back into the fray, but then some crazy ass mother fucker set off an air horn.
Like what the fuck? An actual air horn?
It was too late to do anything other than scramble out of the churchyard because the pastor’s light went on and his window flew open. I hightailed it out of there, but I could hear him swearing up a storm behind me.
I don’t know if you know this, but preachers can swear better than almost anyone.
“Stop fucking around and get the job done, you bastards!” The pastor shouted. “You should have finished last night, you incompetent fucks!”
Yeah, Pastor Jonathan is a pretty badass motherfucker, and while I’m not a church guy, he’s all right with me. Dude hates the bells more than any of us, so if he was willing toacknowledge being woken up, we had to have been unbelievably irritating.
Apparently, an airhorn did the job nicely.
I was cursing under my breath, but at the same time, I was happy to have another chance to prepare for the next hunt. I was so happy, in fact, that I didn’t stop to wonder why that minmaxer had practically wet himself trying to get away from harmless little old me, or why someone had brought an airhorn to the hunt.
I fell asleep on a pile of notes and plans that night, confident in my ability to make it to the tower first during the next battle and finally win the title.
The next morning, I went through my morning class on autopilot and ignored the mountain of papers in my inbox because I had something to do before setting my traps.
Unfortunately, my students were going to have to wait one more day for their homework to be graded. I had to make things right with Vale.
I found myself staring at Vale’s house, the hulking monstrosity that stood out even among all of the other frankenhouses our colonial town had to offer.
I was about to step onto the property when I noticed a few tell-tale signs of traps littered around the base of the building. I hadn’t noticed them in my Apple-induced state the day before, but wow. I must have seen them subconsciously, because the spot where I had tried to set up camp was mere feet from the first trap tucked up against the house.
I wondered what would have happened if the soldiers the day before had made it to the traps. Would the residents even have needed to come out to defend their property? They should spread their traps out closer to the edge of the property if they wanted to maximize the use of their security system to keep out random soldiers.
Speaking of soldiers, there wasn’t a single sign of their existence. No blood, no displaced grass. Nothing. Not even a hole in the ground where my haphazardly placed tent poles had been.
I stayed strictly on the sidewalk leading to the house, though I saw at least two areas on the path that looked like they could open up and drop an unwitting person into a pit trap of some sort. I stayed well clear of those by jumping over them.
Even the porch was rigged to send a person straight to the afterlife, but I had to trust it wouldn’t be triggered unless someone was being hostile. When I knocked on the door, I was barely paying attention because my eye kept catching on how obvious some of the wiring was on the door frame.
Talk about telegraphing your traps. Whoever made it might as well have put up a sign sayingwear rubber shoes and gloves, or get electrocuted when you try to break in.
They’d have to put it next to the door, because it was already fully covered with a sign filled to the brim with deranged ranting about what could and couldn’t be allowed in the house.No dogswas crossed out along withNo cats, but No wombatswas circled and underlined half a dozen times.
What the hell had happened with wombats to get them banned? They were adorable.
When the door wrenched open to present Baz or Vix, I continued to stare at the wiring.
“Hey, it’s vampire snack boy! So nice to see you again!” Baz or Vix reached out to shake my hand, and I stepped back out of reach. I was pretty sure they were doing it on purpose at that point. I wondered what would happen if I attached a joy buzzer to my palm and let them go to town next time I saw them.
Probably die if they were as morally bankrupt as they seemed.
