Home for Horny Monsters Book TwoChapter 3 Planting the Seeds
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Home For Horny Monsters - Book TwoChapter 2: The Library free porn video
Mike held the small sledgehammer in both hands, dubious that he would be able to strike another living being with it, much less a minotaur. Still, it was better than nothing, which made him feel a little bit better.
Mike had debated purchasing a gun, but he knew next to nothing about them other than to point the long, skinny end at stuff you wanted to kill. His lack of education aside, Naia had warned him against such a purchase for the sole reason that she had no idea what other creatures may be lying in wait within the house’s walls, and the last thing they needed was another Jenny-type situation with the addition of a firearm.
In addition, Naia had informed him that odds were good that Tink would take it apart anyway.
“Husband ready?” Tink asked, her hand on the doorknob. Sighing, Mike nodded. Being honest with himself, he was never going to be truly ready. Tink cradled her crossbow in both arms, fierce determination in her eyes that matched the dark, black lines she had painted beneath them using some shoe polish she had found. She had coerced Mike into doing the same, and he knew they both looked ridiculous. Tink wore a small backpack containing a few flashlights, the map, and a box of Pop-tarts.
Turning the knob to the blue room, Tink pushed the door open, her crossbow at the ready. The room looked like most of the other rooms in the house – sparsely furnished, a place that time had forgotten. The big distinguishing factor was that this room was, in fact, painted blue. For whatever reason, simply being in this space reminded Mike of his long dead father. He had no proof that his dad had ever stayed here as a child, but Beth, his estate agent, had suggested it on his first night here and the idea had resonated with him.
“Coast clear,” Tink whispered, sliding in and pointing her crossbow at the closet door.
“Do you really think the minotaur would have come out of the cave?” Mike asked. The door to the closet was closed, the simple white door somehow ominous.
“Tink take no chances,” she said, moving sideways to cover him. “Maybe stupid cow fuck wait to ruin Tink’s day again.”
Mike didn’t say anything. Tink’s goggles had been an obsession since she had lost them to the minotaur. They were magical, able to see things that ordinary people couldn’t, and Tink had waited so long only because the house had needed structural repairs to the front deck. This morning, Tink had announced that she had waited long enough and was ready to move forward with Operation Stupid Cow Fuck (her name, not his).
“Ready?” Mike asked, his hand hovering over the small, white painted knob.
“Tink ready.” She held the crossbow up, aiming it at the door.
“Let’s go,” Mike said, yanking the door open. Tink lowered the crossbow, frowning at the closet. Peeking around the corner, Mike saw that the closet was, once again, simply a closet. No sign remained of the cave.
“Try open different,” Tink said, raising her crossbow again. Shrugging, Mike closed the door, gripping the knob differently so that he could turn it the other way.
“Okay, here we go!” Mike yanked the door open, stepping back with his hammer held tight.
“Fuck!” Tink lowered her crossbow. The closet hadn’t changed.
“How do we get the closet to become the cave again?” Mike asked.
“Tink could tell you ... if TINK HAD FUCKING GOGGLES!” Tink threw her crossbow to the side, the bolt firing into the ceiling up above. Mike ducked out of reflex, watching the plaster drift gently down over Tink. The goblin slammed the closet shut, turned her back to it, then opened it while facing away. The cave failed to appear.
“Tink?” Mike asked, but she ignored him. She knocked on the door, kicked it, and even used her mouth to turn the knob, but nothing worked. Whatever ritual had been used to make the cave appear wasn’t a simple one, and Tink’s green face was a mask of fury. She grabbed the closet door hard enough that her claws left marks in the wood.
“Fuck!” Tink slammed the door, tears appearing in her eyes. “Goggles gone forever!”
“We’ll figure this out, I promise.” Mike set his hammer down, kneeling by the goblin. Wrapping her in his arms, he pulled her tight against her body, absorbing her sobs with his shirt.
“Tink miss her goggles. Goggles are Tink’s most prized possession.” Sniffling, she buried her face in the crook of Mike’s arms. Mike squeezed her as tight as he could. Tink let out a sigh, sinking into him.
“You know,” Mike said, wondering if his idea was too stupid to even consider. “We do know somebody who knows how to open that door.”
“We do?” Tink rubbed the tears from her eyes.
“Yeah, but I don’t know how happy she will be to see us.” Mike knew it was a stupid idea, but he couldn’t bear to see her cry any longer. “Let’s head down to the Vault and ask Jenny how to do it.”
“No!” Tink shook her head, her braids dancing over her shoulders. “Little doll mean big trouble! No ask!”
“Then how else do we get in?” Mike asked. “Unless someone wrote directions on that map of the labyrinth you have, I don’t see us ... are you listening?” Tink’s eyes had glassed over, her gaze on the wall behind Mike. Mike grabbed her by the wrists, shaking her arms. “Tink? Tink!”
“Husband have great idea!” Snapping back to reality, Tink grabbed her crossbow and ran out of the room. Mike followed, wondering what the little goblin was up to. Tink dumped the bag at the foot of the kitchen table, snatching the map from its inner pocket and spreading it out on the table.
“Tink, what are you doing?” Shaking his head, he stood behind her while she leaned over the old parchment. Tink had retrieved the map from the Vault, but had never said much else about it. It was largely complete, but the worst gaps were in the depths of the Labyrinth, blank spots on the parchment that gave Mike anxiety.
“Aha!” Tink pointed to the corner of the map. “Tink remember! Big remember!”
“Remember what?” Following her finger, he saw a string of letters and numbers written in the upper corner of the map. “Is that a code for how to get in?”
“Nope!” Grinning, Tink rolled up the map. “Is numbers for the Library!”
“The library?” Mike frowned. “You got this map from a library?”
“The Library, library in house! Tink see numbers before, but still forget. Remember when husband say how to get in. Map come from Library, stuck in Vault after...” Tink glazed over again. “Tink no remember that part. But maybe Library know how to open cave!”
“Tink, that’s awesome! Let’s go right now!” Stepping back, he expected Tink to jump down from the chair. She remained in place, scratching her head.
“Tink no remember how to get to Library.” Scowling at the table, she closed her eyes. “Tink remember red book. Red book lead to Library. But don’t know where red book is.”
“Fuck,” Mike whispered, sincerely hoping that the red book hadn’t been out in the garage.
“Is ok. We just look through house for books.” Tink jumped down, leaving her crossbow on the table. Bending over, she pulled the box of Pop-tarts from the bag. “Maybe eat these now too.” She ripped the wrapper with her teeth and shoved the first one in her face, handing Mike the second. “Husband come, much look with Tink.”
Mike sighed, setting the hammer down on the table, then followed her into the living room, tucking his Pop-tart in his back pocket.
Dana set the small box of tools on her desk, moving her textbook to the floor. She had taken the tools from her school, sneaking in to avoid the eyes of classmates she was already struggling to remember. Every step through those long, college halls brought up a flood of memories of the person she used to be, the Dana of yesteryear. Stepping into the maker space, the hum of 3-D printers was punctuated by the sounds of a dremel being used by a student who was trying to cut through a small, aluminum tube.
She deliberately ignored the south side of the room. The memorial for Alex was still pinned to the wall, directly over the workstation where they had met as freshman. Dana deliberately closed the door on that particular memory, focusing instead on the mental list in her head. Now those tools were spread out on the table before her, small tools that she couldn’t afford on her own.
Gears from inside the clock were spread out before her. Upon opening the clock first thing this morning, she had discovered that something had damaged most of the moving parts inside. Teeth were missing from gears, and more than a couple of them had been broken in half. She wasn’t certain how the inside of a grandfather clock could take such damage, but was determined to do her best.
She had unrolled a piece of butcher paper across her desk, using it to trace pieces, label where they came from, and even tape them in place. She set up the wire holder she had borrowed, a device with a magnifying glass meant for delicate soldering work. Clipping one of the smaller gears in place, she was able to look at where one of the teeth had broken off.
“Strange,” she muttered, examining the surface of the gear. Whatever had ripped the tooth off had taken it completely. Removing the gear, she put it back inside its outline, and wrote the word score underneath. Using calipers, she made a few quick measurements of one of the surviving teeth, writing next to it. She had access to some metal 3D printer ribbon, the good stuff, and was fully convinced she could print a new tooth for the gear and epoxy it on.
Her world faded to black, her entire focus on the job before her. She put on a visor with a magnifying glass and a light to get a good peek behind the clock face, checking for more missing parts. The exploded diagram on the butcher paper was clearly missing a few necessary gears for the clock itself to work, and she needed to find the others. Poking around with a long pair of tweezers, she was able to find a missing spring when her phone went off in her pocket.
“Shit,” she muttered, staring at the screen. What had felt like maybe an hour had been nearly five, and she needed to get ready for her delivery job. Stripping in place, she slid into her work outfit, wondering if Mike would order something tonight. She made a mental note to drop by his place anyway and give him an update on the clock if she was on his side of town. Shoving her way out into the cool, open air of the world, she looked back at her apartment.
The clock appeared in her mind, calling to her. She knew this was the start of an obsession, she could feel it in her bones. Maybe after she finished fixing it, she would keep it for a few days, just to properly enjoy it before giving it back. Backing down the driveway, it was on her mind so much that her eyes tricked her into thinking it was watching her go from her bedroom window.
The search began in the front room. The good news was that, since Jenny had trashed the place last week, everything had been uncovered in order to repair the damage. Mike checked underneath the furniture just to be sure, hoping to spot this book that Tink was convinced would lead them to the library.
“How big of a book are we talking about Tink?’ Mike asked, picking up an ashtray. It looked like the kind that was purchased for a relative on a trip, then never used. “Textbook, dictionary, diary maybe?”
“Husband find red book. What more does husband need know?” Tink had pulled a loose brick from beneath the mantle, revealing an empty depression behind it. “Find red book, tell Tink.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Mike opened a box next to the couch. It contained several items that had been strewn through the front room after the fight with Jenny. Afraid to toss any of it out, he dug through it, unable to remember what they had even placed inside. A couple of random bookends, a small black statue of a woman made of coral, and an extremely ugly lamp were the only items of interest. The rest was just blankets, duvets, and other assorted cloths people draped over their furniture to protect them from the farts of their visitors.
A loud scraping sound caught his attention, and he lifted his head in time to see the closet throw up on Tink. Old coats, a few boxes, and even more blankets buried the goblin in an avalanche of junk. Mike ran to her rescue, grabbing her slender wrist from beneath an old fur coat and pulling her out from beneath the mess.
“Fuck.” Tink scowled at the closet, adjusting her dress to cover her bare ass. This confirmed Mike’s suspicion that she wasn’t wearing the underwear he had bought for her.
“What happened?” Mike asked, grabbing the box closest to him.
“Shelf break, closet try to kill Tink.” Tink grabbed the big fur coat, eying it with curiosity. “Lots of stuff in here.”
“Yeah, it looks like it was packed full.” The box Mike opened was picture frames, dozens of them. There were pictures in the frame, but they were all blank, a result of the protective spell on the house. “It seems like everywhere I turn, there’s more random shit in this house.”
“Husband right. Too much shit. Sell on magic screen maybe.”
“Oh no. I’m not going through another Jenny situation.” Picking up one of the many coats, something metallic clattered to the ground. It was a key the size of his pinky, ornate in design and the teeth shaped like the gear of a clock. “What is this for?”
“Hmm.” Tink took the key. “Don’t know. Too small for door.”
“I’ll hold onto it.” Sliding the key into his pocket, he suddenly remembered. “Hey, what do you know about the grandfather clock that is supposed to be down here?”
“Clock?” Tink looked around. “No clock down here.”
“Well, it isn’t here now, but I know I saw it a couple of times. It is usually over by the stairs, but I haven’t seen it in a long time.”
“Tink don’t know. Tink never see clock.”
“Oh.” Well, that was a mystery that was going to have to wait. He patted the key gently through his pants pocket. On the odd chance he ran across it, he figured having the key on him was a good idea, even if he had no idea what to do with it.
“Aha!” Tink fumbled with one of the coats, revealing a small, bright red book that had been tucked into one of its sleeves. Holding it up triumphantly, she shoved her way out of the closet mess and into the front living room. “Tink find it! We go to library!”
“Great job Tink!” Mike followed her into the living room. “Now what?”
“Shh!” Tink held a finger to her lips, her eyes closed in concentration. “Tink try and remember!” The little goblin stood this way, the book held tightly in her hands, her lips moving silently.
“Well?” Mike asked, after nearly a minute had passed.
“Tink doesn’t remember.” Shoulders slumping, Tink handed the book to Mike. “Maybe husband figure out?”
“We’ll see.” Opening the book, he was surprised to see the words swim across the page, the text fixing itself in place before his eyes. Expecting some profound piece of magic, he realized he was looking at a fairly simple recipe for peanut butter cookies. Flipping back and forth, he saw that the recipe was the same on every page.
“Husband figure out?” Tink asked, standing on her tiptoes to look at the book.
“No,” Mike said, flipping to the very first page. What use was a recipe book with only one recipe? His vision blurred, and he rubbed his eyes. Closing the book, he stared at the outside. It had no title on it, but it did have a picture of a triangle on the spine. Mike ran his finger over the golden grooves of the shape, tilting the book so Tink could get a good look.
“This mean anything to you?” Mike asked.
“Um ... yes! Tink see triangle once, fixing bookshelf in study!” Tink snatched the book from his hand. Mike followed her into the study, a round room with what was left of a desk in the corner and scorch marks all over the floor. It was where they had chased the fire elemental, a room that Mike had never considered more than once. Bookshelves adorned the walls, punctuated by windows looking out into the front yard, windows Tink and Abella had replaced.
“What are we looking for?” Mike asked.
“Small triangle, carved on shelf.” Tink methodically ran her hands over the edges of each shelf, searching. Mike did the same, grateful to be looking for something simple. The shelves had several different shapes carved into them, many of them very complex. The triangles he found contained dots, circles, even more triangles, but nothing that matched.
Minutes later, Mike called Tink over to the shelf in between a pair of windows. Near the top of the shelves was an identical triangle carved into the wood. The books on the shelf were in disarray – clearly more than one was missing, and it was obvious that several of them had been casually placed.
“Now what?” Tink asked, handing Mike the book. She was too short to reach the top shelf without her ladder.
“If video games have taught me anything, I know exactly what to do.” Mike shoved several books to the side, inspecting the back of the little red book to be certain. The triangles were identical, and Mike slid the book in place directly over the symbol carved beneath it.
“What is happen?” Tink asked, standing on her tip-toes to see better.
“Um...” Mike looked at the bookshelf. “Nothing.” He took the book back out, studying the symbols on the shelf. The symbols went up the top of the wooden shelves, and Mike realized what had happened. Sliding the book in place on the shelf underneath the symbol, he was relieved to see the symbols light up with arcane energy, swirling blue light that radiated outward. It washed across Mike’s body, making his chest tingle and causing the hairs across his body to stand up.
The bookshelf, however, remained unchanged.
“Damn, I thought that something had...” Mike turned around to face Tink only to see that his home was no longer behind him. He and Tink stood in a small alcove of towering stacks of books, easily four stories high. Beams of light flowed in through towering skylights, illuminating the stacks. In front of them was a large desk in front of a giant globe that rotated slowly in place.
“Whoa.” Tink said, her eyes wide.
“Are we still in the house?” Mike asked, looking out the window. His front yard was gone, replaced by a sea of blue sky and mountain-sized clouds as far as he could see in any direction.
“We find Library!” Tink hollered, pulling out the map. “We find map home, maybe find more maps!” She ran toward the giant metal sphere in the middle of the lobby, a globe for a planet that was definitely not Earth. Mike gave the thing a wide berth – nothing was holding it up, and images of running away from the thing Indiana Jones style gave him chills.
“Tink, wait up!” Mike called, watching her step onto a small, concrete podium. Tink ran her hands over a small, silver ball at the lip of the podium, and the platform lifted into the air, coasting gently upward about thirty feet. Mike heard Tink hollering from up above, the goblin stepping off of the podium and onto the platform surrounding the stacks. Motivated, the goblin disappeared from view.
“Shit,” Mike muttered, approaching another podium nearby. Standing on it firmly, he grabbed onto the side with one hand and touched the metal sphere at its base. Expecting to lurch upward, he felt ghost hands grab him around his legs and back, holding him in place as the podium moved. Mike discovered quickly that rubbing his hand upward on the sphere caused it to fly, while left and right moved it along the long rows of books. He quickly landed his podium next to Tink’s, stepping out onto the marble floor.
Staring down into the library made him dizzy. From here, he could see that the giant stacks of books went for hundreds of feet in any particular direction, the outer walls of the Library curving at odd angles. He clutched the metal railing, then took a few steps back so that he was away from the edge. Heights had never bothered him before, but the strange symmetry of the place made him very uneasy.
“Tink?” He wandered the shelves, listening carefully for any trace of the goblin. Every ten feet, there was a break in the stacks, and symbols were carved into the marble walls. He paused to inspect one, realizing it was similar to the ones that had been carved into the wooden shelves that had transported him here. Expecting to loop around, he was dismayed to turn a corner and discover that what he had thought was a giant pillar curved around and kept going.
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