"Drill," Nix squeaked, tapping his perfect, small nose. "Drill is better. More pain."
He knew, because he had found out the hard way: once, while trying to steal a valuable piece of scrap, he had run across a construction site and had been shocked by the painful, agonizing sound of a drill boring into metal. It was a purely physical reaction for the Glimmucks.. a high-frequency headache that caused temporary paralysis.. but he had noticed the way the local feral hogs reacted, too. They bolted.
Pearl found the whistle. It was thin and gleaming silver. "Found it! But the drill is louder, Nix. More chaos."
They exchanged a quick, silent agreement. They would use both.
The Kitchen Defense
Within minutes, the kitchen looked like a workshop for electrocution.
Trap 1: The Water Hazard. Marcus stripped the heavy 240-volt wiring from the defunct deep fryer. He spliced the hot and neutral wires to two lengths of heavy copper piping, which Liri helped feed under the baseboard. They positioned the deadly cables near the pass-through window, knowing that the Hunters would use the shattered area as their entry point. Eira then used a small amount of liquid hand soap and water to slick the tile floor in a wide arc leading directly to the exposed wiring.. a fatal, high-voltage slip-and-slide.
Trap 2: The Gold Bait. Pearl, with incredible dexterity, braided fine copper wire around a shimmering handful of gold dust and a small, stolen gold locket. She tied this deadly bait to the end of a long, thin wire that Marcus connected directly to the powerful junction box. The beautiful, glowing lure was positioned just out of sight of the kitchen entrance.. a target the Pig Men's greed could not resist.
Trap 3: The Sonic Cutter. Nix climbed onto the counter. He dragged an industrial hand drill into position. The Pig Men might have been too large to climb the vent, but the sound could travel through the ductwork perfectly. His plan was simple: once the Hunters were engaged, he would bury the bit into the thick, steel side of the oven and hold the trigger down, releasing a continuous, deafening shriek of resonant pain.
"Done," Marcus said, wiping his oily hands on his jeans. He checked the time. Less than ten minutes.
The Hunters were now visible through the broken pass-through window, moving cautiously but relentlessly. They were in the dining room, smashing the bar, drawn by the residual scent of Eira's magic and Marcus's fear.
"Eira," Marcus snapped, shouldering the M16, which was his only direct firepower. "When I shout Mark, you throw the mug. Knock the gold into the water. Liri, you hit the lights. Nix, on my signal, you drill them deaf."
Eira nodded, her eyes wide. She held a heavy ceramic mug.
"Ready, Marcus," she whispered.
The first Hunter shoved its head into the pass-through opening, its snout twitching, its eyes seeking movement.
"Now!" Marcus roared.
The chaos erupted.
Eira hurled the mug. It sailed over the counter and hit the counter near the golden lure. The small, glittering gold locket fell directly onto the slick, water-soaked copper wires.
A massive, sparking arc of blue-white electricity slammed through the Pig Man's body. Its massive frame seized, muscles locking, its guttural shriek transforming into a high-pitched, agonized, soundless roar as 240 volts of electricity cooked it instantly. It collapsed backward with a thud, smoking.
But the second Hunter was already coming. It launched itself through the pass-through window, ignoring the smoking corpse of its partner. It barreled into the kitchen, its target fixed on the nearest moving figure: Eira.
"Nix! Drill!" Marcus yelled, firing a quick burst at the second monster's head.
Nix didn't hesitate. He jammed the drill bit against the thick, steel side of the industrial oven and pulled the trigger.
The sound that erupted was horrific. It was a tearing, continuous, ultra-high-pitched SCREEECH of metal being tortured. The frequency was agonizing, bypassing pain receptors and aiming straight for the Hunter's nervous system.
The creature seized up mid-charge. Its thick, gray arms flew up to its head, its eyes bulging. It began to shake violently, its knees buckling.
Eira, seizing the moment, dove for the wall, grabbing a long length of metal pipe.
But Pearl, the master strategist, had one last move. She clapped her hands over her own ears to mute the drill's shriek, then hopped down. She pulled the tiny, gleaming silver dog whistle from her satchel and put it to her lips.
She blew.
The drill was loud. The whistle was sharp.
A pure, concentrated, agonizing wave of sound.. the highest possible frequency.. hit the paralyzed Hunter.
The creature's nervous system overloaded. It didn't scream. It didn't fall. It simply went rigid, its eyes glazed over, and then, with a final, wet snap of its own spine, it collapsed onto the slick, electrified floor, seizing violently as the remaining current found it.
The kitchen fell silent. The drill whined down to a stop. Pearl and Nix panted, their small chests heaving.
Marcus stared at the two smoking, twitching bodies on his floor.
"Did it work?" Liri whispered from the darkness.
Marcus lowered his rifle, the barrel smoking. "Yeah," he said, swallowing hard. "I think that worked."
The silence that followed the horrific, high-frequency shriek of the drill and the sickening thud of the two electrocuted Pig Men was absolute. The air in the kitchen, already thick with the smell of scorched meat and sulfur, now hung heavy with ozone and the metallic tang of fear and victory.
Marcus lowered the M16, the barrel still smoking faintly. He stared at the two massive, twitching mounds on his slick, tile floor. They were smoking.. not just figuratively, but literally. The 240-volt jolt had cooked the organisms from the inside out, and the air conditioner had stopped working, leaving the room hot and humid. One creature lay half-submerged in the soapy slick near the counter, its iron plates sparking intermittently on the wet copper wires. The other was convulsing on the main tile, the sound of its massive body seizing muffled by the thick hide.
"Did it work?" Liri whispered from her hiding place behind the industrial mixer, her voice thin and high.
Marcus didn't answer right away. He kept the rifle up, the red dot sight fixed on the one nearest the door. He wasn't taking chances. He was waiting for the twitching to stop.
When the last spasm faded and the final piece of iron armor stopped sparking, Marcus took a slow, deep breath, tasting the chemicals and the cordite.
"Yeah," he said, swallowing hard. "I think that worked."
He ejected the empty magazine from the rifle, letting the spent metal hit the floor with a loud clatter. He reached into his vest for a fresh one, slamming it into the well.
"Before we celebrate," he said, his voice flat and military, "let's have a quick look around. Perimeter check. No celebrating in the kill zone."
This was the protocol that had kept him alive, the discipline that separated survival from statistics. He wasn't going to drop his guard just because the immediate threat was on the floor.
He pointed at the two Glimmucks, who were just now emerging from under the table, looking pale but energized.
"Nix, Pearl. Get back in those vents. Look up, look down, look outside. I want confirmation there are no reinforcements. If you smell anything moving, you signal once.. no chatter."
Nix, still clutching the drill, nodded instantly. "Smell. Listen. Yes, Uncle Marcus." He zipped toward the now-smoking exhaust vent, Pearl right behind him, her eyes bright with a mixture of fear and pride at their own effectiveness.
"Eira, you take the pass-through and the dining room," Marcus ordered. "Liri, you take the back door and the alley. Check the perimeter of the building. We need to know if the reality shift is gone, or if it's just paused."
Eira, moving stiffly but with absolute purpose, nodded. She picked up a long, sharp carving knife from the prep table, checking the reflection of the light off the blade. She pushed through the shattered pass-through window into the dining room, her feet crunching on the ceramic shards. Liri, equally focused, scrambled to the fused rear door, peering through the small, reinforced window.
For the next five minutes, the silence was only punctuated by the sounds of the military procedure: the rhythmic pad-pad of Eira checking the booths, the low thump of Liri testing the alley door, and the faint, high-pitched scritch of the Glimmucks moving through the ductwork.
"All clear, dining room," Eira reported, returning through the pass-through. She looked exhausted, her chest heaving. "The air is settling. The flicker is gone. The sky-threads are calm."
"Alley clear," Liri called from her post. "The air feels normal now. Just hot and dusty."
A soft, high-pitched hiss came from the vent. Nix's signal. Clear.
Marcus finally allowed the tension to bleed out of his shoulders. He walked to the middle of the kitchen, holstered the M16, and just stood there for a second, looking at the impossible wreckage.
"All right," he said. "Stand down."
He walked over to the nearest table and pulled out the chair. He sat down, hard, the metal protesting under his weight. He rested his elbows on his knees, scrubbing his face with his hands.
"Water," he croaked. "Everybody get some water."
Eira went to the tap, filled four large glasses, and brought them back. Liri, still shaky, joined them at the table. Even the Glimmucks returned, popping out of the vent and scampering across the ceiling beams to perch on the light fixture above the table, watching the water with intense interest.
Marcus drank deeply. The cold water was a shock to his system, a physical confirmation that he was, in fact, alive.
They sat for a minute, their breathing slowing, just relaxing. The sudden, forced calm was as jarring as the fight itself.
Eira looked around the kitchen. The stainless steel was dented. The floor was a minefield of broken tile, copper wire, and buckshot. The pass-through window was demolished. The dining room was likely worse.
"The cave is smashed," Eira murmured, her eyes tracing a deep gouge left by the Hunter's claw in the counter. "It can be fixed?"
"It can be fixed," Marcus confirmed, rubbing his jaw. "It's Texas. We have sheetrock and spackle. That's the easy part."
Liri reached out and gently touched her sister's wrist. "We are safe," she whispered. "No injuries. That is the best news."
"The best news," Marcus agreed. He looked at Eira, taking in the dried sweat on her temple and the deep exhaustion etched around her eyes. "You gave everything you had on that first flare. You saved us."
Eira shook her head. "I was a light. They were the thunder. The Glimmucks stopped the thunder. They bought the time."
He looked up at the light fixture, where Nix and Pearl were cleaning grease from their golden hair with fastidious focus.
"You two," Marcus said, speaking loudly so they could hear. "That high-frequency noise. How did you know that would work?"
Pearl looked down, her golden eyes gleaming. She hopped onto the light chain, letting her legs dangle. "We are small, Marcus. We listen to the sounds the big things do not hear. Pig Men have soft ears, buried in thick skulls. Loud noise.. the high, sharp kind.. it makes their brain shake."
Nix added, "The little box of metal we found. The whistle. It is very painful for them. We use it on big dogs, too. Keeps them from crushing the little ones."
Marcus nodded slowly. A tactical weakness. Primal, but effective.
He looked at all of them.. the exhausted elf mage, the tense lookout, the two gorgeous, tiny, dream-drinking thieves, and himself, the tired soldier turned short-order cook. They had worked like a finely tuned machine, each bizarre part contributing to the survival of the whole.
"We did well," Marcus said, his voice husky with pride. "Everyone. You used your gifts. You followed the rules. You covered the angles. And that".. he pointed at the two twitching, smoking heaps near the door.. "is why we are alive. We are a good team."
Eira offered a rare, genuine smile, showing the slightest tip of her incisor. "We are a good pack, Marcus."
Liri giggled, leaning back against the booth. "Uncle rules worked."
Marcus let a slow, tired smile touch his lips. "Yeah," he said, pushing himself off the chair, his body aching in protest. "Let's call it a win. Now, let's get rid of the bodies before we get our next set of customers. Or maybe if we're lucky they'll evaporate like the first two dead pig men.."