Ghoulies Abroad by Julie Steimle (ebook reader with built in dictionary .txt) 📕

The drive was uncomfortable and long. But they eventually arrived at their destination and someone opened the trunk to get them out. Right away Semour could feel there were more humans around than demons.

“Who are they?” someone in the shadows asked in perfect American English.

“The guy’s got white hair,” one of the others said.

“That is not Brown,” the first one snapped—a human. “Did you guys grab some tourist off the street who you thought was him?”

“Brown would have escaped the trunk anyway,” someone interjected in clear English.

“And slashed the tires.”

“You have to physically hold him to keep him from escaping.”

“His wings you mean.”

“Somebody should just cut them off…”

“No way. The Company still needs him.”

“But he’s a liability. There are others they can recruit. More cooperative ones.”

“Funny. He’s the most civil half imp out there. Those others would set fire to Company headquarters just for kicks.”

There were about three or four of them in the conversation—none sounded Chinese. In the blinding gray light both Chen and Semour squinted, detecting outlines rather than details. It smelled like they were near a pine forest—or just wet and green. He could see fuzzy outlines of trees, and possibly old style roofs with the curved up corners. No one had removed their gags yet.

One of the demons said in a female voice, poking Semour with a long fingernail, “He is one of them. Don’t underestimate him for his size. Looks can be deceiving.”

His size? Semour frowned indignantly at the shadowy outline of the demon. He wasn’t short for pity’s sake! And he wasn’t scrawny, if that was what they were implying. He just wasn’t a bulky sort of brute that one would expect from an SRA hunter.

“He was carrying this.” One of them presented the silver sword. Those Americans just stared at it, not touching it.

Grabbing Semour and Chen by their hair and then their coats, those traitorous American spies yanked them out of the trunk, forcing them upright against the bumper. Neither one said anything, though Chen had pushed off one of the men from his grip, shoving away the other, almost as if he actually wanted to hold that guy’s hand for a second. What had Rick said about Chen? Semour knew Chen was unusual, as he could feel it in his burning palm. And he had seen Chen transform a handful of times now, understanding that he was a powerful shapeshifter. But the extent of Chen’s power and ability was not clear. All he knew was that Chen was trying something against their captors, something Chen believed would improve their chances for survival.

“Take their gags off. Get one of them to talk,” one of those Americans said.

Semour’s eyes started to focus more, but not very well as someone had taken off his glasses. Being nearsighted was such a pain sometimes.

“Can I have my glasses back?” Semour asked in a flat voice once his gag was off.

“No,” one of the demons said.

Groaning, Semour felt like stabbing something. They acted as if he was asking for his sword. The demon with his sword stood nearby, a mocking smirk on his human-like face.

“Who are you? And what are you doing in Jiangsu?” their nondescript, American-speaking man in black asked, half his face masked by sunglasses.

Eying him with one eye closed, Semour said while Chen remained peevishly tight-lipped, “Semour Dawson, soon to be grad student at—”

“Then shouldn’t you be in school?” someone shouted at him.

Glaring back, Semour frowned. “My friend Howie Deacon invited me. He said it was important.”

Silence.

Then someone said, “How do you know Howard Richard Deacon the Third?”

Semour chuckled, shaking his head. “You really don’t know?”

Those men stared at him menacingly.

Clearing his throat, Semour said, “We grew up together. Same town. He used to tease me until… well things happened, and then his parents got divorced and he moved to New York for a while. When he came back, he was very different… but then so was I.”

“Who are you?” one of them breathed. There was a lot of significance in that breath. That one understood the things that had changed during Rick’s time in New York City—at least for Rick.

Grinning at him, Semour quietly behind his back, pulled his hands from the bonds that had held them captive—as they were now quite melted from the heat in his palm induced by being surrounded by so many demonic beings. He winked at Chen. “People who fear me call me Sir Cooly.”

Someone snorted.

But Semour ripped out from his ‘trapped’ position and grabbed his sword, elbowing the demon in the neck in the process. Chen slithered out of his clothes and ties, biting the American’s ankles. As Semour lopped the head off the one demon who had tempted Chen, Semour wondered if Chen had venom, then he gutted the other one who had tempted him. That one still had something digitally plastic about him, which was weirding Semour out. He snatched up his glasses, which were on top of that demon’s head like a headband, and he stuck them on his face.

One of the American agents drew his gun.

Semour knocked it out of his hand with his sword tip, slicing the man’s thumb in the process.

The others quickly drew their weapons. “Freeze!”

For a microsecond Semour thought about freezing—but the hairs on his arms started to stand on end, and his hand surged up with friendly heat. He stood straight and walked over to the nearest American spy, lifting his sword with menace… looking very much like the ghost of the Sheriff of Nottingham—offset only by his glasses.

The man pulled the trigger.

*click*

“Oh…” Those American spies moaned, exchanging glances while going pale. Each one backed toward their vehicles.

A huali van rolled up.

The second it stopped, Tom popped through the roof, landing on the trunk hood then hopped to the ground like a really irritated, pale Peter Pan. “Chen?”

Chen-the-snake responded by turning into a tiger and jumping on the back of a fleeing local thug.

“Oh, there you are!” Tom grinned immediately.

The others came out of the car, almost stumbling, though Rick exited quietly from the front seat and followed to where Tom had stopped. Daniel and James drew their swords the seconds they were out of the vehicle, stopping fleeing spies and thugs before they could get into a vehicle. Only the spies pulled back from the blades… but the thugs tried to shoot them.

*Click*click*click*click*click*

The thugs stared at their somehow empty guns. Most were sure they had loaded them.

Eddie came right behind Daniel and James, skidding in the dirt to block an American spy from escaping into the trees. Andy stepped out more gracefully, marching into the battle with all the formidable prowess most expected from a member of the Holy Seven. It was annoying how people only respected him simply because he looked the part.

And right behind him came the monk.

This monk was different from the first one somehow. Semour could tell. More substantial. More powerful.

And they all went to work.

The humans, they left alive. They showed no mercy to the demons.

“Stop! Please! Don’t kill us!” one thug shouted, hands up with a bloody nose and lip while on his knees. James towered over him after having punched him in the nose with his meaty fist.

 Chen-the-tiger bit out a huge chunk from a particularly nasty demon who in reaction to the Seven had changed shape rapidly into various creatures while attempting to battle them. It was about to bite Tom in the leg as a large beast, looking unusually hungry with drool—it had zipped lightning fast to catch up with him. Those in the Seven barely had time to see it shrivel up into a small furry thing with lots of teeth, struggling to get away from Chen. Tom and Rick pounced on it. Tom brutally shoved something into its mouth and jumped back before it subsequently exploded.

“Gross!” Eddie shouted as demon guts splattered onto him. “Did you have to do that?”

“Yes!” Rick and Tom barked back, their faces flush with anger while also smeared with demon innards.

When there were only two demons left, Andy ordered them held captive rather than killed, dragged to where their few conscious mobsters and American spies were being detained by a now gargantuan red dragon.

Daniel stayed back near the huali, claiming he needed to get something. Rick suspected it was a clean pair of pants. Chen had changed a little too abruptly into that huge-jawed and clawed beast even for his tastes.

“Alright,” Andy said, pacing in front of their human captives, gazing down on them. “Who do you work for?”

The US spies remained tight lipped. The triad thugs muttered curses in Chinese under their breath.

“Can we use torture?” Tom asked, hopping eagerly on the balls of his feet.

Andy shot him a tired look. But then a thoughtful expression replaced it.

Tom cackled, gleefully rubbing his hands together.

Hurrying up to Andy, Rick pulled him aside. “Are you crazy? Do you know who you are giving the green light to?”

Andy nodded. “Yeah. Tom Brown. The craziest guy I know besides you.”

Rick rolled his eyes. He could now tell Andy was not entirely serious.

“We can easily guess who they are,” Semour said, shouldering his silver sword. He had just been cleaning it, but it still had demon blood on the thing. Rick inched away from him—or rather the silver. Pointing to Tom, Semour said, “Those demons thought I was him, so they gotta be CIA.”

A visible shudder went through a few of the agents. One pawed his pockets, which to his shock and horror came up empty.

“I got rid of them,” Tom called over with a non-caring shrug.  

They stared up at him.

“Rid of what?” Eddie asked.

“Poison pills probably,” Daniel muttered. “Don’t you watch spy movies?”

James paled, leaning from him. “Is this whole thing that top secret?”

“The CIA working with Chinese mafia and demons?” Daniel replied wryly, “I’d say yes. I think the UN would have a conniption over it.”

“Unless they ordered it,” Rick muttered darkly.

They shot him a look.

Rick raised his hands. “Sorry. I don’t trust the UN. They seem to cause more trouble worldwide than fix it.”

They stared more, except for Tom who just shrugged. Tom then hopped up with a drop onto the shoulders of one American spy, amazingly keeping his balance as the man bowed over from his weight which for some reason was not as heavy as it ought to have been. Tom peered down on the spy. “So… why did you order my kidnapping?”

“You are not supposed to be in Jiangsu! You were under orders!”

Tom exchanged a look with Rick, then stepped on the man’s head with one foot. “Yeah… about that. We ghoulies have a hard time with being told not to go somewhere. Especially when we ghoulies can hear someone’s wicked ideas. It gives the impression someone doesn’t want me to know something that maybe the Company shouldn’t be doing in the first place.”

“You signed up with the CIA to—”

“I SIGNED UP WITH THE CIA TO PROTECT MY WEREWOLF FRIEND!”

The agents stared.

“As if you didn’t know!” Tom jumped on top of the next one, weighing him down, but still not quite using his entire weight. “The CIA didn’t care why I joined. They just wanted to use me… like I bet they are using these demons here. What’s really going on?”

“Holy crap,” Daniel stared into space, his expression taking on eureka-epiphany proportions.

“He figured it out,” Semour said. “Come out with it, Swift. What do you think the CIA is doing here?”

“Add it up,” Daniel said in a subdued voice, looking a little green as if what he realized was horrifyingly bad. “What is the CIA’s end goal? What always is their end goal?”

“Oh….” Rick nodded to himself,