Page 42 of Too Many Beds

But rather than blasting me with more blue energy, The Maker brings his staff down, cracking the end of it against the marble floor. Large silver sparks spray up around the staff, and the ground shudders as if hit by an actual earthquake. The marble floor splits open, a jagged splinter moving through it like the creation of a slim canyon.

I have just enough time to register what he’s doing before the marble directly beneath my feet is torn apart. I throw myself violently to the side to avoid dropping down into the crack and getting trapped by the two pieces of earth. It happens so fast that my shield barely holds as I go skidding across the floor until I hit the nearest wall, my back smacking up against it hard enough to knock the wind out of me.

Whether it’s due to the limits of The Maker’s power or his own choice, the fast-moving crack stops before it can go beyond the shop. Plenty of innocent bed frames have been swallowed up by the gaping split, some having dropped out of sight while others are only half consumed, one half still stuck out.

I push off the floor quickly, lungs screaming with the effort to breathe, shoving at the horde of pillows that are still determinedly trying to get at me through my shield. With them gathered around me, it’s harder to see what’s happening with The Maker.

I scan the room for Caleb again, but he seems to have disappeared somewhere. It looks like all the civilians have been evacuated, though, so at least there’s that.

Panic threatens to rise when I can’t find Caleb, but I have to smother it back down. I can’t let myself worry about him during a fight. If I did that, I’d be fucking scared out of my mind everytime we go up against a supervillain, and then what use would I be to him or anyone else?

Maintaining my shield is beginning to feel like a struggle, with all the pressure being exerted to gain entry, but I push on anyway, forcing my way through the attacking creatures in pursuit of their creator.

The Maker goes apoplectic when he realises that his little earth-splitting trick didn’t finish me off, and I take extreme gratification from his stupid scream of rageful frustration. He looks about two seconds away from stamping his foot. I hope that he does, and I hope he catches his foot in that crack he just made and falls over like the twatbiscuit he is.

When The Maker spins his staff again, I reinforce my shield, more than prepared to take whatever energy blast he can summon. But when his power is nearing the end of its buildup, a high-pitched shriek pierces the air from behind me. I turn my head, catching sight of a child maybe six or seven years old, who has his leg caught in the cracked floor. He must have been hiding under a bedframe or something, and Caleb missed him when he was ushering everyone out.

I wish he’d stayed hiding because now The Maker has the kid on his radar, and he doesn’t hesitate to use the opportunity against me. He points his staff at the boy and sends a charge of blue energy right at him. Caught as he is, the boy won’t even be able to run away.

Since I can’t hold more than one shield at a time, I drop the one from around me and recreate it so the kid is protected. The Maker’s blast of energy explodes across the shield, and the boy screams in terror as all that lethal power crackles in front of him, barely a foot away from his face.

Without my shield, I’m vulnerable to attacks from The Maker’s creatures. They come for me with a vengeance, snapping their sharp teeth and snarling in my face. I have toshift all my attention to beating them away so I won’t wind up torn to shreds by fanged bedding.

True fact, punching a pillow in the face feels just as weird and wrong doing it myself as it did watching Caleb do it.

I’m fully expecting The Maker to take advantage of my distraction, but he doesn’t get the chance to build up another blast, because Caleb decides to make a sudden appearance in as suitably dramatic a fashion as always.

When Caleb drops down from the ceiling and lands on The Maker, crushing him to the floor with his much larger body, I can’t help the boisterous laugh that erupts from my mouth at the sight. I dart a glance up, noting the metal beams holding up the roof, realising he must have climbed up there at some point during the chaos and jumped his way over to stand twenty feet above The Maker, waiting for his moment to strike.

I’m not sure why I’m at all shocked. I really should have expected Caleb to go for the most unconventional, reckless tactic for taking down The Maker.

Caleb catches The Maker so off guard that he collapses like a deck chair, with a decidedly loud yelp of surprise, his eyes widening comically in the precious seconds between Caleb colliding with him and both of them going down to the floor in a heap of limbs.

The Maker loses his grip on his staff and it flies out of his hands, clattering across the floor until it’s too far away for him to grasp without first getting away from Caleb, a feat that will prove impossible. Caleb is, at heart, a close-combat fighter. He likes pushing into someone’s space, attacking them with fast, high-impact hits and full-body holds.

Caleb wraps himself around The Maker, restraining his arms behind his back and locking up his legs. With Caleb’s superhuman strength, keeping The Maker pinned against him is nothing.

Without his staff, the supervillain is basically defenceless, which is his one redeeming feature.

Now that I don’t have to worry about getting blasted all to hell by blue energy, it’s easier to fight off the mattresses and pillows enough to get to the staff. I snatch it up, ignoring the teeth sinking into my shoulder, and hold it with both hands. Grunting from a mixture of pain as more teeth plunge into my skin and the exertion it takes to bend the staff, I eventually manage to snap the fucking thing in half.

As soon as the staff is broken in two, there’s a shrill and incredibly chilling cacophony of screams that fill the room as each and every mattress and pillow lights up with a blinding blue glow. When the light vanishes, whatever was sustaining the creatures disappears too, and they drop to the ground, inanimate once more.

Police sirens start blaring from somewhere outside. They’re only mostly too late this time.

Panting, Caleb and I lock eyes, silently communicating the fact that we need to get out of here before the police swarm the building.

Caleb waits until The Maker finally stops struggling like a fish on a hook, slumping in defeat, and shifts his hold, wrapping an arm around his throat and pressing down on his windpipe. The Maker starts thrashing again, but it’s too late, and within seconds, he loses consciousness.

I offer Caleb my hand and he takes it, but when I pull him to his feet, my shoulder shrieks in protest, sharp pangs of agony shooting through it from where those fucking pillows chomped down on it.

Caleb scowls at the pain creasing my features and grabs my arm, turning me around forcefully so he can inspect the damage. He sucks in a harsh breath at whatever it is he sees, which meansit has to be pretty bad, considering the number of injuries we’ve gotten over the years.

“Fuck,” Caleb says, his scowl deepening into a real anger. “We need to get home and sort this shit out, B.”

I jerk my chin in agreement, in no mood to protest, feeling like I’ve been bashed around and gnawed on by a shark.

Caleb keeps hold of my arm, tugging me along as we go to leave, only stopping briefly to free the kid who was trapped in the floor. He picks the boy up, and the kid freely grabs onto Caleb and lets himself be carried out, his face wet with tears.

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