Free Hellboy: Odd Jobs by Christopher Golden, Mike Mignola Page A

further over the threshold to gain a better vantage point. Now he could make out the bandages across Guy's chest, blood-stained in the front; some of the stains were fresh, shiny wet amid broader expanses of dried rusty hues.
    Guy was rocking gently and groaning like an idiot, one arm bent back and braced against the bed to support him, the other cupping something that looked like a pink-tinged bowling ball at his crotch. Coiled around his legs were more bandages, stained with blood.
    "Guy?" Hellboy whispered.
    The spell was broken. The emaciated young fellow cocked his head in Hellboy's direction, his eyes narrowing in fear and rage.
    "Get owwwwwwwwt!" Guy hissed, leaning protectively over the thing at his crotch, throwing both of his spindly arms over it.
    His brow furrowing, Hellboy strode into the appartement, straining to get a look at the object Guy was so protective of. Whatever it was, it seemed to struggle against Guy's grasp, turning of its own volition to face Hellboy. Startled, Guy let it go and shuddered as the head sought a new position on his lap.
    Hellboy bared his teeth at the sight of the thing.
    "You sick freak," Hellboy gagged. "How dumb can you get? You fed the damned thing blood and
    "
    "
    unborn infants," the head exulted, licking its bruised lips, "man's milk."
    Guy bent over as if he'd been kicked in the groin. He began wailing like a baby and tumbled off the bed, spilling the head from its precarious perch in his lap.
    Hellboy hunkered to follow its progress, and in two steps was standing over the reddish ball as it came to rest in the center of the dingy room.
    "Moro?" Hellboy rasped.
    The swollen lids pulled back from the glowing orbs as it gazed at Hellboy. The widening eyes flickered with recognition, then flared with renewed hunger.
    "You've come to feed me!" it spat. "Demon ssssssseed
    "
    Suddenly all that mattered to the creature was gaining some attachment to this new, much more powerful host. This was the key to mastering stronger men, stealing souls, forging armies. It measured its need, the hook, the influence it might command.
    A word, just a word, would do it ...
    The pulpy lips bared veined gums, bursting with an ivory stubble of new teeth. The purple tongue slid over the enamel white heads, licking away the froth of fresh blood and semen before curving with the word just
    a word, the word
    "Father," it whispered. "I will tell you of your father
    "
    Without hesitation, Hellboy brought his hoof back and punted the thing across the floor.
    As the engorged head spun across the room, the sinewy tendrils dangling from its throat seemed to congeal into extremities: knotted vestigial limbs, a threadlike weave suggesting arms and legs, hair-like fingers and toes.
    For a second, it arced gracefully, its minute parody of a body seeking balance like an acrobat; then it hit the wall, and the delicate tapestry evaporated in a splash of snot and blood and bone.
    Guy bolted up from his fetal position on the floor and screamed. His eyes were distended, unable to believe this fresh turn of events. For a moment Hellboy hesitated, preparing to take the emaciated boy out with one controlled blow if he tried anything. But Guy was beyond attack; he had lost everything, living like a ferret, sucked dry, and he certainly didn't dare to take on this new monster. It was so terrifying, its skin the color of flame, its right fist so huge, clad in armor that could crush him in an instant.
    But the head, its promise
    Grunting with satisfaction as Guy stayed clear, Hellboy returned his attention to the head. He strode over to its resting place and stared down at it.
    So monstrous an evil; so fragile a vessel.
    "Professor Trevor Bruttenholm was my father. All I need to know."
    The head was split from crown to the stump of its throat. A dank tar seethed from the uneven network of

    fissures, pooling in the broken cup of its lower jaw. Tiny arms and fingers wriggled in the stain spreading beneath.
    Still, its streaming