Free The Luck Uglies by Paul Durham Page A

into the darkness. Fifteen or twenty feet from the camp, two eyes flickered at water level. Something was bent over, using its hand like a cup and drinking from the bog. One of the eyes, independent from the other, suddenly looked over in Rye’s direction. The second one followed, and they both rose up from the water as it straightened at the waist. Even stooped over, the eyes came to rest at the height of a fully grown man. As it stood, Rye knew immediately that this was no man. She was about to run, but it was too late.
    The creature covered the ground between them in three strides. It had leathery, gray skin and large ears, with a pointed nose turned up at the end like a pig’s. Its chest was covered in thick hair and, although tall, it was bony. Rye could see its ribs between its shallow breaths. Under its distended jaw, a long, orange beard was braided like ship rope and tied at the end with a child’s bootlace. The top of its head was knotty and elongated like a pine cone, with a tuft of coarse hair that matched its beard and would have reminded Rye of a carrot if she had been in any mood for silly thoughts. The miserable beast had metal fishhooks through each ear and another through its nose, and at the corner of one furrowed eyebrow, a small red puncture seeped and oozed. Around its neck was the most horrible necklace Rye had ever seen. Strung on a brass chain were three pairs of what looked like human feet.
    Rye had time to observe all of this because, unfortunately, she wasn’t going anywhere. The terrible, knot-headed creature had snatched her up by the collar and was examining her closely with its most terrifying feature—its eyes. They were small for its head but they bulged like someone was squeezing it by the neck. Each eye rotated in a different direction as it studied Rye. The creature lapped at its lips with a long black tongue, leaving spittle in the hair on its chin.
    After a moment, the creature’s two eyes apparently reached consensus and fixated on Rye’s throat. With its free hand it pushed aside the collar of her cloak with a crooked finger.
    Rye thrashed her arms and legs in an effort to break free. She couldn’t.
    The creature’s eyebrows furrowed. Its eyes squinted closely and its mouth opened. Rye could see its jagged, misshapen teeth.
    Suddenly, its left eye darted in one direction and grew wide. The right one quickly joined it. The creature unleashed a horrible scream, a cross between an animal in pain and a baby wailing. Rye threw her hands over her ears.
    She saw a dark flash out of the corner of her eye, and then she was falling. Rye’s shoulders landed hard in the mud. The back of her head followed close behind, bouncing off earth that was moist but not soft.
    Her world went dark.

9
    Watch What You Eat

    B efore Rye opened her eyes she knew she was someplace warm and familiar. She heard the crackle of a fireplace and felt the comfort of soft bedsheets. She turned her cheek and saw a toothy, pink hobgoblin staring at her from the other pillow. Mona Monster.
    She felt the pressure of something moving on her chest. She lifted her neck to look but it hurt her head. It was Shady. The big black pile of fur touched her chin with his wet nose and gave her a lick. There was someone else moving in the room. Rye assumed it was her mother, but when she turned her head she would have jumped out of the bed if she’d had the strength.
    A man stood over her. He was tall, with longish dark hair to his neck. He had scars on his cheeks and nose. She could see them through the stubble on his face. He seemed surprised to see her awake and studied her carefully with his dark eyes. He was familiar. Rye had seen him before—at the Dead Fish Inn. That could have been hours or weeks ago. Her memory was fuzzy and dull around the edges.
    The man reached toward Rye and she could see his green tattoos. Rye shuddered as he touched her, but when he put his big hand gently