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I dove under the monster and tried to stab it, but either I didn’t use enough force to smash through its exoskeleton or my dagger was dull from the first fight because the blade only scratched the crunchy exterior.
Instead, I was forced to follow my back up plan and snapped one of the cuffs shut on one of its legs. I had to let go of the cuffs and roll out of the way to avoid getting speared through when it jabbed at me with its front claws, but that put me in the perfect spot to plant my feet on either side of the crosswalk sign pole. I then grabbed the dangling end of the cuffs and yanked hard, using my planted feet for resistance, and snapped the open cuff around the sign pole.
Okay, it’s at least somewhat contained. Now, I just have to kill it before it figures out it can claw through the pole.
The mantasp started thrashing, so I backed out of its reach circling around it to look for an opening.
Around then was when the mantasp remembered it had those hook-like claws on its front appendages, so it locked both of its legs around the pole and braced with its other legs.
Opportunity found!
I kicked one of the joints on its back left leg, which made it tilt to the side to compensate.
I yanked my hair stick from the front pocket of my uniform, fixed my hold on it, then smashed it as hard as I could into the mantasp’s exoskeleton, piercing it.
With its carapace compromised, I used my slightly dulled dagger to finish the monster off, stabbing it in the same location and making the wound even bigger.
Like the previous mantasp, this one shook and writhed as it died, so I backed up a few paces holding both of my weapons and staying crouched in a fighting position.
When it stopped moving I checked to make sure it was dead, then reclaimed my cuffs—they were too expensive to leave sitting around—before turning back to my squad.
April and Brody had already finished their monster and, as I watched, Binx gave her and Grove’s mantasp one last smack on the head as it died.
The fight was over.
I pulled out a square cloth from the top of my boot and wiped down my dagger before I sheathed it.I’ll need to sharpen it tomorrow. And check to see if the hair stick was compromised.
I headed back to my squadmates—cleaning my hair stick as I walked.
April was starting to slide down the lamppost she’d climbed, and Brody unhooked his radio.
“All six mantasps on Goldstein Street are down, but, uh, we’re gonna need some cleanup.” Brody adjusted his hold on the radio as he studied the stub of pole that had once housed Binx’s stop sign.
I slipped my hair stick back into its proper spot on my belt. “Injuries?”
I meant for it to be a question for the group, but Brody interpreted it as some kind of correction because he cringed and pressed the talk button on his radio again. “No injuries.” He released the button, then called to Clarence—who was huddled behind a large sign for a human bank. “Right, Clarence?”
Clarence scooted out from behind the sign. “Correct.”
I gave the quiet vampire a quick look over, but he seemed a normal level of shaken—normal for him, anyway—so I started studying the street trying to make sense of the wreckage the mantasps had caused.
“The lack of injuries is most disappointing.” Grove smacked the side of his bag. “This would have been a great time to try my new healing potion.”
“We might need a charismatic fae to calm the humans.” April pointed to the cars still at the stoplight. It looked like some of them at the back of the line had realized what was going on and started backing up, it would take a few minutes to clear the intersection despite the late hour.
“I’m a fae,” Grove reminded her.
Binx dropped her sign pole on the cement with a loud clang. “She said acharismaticfae.”
“Oh,” Grove said. “Yeah, that’s not me.”
Binx narrowed her eyes at Grove, while the fae casually scratched his elbow through the sleeve of his uniform. “I can’t get a read on you.”
“That would be because I’m not a book,” Grove said.
I completed my street survey following the line of wreckage they’d caused on the sidewalks. “It looks like the mantasps came from farther up Goldstein, traveling this way. Is that right?” The words came easily if I was focused on work—no small talk required.
