“I loved those thumbprint cookies. Shoulda brought some home, Red,” Harley moaned, holding my arm as we sauntered down the street towards home.

  “I’m sure Jeremy would bring some by tomor—.“ My sentence was cut off by a loud smashing, crunching sound.

  Harley didn’t hesitate. Turbo Mode engaged, she leapt forward as I fired up my Vigor. We sped down the street towards the terrible clamor, and when we got there, it wasn’t as bad as it had seemed.

  Two hover trucks had collided: one a garbage hauler, the other a food and beverage transport. Both had their doors propped open, and the drivers were talking into data pads near one another.

  From the beverage transport, an old rock song was blaring, “I put a spell on you. Now you’re mine. I’ve got a hold on you, at least for the night.” Harley started singing softly along with the tune, taking in the wreckage.

  It didn’t look like anyone had been hurt, but there was debris scattered everywhere. Thankfully, the most recent garbage pickup had been the coffee shop two doors down, so the bags that were burst all over the street had paper cups and pile after pile of spent coffee grounds, and not something foul.

  “I’m trying not to think about what a waste it is that all of that perfectly good compost was in the trash. I mean, a worm farm would do wonders with the paper and coffee grounds . . .” Harley whispered at my side, but she didn’t finish her thought because the rest of the scene was an even worse tragedy.

  Case after case of red wine had been smashed in the collision, and the precious liquid streaked down the side of the beverage truck, spilling into the street and mingling with the old garbage.

  “I don’t think our help is needed here, Har,” I said, taking her hand and guiding her away from the disarray.

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “Not much we can do unless we wanna compost all those coffee grounds. . .”

  I chuckled at her. Harley was seldom predictable, but show her a wasted opportunity to do something regenerative, and she’d jump all over that. I could see her mentally calculating how many indoor plant pots she could fill with worm castings if she only took all that rubbish home for the compost bin.

  Harley pulled her emergency flask out of her coat pocket, “Need a refresher, Red?”

  When we engaged our super-speed Skills, it had the effect of burning poisons out of our bodies, so we were both now sober. Which wasn’t an issue for me since the social events of the evening were over, so I waved away the proffered wine.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Harley took a sip from the flask, then tried to resume our earlier conversation. “Well, we were talking about peanut butter thumbprint cookies,” she started as we neared our townhouse.

  I noticed the neighborhood’s best decorated house as we drew near, and last night’s snowfall had only enhanced the pretty holiday scene. Amidst the tasteful display of colorful lights and garlands stood a gorgeous snow sculpture. It was significantly taller than a man, so they must’ve gotten a ladder of some sort to shape its head with spiky flames, and the detailing on the face was— wow. It even had a tail with a triangle.

  What did you even call a creature like that? I wondered silently.

  “Yeeek!” Harley yelped as her hand was jerked from mine, and the wine flask flew from her fingers into the snow ahead. I spun to see my wife on her belly being dragged backwards, away from me by—what? It was hard to decipher in the dim light of night.

  Harley’s body ignited with green energy as I engaged Bubble Control, sending a stream her way. Her Bouncy House Skill was a hindrance, not a help. She rose off the ground, then smashed back down, pinging higher each time she hit the sidewalk, yelping with every bounce.

  My bubbles were no use either. Making her invisible would do nothing, and she didn’t really need a bath, did she?

  Harley couldn’t get her feet under her to run because something had her by both ankles, towing her down the street. Something that looked like the dark sludge left in the bottom of the coffee drip once you took the filter out.

  Oh, no, no, no, I thought, engaging Vigor and running towards my bouncy wife, unbelieving of what I was seeing. It couldn’t be, could it? Another holiday monster created from the collision of coffee grounds and wine?

  Mission Accepted: Save The Damsel

  Right, my wife was being attacked by killer coffee grounds, and I could not let an abomination that offended her composting sensibilities end her. Oh no, this would not do.

  I activated a Skill I didn’t often utilize because it was unpredictable. What would the neighborhood dogs or cats do to help the struggling Harley? No time to worry about that! Slayer Companion engaged.

  I sent out a wish to the stars above that somewhere was a creature who could come to our aid, and at that moment, a porter flew by with its windows down, blaring one of Harley’s favorite songs. It seemed to be a night for ancient rock songs.

  “We’re running with the shadows of the night, so baby take my hand, you’ll be alright. Surrender all your dreams to me tonight; they’ll come true in the end!”

  Then a booming voice sang, and it wasn’t a radio. Nor was it a typical song in the night. Slayer Companion Communication meant I felt that tune in my being, and it was so much more than human.

  I was of one mind with—something. Something that felt elated. I was aware of it, and, in turn, it knew my desires, so it ran towards me and Harley singing, “We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne!”

  Oh, good god above, what had my Slayer Companion ability done now?