A Dirty Job (Grim Reaper 1)

"Ray, I've got to go - "

Before Charlie could finish his sentence, Ray had pulled a knife from his back pocket, flicked it open, and cut the nylon line. "Used to carry this on the job to cut seat belts and stuff. "

Charlie nodded and headed up the steps. Sophie was standing in the kitchen, wrapped in a mint-green bath towel, shampoo horns still protruding from her head - she looked like a small, soapy version of the Statue of Liberty. "Dad, where were you? I wanted to get out. "

"Are you okay, honey?" He knelt in front of her and smoothed down her towel.

"I needed help on the rinse. That's your responsibility, Dad. "

"I know, honey. I'm a horrible father. "

"Okay - " Sophie said. "Hi, Ray. "

Ray was topping the steps, holding a bloody arrow on the end of a string. "Charlie, this went through your leg. "

Charlie turned and looked at his calf for the first time, then sat on the floor, sure that he was going to pass out.

"Can I have it?" Sophie said, picking up the arrow.

Ray grabbed a dish towel from the counter and pressed it on Charlie's wound. "Hold this on it. I'll call 911. "

"No, I'm okay," Charlie said, pretty sure now he was going to throw up.

"What happened out there?" Ray said.

"I don't know, I was - "

Someone in the building started screaming like they were being deep-fried. Ray's eyes went wide.

"Help me up," Charlie said.

They ran through the apartment and out into the hall - the screaming was coming from the stairwell.

"Can you make it?" Ray said.

"Go. Go. I'm with you. " Charlie steadied himself against Ray's shoulder and hopped up the stairs behind him.

The harsh screaming coming from Mrs. Ling's apartment had dwindled to pleas for help in English, peppered with swearing in Mandarin. "No! Shiksas! Help! Back! Help!"

Charlie and Ray found the diminutive Chinese matron backed against her stove by Alvin and Mohammed, swinging a cleaver at them to keep them at bay while they barked salvos of strawberry-kiwi-flavored bubbles at her.

"Help! Shiksas try to take supper," said Mrs. Ling.

Charlie saw the stockpot steaming on the stove, a pair of duck feet sticking out of it. "Mrs. Ling, is that duck wearing trousers?"

She looked quickly, then turned and took a swipe at the hellhounds with the cleaver. "Could be," she said.

"Down, Alvin. Down, Mohammed,

" Charlie commanded, which the hellhounds ignored completely. He turned to Ray. "Ray, would you go get Sophie?"

The ex-cop, who felt himself the master of all situations chaotic, said, "Huh?"

"They won't back off unless she tells them to. Go get her, okay. " Charlie turned to Mrs. Ling. "Sophie will call them off, Mrs. Ling. I'm sorry. "

Mrs. Ling had been considering her dinner. She tried to shove the duck feet under the broth with her cleaver, but to little effect. "Is ancient Chinese recipe. We don't tell White Devils about it so you don't ruin it. You hear of paper-wrap chicken? This duck in pants. "

The hellhounds growled.