Mac and the Little People Ch. 11

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Mac pried open the bottom corner of the door just quickly enough to hear Fifi scream.

"Go in and open the door for me," he told Tia. But she didn't move. "Go!" he ordered.

"I can't" said Tia. Her voice shook.

"I don't fit. You have to go let me in," said Mac. Fifi screamed again, but it was cut short by a loud thump.

"Thoo larn ta stay oot!" shouted Cuttystool from inside.

"I can't," Tia repeated.

Mac pried the door as hard as he could. Then there was a crack and the door came free as the old door frame split. Mac dropped it aside and rushed in. Cuttystool stood above Fifi's body. She turned and whipped the hairbrush at Mac. Tia screamed. A whippy tentacle of something that looked like TV static uncurled and struck at Mac. He raised his forearm to protect his face and the static brushed against his arm hair with the force of a windblown feather.

Cuttystool's cruel smile changed to shock. Mac rushed and tackled her with both hands. The back of her wooden head thumped against the floor but she was undeterred. Cuttystool fought back by kicking and punching Mac's arms and wrists. Her blows were solid, if weak. She struck Mac on the wrists several painful times with the metal hairbrush. He pulled back to get away from the brush. Cuttystool kicked the side of his head.

His grip slipped just enough for her to wiggle out. She scrambled to her feet just in time to meet a frying pan halfway up. Her head knocked against it in exactly the kind of way one would expect a solid wood object to knock a solid metal object. Tia wound up to strike her with the pan again. Cuttystool punched Tia's stomach with her hard wooden fist. Tia gasped and dropped the frying pan.

That was all the time Mac needed. He grabbed both the brownie's ankles and pulled her feet out from under her, then held her in a sort of crab hold. Her chest was to the floor, and her legs were bent and held up in the air behind her like a very angry contortionist. Cuttystool could swing the brush around all she liked, but it did nothing. She was ineffective with her face pressed into the floor. Mac got further control by holding her feet in one of his elbows. He put his hand over her hand in an attempt to get control of the brush. It tingled in his hand as if charged with static electricity.

When his hand gripped the handle over her little hand the nature of the static changed. The whipping tendrils collapsed in and the static formed into a perfect sphere. Mac got the impression that the hairbrush was waiting for orders. His orders. At the same time he could feel fear through his hand. Cuttystool slipped her hand off the brush and out of his grip.

"Mac, somethings wrong with Fifi" said Tia. She was on her knees beside the gremlin, who was in a fetal position and making little hiccuping noises.

"I'm kinda busy at the moment" said Mac

"She needs you". Said Tia.

"You better not cause any more trouble" growled Mac. That didn't mean he would let the brownie go free. He glanced around the kitchen for something to tie her up with. He found nothing. Mac improvised. He untied the bonnet and pulled it off her head. Cuttystool's hair was carved from the same piece of wood as her head, but stained to look like ebony. Mac tied her hands behind her back with the bonnet and tied her feet together with the apron. Then he sat her against the wall. Mac crossed the kitchen to check on Fifi. She was curled into a ball with her arms around her knees.

"She won't let me check her. I need to check her eyes." said Tia.

Mac picked up Fifi and sat on the floor. The little green ball of misery shivered in his arms. Tia unsuccessfully tried to pry Fifi's head from between her knees. Mac felt a strange sensation on her body, as if contact with her poked him with thousands of tiny ice needles. A multitude of tiny black things swarmed over Fifi. They were blacker than black like Drochide's eyes. Light and warmth refused to be associated with those evil little things. Mac tried brushing them away, but they were untouchable. They had no more substance than shadows.

"What did you do to her?" Mac asked Cuttystool. She didn't respond. Mac put Fifi in Tia's arms and got up. "Tell me how to get those black things off her!" he demanded of the brownie.

"Canna say" said Cuttystool. Mac picked up the hairbrush. The sphere of static formed around it, hissing menacingly. Cuttystool looked up at him with contempt in her glassy black eyes. He slapped her hard with the hairbrush, but the only reaction was a wooden thump.

"You hurt her, and now I'm going to hurt you." he growled.

"Mac, stop it!" said Tia

Anger flowed through his mind like a hot wave and left a chill resolve behind it. The static around his hand hissed louder and became a ragged roar that filled the room. Mac picked up Cuttystool by her wooden head and jabbed the brush into her torso. This time the brownie cried out in pain.

"Mac, I said stop it!" shouted Tia above the noise. She was holding Fifi, but her stern silver eyes were on Mac. He turned to face her.

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Tia recoiled in horror when she saw Mac's eyes. They were embers within black like Drochide's.