How to Train Your Hodag Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  How to Train Your Hodag

  About the Authors

  How to Train Your Hodag

  Digital Edition

  Copyright © 2018 Kuta Marler

  Published in the United States by Heads & Tails Publishing

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the copyright holder, except where permitted by law. This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously.

  ISBN: 978-1-7329386-0-1

  HOW TO TRAIN YOUR HODAG

  Lilith pulled ancient tomes off a bookcase made of a dark, heavy wood that may have been worth more per pound than platinum. The grain melted away as if being eaten by rot. John watched the greenish puddle at the base of the bookcase sizzle as it ate away the precious wood. The hodag sniffed at the mess that smelled of ammonia.

  Both John and Lilith turned to look at Cerberus, who returned a blank, dog-like expression on its green, scaly face.

  “I’m going to kill it and eat it.” Lilith took a half step forward but was arrested as John slid in front of her, hands raised.

  “Hang on, you said we could keep him here,” John said. After their latest misadventures John had adopted the hodag, a creature hailing from Wisconsin folklore, but he didn’t seem to be learning about the cryptoid as quickly as Lilith would like.

  “That was before I knew his ‘piddle’ could melt through my stuff!” She side-stepped.

  John moved with her. “Well, he can’t stay at my place—it got wrecked, remember?”

  “How is that my problem?” She attempted to move around him again.

  John took a deep breath. “One word: Angel. You know, the one that destroyed my apartment, making it impossible for me to get my deposit back. Oh, and sooner or later someone’s going to notice a scaly, green lizard-dog bouncing around and call animal control, or the military…or possibly an exorcist or something. And nobody wants that kind of attention right now.”

  Lilith continued to try getting around him.

  “I’m just saying, this can still work. We need to be patient, okay? He’s nervous.”

  The wood on the bookcase continued to sizzle.

  “Nervous?” Lilith raised both eyebrows. “Nervous is chewing your own nails or pacing back and forth. Not ruining my things.”

  “Point of fact,” a small voice interrupted, “Hag, none of these things are yours at the moment.”

  Lilith turned to glare at the figure that more closely resembled an action figure of a UFC fighter than the classical rendition of a fairy. Connor, the head of the Fairy clan, currently held possession of the house.

  “I’ll deal with you in a minute.” She turned a narrow-eyed gaze at John, who met it with a nervous smile. She held his gaze a moment and then relented. “Fine, but if it’s staying here you have to train it not to pee on everything.”

  John sagged with relief. “Great.”

  Lilith turned on Connor. “And you...” She drew out a long sheet of paper filled almost to looking black with tiny ink writing. Upon seeing it, Connor raised a brow with a smirk. “If I have to do all this stuff to get my house back you have to keep it in good condition. That means helping get this”—she waved a hand in a sweep that encompassed John, the bookcase, and the hodag—“under control. Understand?”

  Connor smiled. “High demands for someone who has no claim. You’re lucky we let your slick hide in here. The fact I’m even talking to you is thanks to John.”

  Lilith glared at Connor, who stared back evenly.

  John shifted nervously as the immortal and the fey chieftain stared each other down.

  After a painfully long silence, Connor spoke. “Keep in mind you are asking me to invoke a favor.” He turned to John. “You still want my help?”

  John blinked. “Uh, yeah, absolutely.”

  Connor turned back to Lilith. “Done.” He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head as though he had not a single worry anywhere, and smiled up at Lilith. “Now, don’t you have a list of things to do?”

  Lilith glared at Connor and without another word turned and stomped out of the library.

  John watched Lilith go and winced at the sound of large double doors slamming shut. “Uh, Connor?”

  “Yes?”

  John swallowed and dove into the hard question. “How am I supposed to train a hodag?”

  Connor pursed his lips, then shook his head. “Haven’t the foggiest.”

  “Oh.” Not what he’d been hoping for.

  A short while later, John and Connor stood outside the old farmhouse with Cerberus. The puppy-sized hodag bounded around happily in the fresh air while John glanced nervously around.

  “Umm, Connor, are you sure it’s a good idea to be outside right now?”

  The fairy waved a hand. “Don’t worry, it’s safe enough, and besides, the clan will keep watch for us.”

  John looked toward the house where a crowd of finger-length figures lounged on the roof like sunbathers on a Hawaiian beach. He could make out tiny handkerchiefs and dishcloths spread out like blankets and small cocktail umbrellas set against the Utah desert sun.

  John stared in surprise, rubbing the back of his neck. “Are we going to have an audience?”

  “No more than usual,” Connor said with a shrug.

  “Oh…kay…” John turned back to Connor. “Wait, what do you mean ‘no more than usual’?”

  “We’re always keeping an eye on you,” Connor said, waggling his red brows.

  John swallowed, “Err, you don’t watch me when I use the toilet, do you?”

  “Watch you?” Connor slapped his knee and laughed. “Badger snot, we place bets!”

  “What?” John’s eyes grew wide.

  “Sometimes in the morning, you don’t hit the water.” Connor paused to look up. “What are you turning all red for? We’ve seen it a hundred times.”

  John sputtered several times before managing, “Don’t watch me pee! It’ll make me nervous.”

  Connor leaned in. “Don’t suppose you would be willing to throw the next few rounds? Give me a heads up?”

  “What?” John asked.

  “Perfect, that’s generous of you.” Connor paused. “I’ll make a killing.”

  John sputtered before saying, “No!”

  “I’ll cut you in on the winnings. A quarter is more than fair.”

  John turned, looking Connor in the face. “No, I mean don’t watch me while I’m in the bathroom.”

  “And why not?” Connor asked. “It’s only for your safety after all.”

  “It’s a bathroom, what could possibly go wrong?” John asked.

  “Since we got full access to the internet, we’ve been reading some articles, and apparently most male humans tend to have issues with their nether regions.” Connor waved in the direction of John’s groin. “We keep an eye on things to make sure it’s all functioning.” Connor paused. “You’ve turned all red again. Are you okay?”

  “No! I mean, yes!” John dug his hands into his dark hair and pulled a little bit. “Stop looking at me while I’m in the bathroom!”

  Tapping a finger to his cheek, Connor said, “What about when you—”

  “Anytime I’m in the bathroom!” John loomed over the chieftain.

  Connor huffed. “Don’t come crying to us when your business goes pear-shaped.” He crossed his arms and looked away.

  “Pear shaped? Is th
at even…” John adjusted his pants. “Focus. We have a hodag to train.”

  “Focus? You’re the one getting all distracted by your twigs and berries,” Connor scoffed.

  “I’m not getting—never mind. I…” John paused, turning in a slow circle. “Uh, Connor?”

  “Yeah?” Connor replied.

  “Where’s Cerberus?” His gaze roved over the weeds, the gnarled tree, and the forests of sagebrush that was Lilith’s yard.

  They both stared at the ground where Cerberus had been moments before, then looked at each other with slack jaws.

  “Oi! Connor!” The voice came from above. Looking up, John could barely make out the copper-red hair of another fairy leaning over the edge of the roof.

  Connor grinned at his other, a look that said he still adored the woman. “Yes, Nessie?”

  “The beastie took off,” Nessie said, hands on her ample hips.

  Connor crossed his arms. “Did you happen to see where he went?”

  Her tiny hand gestured towards the shopping complex.

  “Thanks, love.” Without another word John and Connor both took off in that direction.

  John slowed. “Hey, Connor?”

  “Yes.” The fairy executed a tight turn in the air.

  “What do we do when we catch up with Cerberus?” John asked.

  Connor skidded to a halt a few paces ahead. “I didn’t have a plan.”

  “Me neither.” John cast about, as if a plan might just present itself on the side of the road.

  “Do you have anything to carry him? A bit of hemp would come in handy.”

  “What, like weed? No,” John said flatly.

  “Well, that’s no good.” Connor shoved his hands into the pockets of his miniature jeans but came out empty. “You came on a venture without a solid rope. That’s just poor planning.”

  “You didn’t bring one either,” John said in defense.

  Connor arched his brows. “I didn’t think we’d need one.”

  “Well, that’s—” John puffed a breath, stomping onto the sidewalk. “You know what, never mind.”

  Connor rested on his shoulder. “I may have an idea.”

  “Let’s hear it,” John said.

  “It’s going to require some chilliness”—Connor held onto the lobe of John’s ear—“on your part.”

  “I can handle cold.” John smiled, thinking of running around barefoot in Minnesota in the snow as a kid. The sun warmed his face, pulling him back to Utah. The light glinted off of manicured grass, trees stood tall in well-watered flower beds, and not a soul was to be seen, with the majority of the neighborhood at work or school.

  “Can you?” Connor hummed. “Some of us have noticed on cold mornings your aim tends to be a bit off.”

  “Connor!” John halted in the middle of a step.

  “What? Only a fool bets on you if you didn’t wear a robe to bed.”

  “You know what, later, we’ll discuss this later.” John rubbed his hands over his face.

  “Also, hemp’s a weed? Honestly, I don’t understand humans. It’s a very useful plant.”

  John blinked, “No, Connor, it’s called weed.”

  “That’s what I just said.” The fairy sounded annoyed with the correction.

  “No, it’s not a weed.” John closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We call it ‘weed.’”

  “That makes absolutely no sense.” Connor picked at something in his teeth.

  “We also call it pot,” John said.

  Connor blinked. “You think a kettle’s the only thing you can make with hemp? You can make rope, paper, baskets, clothing—”

  John rolled his eyes.

  The fairy kept talking, numbering the items on his fingers. “—and medicine! Have you lot figured out that if you light it on fire…”

  “Connor. The hodag is getting away. Do you have a plan?” John pointed down the street.

  “Take off your pants,” Connor said.

  John fell back a step; after all the conversations about bathrooms, he was not getting naked for the fairy. “What?”

  “Stop shouting.” Connor clapped his hands over his ears. “We can use your pants to wrap him up.”

  “I’m not taking off my pants,” John said. He shot him a dirty look.

  Connor looked up to the sky. “Your shirt, then. We can swaddle it.”

  “Swaddle?” John asked.

  Connor made wrapping motions with his hands. “It’s a thing we do for young ones to help them sleep.”

  “Young ones?” John couldn’t see how a shirt and young somethings went together.

  “Small fey,” Connor huffed. “Try to keep up. When two fey get together—”

  John contemplated how to cover Connor’s mouth. “I know where babies come from, Connor!”

  Connor flapped his hands. “You’re the one from a species so backwards it calls a rope a kettle!”

  John placed a hand over his face, breathing deeply. “Swaddling, Connor. How do I swaddle a hodag?”

  “Lay it on its back and wrap the cloth around till it can’t get free.” Connor sounded as if rocks might be smarter than John.

  “Got it. And you do this to children?” John started walking again.

  “Only the small ones.” Connor grew quiet.

  “Are…you a father?” John asked. He didn’t recall seeing any fairy kids but then again they were all rather small. “I haven’t seen any fey kids around the house.”

  Connor blustered then froze. He lifted a hand to point behind John.

  Turning slowly, John could see through the trees to the back of a residence.

  Surrounding the nearest house an overgrown hedge looked like the gardener stopped halfway through a trim and just wandered off. Inside the hedge, in a tiny backyard, an old woman sat at a table with a small red-brown wiener dog. From a distance, John and Connor could see the dog perk up, as if on the hunt.

  Then John saw what Connor had already noticed.

  At the base of the hedge, sniffing around, trying to smell its way through the foliage, was Cerberus.

  “Oh no,” John said.

  “I do believe puppy is on the menu,” Connor chortled.

  John didn’t reply. He was too busy unbuttoning his shirt.

  Mrs. Bonnie Millar sat on her back patio, enjoying her Sunday morning breakfast of tea and toast with orange marmalade. She paused in the act of drinking her tea as her dachshund began to bark.

  “Fifi? What’s wrong, dear?” she cooed.

  A commotion from the other side of her hedges that sounded like a couple people shouting spurred her into action. She toddled over to the waist-high section of the hedge and peered over.

  A shirtless young man clutched at a bundle of…something, on the ground.

  “Excuse me?” she inquired.

  The topless man looked up with wide blue eyes and stood up, clutching the bundle, which appeared to be made of his cast-off shirt. He flushed, the blush creeping all the way to his shoulders, and looked around with sharp movements as though searching for something.

  “Are you alright?” she asked, pondering if a call to the police might be in order.

  The young man flushed again. “Umm… yes. Thank you. Sorry, I was just getting my shirt.”

  “From my hedges?” She blinked.

  “Yes?” He cast his eyes about, then looked down at the bundle.

  She peered at the young man. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

  “Oh no.” He shifted the bundle behind him. “I just moved in, I’m staying at the house up the road until my place gets fixed.”

  Her gaze lit up; something she understood, at last. “Are you staying at Old Iris’s place?”

  Somewhere behind the hedge a tiny voice chirped up like a house finch. “Old?”

  The young man kicked at something and hissed at the hedge.

  She frowned. “Did you say something?”

  “Who, me?” the young man replied. “Iris died recently. I w
as a friend of hers from work.”

  “Oh, dear.” Mrs. Millar took a step back and placed a hand over her chest, tucking her dog up under the other arm. “I had no idea.”

  “Yes. I’m staying at her place helping her family sort out her affairs. You know, possessions, estate, working out a deal with her old landlady.”

  “Well, that’s nice of you. What’s your name?”

  “Jerry, ma’am.”

  “Jerry, I’m Mrs. Millar, and if you need any help with—” The thought she’d been following evaporated, and she asked, “Is your shirt smoking, Jerry?”

  The young man looked behind him to see that indeed his bundle of shirt was starting to sizzle, giving off a faint corrosive smell and a bit of smoke.

  “Yes, I recently took up smoking.” He tucked the bundle behind his back again. “I must have left a cigarette in the bundle.”

  “Well, aren’t you going to put it out?” Mrs. Millar asked, nostrils flaring in disapproval.

  “Hmm? Oh no, I uh, really don’t love this shirt anymore. I’ll probably just throw it away and you’ll never see me wear it again. I should go.” He side-stepped his way back from the hedge. Behind him came a sound that was as much a chirp as a bark. Jerry whispered something to his shirt, then grinned at her. “It was nice meeting you.” Without a further word he turned and fled.

  A short sprint later, John collapsed exhausted in the backyard of Lilith’s house. He dropped the bundle unceremoniously on the ground. It rustled a couple times, then fell apart to reveal a happy-looking Cerberus. The hodag trotted over to John and licked his face with its long slimy tongue. John submitted to the tongue bath knowing he was the only one that could; anyone else would have melted like butter.

  He wiped a particularly big glob of hodag slobber from his face and flicked it at the porch. It hissed slightly as it landed. John looked at his hand and then back at the porch. “This stuff should kill me.”

  “Only a thought, but when Lil tried to make you a dragon, I think a little bit got brought to the surface.” Connor placed a tiny hand at his chin. “That or you got slick and it slides right off.” He stood on top of Cerberus’s head as if preparing to give a lecture. “Now, I know why you decided to kick me, but if you ever do that again, I’ll punch you so hard in the nether regions that you’ll never pee straight again.”