How to Train Your Hodag Read online

  “Did something else happen?” John asked.

  “No, just still finding bits of it in my hair,” Connor said, plopping down onto the white sill.

  “Okay.” John pulled back and stared at Connor through squinted eyes.

  Connor fixed him with a stare. “Read your articles.”

  “It’s going to take a moment for the phone to power up,” John said. “Thank you for helping me get Cerberus back. I do owe you one.”

  “Do you mean that?” Connor asked, leaning back on the glass sliding window.

  “Yeah.” John nodded, scratching behind the hodag’s ears. “Tell me about what the Hag doesn’t remember?”

  Connor sighed, suddenly solemn and focused. “Fey don’t reproduce like humans. We build something together. We call it a pod, then it soaks up the magic of our people. Nessie and I had a pod.”

  “What happened to it?” John asked.

  “On the crossing from the old world to the new, it went missing. Since Iris died, I’ve been getting flashes of her memories,” Connor said.

  “Is that normal?” John asked. “Must be kind of weird having your mom’s memories in your head.”

  “And her feelings. She did not like Nessie.” Connor raised his brows.

  “That must make things difficult.” John shifted, his shoes scraping on the step.

  “Yeah.” Connor jumped up on his knee. “I think…” He rubbed the base of his neck. “The Hag knows something. Will you see what you can find out?”

  “I’ll do you one better. Let’s find your kid.” John picked up his phone.

  “The Hag won’t help.” Connor paced the window frame.

  “She will if I ask,” John said. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like she’s trying to be human again.”

  Connor rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

  “She is,” he said, powering on the phone. He tapped open the browser and did a search. He read a little and his heart sank.

  “Six to eight months? How am I going to keep track of his bowel movements for six to eight months?” Without reading further, John flopped onto the porch and groaned. His phone, still gripped in his hand, popped free of the charge cord. Instantly, Cerberus was upon him and started licking his face. John could hear the sputter of the hodag’s slobber hitting the backside of his phone case. He instinctively set it aside and allowed the hodag to continue to lick his unprotected face. John wasn’t sure how long he lay there, but eventually he looked up to see Connor sitting atop his phone as though it were a glass-and-plastic rug beneath him.

  “Giving up on pet training?” Connor inquired.

  John groaned and covered his face with his arm as if trying to hide from life.

  “Maybe we could make some training pads out of your skin.”

  John glared at Connor. “Not helping.”

  “You have plenty,” Connor said.

  “You’re not skinning me alive, Connor. We already had that talk with Lilith. Got it?”

  Connor threw up his arms. “It’s only skin!”

  John turned his head sideways. He stared at the phone underneath Connor. A small cartoon figure wielding a rolled-up newspaper was shown striking a dog.

  “Hey, now there’s an idea,” John said. He reached for the phone.

  Connor leapt to his feet. “Not enough of me to skin.”

  John picked up the phone. The picture was labeled “Negative Reinforcement.”

  John stared at the phone. “That’s it! Rewards and punishment! Carrot and stick!” John leapt to his feet, holding the phone triumphantly. He looked down at Connor and Cerberus.

  “We need something to reward and punish Cerberus! With that, I bet we could train him.” He flapped his hands to show how exciting this was supposed to be.

  “Carrots and sticks.” Connor tucked a fist under his chin, resting his elbow on a knee. “The hodag will probably eat both.”

  “No, this will work. We just have to find something he’s afraid of and something he likes.”

  Connor and John both stared at Cerberus.

  Cerberus yipped, apparently happy to be a part of the conversation.

  The man and the fairy stared at the creature for a good long while. Then John looked up and snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it! Dog treats! Mrs. Millar had a dachshund. I’ll bet she has some. Keep an eye on Cerberus. I’ll be right back.”

  Before Connor could speak John dashed from the yard.

  “It’s called a Bechdel test.” Mrs. Millar nodded with satisfaction.

  “I still don’t know what it has to do with anything.” Ethel, Mrs. Millar’s friend, leaned forward and raised a teacup to her lips with shaking hands. “Women talk all the time. We talk.”

  Mrs. Millar fixed her friend with an even stare. “True, but we don’t do it on camera. It’s when they do that you know it’s a good movie.”

  “You know it’s a good movie when Vin Diesel comes out without his shirt on.” Ethel nodded sagely.

  “Ethel!”

  “What, Bonnie? I can’t appreciate a healthy young man?” Ethel smirked behind her teacup.

  “That’s not the point!” Mrs. Millar persisted.

  Whatever Ethel might have said next was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Mrs. Millar frowned, stood up, and made her way to the door. It opened to reveal her new neighbor.

  “Hi, Mrs. Millar!” John greeted her, before pausing to catch his breath.

  “Hello, uh, Jerry.” She raised her eyebrows. “Young man, are you aware your shirt is smoking?”

  John looked down. “Oh, that.” He swatted at the neck of his shirt absently. “That’s just acid.” A large section of his shirt came off in his hand. Small particles dripped off and a few landed on the doghouse-shaped welcome mat. They sputtered before evaporating and leaving noticeable dark spots behind. John blinked at those. Carefully he took a step back onto the brick of the front step. He smiled weakly.

  Mrs. Millar crossed her arms. “Is there something I can help you with, Jerry?”

  “Dog treats” was his clipped response.

  Mrs. Millar blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “I, uh, need some dog treats…for a friend.”

  “Uh-huh.” She frowned at him.

  “I thought maybe since you had a dog you might have a few, you know, to spare?”

  Mrs. Millar pursed her lips. “Wait here.”

  She strode off into the kitchen, leaving John on the porch. He looked through the open doorway and noticed another older lady in a pink dress leaning back in her chair. She waved her fingers at him in a playful way, and he hesitantly waved back. Absently, he tried to wipe his hand on his shirt, which only served to disintegrate the fabric further. The rest of the front of his shirt collapsed onto the bricks in front of him. John grimaced and looked up.

  The older lady winked at him.

  It was then that Mrs. Millar returned with a handful of bone-shaped biscuits. She blinked at the change in John’s wardrobe, then extended her arm as far as it would go and dropped the biscuits onto John’s palms.

  “Do you need anything else, young man?” She cleared her throat.

  “Uh, no. Thank you!” John ran off, clutching at his ruined shirt and the biscuits.

  Mrs. Millar closed the door and turned around. “What?” she said in response to her friend’s raised eyebrows.

  Ethel smiled. “New neighbor?”

  Mrs. Millar returned to her seat. “Oh, wipe that silly grin off your face. He is completely insane.”

  “Can’t help it.” She grinned before taking another sip.

  “And why not?” Mrs. Millar adjusted her skirt.

  “Well, he’s no Vin Diesel, but it’s still a good show.”

  John came back to find Connor waving a small tree branch and running in circles with Cerberus happily giving chase. Connor leapt onto the un-melted portions of John’s clothes and scrambled up to his shoulder. Cerberus pawed at John’s leg.

  “What happened?” John asked.r />
  “Carrots and sticks,” Connor huffed, waving the branch one more time.

  John batted the stick away. “What?”

  Connor reached over and grabbed John’s nose, using it to turn John’s head until he stared cross-eyed at the fairy. “You said carrot and stick might help. So I found a stick and Nessie grabbed a carrot.”

  “And then what happened?” John asked.

  “Cerberus started licking the fence again. I held up the carrot and stick.”

  “And what did he do?”

  “Ate the carrot.”

  “Oh.” John still couldn’t see how that applied to anything.

  “Then tried to eat the stick.”

  “I see.” John blinked, still cross-eyed. “Uh, could you let go of my nose?”

  Connor released the tip of his nose.

  John shook his head, clearing away dizziness and looking down at where Cerberus still pawed against his leg. He recalled the few crumbling dog treats in his hands. “Okay, here goes nothing.” He picked up one treat between thumb and forefinger and let it drop down towards Cerberus’s waiting snout.

  Without missing a beat, the hodag snapped it out of the air and ran in a quick circle on the ground before stretching back up on John’s leg, where it continued to pant.

  “It worked! Cerberus likes them. We can use these to help train him.”

  Connor looked at John sideways and then, without a word, held out the branch and let it drop. In two quick snaps Cerberus ate the branch, ran in a quick circle on the ground, and pawed his way back up on John’s leg just as he had before.

  “But…”

  “He’ll eat anything. You need something a little more…motivating,” Connor said. Hands on hips, riding John’s shoulder like a sailor on a mast.

  John’s shoulders slumped, and Connor swung his arms for balance.

  “Come on, now. We can figure this out,” Connor said.

  “How? I can’t leave him here alone for five minutes. If he destroys anything else the Hag will have his hide,” John said.

  “We need an incentive. Figure out what really grabs his attention. So let’s take him with us.” Connor rubbed his chin. “I’ve got a plan.”

  “This is a bad plan,” John grumbled as he pushed the baby carriage down the cereal aisle.

  “It’s a great plan.” Connor ducked out from under the awning of the rolling baby pram. “See how far we’ve come already?”

  “I’m telling you someone might look into the carriage and see Cerberus.” John glanced over his shoulder. “Or you. I know you think no one will notice you but I still think it’s risky.”

  Connor shrugged and hopped out of the basket and onto the flat linoleum floor.

  John practically choked on surprise. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m having a look around,” Connor replied.

  “Connor, get in the basket,” John ordered.

  “Lad.” Connor’s eyes scanned the store as a broad grin spread across his tiny face. “A quick look never harmed anyone.” With a jerk, the fairy ducked behind a box of fruit snacks and vanished from sight.

  “Connor!” John bent over and tried to peer behind the rows of snack boxes.

  “John?”

  From his vantage point near the floor John could look up to see a colorful blouse and some loose jeans. He quickly stood up.

  “Hi, Mrs. Young, uh, fancy meeting you here.” Mrs. Young had been one of the donators at the blood drive.

  The middle-aged woman waved a hand in the air. “Barbara is fine, John. Err…did you lose something?”

  “Hmmm? Oh! Right, the floor.” John absently rubbed the back of his neck. “No, well, yes, but—” He glanced at the snack shelf. “I suppose it’s long gone now.”

  “I hope it wasn’t too valuable.”

  John’s lips drew into a tight line. “No, I’m sure it’s fine.”

  “Alright.” Mrs. Young shrugged and gave a half-smile. “You caught me shopping on a Sunday. I normally wouldn’t, but my youngest, Ginny, has a cold and I needed some cough syrup.”

  “Right.” John said. “Well, it was good seeing you.”

  But Mrs. Young had caught sight of the baby carriage. “Oh! I didn’t know you had any kids of your own.”

  John’s eyes grew wide. “What!? No! I mean, no, I don’t.” John rocked his arms back and forth as if holding an imaginary child. “I’m babysitting? Right, babysitting.” He nodded affirmatively.

  “Well, isn’t that sweet of you. How old?”

  “Hmmm? Oh, the baby, right, he’s…seven?”

  “Seven years old and still in a carriage?”

  “Oh, right, no, months! Right. Seven years would be way too much.”

  “Oh, a newborn!” She gestured toward the pram. “May I?”

  “What?” John’s eyes grew wide. “NO! He’s, he’s still asleep.” John swung his arms in an awkward “aww shucks” move.

  “Just a peek.” She moved to step around John, but he blocked her.

  “Right—”

  Mrs. Young tilted her head around John and furrowed her eyebrows. “It’s empty.”

  John spun around, his heart leaping in panic. Sure enough, the swaddle cloth lay undone and no hodag was in the bassinette. John jerked his head back and forth desperately, scanning for some sign of the creature, but there was no trace of Cerberus.

  A disappointed frown drew Mrs. Young’s lips downward. “I thought you said he was sleeping. If he’s not sleeping in his bassinette, where is he?”

  “Right, his mother is walking him around. To sleep him. That is, to put him to sleep. The baby…right.” This earned him another concerned stare. He half smiled in response. “I got to go.”

  John raced down the aisle before another word could be spoken.

  John’s frantic flight up and down aisles, looking for any trace of the hodag, left his heart racing. As he passed by a particular shelf full of bottles of soda, a small head poked out at him.

  “Hey!” Connor called.

  John skidded to a halt. “Where have you been?”

  “Looking around. Where have you been?” He pushed aside a glass bottle and stepped to the edge of the shelf.

  “Cerberus is missing again.” John scanned the aisle and kept moving.

  “What?”

  “I said Cerberus—”

  “I was being rhetorical.” Connor ran along the top of the soda bottles, feet pattering over the plastic.

  “Whatever. Can you help me find him before he eats someone?” John pleaded.

  “And how do you propose I do that?” Connor leapt to the top of the pram.

  “I don’t know.” John took a right, bright orange cheese and mozzarella in the fridge next to him.

  “I’ll manage.” Connor disappeared into the shelving, leaving John staring at a display of clearance items.

  A few aisles over, Mike stopped to examine a box of cereal. “I think it’s a ley line thing, dude. You know like a cosmic zone of awareness that allows us to see through penultimate dimensions.” He hefted the box in his hand. “Hey, do you think Lucky Charms are actually lucky?”

  Mark slumped over the handles of the cart. “Huh?”

  “I mean, like if they made real horseshoes out of marshmallow, would, like, the standard luck of horseshoes still apply?”

  “Dude,” Mark groaned.

  “I’m hungry, dude. We’ve been sitting at the cosmic convergence point for like ever, man,” Mike whined.

  “You mean the alley,” Mark said.

  “Yeah, for like hours.” Mike adjusted his pant leg before scratching his backside.

  “It can’t be a cosmic convergence thing…” Mark trailed off.

  “Ley line,” Mike insisted.

  “Whatever.” Mark made a waving gesture with his hands. “They’re not real, man.”

  “I’m telling you, our eyes are open. We can see into the universe or something, dude.”

  Mark stood frozen, staring in-between the boxes of cere
al. A small face the color of sunbaked pumpkin with an unruly mop of red hair was staring back at him. Connor, for his part, did his best to turn slowly to cover the suspicious-looking hole in the side of a cereal box that was spilling sugar-coated marshmallows onto the back part of the shelf. He crunched a bite nervously and did his best to swallow.

  In the long pause that followed, Connor innocuously shoved another bite of marshmallow into his mouth.

  Mark kept his eyes fixed on Connor, only moving his lips carefully and to one side. “Mike, are you seeing this?”

  “Yeah dude,” Mike whispered.

  “It’s looking at me, Mike.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do I do?”

  “I don’t know, grab it?” Mike shrugged.

  Mark raised his hand and then snapped it forward, scattering boxes of cereal. Connor yelped and dove out of the way, knocking over yet more boxes.

  Mark rammed his hand past some bags of granola, forcing Connor to dive over him and into a standing display of cheerios. Mark leaped after with less grace and managed to belly flop onto several boxes which exploded, sending tiny edible rings across the aisle floor. He looked around frantically in time to see Connor slip into a gap between two shelving units.

  “Hey!” a strange voice bellowed.

  Mark brought his head up sharply to see a middle-aged man wearing a pin that read “manager” looking back at him from the far end of the aisle with a less-than-pleased expression. In panic, he looked to Mike, who raised his hand in a calm motion and turned to the man, whose face by now had turned bright red.

  “It’s okay, dude. We scared off the tiny dude eating the cereal.”

  The manager looked at Mike, then at the box of Lucky Charms in Mike’s hand. Mike followed his gaze to the smiling cartoon leprechaun on the box.

  “I meant the other one.”

  Four aisles over, John flinched as the sound of the manager’s outburst filled the store. He ducked his head and came around a corner to see Cerberus calmly urinating on a collection of bottles of cleaning supplies. “Cerberus!”

  The hodag jumped a little, still spraying. John leapt back as a splatter narrowly missed him and landed with a hiss on the linoleum floor. John recovered and waved frantically with his hands.