biting each other and barking. With some effort, I picked the handle up, lifted it over my head and brought it down with all the strength I could muster. I thought it was the wood in my hand that cracked until I saw the head on the left sagging noticeably. There was a large, messy fracture over its eye. Somehow, I didn’t think that this head was merely unconscious.
The other two paused for a second, noticing that something was different. Although I couldn’t have been sure of anything, I thought I saw a glimmer of fear fill the eyes of the remaining two heads as they realized that I had just killed a part of them.
I lifted the axe handle again and finished the job.
Cerberus lay there, unmoving, as the dust around it settled. Asterion stood up from the throne of bones, obviously pleased with me.
All I could do was collapse, feeling like something that would normally be scraped off of a butcher‘s floor. As I drifted off into unconsciousness, I heard the minotaur say something that filled me with a brief glimmer of hope.
“You did well, and I will do as I said. Darrell Gene Rankin will receive a visitor today. Your wife will not receive that picture.”
The world went black after that, and I relaxed.
Chapter 16
The ache of Darrell Gene Rankin’s broken heart was like a swampy blues tune played in a smoky club on the Louisiana bayou. It was a tune that might have seemed at home coming from a traveling man’s dobro.
The Piper heard the jealousy snaking through Darrell Gene’s veins like heroin, and it was enough to make him high. The noise that emotion made was rough and sandpapery like serpent skin as it traveled the highway of veins and arteries. It gave The Piper chills. He spread his wings and arched his back as the sound empowered him.
He stood in his makeshift palace amidst the rubble, the twisted music stands, the damp sheets of notation, and he filled the conservatory with his brand of diabolical music. He played his pipes and watched as Darrell Gene paced back and forth in his living room like a caged beast.
The tunes that came from the flute were familiar and painful. At times they manifested as voices, other times as memories.
The pipes played and---
---Darrell Gene heard the voice of his mother whispering something illicit into the ear of Jasper Simmons, the deacon from their church who had torn the Rankin family apart.
---along came the shattering of glass as Darrell Gene’s father hurled an empty liquor bottle against the wall.
---the music that flowed like muddy water was the sound of children taunting Darrell Gene over and over again.
---Darrell Gene cried as his father beat him over and over again, with the grief soon becoming rage.
The Piper held up his hand and beckoned to Darrell Gene, coaxing those feelings out of him with the skill of a master conductor. Darrell Gene Rankin was his instrument, and he wrung every ounce of emotion out of the poor man that he could.
*****
The voices speaking to Darrell Gene were becoming one. It was like the vertical hold controlling the voices was being adjusted to dial in a precise frequency. He wasn’t being torn in a bunch of different directions now. His purpose was clearly defined. All he heard now was the voice of The Piper, and The Piper had big plans for him.
He knew his role in life, and if there was any moment of doubt, any second where he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, The Piper reassured him. Darrell Gene thought this was so much easier than trying to find his own way. If only he’d listened a little sooner.
He was just having a conversation with the toaster about what life would be like when The Piper gave him a family when he heard a knock at the door. He scowled and headed toward the front of the house, wondering who could possibly be here to see him.
He didn’t normally receive visitors. Nobody wanted to spend time with him. He had no friends, and no family. This could only mean bad news.
Cautiously, he peered through the curtains, hoping it wasn’t a repo man or a bill collector. The man standing at his door didn’t seem like either. The visitor looked to be in his forties with salt-and-pepper hair. Dressed in khakis and a button down shirt, his appearance could have been described as guidance counselor chic or retail manager