The Murder Goo was contained, but not eliminated, and it was time for me to step up and save the day.

  Mission Accepted: Reinforce Slayer Auld

  Skill Activated: Sound Direction

  Now, readers, I must confess, my wife is the singer amongst the two of us, not I, but I knew quite a lot about sound since it was basically math that flowed in lines.

  I was vividly aware of the relationship of water to sound waves, so I opened my mouth and roared.

  The sound that came out was something you would’ve expected from Auld, not a mere human woman. It was feral and fierce, deep and wild. The sound that would strike terror in the hearts of all on the streets above if they heard it.

  Something from a tale of old, like a dragon mixed with an angry momma bear. Or a pissed-off introvert tired of supernatural creatures ruining every damned holiday.

  I let my voice hit that wall of Auld water, and I felt it connect.

  I wasn’t hitting a wall of water; I was joining a creature made of magic and music, and he shaped my roar into a song of friendship. A mouth I could not see and vocal cords I could not fathom rang out low and melodious:

  Should old acquaintance be forgot?

  And never brought to mind?

  Should old acquaintance be forgot?

  And auld lang syne?

  For auld lang syne, my dear.

  For auld lang syne.

  We’ll take a cup of kindness, yet.

  For auld lang syne.

  My wife’s voice joined his in beautiful harmony, and the tunnel was full to overflowing with the wistful sound of comrades of old singing in a pub. Or a sewer.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  It wasn’t just music that flew at the Murder Goo. It was streams of sound-impregnated water, dancing in wavy lines towards the animated coffee grounds, surrounding it on every side, diving into its thickness, then separating it, speck by speck, pushing it, tearing it, pulling it into oblivion.

  Then sucking, pulling, and taking the essence of it. Water and coffee monster undulated and roiled in that tunnel, and the sight was something no one wanted to ever see again. Water and sound disassembled the abomination, then made their final move.

  Harley and I pressed our backs against the tunnel wall as spiraling water rose and twisted past us, heading for the main sewer line. Within that blue-white vortex of liquid was something dark and foul, a stream of putrescence so vile I was grateful Auld could contain it.

  The tube of water spun its way to the sewage, then split into streams. A grimy brown-black extraction separated off and descended into the sewer while the remaining crystalline, pure liquid pooled on the tunnel edge, gathering and reshaping into something familiar.

  Rising from the floor of the tunnel, shaping itself into a being larger than a man, was the familiar face of the snow angel, spiky head and devil tail to boot.

  “Auld!” Harley exclaimed, running to him. He whooped and grabbed her in a hug, spinning, and when he sat her down, the two of them grinned at each other.

  “For auld lang syne, my dear. For auld lang syne. We’ll take a cup of kindness, yet. For auld lang syne,” they sang in celebration.

  Yes, Harley sounded nasal since her nose was plugged with blueberry candy cane, but I wasn’t going to complain because we were all alive, and the coffee monster was not.

  Wait, the Murder Goo? What exactly had become of it?

  I shone my headlamp into the cavern, searching the floor for remnants. There was nothing left to hold together the shape of a monster. It was like concrete that had been vibrated so violently it was pulverized into dust. The only thing remaining of the Monster Goo was a fine brown powder that had once been spent coffee grounds.

  Thus was the power of sound and water and three friends working in unison.

  I grinned at Harley, hugged Auld’s arm, kissed his frozen cheek, and said, “Let’s get outta the sewer, eh, friends?”

  “I got my shoe!” called a voice behind us. I’d nearly forgotten the dog Shikha and her owner. Spinning to face them, I saw the man smiling at us, then remembered our self-appointed roles as monster exterminators.

  “For the sake of Seattle, it’s best if you forget what happened today,” I started, but he was already nodding.

  “No one would believe me anyway. I tried telling people how my dog saved Gas Works Park from a flying pizza massacre, but they all thought I was high. Who wants to think dinner’s gonna come alive and start eating people? No one. And telling people the coffee’s possessed and on a revenge spree for all we’ve done to it through the centuries? Forget it. My lips are sealed. Hey, that’s a manhole cover up there, innit?” he asked, pointing to the ceiling.

  And sure enough, there were ladder rungs in the wall and slits of daylight visible above.

  “I dunno about the rest of you, but I’m thinking we make our escape here,” Harley said.

  We agreed. No one wanted to tromp back through the sewers. Auld went first, with Shikha under one arm, and expertly pushed aside the manhole cover, finding no obstructions above. We climbed out of that sewer, victorious, and not a little stinky.

  “How did your dog get down into the tunnels?” Harley questioned.

  The man shook his head, dismayed. “Someone left a grate open right in the middle of the road, and before I knew what was happening, she was down and chasing that gunk.”

  He shivered, then looked at his shoe. “At least my good running shoe didn’t get sewage all over it. It’s just some old coffee grounds and a tiny remnant of dog poo. I can finish my run. Come on, Shikha,” he said, jogging away.

  Harley blew a kiss to the dog and her owner, then turned to me. “You good to give us a minor cleanse, Red?” I obliged, and once my foaming bubbles had done their job, we were significantly less stinky, but slightly more soapy as we headed down the street towards home.