I could hear the thumping up the steps again. Fucking Bob, at it again. He was grunting and scrabbling at the pet door to the back entry.

"Mffggin tng wnt fggn ft"

"What?"

"Mffggin tng wnt fggn ft"

"I still can't understand you." Cats.

Bob spat a little, followed by a thick and meaty series of thwaps as what I assumed was another head made its cadaverous journey back to the yard.

"Got dammit, I said the motherfuckin' thang won't fuckin' fit. Ain't you got ears?"

"Bob, watch your shit. I have a double barrel loaded with blessed rock salt and a vial of holy water."

"Ay man, you ain't gonna do shit, and you know it. Come git this damn head out the yard. Damn monkeys and your posable thumbs gotta be good for that at least."

"It's opposable, jackass."

"Your mom's opposable on my cock."

"Blessed rock salt, Bob."

"Yeah, yeah, you and my ass, both spreading shit. Are you gettin' this head or what?"

I sighed and gave a light kick to his ass on my way past, getting a hiss and a flick of claws to my pants hem in return. He knows I'm not going to off him, and I know he's not really going to do a damn thing that might scratch me, but we like to keep our boundaries intact.

I opened the door to see a well chewed face looking up at me, one eye apparently sucked out, or otherwise missing. Whoever she'd been before Bob got ahold of her, she didn't deserve to just lay in my yard among the leaves and windblown detritus of an abandoned neighborhood.

I pulled on some nitrile gloves and snagged the head, tucking it into a grocery bag on my way back in.

"Good job, monkey boy."

"Fuck you, Bob."

Bob sat there, sullen; smelling of corpse, sulphur, blood and a hint of musk. The red glow of his eyes was the least horrible thing about him. Him being more of a courtesy since he prefers those pronouns, but Bob didn't have a cock for my mom to ride, or balls to go without it. Infernals can have genitals, but nothing as lowly as a rabishu ever bothers beyond a vague outline unless you order them to. Their appetites aren't particularly sexual anyway.

For being not much bigger than an unusually large Maine coon, he packed a sense of density that he swung like some greater demons do swing cock. Rabishu can have presence, in the mystical sense, despite being fairly limited in power. Bob has plenty of presence to go with his massive smell. He claims it's a sign of status and power among his kind, that only the really potent rabishu stink. I don't have enough dealings with them to disagree. But he can turn it off, or at least down beyond where I can smell it.

And he has to if he wants to sleep on the pillow in bed.

"What's up with this one?"

"She's got a worm in her."

"Oh, fuck me, Bob, really?"

"Yeah man, I ain't yankin' your chain. Should be just about ripe too."

"Let's work then!"

See, me and Bob don't live in this hellscape of a neighborhood because we have to. It's all about the profit. The portal that makes this place unlivable without some serious defenses and power also brings in some extremely rare things. Cranium worms aren't the rarest, but they are both dangerous and ephemeral. They fight when you try to pull them out, and their psychic scream is a bitch.

Back when things got crazy in the eighties magic was flying around, gods fighting everywhere, and things nobody knows what they were would wreak havoc. That last happened here in a fairly small town; Byford West Virginia. Some kind of interdimensional gate popped up and nobody has ever managed to get rid of it. It's a ghost town now, and mostly contained. But you can slip in, and out. The neighborhood closest to the hot zone sees the most activity, hence us living in this deteriorating single family home.

If you don't mind the risk, some of the stuff that creeps through can be sold or traded for very large profit. But, as the cranium worms prove, it isn't exactly for the weak.

Me and Bob came here and set up shop maybe a year ago. Plan is to bust our asses for a few years, then retire. Less if we get a big score. There aren't many big scores, they're mostly like the cranium worms, you get a bunch of little scores that are still enough to cover expenses and some decent profit.

Cranium worms aren't the only invading brain. . . thing that comes through. I guess there's a lot of shit out in the greater cosmos that likes hijacking or eating brains, because that's what usually kills off people like me, scavengers. That's why I won't actually shoot Bob, he doesn't have a brain at all, or the other organs that some of the parasitic invaders like to infest.

Him? I inherited. My aunt was a big-time spirit summoner back in the god wars. Had dozens of infernals and a handful of other spirits or entities under one pact or another. Bob was her favorite and I was no so much her favorite nephew, as the only person in the family that would visit at all. I still haven't gotten an answer as to why he has a southern accent.

"A'ight, I'll fetch the kit, you use those fancy thumbs to set up in the lab."

We got to work. I got to work. Bob, as previously mentioned, lacks the opposable digit to use tools well. Not that he won't try to stab things with his favorite switchblade anyway. Slice through the skin above the pineal gland, bone saw almost through the skull. Then, hammer time.

I looked to Bob as I raised the mallet to pop the skull open. Enchanted or not, the stun it puts out isn't impossible to resist, and he's not going to get infested by catching the damn things. As soon as I drove the hammer down, the shriek started.

REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeee. . .e

I do love this hammer. Before I finished it, the little fuckers would scream all the way into the containment jars. One more to crate up for delivery at the end of the week.

"Did you check the body for ID or anything?"

"Nah man, I don't give a fuck."

"Cats are assholes. Where is it?"

"Three blocks east. I think she was scouting for a livable spot. Had cases and luggage in a wagon nearby at least."

"Great. That means one of the feds will end up knocking on our door again. Let's head over and save some hassle, pick her stuff up, lay a preserving charm on the body and drag it into the stop n rob with the other two."

"Aw hell, I don't wanna go back out, there's some kitty porn with my name on it."

"Just get your ass ready, Bob."

With that, we were off into the night.

That's what I got. Hope it isn't too disappointing that it cuts off, but the brain fire petered out. But feline rabishu are obstreperous.