The next several seconds I remained still - I had to admit, this was a shocking turn of events. I rapidly thought through different possibilities, before remembering to pull myself out of Nicole.

The condom was in tatters, and a small amount of dark venous blood stained the sheets and our bodies. I carefully laid her down on the bed. When I moved her, the air which was pressed out of her lungs also brought out some tiny bubbles of vivid pink foam. I didn’t need to be a medical expert to recognize the obvious signs of lung damage.

I could not make my perception work as an X-ray vision mostly due to chaotic radiation background of the environment. But the circumstantial evidence pointed at the possibility that she died because of sudden penetrating damage to her internal organs. And as awkward it was to admit, the likely cause of death was the pressure of my ejaculate.

As a vivid example of the side effects of my abnormal mental capacity, my mind was currently divided between the feelings of guilt, awkwardness and sardonic wordplays on the word “cumshot”. I could already feel how it was going to be a pain to deal with, not to mention the prospects of my future sex life. For a second, I was going to come up with an impactful profanity involving some especially notorious members of the Lovecraftian pantheon, but then thought better of that. Considering the recent information I had gotten, it was apparently not a wise thing to do.

---

After a quick shower to calm down and get rid of smells and the phantom sense of cold stickiness, I went downstairs. The light spilling from the opened door drew Bob’s attention just as I had intended. I waved for him to come over, so he switched off some sort of pop radio station he was listening to and got out of the car.

“Sir?” - he asked carefully. He approached with a distinct clubfoot limp that I had mentally noted down as another possible characteristic of asanbosams’ physiology: “Everything's alright?”

For a second I thought he was mocking me before I reigned an impulse to begin blaming him: “Mm, first of all, Bob, where did you find her?”

Bob flashed a hint of his teeth nervously flashing between metallic and white colors. “If she doesn’t suit your tastes, we can order another one. I assure you, she is from one of the best establishments around here.”

I almost cursed out loud: “Famous?”

“Very.” - came the answer I did not want to hear most.

I scratched my chin, then decided that this mess will require some work to deal with. I motioned for Bob to come in while asking: “And you know, she is a human?”

“Yes, she’s totally out of the loop about deeper knowledge.” - Bob seemed to look quite smug about that.

As I led him upstairs, I could observe how Bob’s nostrils twitched as he carefully sniffed the air and continued: “It might not have been the best idea, by the way.”. Nicole’s body was in the room above the front door and furthest away from the hallway, but the light smell of iron had already tainted the air.

“Blood, sir?” - Bob had apparently understood that situation was not the best one.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

I wordlessly opened the door to lead him in. The next moment, things began to happen really fast.

---

I could barely register how a car entered my zone of perception, before it had already taken a sharp turn at the end of the street and was making a straight line towards the house, ignoring the curbs, sidewalks and minor bushes in between. I was disinclined to take direct part in what was apparently going to happen the next few seconds, so I used my best speed to push myself back.

Bob who was following me behind, was caught unprepared and I essentially slammed him against the wall at the opposite end of the hallway. He barely had enough time to squeeze out: “What the f… Oh, I say, sir, what happ…?” before the approaching car scraped off the boot of the Bob’s car resulting in a loud screech of tearing metal.

Almost immediately, that ear-piercing sound was overwhelmed by the loud clap when the car smashed into the house’s front wall at the speed well over 100kph. As the number flashed through my thoughts, I also habitually converted it into local imperial units - 62 miles per hour.

The driver of the car had rolled out of the door just before the car breached the solid brick wall, but got hit by falling pieces of bricks when most of the building’s facade came down. The impact had also ruined the room on the upper floor and even a part of the roof above. Through the thick cloud of dust and greasy smoke I speechlessly watched as the boards and beams came apart and rained down into the hall below. The furniture followed along with the loose bricks from the wall, forming a messy pile around the crash site.

Meanwhile, Bob had managed to come back, carefully rotating his shoulders. He was full asanbosam-mode with shining teeth and reddish glow in his eyes. He squinted into the cloud of dust that covered the hall, trying to see through the obstruction.

As I was not affected by limited vision like he, I could easily observe the current situation. About the problem with Nicole’s unintended death, I could only click my tongue as I pragmatically thought that the issue had solved itself in a rather unexpected fashion. Now, her body was right on the hood of the car below, buried under the mass of heavy furniture and building pieces. I rebuked myself for being heartless when I noticed that I was becoming way too calculating and promised to look after her relatives in the future. At the same time, I noticed some activity around the house and confirmed that it was a planned attack.

“Bob.” - I spoke without turning around.

“Sir, what happened?” - asked he, still trying to see into the collapsed room.

I shrugged, ignoring his question: “By any chance, do you have any beef with other gangs?”

Bob thought for a second: “We don’t eat together. Ah, sorry, sir, I get it. No gangs are friendly to each other. But no fighting like that, no.”

“Really?” - I noticed something familiar: “How about those who were following you today?”

“Following?!” - that had come as a surprise.

“Yes, Santa’s little helpers, I assume.” - I described the easy-to-notice parts of our attackers: “Red ski hats and red leather jackets. Doesn’t look like they are bringing candies either, settled on machetes instead.”

“Wu tu bin!” - spat out Bob, clearly recognizing my description.

“And in English?” - I urged him.

“Not humans!” - the red colour in Bob’s eyes intensified: “They never came here!”

---

The Santa’s Little Helpers, as I tentatively called them, had surrounded the house. I heard rough laughing that sounded more like barking of dogs with sore throats, then from below came a loud shout: “Booob! We ken yer in thare! Cam oot!”

Bob’s loud bellow: “Fuck off!” was a clear answer to their shout.

“Hehehehe!” - they loudly laughed at his reply: “Cam, we be sellin’ ye for some catter on the camin’ mairt up north! Mirkie warlocks biddin guid siller for furrin craiturs like ye!”

I looked incredulously at Bob and whispered: “Is that Scots?! I don’t get half of the stuff.”

Bob was shuddering violently, fuming from barely constrained rage: “Me neither, fuckers. But what I know, I am gonna kill em all!”