by Chris Cannon
Thank goodness for small favors. Now I could see the structure, which was as old as the town, built sometime in the 1800s. The original stone building had been added to over the centuries with different colored brick, making it a hodgepodge of connected rooms like a little kid would build from cardboard boxes.
Before going inside, I flipped down my driver side mirror to check my appearance. My eyes were a little red, but not as bad as they’d been earlier. I grabbed the envelopes and walked across the lot and up to the door. The sound of my flip-flops on the sidewalk echoed through the air. When I opened the back door, it squeaked like a horror movie prop and clanged shut behind me, making me jump.
Why did this place feel creepy? I spent most of my waking hours here—August through May. When it was empty like this, it became a different kind of less-than-friendly feeling place. I headed into the main office and the secretary glanced up at me. “Do you have an appointment?”
“I have a delivery for Principal James.”
“Just leave it with me.” She held out her hand like she expected me to comply and run along. I’d always been a rule follower, so why would she expect anything else?
“I’m sorry. I’m supposed to collect something from him and deliver it to someone else. Is he in?”
Her attitude changed from overworked secretary to angry woman in a flash. “I said he’s busy.”
Time to play the “my employer is scarier than whatever your problem is” card. I held up the Bane-embossed blue envelope. “I’m afraid this can’t wait.”
She paled and sat back in her seat. “Fine. Have a seat over there.” She pointed to the area where kids normally sat while they were waiting to be assigned detention.
I checked out the principal’s door. It was open and I could see he was sitting at his desk typing on his computer. If the secretary wanted to treat me like a troublemaker, I’d act like one. I pretended to head for the detention area but turned and made a beeline for Principal James’s office door.
He glanced up. His eyebrows came together in surprise or confusion. “What are you doing here, Meena?”
I held up the blue envelope.
The secretary showed up behind me and blurted out, “I told her to wait.”
He slumped in his seat. “It’s okay. I’ll see her now. Please close the door.”
With the door closed his office was claustrophobic. Most of the area was taken up by a desk, file cabinets, and bookshelves crammed full of three-ring binders.
Not knowing what else to do, I handed him the envelope.
“So, how’s your summer going?” he asked as he removed the syringe from the packet.
“Pretty sucky,” I said. “How about yours?”
He laughed. “Not appropriate language for school, but I can relate.” Turning the syringe over in his hand, he said, “How did you end up working for Bane?”
It wasn’t any of his business, but if people knew I didn’t volunteer for the job they might not be so stressed when they saw me coming. “It was an accident. I signed on with Carol. She lost out to Bane. Now I work for him.” Since I shared I felt like he should, too. “Why are you doing this?”
“My daughter was diagnosed with leukemia last Christmas, and now because of this she’s in remission.” He placed the syringe up to his forehead between his eyes and the pearlescent material flowed inside, pushing the plunger out.
“Did you ever think that the school should offer a class warning kids about demons and other supernaturals?” I didn’t want to say vampires or witches out loud since he might not know about them.
He shook his head. “That’s not exactly part of the state curriculum.”
I took the syringe he offered to me. “Neither is this. People should be aware.”
He gave a sad smile. “I didn’t know until my daughter was diagnosed. At this point, I’m glad Bane and the other demons are here. Otherwise I’d be planning my daughter’s funeral instead of her birthday party.”
There wasn’t much I could say to that. “Is Mrs. Marion here?”
He checked his watch. “She’ll be in the lounge having a Twinkie break.”
“Does she do that at the same time every day?”
“Yes…most people drink coffee. She prefers snack cakes.”
“Okay. I guess I’ll see you in a month.”
I headed for the teachers’ lounge next door. Should I knock? During the school year I’d never walk into the lounge. Now it felt like I was above the normal student rules, so I went with it and pushed the door open.
Mrs. Marion sat at a table by herself, stacking Twinkies like she was building a log cabin.
“Hello, Meena.” She pointed at her odd art project. “Behold my dream house.”
“Might get a little soggy in the rain,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s true.” She picked one up and took a bite. After chewing and swallowing she said, “I heard you got roped into the demonic underworld of Crossroads. How are you coping?”
I sat down and sighed. “I’m focusing on my books and my cats.”
“Denial is a good coping mechanism.” She held out her hand and I passed her the envelope. “Feel free to have a Twinkie while you wait.”
“No thanks.”
“Suit yourself. My new theory is never pass up a chance to enjoy yourself. You never know what life has in store for you.” She put the syringe to her forehead.
“It’s none of my business, but why did you sign up with Bane?”
The pearlescent liquid slowly filled the syringe. Once it was full she passed it back to me with a smile. “You’re right. It’s none of your business.”
“Fair enough.” I placed the syringe in the envelope. “I’m off to the library. Enjoy your Twinkies.”
“Simple pleasures are the best,” she said. “Have a nice day.”
I’d just started my car when blue light flashed in my peripheral vision and Bane appeared in the passenger seat next to me. Startled, I jerked away from him, which was stupid since I was trapped by my seat belt. All I managed to do was smack my head against the car window. “Damn it.”
Bane pressed his lips together like he was trying not to laugh.
Speaking through gritted teeth, I said, “We need some boundaries.”
“We do?”
“Yes.” I rubbed the tender spot on my head. “I don’t care if you are an all-powerful demon. You are not allowed to appear without warning, and you’re not allowed to zap me someplace without asking me first, and if it’s someone’s last payment I’d like a heads-up so I’ll know if I need to duck and cover.”
He reached over and touched my cheek. A chill ran from my cheekbone around my skull to the ache at the back of my head. The pain subsided.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes.” I should have said thank you, but I wasn’t feeling warm and fuzzy toward him at the moment. “Here.” I shoved the envelopes with the full syringes at him.
He took them but didn’t vanish like I thought he would. Instead he stared at me. “What?”
“You’re not happy,” he said like he’d figured out a complex puzzle.
“Of course I’m not happy,” I practically yelled. “You highjacked my life, my mom is in a coma, and a vampire is stalking my—” I almost said boyfriend, but that sounded presumptuous and juvenile. “Sybil is stalking Jake.”
“I could make all of those problems disappear,” Bane said.
I slumped in my seat. “I like my soul where it is, thank you very much.”
…
Jake
Friday morning, I woke with the eerie sense that someone was watching me. And there was an odd weight pressing down on me. I opened my eyes and discovered Sage, in cat form, sitting on my chest.
“Good morning, Jake. Are you aware that you snore?”
I sat up, la
unching him into the air. Somehow he righted himself and landed on his feet at the bottom of the bed.
“Don’t do that,” I snapped.
“Do what…mention your snoring? I thought you should know. Maybe you should invest in some decongestants.”
“Not the snoring.” I was aware of that. My mother had pointed it out on more than one occasion. “Don’t sit and stare at me while I’m sleeping. It’s creepy.”
If a cat could roll his eyes, that’s what Sage did. “So sensitive. I beg your pardon. Zelda sent me to wake you. Next time I’ll howl from your doorway until you get up.”
He exited the room like he was the ruling king, giving off an air of bored superiority. I yawned. What time was it? A knock on my second-story bedroom window almost made me jump out of my skin. Sybil sat on the roof outside, holding a box of doughnuts, and laughing her ass off. After recovering from my second mini-heart attack of the morning, I pushed the glass pane up a few inches. Enough so she could hear me but not enough to suggest she was invited inside. In case she didn’t get the message, I said, “You’re not welcome in this house. What do you want?”
“Is that how you greet someone who brings you doughnuts?” Sybil placed a white box that said Devilishly Good Doughnuts on the sill.
My stomach growled. “Vampires eat doughnuts?”
“Yes. We eat whatever we want. Exhibit A.” She flipped up the lid. Icing-covered cake doughnuts and cinnamon rolls glistened in the sunlight.
Wait a minute. “How are you out during the day?”
She held her hand up and wiggled her fingers. There was a ruby ring on her pointer finger. “Hello. Where do you think Hollywood got the idea?”
“Daylight rings are real?” My mouth watered as I checked out the doughnuts that I should not eat.
“Go on.” Sybil pushed the box closer. “Vi never had doughnuts before. Her favorites are the cinnamon twists.”
“You’re not trying to poison me or anything, right?” I asked.
“Killing you would serve no purpose,” Sybil said. “I want your blood, not your corpse.”
“How are you and Vi getting along?” I asked as I resisted the siren song of a jelly doughnut.
“It’s funny, but we’re enjoying each other’s company.” Sybil wrinkled her nose. “What is that stench?”
I pulled the silver anti-vamp amulet out from underneath the T-shirt I’d slept in. “Probably this.”
“That’s rude,” Sybil said.
“You’re a vampire,” I pointed out. “You eat people. That’s rude.”
She gave a slow fangy grin. “Most people find it enjoyable.” In slow motion she took a bite of a doughnut and licked the icing off her lips.
“Damn,” slipped out of my mouth under my breath. Why did she have to be so hot?
She pushed the box of doughnuts through the window, which I had opened wider without realizing it. “Vi wants you…to have these. As a gift, since you were nice to her.”
Time to end this conversation before I did something stupid. “Thanks.” I pulled the box of pastries inside and slammed the window shut. “Goodbye, Sybil.”
“See you later,” she said with absolute certainty.
I carried the box downstairs and found Zelda drinking coffee at the kitchen table. “So Vi and a vampire dropped by to bring me doughnuts.”
She blinked. “Tell me you didn’t eat one.”
“No.” I glanced down at the box. “But I want to.”
“Trash. Now,” Zelda ordered.
Fine. I shoved the box into the trash can under the sink. “What a waste.”
“In honor of your common sense, I’ll make some cinnamon rolls in the toaster oven.” Zelda stood and went to the refrigerator. She grabbed a can of biscuits and whacked it on the countertop, splitting the cardboard tube so that some of the raw dough popped out.
“Tell me those are the kind with white icing.”
“Of course they are. Cinnamon rolls without icing are a waste of time. And don’t get me started on cream cheese icing. That should be reserved for carrot cake.”
I had no idea what the difference was, but she seemed to feel strongly about it, so I nodded in agreement.
Zelda placed the rolls into the pan inside the toaster oven and punched a few buttons, making the little oven beep and light up. “Speaking of things that are wrong, why and how did Sybil visit you?”
I grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured myself a glass of milk, squirted in a healthy dose of chocolate syrup, and stirred. “Vi never had doughnuts before Sybil introduced her to them. She loved them and asked Sybil to bring me a box as a thank-you for being kind to her.”
“And how did Sybil tell you this?”
I downed half the glass of milk. “She was waiting outside my window when I woke up.” I grabbed the leather string of the vampire-repellant necklace. “She said this reeked, but it didn’t drive her away. I’m not sure how much good it’s going to do.”
“Wearing it sends the message that you aren’t interested in her getting any closer.” She stared into the oven as the rolls baked. “It’s good that you didn’t eat the doughnuts. They may have been fine, but Sybil could’ve put some of her blood into them. If you ingest enough vampire blood you turn into one.”
I pushed my hair back off my face. “Now I’m glad I didn’t eat one.” The scent of cinnamon filled the air and my stomach growled. “Did you send Sage to wake me up?”
She turned around and faced me, leaning back against the counter. “Yes. I felt like cooking breakfast and I wasn’t sure what you’d want. How about some bacon to go with the cinnamon rolls?”
“Bacon is always a good idea.”
She opened the refrigerator and grabbed the bacon. Once it was on a plate, she stuck it in the microwave and hit several buttons. Soon the microwave was humming away.
“Jake, have you spoken to Meena since she left yesterday?”
“No.”
“I know she’s mad at me, but her mom has been in a coma for years. The person she knew—the woman she wants to connect with—isn’t in that body anymore.”
I sat up straighter. “Does that mean she could be somewhere else…like in spirit form?”
The toaster oven beeped. Zelda grabbed a beige oven mitt and removed the tray from the oven. Rather than putting the cinnamon rolls on a plate, she placed the entire tray on a wooden cutting board and brought the whole thing to the table. “I don’t have an answer to that question. My guess is that her mom’s spirit is in limbo until her body dies. Hopefully, she’s floating around in the ether, blissfully unaware of what’s going on in the real world.”
“Icing?” I said.
She pointed at the counter. “Grab two forks and a knife and some plates while you’re over there.”
I did as she asked while she took care of the bacon. Back at the table she used the knife to slather the icing onto the rolls and then divided the bacon and rolls onto the plates. She cut into one with her fork, like she was eating a piece of pie. I glanced at my fork and then picked up a roll and took a bite. One less fork to wash. Made sense to me.
After eating half of the bacon and two thirds of the cinnamon rolls, I washed my hands and then grabbed a section of the paper that sat on the table and searched the help-wanted ads. “I want to get a job.”
“With your fix-it skills, you should apply at Dale’s Hardware. Whenever anyone comes in with a project, the store quotes them a price to do the work. I had to wait two weeks to have my back door replaced. I could have done it myself, but I figured it was better to have it done right the first time.”
I liked fixing things. “Maybe I’ll drive into town and check that out.” After helping with the breakfast dishes, I showered and headed out to the garage where I’d parked the truck. I felt mildly guilty about not calling to check on Meena, but she’d been angry w
hen she left and I wasn’t sure how to help with that. This thing with her mom was complicated.
I liked Meena but I didn’t want to be dependent on her as the only person I knew in Crossroads. Not that I was looking to meet another girl, but a friend or two would be nice. Especially if I ended up staying for my senior year.
I drove into town, using Google Maps to find Dale’s Hardware store. When I walked in, a man with an impressive gray beard and mustache greeted me. “You must be Zelda’s nephew, Jake.”
“I am.” I shook the hand he held out to me.
“I’m Mr. Dale. Zelda called ahead to tell me you were stopping by to see if we needed any summer help.”
Now I understood. “I like to fix things. I’m pretty good at painting, and I don’t mind hard work.”
“You’d rather work with your hands than sit at a desk?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Good. Come on back to my office. You can fill out a few forms, and then we’ll see who’s next on the Handy Man’s Helper list.”
My cell buzzed in my pocket as I followed Mr. Dale. No way I’d check it now. I was glad I’d turned the ringer off.
Once the forms were completed, Mr. Dale gave me a quick tour of the store and showed me the back room where they kept the printout of jobs that needed to be done.
“Once your paperwork checks out, which I’m sure it will, you can start tomorrow at nine.” There’s a couple of sisters who live about a half hour past your aunt’s house. They need new lights put in on their front porch.”
I could do that. There was one problem. “I don’t have my own tools.”
“I’ll give you everything you need. Make sure you bring bottled water and your lunch, depending on how long the job is going to take. Don’t accept food or anything to drink when you’re working.”
That was an odd rule. Was he aware of and afraid of vampires dosing people with their blood?
He must have seen the look on my face because he said, “Some of these folks don’t refrigerate their food like they should. My brother got a case of food poisoning that sent him to the hospital for a week. Since then we have the no-food-or-drink policy.”
