by D V Wolfe
She smiled at me. “Which one was your favorite?”
“Probably getting thrown out that window on the fortieth floor of the Willis Tower by that Djinn. At least I had a nice view on my way down.”
“That was a doozy. I remember identifying the body. You looked like a Bane-suit with nothing inside it. Or I guess a Rhonda-suit with nothing inside it. No wonder that Djinn got the better of you. You probably couldn’t see to fight him over all that cleavage.”
“It’s not like I get to choose the suit.”
“I know.” Rosetta said, “Still. Your face was always pouty. It made me want to smack you one.”
“Which you did as I recall, on several occasions.”
An hour later, Noah and I climbed into Lucy and waved good-bye to Rosetta. She was standing in her side yard, wearing her pink housecoat, straw hat, and Lolita sunglasses, a gardener’s basket of tools on one arm.
Noah shook his head but continued to wave. “She looks so normal. Like a sweet old lady should. You’d never know from looking at her that she lives on top of a Hellgate and sleeps with a twelve-gauge on the pillow next to her.”
I glanced over at him. “How do you know where Big Joe sleeps?”
His ears turned pink. “When I took the quilts upstairs to put them away, I opened the wrong door and...saw it...tucked into the covers on her bed. The barrel resting on the pillows. Big Joe?”
I grinned. “Yeah, she says there was a biker she fancied when she was growing up. A real Hell’s Angel type, but she was a church-going good girl, so she married the preacher’s son. But, she says her unsown wild oats will always belong to Big Joe, so she named her gun after him and now she gets to ‘sleep with Big Joe’ every night.”
Noah groaned and covered his face as I backed out. “That’s more about Rosetta than I needed to know.”
I shifted into first and said, “Well you opened that can of worms when you went snooping in her room.”
We were silent for a while as we wound through the streets of Ft. Hope. The summer sun was already baking the brick main street beneath our tires as we rolled through intersections, watching kids play in the spray of a broken fire hydrant, and moms yelling at them from the dry sidewalk. People walked their dogs, went in and out of stores, and played in the park.
“It’s nice here,” Noah said absent-mindedly. “Maybe after all this, I’ll come back here.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. Truth was, I was having second thoughts about taking Noah on this trek. He was just a kid. Even with his strange ability, I wasn’t sure I could give him or myself any guarantee that I’d be able to keep him alive. And I didn’t really have time to babysit anyway. Five months left and counting. Flashes of Gary’s body, torn apart by the Bunyip popped behind my eyes and I looked over at Noah. His hair was, if anything, frizzier than ever and it bounced with Lucy as she found every pothole on the street. He had his chin on his fist and was watching the world go by outside the truck and for a moment, I was jealous of his ability to just enjoy the view.
We got on the highway and turned northwest onto 64. I turned on the radio and found The Doobie Brothers.
“So you’re quiet,” I said after about twenty minutes. “No more ranting or raving about how crazy we are, or the world is, or whatever you were caterwauling about.”
Noah sighed. “Sorry about all that. It’s just…. How do you go on, day after day, and not get completely freaked out by all this weird shit?”
“After you’ve seen it, you don’t freak out about it anymore. It’s just what you do. Are you freaked out by your little ‘flaming hands’ condition anymore?”
Noah looked down at his fingers. “Not really freaked out. I don’t like doing it, I know it makes me strange but it’s... what I’m stuck with.”
“Exactly.”
"Still, I..."
"Crap," I said, interrupting him. We’d come around a curve and there was something on the side of the road. As we drew closer, I was able to make out what it was and a sinking feeling settled low in my gut. There was a minivan parked on the shoulder. A black Mustang had pulled up behind it, an ice-blue decal of a horse’s head with glowing blue eyes, covering the back window. I knew this Mustang."Noah, we'll have to finish this heart-to-heart later." I handed him the wooden box from the rack behind my head. "Open that and find the iron dagger. It's got a brass handle."
Noah just looked at me. "Why?"
I pulled over behind the Mustang and turned to him. “Because I’m too nice and it’s come back to bite me in the ass.”
“What do you mean? Someone’s already pulled over to help.”
I shook my head. “I promise you, they aren’t here to help.”
I started pulling my shirt off over my head.
“Wha!” Noah squeaked, “What are you doing!?”
“Turn your shirt inside out,” I said. “Don’t worry, I won’t look at your soup chicken chest.”
“I don’t have a…What?”
“Less talking, more taking your shirt off.” I chuckled to myself, “Man it’s been a long time since I said that.”
“Why are we doing this?” Noah asked, his voice muffled by his shirt.
“Because we’re not idiots. Open the glove compartment and pull out that brown paper bag.”
I turned my a-shirt so the printed tag was in the back and looked over at him. His tye-dyed shirt was inside out now and he was digging through the glove box. He knocked the silver chain with my ma’s ring on it out again and I snatched it before it hit the floor and stuffed it back in.
“Stale bread?” Noah asked, opening the bag.
“Put a piece in your pocket and hand me the bag.”
To his credit, Noah did it, though I could hear him muttering again as we slammed the truck doors. I slid the bag of stale bread under the back waistband of my jeans and we made our way over to the little knot of people standing down the embankment away from the road. There were two men and two women. One pair was very ordinary looking and looked like they had stepped right from the cover of a home cooking magazine. The other two were more unusual. I recognized the tell-tale points on the sides of the woman’s head and the slightest of bumps under the skirt of her dress in the back.
“Vix!” I called as we approached. “Fancy meeting you and Sprig here! We were just talking about how funny it would be if we happened to run into you.”
The woman, Vix, froze mid-sentence with the other couple and slowly turned her head. Her gaze locked onto me and I saw her blue eyes flash silver and then back again as the hair above her ears twitched.
“Give me the knife,” I said to Noah out of the side of my mouth. He pressed the blade into my palm and I quickly moved it behind my back. “What seems to be the trouble here?” I asked as we came to a stop just behind Vix and Sprig. Sprig had turned around now and was staring at us with large vacant eyes. That was about as deep as Sprig ever seemed to get. “Always a pleasure, Sprig,” I said. “I was wondering what your thoughts on the Israeli-Palestinian situation would be. Do you think there’s a larger, more underlying situation than the media seems to perceive?” Sprig just kept looking at me with those blank eyes. “While Sprig is arranging his thoughts, is there anything we can do to help?” I turned my attention to the other couple who were looking nervous and a little dazed. Vix had already started working her mischief on them.
“Car trouble?” I asked the man and woman. The man nodded.
“We got a flat tire all of a sudden. It’s really strange, these were brand new tires.”
I cut my eyes to Vix who shifted her weight suddenly.
“Well I’ll tell you what, this kid here happens to be the flat tire changing champion of Acapulco County and he’s been itching to do some training. Noah, get them straightened out. I’d love to have a second to catch up with my old pals, Vix and Sprig.”
“There’s no need for that,” Vix said, her words coming out like some ethereal song half-remembered from the radio. I dug my f
ingernails into the palm of my hand. If I could focus on pain, I could keep from falling under her spell. “We were just about to give them a lift to the nearest town so they could get a tow truck out here.”
“Don’t you two have cell phones?” I addressed the couple.
“It’s the strangest thing,” the woman said, shaking her head. “We can’t seem to get a signal here.”
“That is really strange,” I said looking at Vix again. “Well, I guess it’s lucky we happened along then. Noah why don’t you get their tire sorted out and save them the expense of a tow. I’ve got something to talk to Vix about.”
Vix looked as if she were going to transform right on the spot. She was struggling to keep her eyes from turning silver again and I could see the tips of her ears starting to poke through her hair.
Noah and the couple turned and went back to the minivan and I stepped up close to Vix.
“What the hell are you doing, poaching the highways again, Vix?”
She shrugged. “Can’t blame a girl for wanting to have a little fun.”
“I can when your brand of fun ends in a fiery car crash and a body count.”
“That happened once and you’re never going to let me forget it, are you? That was never the plan.”
“Which is the only reason you’re still vertical and breathing. What did I tell you?” I asked.
“No more human joy-riding,” Vix said.
“And what are you doing?”
“Making friends? I hear your kind do that quite often. What are you doing with an innocent? After your last partner...”
“Enough Vix,” I said. “What did I tell you would happen if you did it again?”
Vix’s eyes widened. “But nothing has happened!”
“Yet,” I said. “If we hadn’t happened shown up, Soccer-Mom Barbie and Middle-Aged Ken over there would have been plastered all over the highway. Wouldn’t they?”
Vix spit in my direction and I took a step closer, getting right up in her face. I held the blade flat and pressed the cool metal to her cheek, hearing the hiss of flesh burning beneath it. She yelped in pain but I didn’t move. I kept staring into those silver eyes.
“Next time, I will slit your throat.” I held her gaze so she knew I meant it. “Take your dumbass brother and go back to Ireland where you belong. You don’t need to cream innocents to survive. Get a puppy or a jacuzzi or take up squash, but leave the innocents the hell alone.”
I removed the blade from her face and slid it into my back pocket.
“Fine,” Vix said, pulling away from me. “You reek, by the way.”
I smiled at her. “That ‘fine’, better mean you’re keeping your word, Vix. I’ve always wondered what taxidermied Pucas might do for the flow of Rosetta’s living room.” I looked over at Sprig and saw he was working hard to stay unnoticed and safely behind his sister. “I’m going to put you in your car now. And as you and I are going to be traveling the same road, I suggest you don’t make any more pitstops. Got it?”
Vix glared at me but followed Sprig up the incline to their car. Sprig went around to the driver’s door and turned to stare dumbly back at me.
“Always a pleasure, Sprig,” I said. “Next time we must discuss universal health care reform and the Canadian experiment. Do you agree?” He grunted and got in. I held open the passenger side door and waited until Vix was settled inside. “Don’t forget your tail,” I said to her, seeing the black hair sticking out from the bottom of her skirt.
Vix tucked her tail in around her and glared up at me. “You can’t police the whole world, Bane. I know your time is almost up. You threaten me again, and after you’re gone, the first thing I will do is hunt down these two innocents and eat their hearts.” She said it in her sweetest tones, nodding at the minivan.
I bent over so my face was an inch from hers. “Darlin’, next time, it won’t be a threat.” I booped the end of her nose and withdrew, slamming the car door. I stood there watching as Sprig signaled and pulled out into highway traffic.
Once they were out of sight, I turned to see what progress Noah was making. It wasn’t much. Thirty minutes later and several sarcastic comments about Acapulco County from Middle-Aged Ken and they were toddling off on their spare tire. Noah and I climbed back into Lucy.
“Well that was a fun little outing,” I said, pulling my shirt over my head and starting to turn it right-side-out. “Haven’t you ever changed a flat tire before?”
“No,” Noah spat. “I haven’t. Thanks again for making me feel like a completely inadequate human being.” I looked over at him. “Not that I ever question your insanity when you tell me to do something. No, I just follow you like a complete idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot, Noah,” I said, pulling the bread bag out of the back of my jeans and holding it out to him. He dropped the piece of stale bread he’d been carrying back into the bag and then stuffed the bag back into the glove box. “You’re smart enough to do what you’re told in a situation that you have no way of understanding just yet, and that’s more than I can say about a lot of people.” I paused. “Sorry I threw you under the minivan, as it were, about the tire thing.”
We were quiet for a moment as I pulled us back into the flow of traffic.
“So what was with the bread and why did we have to turn our shirts inside out?”
“It’s what you do when you need to repel those dicks. They can’t stand clothing that isn’t worn correctly and they have this thing about stale bread. It was the best I could do for us at short notice to keep us as immune as possible to their fairy dandruff.”
“Fairy dandruff? What were those things?”
“You mean besides hemorrhagic pains in the ass?” Noah nodded. “Pucas,” I said.
“What?” Noah asked.
“Pucas. They’re a type of fairy. Usually harmless, but Vix and Sprig I’ve met before and they’re a lot more bloodthirsty than most. Iron will kill them. I told Vix the next time I run into her and catch her up to her old tricks, I’m going take that knife and give her a new direction to breathe.” I ran a finger across my throat, not taking my eyes off the road, “Horizontally.” I wished Vix was worth souls in trade collateral. The incident that had killed two innocents, should have ended with their own deaths. But Sprig had begged, the most I’d ever seen him talk, and they’d convinced me it was an accident. I was a sucker back then. Maybe I always had been. Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t be in my current situation. Pucas weren’t exactly evil though and so they didn’t weigh out as currency to exchange for souls, so I’d let them live. For now.
“Wow,” Noah said, slumping back into the seat. “Fairies are real? Man, all bets are off.”
“Santa Claus is a hoax. Does that make you feel better?”
“Not really.”
10
It was almost seven o'clock when we hit Messina. It was a two-horse town, northwest of Springfield. Historic and quaint and very clean. Well, the main street was at least.
I looked over at Noah who had fallen asleep with his head back against the seat and his mouth open. The kid must need to sleep twelve hours a day. I drove down in the shallow ditch for a few feet and rumbled back onto the road. Noah’s eyes flew open and he bolted forward, bracing his hands on the dashboard. He glanced around and then looked over at me.
“You alright there?” I asked, doing my best to keep my expression innocent. “You look like you had a bad dream.”
“I thought…” He looked around. “Where are we?”
“Welcome to Messina,” I said. We rolled to a halt at a four-way stop with signs rather than lights and we looked around. The town was still. It wasn’t that late and the weather was nice. It was eerie to not see anyone out and about.
“So this Stacks,” Noah said. “Is he...like Rosetta?”
“Nope,” I said. We drove two blocks from the main street and we were in the seedy part of town which formed the outskirts. We passed The Rowdy Hole, Messina’s one dive bar, and turned into the t
railer park, Messina Estates.
“So he’s not into all this weird, supernatural stuff?”
“Oh no, he’s neck-deep in it.” I paused and ahead of us we watched a familiar to me, weasely body scurrying around a particularly shabby trailer. “He’s just not partial to Lolita sunglasses like Rosetta,” I said as we watched him. He had a roll of duct tape on his wrist and a roll of aluminum foil under his arm. He was in the process of covering a window with the foil when he looked up and saw us. Behind his thick, heavy-framed, black glasses, his eyes went wide. He dropped the foil piece he was holding and ran around the side of the trailer, out of sight.
“Crap,” I said, letting off the brake.
“I think he remembers you,” Noah said.
We pulled to a stop on the other side of Stacks’ trailer by the door. I kicked my door open and got out.
“Do we need guns?” Noah asked.
“Nah, probably just one.” I pulled the sawed-off from behind the seat and looked around the ground outside the truck. “You be careful where you’re stepping, though. Stacks is a crazy s.o.b. And his penchant for explosives isn’t exactly endearing.”
There were thin wires and fifty-pound test fishing line crisscrossing the gravel and weeds that served as a front yard for Stacks’ trailer. Next to the door, there was a statue of a fat, little gnome who was missing his nose and the front of his hat, as if a bomb had blown up in his face. There was also a pair of one-legged pink plastic flamingos on the other side of the door. One was clearly in mourning for the loss of the other’s head.
