by Ben Zackheim
“What is his number?” Fox asked, curious.
“Same number every demon has,” I said. “*666 or 666-6666.”
“The last 6 is for savings,” Rebel mumbled, phone to her ear.
She sighed and Fox and I got to listen to her try to be polite.
“Luke! Hey, it’s Rebel. How are you? Oh, sorry to hear that. That’s a lot of phlegm, wow. Listen, we’ll be home in about an hour and… I don’t think we have time to pick up any medicine, sorry. So Kane is hoping you’ll help us do some research on shields and penises. Penises. Penises! Yeah? Great. No, it is great, really. That’s not true, you’re very handsome. We’llseeyousoonbye.”
She hung up and slapped her head against the headrest. Five times.
“Why the hell do you keep him around? He’s so fucking insecure.”
“If you had a dad like his, you’d be insecure too,” I joked. “I keep him because he’s like having an ugly, walking Google for the Dark Web.”
I lived in Westchester, New York in a mansion on a mile square plot of land. The house was smack dab in the middle of the mile, which led to its nickname Halfway House. A play on words by the twins who were orphans like me. I liked my privacy. I also liked to see the enemy coming from far away.
My parents bought the land and built the first house on it back in 1976. It burned down on my first mission as a Spirit agent. I built the second house smaller, sticking with the rooms I loved or needed. Bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchen, ten car garage and, most importantly, the library. Then that house got messed up on the Excalibur mission. So I rebuilt again with some slight modifications, including a pool that wove through every room of the house. Hey, I liked to swim.
We arrived home just in time to see Lucas the librarian demon emerge on my garage roof. He was decked out in his standard garb, a black suit and black bowtie, round, golden spectacles and a walking stick. His long pointy nose drooped near the tip, a sure sign of his age according to Rebel’s research. She guessed he predated humanity by several thousand years.
“Hi, Luke!” I said in my most chipper voice.
“Oh, hello, Mr. Arkwright. How are you?”
“Great!” I knew better than to ask how he was. I’d never hear the end of it. “We need to find out about…”
The demon waddled down the garage steps. “Yes, Ms. Rebel told me. Shields and penises. We have a lot of volumes on both topics but none that cross-match as far as I recall.”
“I’m sure we’ll…”
“I think I have arthritis,” he said out of nowhere.
I sighed on the inside. Listening to Lucas complain was practically a required form of payment. “Oh. I didn’t know demons get arthritis.”
“We don’t. I’m the first.”
“Maybe you’re just a little under the weather, is all.”
“That could be. Who is your new friend?” Luke asked, pointing at Fox.
“Lucas, this is Fox. Fox, our librarian, Lucas.”
“I heard about you from Ms. Rebel. You’re Lancelot? I expected you to be bigger.”
“Apologies,” Fox said with a slight bow.
“No, no. What I just said was very rude. I knew a man a few hundred years ago who claimed to be Lancelot. Looks like he was a liar. Would you like me to kill him for you?”
“He’s, uh, still alive?” Fox asked.
“No.”
“So then… you can travel through time?”
Lucas just stared up at Fox, hands crossed in front of him.
“No, no thanks,” Fox said.
Lucas shrugged and walked ahead of us.
Fox looked at us with a pleading expression. I just put my finger up to my lips. Better to say nothing. The demon waddled ahead of us, sighing deeply every dozen steps. At one point he teetered on the edge of a step as if he was going to fall. We all made to catch him but he straightened out, grumbled something about useless gravity, and kept walking. Whenever one of us started to walk ahead of him he glared at us. He was the librarian and he was going to lead us there. Anything less and he was a failure. So we walked, slowly, to the library on the heels of a demon.
He shoved open the tall, wide double doors of my favorite room and the tomes beckoned like old friends with stories to tell. It was a pretty sure bet I’d smile upon walking into the library. It was at the center of my house, which is where it belonged, ready to help me learn, escape and even save the world.
It had its work cut out for it this time.
Luckily, we had the best librarian in the world. Lucas was a keeper of the ancient Alexandria library so my little corner of knowledge was easy for him to manage. He worked for other people, demons, and vampires. But I think he enjoyed my collection. At least I liked to think so. A man’s library isn’t measured in size, but in the value of its content.
“Penis, penis, penis, penis,” Lucas muttered a few dozen times as he ran his long, bony fingers over a lineup of blue-bound books.
The rest of us browsed the stacks a bit more randomly, though we focused on Viking myth and magic.
Lucas yanked a book off its perch. “PENIS!” he yelled out with too much enthusiasm. “Why are you smiling? Ah, yes. Modern sensibilities and the penis do not go well together. Prudes, all,” Lucas mumbled as he waddled down the stairs.
After an hour of stacking materials on the main table, we decided to take a break. I started up a fire in the fireplace and the room’s heavy-duty humidifier kicked in. Climate control is extra important when you have someone like me who needs a fireplace to read by once in awhile. Rebel went out to get a 3am walk in while Fox and I stood and looked at the flames like a couple of pyros.
“This is a beautiful home you have,” Fox said. He was trying to not talk about my father again. I wasn’t going to let him get away with it, but he distracted me with…
“Do you and Rebel share a bedroom?”
“What? No. Rebel doesn't live with me."
“Right."
“She doesn't live anywhere. She sleeps where she is."
“Which is at your house."
"Maybe two weeks out of the year, yeah. In the guest bedroom."
He seemed surprised. But he also seemed pleased. As pleased as a Vampire can seem, at least. "Where does she go? She doesn't even have a place to..."
I waited. I had no idea what the Vampire was talking about.
"...sharpen her nails?" he finished.
"Don't know."
"I thought you were lovers."
"What the hell gave you that idea?"
"You… " He stopped himself from saying what was on his mind. Again.
"Is there a Vampire holiday for pregnant pauses today? You're having a hard time with words recently, man."
That annoyed him. "You two argue all the time," he said, curtly.
"We're partners. Partners yell at each other."
"But you argue. All the time."
"All right, all right, you've made your point. Partners, okay? Partners.”
"Partners."
"I'm not about to mess that up."
I dropped into my chair next to the fireplace. It was the kind of conversation that needed to get drowned in whiskey, which I got to doing immediately.
I didn't like talking about Rebel. I didn't like to think about her in that way. I trudged through the feelings for about five seconds when I looked up from my chair.
The Vampire was still standing in front of the fire, watching the flames lick the brick. I couldn't read him.
"What's wrong with you?" I asked, taking another swig in case his answer was going to keep the fucking conversation going even longer.
Fox didn't answer. He just started to walk around the room. Pacing would be a better word. His hands folded behind his back like he was pondering the oiliest crevices of existence.
I let him do this for five minutes. I'm stubborn that way. I hate asking for something twice so if he was going to go mute on me then that was his problem. But the sound of his shoes pressing into the Persian rug b
eneath his feet started to get to me. It took a minute for me to realize that he was stepping in sync with my heartbeat. Vampires are sensitive to that kind of thing. Like women living together, vampires found a way to sync up their rhythm with humans.
“Fox,” I said. He didn’t respond. “Fox!”
“Yeah,” he said, not stopping.
“One more step and I’ll stuff you in my portal for the rest of your immortal life with all the other junk.”
He stopped. He twirled on his heels and sat in the chair next to me.
Yeah, that’s right. He twirled. A sign of joy? No, it couldn’t be.
But the smile on his face was the clincher.
Fox was happy.
Chapter 24
“What is that on your face?” I asked.
“What? Where?” He started fingering his face randomly. Wow, he was nervous.
“Just… there, lower. Above your chin. No below your nose.” He realized I was being sarcastic and his smile dropped back down to dour immortal mode.
“You’re funny,” he said. He looked into the fire. The flame’s color almost made him look human. Or maybe it was the way he was acting that made him seem more human. “It’s gone now so lay off, Kane.”
“Good. Don’t do it again. Freaked me out. Why did it crawl up from the pits of your torn soul, anyway?” I asked, surprised by the tinge of jealousy I felt.
“I don’t know,” he lied.
But I knew what it was. Still, I had to dig. I had to hear him say it.
“Don’t bother,” I said. “I think Rebel is into shape-shifters these days.”
He glanced at me and it was my turn to smile.
“Demon spawn? You lie.”
“What’s wrong with demon spawn?” Lucas yelled down from the upper stacks somewhere.
“I do lie. A lot. But not now.”
He straightened in his chair. I think he was trying to collect himself. But he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
“You’re imagining things,” he said, firmly. “I’m asking about her for a friend.”
“Jesus Christ,” I said. “You’re an amateur. I can’t believe Lancelot has zero control when his fee-fees get gobsmacked.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on. Cut out the act, Fox.”
“No, I don’t have any idea what fee-fees are.”
“I’m not saying she wouldn’t be into you, undead, cursed shell of a man. But you need to be patient.”
“I’m not patient,” he said, sinking in his chair a bit.
“You’re a Vampire. You have nothing but time.”
“Maybe I do. But she doesn’t.”
“Oh, you only like them young and hot, huh? Leave them at the first varicose vein?”
“No, I…”
“One wrinkle brings down the axe. BOOM! Bye-bye, baby.”
“What…”
“No bikini, no Vamp-weenie.”
“Shut up!”
“Sorry. Once I get going…”
“I have not…” he started, once again having a hard time finding the words. “I haven’t felt like this for a long time, Arkwright.”
I nodded. What could I say? Then it hit me. I knew exactly what I could say.
“Wait a second. Are you telling me you haven’t had feelings for a woman since Guinevere?”
He didn’t answer. He just kept staring at the fire. The mention of her name had added a certain weight to the room. Even the fireplace popped less. Lucas was doing an amateur job of eavesdropping from the third balcony. His long nose stuck out over the banister.
We sat in silence for a while. Two guys thinking about one girl. My own feelings, messed up as they were, couldn’t factor in here. It was a dangerous moment. If I started talking to another guy about Rebel, my best friend, partner and frequent puller of heart strings, then, well, there was no telling where the night would end up. Not well. That much I could tell you.
“You have feelings for Rebel,” he said.
“Don’t start with me.”
“It’s understandable.”
“You know what isn’t understandable? Your sudden personality change into the soft sensitive type. Can we go back to your dour, judgmental Fox. The one that leads fucking ghost armies of Knights of the Round Table? I didn’t like him, but I liked him better.”
“Sorry.”
I stared at him, wide-eyed.
“What?” he asked.
“You are gone. She is way under your skin. Snap out of it, Fox! If you’re interested, then make a move. See if she’s open to it. That’s how it’s done.”
Another minute passed before he spoke again.
“There was one other,” he said. “One other woman. She was a secretary in Manhattan.”
I activated my ‘Listening Kane’ mode which is a very weak copy of actual Kane. I hoped Fox had some inkling of just how tough it was for me to lay off. I always wanted an older brother to smack talk with, so moments like this were ripe to practice the violent art of guy shaming.
“Where is she now?” I asked.
“Dead.”
“Sorry.”
“This was back in 1927. She worked for a mob boss. One of the nasty ones. But he had a soft spot for her. Adelaide was her name. Everyone liked her. Everyone wanted her around. Even the undead. She had a blind spot to the world that made her say things that revealed how petty we can be.”
“Sounds like a nice gal,” I said, having never used the word gal in my life. But the picture he was painting in my head of a 1927 secretary was pretty clear. And she was a total gal. He glanced at me, probably to see if I was being sarcastic. I guess I passed the test because he went on.
“We met on the docks a little north of Harry’s boat,” Fox said. “I was looking for bums to feed on. It wasn’t a good time for me. It was around midnight. I saw her standing on the edge of the pier watching the darkness of the river that met the ocean. Jersey wasn’t nearly as bright back then so it was darker than anyplace you’d find in Manhattan today. But she glowed. Even there, thinking about whatever she was thinking about, minding her own business. She was like a light for all of us moths. I thought of feeding on her, but I can’t do that to people without their consent. A little voice in my head is always telling me I’m better than that.”
“The chivalrous undead,” I cracked. “Does the voice in your head sound like Guinivere?”
He looked over at me. “Yeah, actually, it does.” He watched the fireplace again. “I surprised her with a hello but she dove right into conversation. She was afraid of me, of course. She was innocent but she was not naive. She sat on a pier column and told me to sit on the one across from her.”
“She was either special or stupid.”
“Watch it, Kane.”
“Okay, okay, just saying it’s not usually a good idea to hang out with strangers on the dock at midnight is all.”
“Have you been listening to what I’ve been saying?”
“I’ve been Listening Kane this whole time, yeah. Not cutting it?”
“I don’t understand you. Like I said. She had a blind spot but that was who she was. We spoke and became friends. I suspected that she knew what I was.”
“How? There were barely any of you running around back in the 20s.”
“Just a suspicion. When she did find out she wasn’t surprised. In fact, she said there were others that…”
He stopped. He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Tabitha,” he said. “I remember where I’ve seen her before.”
Chapter 25
“Tabitha was a mob wife,” Fox said as he paced, trying to remember everything he could scrape up from the bottom of his immortal brain. “Or maybe she wasn’t a wife, but a girlfriend. To Joe Kelly.”
“I know that name,” I said. “Manhattan during prohibition.”
“Yeah. But a not-so-known part of life in prohibition is t
hat vampires were hunted hard by the world governments. It was all part of the puritanical wave. A response to the glamour and excess of the roaring 20s. There were about 300 vampires in the city back then. By the time the war came around to distract them from hunting us, there were 21.”
“So she made it through. Any idea how?”
“Yeah, she hooked up with Joe Kelly.”
“He was a mob boss,” I jumped in. “Based downtown on Lafayette or Great Jones, I think. Three Pointers Gang?” Fox nodded his head. “Nasty assholes. They were ahead of the curve on sadistic ways to kill anyone who crossed them.”
“I saw their handiwork up close,” Fox said. “Young man. Maybe eighteen. He shot a little too high too fast and Kelly was threatened. Didn’t take much with him, insecure prick. So he stuck the kid’s head in a bird cage and filled it with hungry rats. Dumped the body on the piers for all of us bums and undead to see.”
“And Tabitha hung out with these people?”
“Yeah. I don’t know how involved she was, but she knew what was going on. I’d call her the opposite of Adelaide.”
“Who’s Adelaide?” Rebel asked, walking into the room.
“An old friend,” he said. He turned to me. “I don’t think your new girlfriend’s name was Tabitha back then, Kane. But if I remember right, she disappeared after the police raided their headquarters and shut the gang down.”
“What’s in the building now?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. I took out my cell phone and started a search.
“Joe Kelly, Three Point Gang, 59 Great Jones Street,” Lucas said. He looked over the thick book in his hands and gave us his best snooty look.
“Thanks Lucas,” I said. He slapped the book shut.
I punched in the address. I wanted to see what had taken the place of the mob HQ.
“What the fuck?” I said, looking at my smart phone.
“What is it?” Rebel asked.
“It’s nothing.” I held up the phone and showed them. The building was abandoned. It was covered in decades of graffiti and lame attempts to cover the graffiti.
“On Great Jones Street? That’s impossible. That’s one of the hottest parts of New York City.”
“There must be something wrong with it if it hasn’t become a lame ass boutique,” I said.
