As for Peez ...
"Is he gone yet?" Without looking up from her copy of Cosmopolitan, Peez nudged her own carry-on bag gently with the tip of one shoe.
"Yeah, he's outa here." Teddy Tumtum stuck his muzzle out of the bag. The little bear was just as unaware of Dov's parting "gift" to his sister as she was. "Him and that dumb amulet of his. What kind of a person talks to a communications device?"
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that." Peez closed the magazine and took it over to the cashier. As she pocketed her change, she rubbed one of the quarters in a very particular way. It was one of those commemorative issue States quarters, specifically the Massachusetts coin. Its "heads" side still showed George Washington's profile, but "tails" was no longer the American eagle. Instead, in honor of one of that great state's most memorable historic events, it gleamed with a miniature representation of Paul Revere making his famous midnight ride.
Or so it did until Peez got her hands on it. Rubbing her thumb counterclockwise over the slightly raised design and muttering a few well-chosen words of power had the desired effect: A ghostly horse and rider rose up from the surface of the coin, leaving only smooth metal behind, and set off at a gallop after Dov. Peez chuckled.
"Just wait until they catch up to him, Teddy Tumtum," she said. "As soon as that horse rides right up his pants leg, he'll be hexed good and proper." She turned her back on the departing spell and headed for Baggage Claim.
"The Lost Luggage spell, I presume?" Teddy Tumtum sighed wearily as he swung along in her carryon. "That is so juvenile. So ineffective, too. Sure, he'll be annoyed the first time it happens, but he'll get over it. And by the second time, he'll catch on to the fact that someone jinxed him. Then he'll just invoke a counterspell. In the meanwhile, he's got credit cards and he's not afraid to use them. There's nothing in his check-in bag that can't be replaced by a quick shopping trip."
"A shopping trip that will steal precious time from his interviews with potential allies," Peez pointed out. She smiled.
"Why are you smiling like that?" Teddy Tumtum asked, looking suspicious. "I've never seen you smile that way. It's almost ... Machiavellian. You're up to something more than a simple Lost Luggage spell. What is it?"
"Oh, nothing much." Peez said airily. "Just a two-for-the-price-of-one deal for my darling baby brother. Not only will his check-in bag go wandering through the cosmos, but every time he comes up against any kind of security checkpoint in his travels, he's going to set it off like Krakatoa on a bad day."
"Why, you sly dog, you!" The bear was impressed. "I didn't think you had it in you."
"And he won't just set off mechanical screening devices," Peez went on, relishing Teddy Tumtum's admiration. "It works on humans, too. When he tells the person at the check-in counter that he packed his bags himself, they won't believe him. When he's asked to step out of the boarding line for a spot search of his carry-on bag, they'll examine it so closely they'll split the seams. Strip-search will become his middle name, and by the end of his trip he'll be announcing his engagement to a pair of latex gloves!" She cackled wildly.
"Oh, Peez." Teddy Tumtum sighed in bliss. "My little girl is growing up. You were never this ruthless when you were a virgin."
Peez blushed. "That has nothing to do with it," she said.
"Maybe yes, maybe no. Could be that you always had the capacity for sheer, cold- blooded skullduggery, but you've never really exploited your talent to the fullest until now." The bear wiped away a nonexistent tear. "I'm so very proud of you."
It was the strangest thing: While waiting for her suitcase to appear, Peez was accosted by a kindly little old man who decided that she looked just like his late sister, Beruria Jane, who had done missionary work in China and came back home to Ohio with the most fascinating collection of hand-carved ivory snuff bottles. There was one that looked like a dragon. Was she aware that the Chinese used an entirely different zodiac system than we did? They still had a dozen different signs, but instead of your fate depending on which month you were born, it all relied on a rotating twelve-year cycle. Each of the years was ruled by an animal, including the dragon, the horse, the ox, the rat, the monkey, the tiger, the snake, the dog, the rooster, the rabbit, the pig, and what was the twelfth one again?
She smiled and tried to be polite about it—he was such a dear, grandfatherly type— but he kept droning on and on and on about that elusive twelfth animal. Then he let her know that he had been born in the Year of the Rabbit, while Beruria Jane had been born in the Year of the Dragon. Naturally this led him to explain the characteristics of people born under those two signs, and which signs were compatible, and that his late wife had been born in the Year of the Horse. He had forgotten whether that made the two of them compatible or incompatible, but since she had been run over by a combine harvester on their fifth anniversary they really had not had much opportunity to discover whether or not they were compatible in the long run.
"And have you ever seen a combine harvester in action, my dear? Fascinating things, really. Even in spite of their tendency to run over a person's wife now and then, they are quite ingenious machines. It makes me proud to be an American, just thinking about them. Even if the Industrial Revolution didn't get started over here, we Yankees sure as shootin' knew how to make the most of it, I'll say. Although a body could come to believe that the Industrial Revolution has generated more problems than solutions, especially if you listen to the way Beruria Jane's boy, Kelvin, tells it. Not to speak ill of one's own nephew, but if that boy wasn't a born Bolshevik, then God didn't make little green apples, and I know for a fact that He did. Mighty tasty things, too, with enough sugar sprinkled on 'em. There's not enough sugar in this world to take away the taste of that Kelvin's sour attitude, though. Still, he's my dear, late sister Beruria Jane's only child, and children are a blessing. Too bad my darling Lucy Kathleen and I were never so blessed—did I tell you the peculiar way she died? It's not the sort of thing you hear tell of every day—but it was the Lord's will, and what's more—"
The man was still bemoaning the fact that he and his prematurely harvested wife had not had any children of their own—not even a Bolshevik to bless themselves with—when Peez croaked out a desperate, " 'Scuse me, please, but I really have to go to the bathroom right now," and fled for her life.
Alone in the stall, she leaned her throbbing head against the cool metal wall and mumbled, "What did I do to deserve that?"
Meanwhile, Dov had just been asked to step into a side room and disrobe. He heard the snap of a latex glove being donned and shuddered. What did I do to deserve this? he wondered.
He was not alone. The spells that the warring siblings had unleashed upon each other were fired off in haste, impulsively, and without filing an Environmental Impact Statement beforehand. Innocent bystanders and passers-by in the general vicinity when the spells were launched found themselves enduring weaker versions of the same ordeals assailing Dov and Peez. Never had so many suitcases taken off for parts unknown, never had so many bores and buttonholers decided that the total stranger who just happened to be seated next to them on the plane needed to know their life stories.
As for that part of Peez's spell causing security systems to go berserk, the less said, the better. Things were bad enough without vindictive magic mucking them up even further.
Fortunately for the continued smooth running of L.A. International, the fallout effect of the Godz siblings' spells had a very short half-life. Though the magic would continue to dog its original targets until they realized they'd been hexed and wiped it away with a counterspell, it did not continue to plague the truly innocent indefinitely. By the time Dov's Seattle-bound flight was airborne, most of it had dissipated, and by the time Peez arrived at the Serene Temple of Unfailing Lifescores, it had all vanished.
Chapter Eleven
"Excuse me," Peez said, tapping the shoulder of the handsome young man who had picked her up at the airport. "I thought we were going to meet the Reverend Everyth
ing at the Serene Temple of Unfailing Lifescores."
"Yuh-huh," he replied with a smile as flashy as the world's largest cubic zirconia. They were standing in front of the very building which Dov had left less than a day before. The spires still glittered, the white stairs still gleamed, the neon lotus blossoms still winked on and off, and the parking lot still teemed with Porsches, Mercedes, Carmen Ghias, Alfa Romeos, and one lonesome Segway.
Only the name on the two-story sign in front had been changed to read Soulhaven Retreat and Starchild Immersionarium.
"Well, I can read, you know," Peez said, tapping her foot and pointing at the telltale sign. "And that does not say anything about serenity or temples or lifescores—whatever the heck those are."
"Yuh?" The pretty man tilted his head in a fetching manner and held that pose as if listening to the rapid-fire click-click-click of a distant camera shutter. Then at last he said, "Oh," and nodded, holding that pose for a few more imaginary headshots.
This was not a satisfactory answer for Peez. "Look, if you don't want to ask directions, I'll be glad to handle it. Better yet, never mind. I'll just give the Reverend Everything a call, tell him where I am, and he can tell us how to reach the Temple."
She suited the action to the words at once, feeling that life (and her allotted time in L.A.) was too short for her to await the mental processing that would elicit a confirming yuh from her handsome nougat-brained escort. The E. Godz, Inc. records provided the Reverend Everything's private cell phone number, and Peez was not afraid to use it.
"Hello, Reverend Everything? Peez Godz, here. I'm afraid that we've somehow managed to get lost on our way from the airport to the Serene Temple of Unfailing— Oh, really? ... You don't say ... Is that so? ... Yuh-huh, yuh-huh, yuh-huh, I see. I think."
A look of consternation came over her face. She squinted at the two-story-high sign and nodded automatically, even though there was no way for the person on the other end of that phone call to see her doing so.
Then again, perhaps there was.
Peez looked away from the sign and up to the westernmost spire of the
Retreat/Immersionarium. The Reverend Everything, a silvery cell phone in his hand, gazed down at her cheerfully and waved.
Shortly thereafter, Peez found herself touring the temporarily empty sanctuary. There had been some changes made, though she was not in a position to realize this. The pseudo-Aztec trappings and all the jungly glory of the building's previous incarnation had been swept away as if by magic. In place of the flowers, the vines, the fake jade throne, and the rest of the package there was now a towering, clear-sided tank where a pair of dolphins swam, splashed, and otherwise disported themselves.
"I am so very pleased to have you visit us, my dear Ms. Godz," the Reverend Everything said as he steered Peez around the wide, carpeted deck encircling the top of the dolphin tank. "I'm sure you're aware that your dear brother Dov was just here as well, though he had to depart rather precipitously. That was a shame. You see, while we were in the middle of our services, I was blessed to receive a revelation which told me that it was time to change the spiritual focus of my flock. Naturally I put my loyal followers to work upon making that vision a reality. Their labors are not yet complete, but we've managed to get things arranged well enough for us to celebrate our inaugural services within the hour. I do hope you won't have to rush off the way your brother did?"
"I, uh, really couldn't say," Peez replied, nervously eyeing the tank. She knew it was silly, but she couldn't quite shake the feeling that one misspoken word, rather than one misstep, could send her plunging into the depths.
The Reverend Everything smiled benevolently. In truth, he didn't seem capable of smiling any other way. While Dov had amassed a whole wardrobe of smiles, keeping one on tap for every possible eventuality, the Reverend Everything had discovered that wondrous thing, the Little Black Dress smile, suitable for every occasion. It said, variously:
1. Everything is all right.
2. Everything will be all right.
3. You are Beautiful.
4. You are Smart.
5. You are Loved.
6. You are Special.
7. You may prove to be useful to me.
8. You are Nuts, but I think I can still find some profitable use for you.
9. I hear you.
10. I'm listening.
11. I am really listening.
12. I am listening to you the way no one else in this nasty old world has ever listened to you because I am the only one who recognizes your intrinsic worth, so you'd better get with my program because if you don't, I'll drop you like a bad habit and you'll have to go back to being an ordinary zhlub again.
13. I'm actually thinking about my tee-off time at the country club golf course, but you're going to look like a rude idiot if you try to challenge me for not listening to what you're saying because I am extremely good at faking an intelligent and insightful reply, so don't try it.
14. I'm actually staring at your cleavage, but this is another case where you'd better not try to challenge me on it because all I have to do is act shocked and hurt and then you will look like a conceited idiot with severe personal problems that make you go around accusing a Man of God of all sorts of naughtiness that is obviously all in your twisted imagination. Don't try this either.
"My dear, I quite understand your reluctance to commit yourself," he said smoothly. "I respect your businesspersonhood. I sense that it's telling you to take as much or as little time as you feel we deserve. Your insightful wisdom is something we should all aspire to. You didn't get to be the head of the E. Godz New York City office on the basis of your family ties alone."
I didn't? Peez thought. Like hell, I didn't! Oh, this guy is good at telling people what he thinks they want to hear! No spiritual movement ever went broke following that path. No wonder he's one of our top contributors.
"Thank you," was all that she said.
It seemed to be enough for the Reverend. He turned that magical smile of his up a notch and escorted her to a seashell-shaped chair at the rear of the deck, a place Peez found herself thinking of as "center stage." Murmuring his excuses, he sidled over to a three-panel screen to one side of her seat, leaving her to take in the dubious beauties of the Retreat/Immersionarium without benefit of his commentary.
Peez seated herself beneath the garlands of green, blue and silver tinsel seaweed festooning her pearly throne. She gazed out at an unblocked vista of the sanctuary and saw that work was already well begun on decorating the walls and pews with similar marine-themed glitz. Enmeshed in the ersatz seaweed were scatterings of greenish-white plastic starfish. Peez glanced up at the electrical fixtures and spied the unmistakable presence of black lights among the ordinary bulbs and fluorescents.
I'll bet dollars to dolphin treats that those starfish glow in the dark, she thought.
"Ms. Godz?" Reverend Everything's mellifluous voice brought her sharply out of her speculations. "I'm not asking for any sort of a promise from you, but may I hope that you'll share our services? It would be an honor for me. This will be the first time since my transformational vision that our faithful will be sharing in the new path to being one with the universe."
"I suppose I could—" she began. The sight of him stopped her words cold on her lips.
"Is something wrong?"
No, she thought. Nothing wrong at all. Not if you're used to seeing someone do a quick-change routine from Wall Street Formal to Atlantis Casual every blessed day!
Broadway Merman, and no, she didn't mean Ethel: There was no other way to describe the Reverend Everything's new look. Somehow, in the short time Peez had been viewing the sanctuary's saltwater decor, he had stripped off his natty, cream-colored suit in favor of a multicolored, spangled fishtail that a bathhouse era Bette Midler would have rejected as too garish. His chest was bare, though he'd acquired a frosty green beard long enough to obscure most of it.
"Ohhh," he said, nodding in sympathy for Peez's abrup
t silence. His foot-high diadem of shells and dried seahorses swayed gently. "I see what's bothering you. You've never attended one of my services before. I do this sort of thing all the time."
He used his crystal trident to retrieve the cast-off suit and held it out for her inspection. "It's a one-piece outfit with hidden Velcro closures. A lot like the sort of rental clothing they use for the dear departed in funeral homes, in cases where the family does not provide a, heh, going-away outfit; much easier to remove for reuse in that critical post-viewing, pre-burial time slot. Now, was that the only thing upsetting you?"
"Y-y-yes. That and—and—" She didn't know quite how to say it and still consider herself to be a lady, so she made vague motions at the Reverend's chest.
He looked down at himself in puzzlement, then chuckled. "Ah! It's the pasties, right?" He pointed at the pair of iridescent plastic squids covering his nipples, two islands in a Sargasso Sea of pepper-and-salt chest hair. Chuckling, he added, "I know they must seem a trifle over-the-top for some tastes, but I felt that as the spiritual leader of a large and loyal congregation, I owed it to the dignity of my calling to veil my vestigial mammaries from sight. It must be the quest for enlightenment, not the humble guide, that claims their attention. I would never want to distract my Seekers."
"Distract them? Distract them?!" Peez shrilled, rising to her feet. "You look like the illegitimate gay offspring of Poseidon and Cher and you're worried about distracting the congregation because you've got naked nipples?!"
Reverend Everything gaped at her. He wasn't the only one left stunned by her outburst. Peez herself gasped, clamped both hands over her mouth, and collapsed back into her chair, horrified at what she'd just done.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean that. I didn't say that. Oh, I am so, so sorry."
Reverend Everything took a deep breath, tilted his head back so far that his shell crown fell off, and laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks. When at last he recovered himself enough to speak, he said, "Ms. Godz, your innocence is like a breath of salt air from our own Mother Ocean's revivifying lips. Seen like this, outside of the context of our worship services, my garb must indeed look a trifle theatrical, but pageantry is often a part of religious rites. I assure you, when you see our rites as a whole, my chosen appearance will look perfectly natural."
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