Blood Goblet

by J. P. Rice

  After a few uncomfortable moments, he lazily picked up the scanner and ran it across the UPC. He swiped a plastic bag hanging on the wall behind him and shook it out.

  I said, “I don’t need a bag. I can carry it.”

  “No problem. Twenty-two fifty.”

  As I reached into my pocket, a tattooed hand landed on the comic. Turning over my right shoulder, I saw a short man who, oddly enough, appeared Japanese. He said, “I really need this book. I will gladly pay for another copy if you would be so kind.”

  How the fuck had this guy sneaked in here? Why hadn’t I heard the Darth Vader music? I faced the smaller man wearing a brown trench coat and a black derby hat pulled down to almost cover his eyes. I told him, “I really want this one. Sorry. But like you said, there’s more of them to buy.” I handed the clerk thirty dollars.

  He pounded a few keys on the digital cash register and the tray popped open with a ching. The clerk stuffed the money into the register and handed me the change. The man in the trench coat followed me to the door.

  As I put my hand on the door, he said, “I don’t think you understand, I really need that comic. I am prepared to pay you a hundred dollars for it.”

  “No thanks. Money doesn’t mean that much to me.” I pulled the door open just enough so that I could get out and sneaked outside.

  The man turned sideways and wedged his way through the door. “What is it that you desire? Name it and I will make it so.”

  I held up the comic. “This is what I want and this is what I have. So I’m good.”

  He shook his head slowly, never breaking eye contact. “You’re making a big mistake. You should really rethink your position.”

  “I seem to have a bad habit about making mistakes. It always works out in the end, though.” I stared into his dark eyes, and said, “Good day, sir.” I turned my back on him and headed for my car.

  I heard my new friend traipsing up the steps behind me. My car was still the only one in the lot. Where had this guy parked? I was within five feet of my car when the man screamed, “You’ve given me no choice.”

  I spun around and the man tore away the trench coat and threw it aside in dramatic fashion. The man was wrapped from head to toe like a mummy. Red robes clung to his powerful body and he scratched his cheek with a long black claw on his index finger.

  I drew my magic to the surface and prepared to open a can of whoopass. Big gulp size.

  The sun crept out from behind a cloud and shone down on the bleached bones wrapped around his forearms. They looked like the ribcages of small animals. He wore cross sections of a fanged animal’s lower jaw as shoulder pads. His bright blue irises shifted to ice, matching the surrounding sclerae and creating a creepy look.

  A strange blue aura surrounded the man despite his bright red attire. He said, “Give me that comic.”

  I backed up quickly, opened the door to my car, tossed the comic on the driver’s seat and focused on the crazy man. A Jeep Wrangler pulled into the driveway with reggae blaring. The driver immediately lowered the music and his friends screamed, “Get the fuck out of here. Now.”

  Admittedly, the man’s appearance was quite scary. Not bad enough to scare me. I’d seen much worse. As the driver pulled a twenty-point turn while his friends yelled at him, the robed man and I circled each other.

  The beginning of a fight was always tense. I never knew what kind of magic to use against an unknown opponent. I hoped that line of thinking was reciprocal right now.

  The man tipped his cap so that it was resting on the crown of his head. Hidden beneath a mess of dark hair, the man sported a strange white scar in the center of his forehead. He squinted and said, “You’ve killed someone you loved. A few people actually.”

  What? How did this stranger know that? Before I could dwell on the matter, the man drew back his fist to throw a punch. I wondered what he was doing considering I stood about five feet away. The man’s fist snapped forward and his arm elongated like it was made of elastic, and rapidly closed in on me.

  The fist connected with my chest and knocked me backward, causing me to do a backwards somersault. As I tried to make it back to my feet, the man paced toward my car. I stood up and paused to catch my balance and my breath.

  The sound of shattering glass caused me to jerk my neck toward my car. The man had his fist inside my car and broken glass showered down. I raced over before he could grab the comic book.

  I grabbed the robes covering the back of his neck and threw the lighter man across the parking lot. Screaming in pain in a language I assumed was Japanese, he jumped back to his feet, and said, “You have done some despicable things in your day. You fool yourself into thinking that you are a good person. Fool.”

  Where was this man getting his information from? I couldn’t let it bother me right now in the middle of a fight. But it did.

  The man cocked his fist back again and I got ready to dodge this effort. Instead a flash of lightning centered around his closed hand. He opened his hand and a jolt of electricity sprang from his palm. The bolt of lightning hummed through the air, heading for my chest. I twisted my body to the side to avoid contact, but a flash of electricity hit my bicep.

  It spun me around until I fell down. With a scorched brain and body, I tried to pick myself up. I stumbled back to my feet, woozy, but ready to quit fucking around.

  My opponent was getting close to my car again. I called on a fire ball and heaved it before I could fully coalesce it into a perfect sphere. The blaze trailed toward the man’s head, straight and true. At the last moment, the man flicked his neck backward and the ball of fire screeched right past his cheek and into the woods.

  When he dodged my fire ball, he threw his hair back. It exposed a third eye in the middle of the man’s forehead. Son of a bitch. That’s how he was peeking into my past.

  I called on two more fireballs that developed slowly in my hands. The magician backed away from my car. In a flash, he was standing in front of me, tackling me to the ground. With my arms contained, I dissolved the fire balls so I wouldn’t hurt myself.

  I felt a sudden pang in my calf. Oh shit. In an instant, I lost control of my body. The demon implant took control of me.

  As I lay still on the gravel parking lot of the comic book store, my opponent rained down fists of fury, crushing my cheek and nose. He connected to the bridge of my nose and blood poured out of my nostrils and down over my lips and cheeks. He continued the assault as I lay there helpless, unable to defend myself.

  Perhaps I was supposed to die before the implant caused me to kill someone innocent.

  The distorted sounds of sirens filled my ears and grew louder by the second. The man jumped up and ran for my car again.

  My arms started working again. Thank the Gods. I rolled over, did a quick push up and sprinted after the man. He reached in the broken window, snatched the comic and darted toward the fence. I closed in on him quickly. As I got to within a few feet, I dove through the air, hooked my hand over his shoulder and tackled him.

  He dropped the comic, and we wrestled around on the gravel. The police sirens reached a fever pitch and a squad car skidded to a stop in the lot. The man bit my forearm. Screaming in pain, I broke the hold.

  My opponent jumped up, shot a quick glance at the cops and took off for the woods. He left the comic laying on the ground and sprinted toward the chain-link fence. The man appeared as if he was going to run directly into the fence.

  At the last moment, he crouched and leaped over the fence in a single bound. He hooked his fingers around a low tree branch, dangled for a few seconds and dropped gracefully to the ground. He disappeared quickly, leaving a trail of broken twigs and dead leaves in his path.

  I got back up and grabbed the comic. It felt lighter. Had he stolen the map without me noticing? Opening the comic, I feverishly paged through it. Aaahhh. It was still there. I threw it in the car and smiled at the officers.

  I always loved explaining supernatural fights to the police. The ja
w-dropping looks I received when I mentioned fire balls or a blast of lightning were priceless.

  The authorities asked me questions for about an hour before leaving, unsatisfied. They weren’t happy that I didn’t know anything about the other suspect. In fact, a few stopped just short of calling me a liar. It came with the territory.

  Once the cops left, I grabbed the comic and peeled the map loose. I folded the clear tape over the map so I wouldn’t tear it, and realized there were two maps. The writing on the map was in Japanese, but it appeared to be of a mountain. The second map seemed to be greater detail of the mountain.

  Strange. I stashed the maps on the passenger seat and headed for home. I called Felix while driving and asked him to set up another meeting with Fukutama. The mage informed me that Fukutama went on meditation benders for days at a time. Apparently, he wouldn’t be available for a few days.

  I had a few other options to help me figure out the map. My best friend Reg and my mentor Alayna could have some pertinent information. With Alayna still watching Dante, I decided to stop by the Purple House of vampires and see if my best friend Reg was around.

  Chapter 5

  A vampire named Lexis opened the fourteen-foot high doors to the library in the Purple House. Warmth and the smell of a fresh fire hit me as I shuffled my feet down the main walkway. Tall gargoyle statues holding torches lined the path on both sides, leading to the tables for reading.

  Bookshelves taller than me surrounded the reading tables and filled out the expansive room. As I passed the gargoyles, the musty smell of old books came to the forefront. It was similar to Fukutama’s house before he’d filled it with herb smoke. I left the corridor behind and saw Reg sitting in his wheelchair at one of the tables.

  Reg’s hands were trembling and his normally rich brown skin had taken on a pasty, chalky look especially around his mouth that had foamy spit collecting in both corners. His dark hair, slicked with sweat, had lost all of its gray streaks and his sub-par shaving left patches on his cheeks. Transitioning into a vampire gave him a younger look, albeit much more haggard than his previous appearance.

  As I neared the table, Reg stood up from his wheelchair to greet me.

  He stood up. Nobody was helping him. And he was taller than me. It was a miracle. I was overwhelmed with emotion. “Holy fuck. Is this for real?”

  Reg grinned at me and just nodded. I couldn’t believe he was standing. He took a few steps toward me and wrapped his long arms around me. I squeezed my brother who had been paralyzed for almost sixty years.

  As we broke the embrace, I commented, “I guess being an immortal vampire has a few benefits.”

  He smiled, but it wasn’t pure. There was pain behind the forced smile. “I’m slowly starting to figure that out. This was a nice benefit. You all right there?” He motioned around his face.

  I touched the still raw area and yanked my hand away. “Fine, just a little scrap earlier. I’ll say that’s a nice benefit. Maybe I should rethink Jonathan’s offer to become a vampire.”

  “I don’t know. I’m still fighting with the side effects. It’s not really getting any better.” He held up his hand, which was shaking uncontrollably.

  “Let’s sit down.” I gestured with an open hand. “Unless you don’t want to. You had me fooled with the wheelchair. I thought I was dreaming at first.”

  Reg shoved his wheelchair aside and sat back down in a chair at the table. “I thought the same thing when I took those first few steps.”

  “I couldn’t be any happier for you, man. When did this happen?” I asked as I joined him at the table.

  “Just yesterday. So don’t be thinking I was holding out on you. I had the urge to stand up, and suddenly, my legs were working again. No crazy ritual or nothing like that.” He leaned back in the chair. “So what brings you by to see me?”

  I couldn’t remember. “Sorry, I forgot now. This is blowing my mind. In the best way possible, of course.”

  Reg leaned to the side and picked something up that was leaning against the table. In my excitement, I hadn’t realized it was sitting there. Reg set a tapestry on the table and I almost passed out. I pushed the chair back and stood over the piece. Amazing.

  It was my family crest that he had been working on for almost a year. The main colors that popped were red and gold, but the intricate details were amazing. Two golden dragons stood sentinel on either side of an escutcheon with an eagle’s head extending from the top. The shield had been quartered. The quadrants contained an overflowing bounty of fruits and vegetables, a mighty oak tree, a lion and a badass, variegated triskele.

  The surroundings of the dragons and shield were stitched in brilliant red, dotted with a pattern of gold crowns. At the bottom, the words, Merlino Family, were stitched heavily with golden thread, giving it a high-relief look. Right under that were the words, Vita post mortem. Rarely was I ever speechless, but I stared at the piece with my mouth open.

  “So what you think?” Reg asked.

  I looked at him with a stupid smile clinging to my face. “Reg. I don’t even know how to put this into words. It’s amazing. Hearing you talk about it was one thing, but seeing it in front of me. Seeing how much work went into it. All I can say is thank you. Thank you so much. What does vita post mortem mean?”

  “No problem, young blood. I’m glad you like it. It means life after death. You said you were ready to die when Alayna rolled into your life. Now is like your life after death. Make the most of it, young blood.” Reg smiled and this time it was pure.

  “I’ll make the most of it. And I don’t like it. I love it. This has instantly become my most prized possession.”

  “Now you just need to start a family.” He laughed.

  “I’m kind of working on that now. We can talk about that later.” I didn’t need to bore him with my mundane daddy duties. “I did want to ask you about something going on right now.”

  He pursed his lips and nodded. “All right. Shoot.”

  “To cut a long story short, a Native American spirit has been kidnapped. I think the kidnappers are Japanese from a clue they left behind. I’m just wondering if you had heard anything about it?”

  “I heard about Cyclone Woman.” He scratched his goatee in thought. “A couple of the other vampires were talking about it yesterday. They didn’t have any idea why she was missing.”

  Sounded like word was getting around town. “That makes a few of us. I’m starting to think she’s been kidnapped by some Japanese people. I even got into a fight with a Japanese-looking man earlier today. I found a map pertaining to the case too.” I pulled it out of my back pocket and laid it on the table next to the tapestry.

  “I don’t expect you to recognize the writing, but do you recognize these mountains?”

  Reg opened the first map and looked at it in silence. He opened the second map and smoothed it out over the table. He started shaking his head and said, “Can’t say as I do. Other than them being mountains, I can’t shed any light on this for you. Sorry.”

  It was worth a shot. “Don’t be. It was a long shot, but you are one of my go-to guys with the supernatural.”

  “That’s right.” He lowered his head and lifted his eyebrows. “Don’t forget that shit, either. I love when you stop by, even if this place is grinding me into a nub of what I used to be.”

  I tried to ignore his last line. “I’m surprised you’re awake right now.” I checked my phone and it was 2:33 p.m. “Haven’t they turned you into a nocturnal creature by now?”

  “I can’t sleep for shit.” He rubbed his eyelids and it made the bags underneath puff up and grow in size. “It’s terrible. I don’t need much now that I’m an immortal, but it’s driving me crazy lying awake all night. The stuff going through my head is something I don’t even want to tell you about.”

  “Don’t ever hold back on me. I’ve been having issues with that implant I told you about.” I lowered my head in shame. “I almost slit my wrists when that damn thing took over.”
<
br />   “Have you talked to Alayna or the Gods about it yet?” he asked as he rubbed one of the crowns on the tapestry. “Since they cured you of cancer, an implant removal seems like a breeze.”

  “Unfortunately, with the self-destruct mechanism, it won’t be so easy.”

  “I’m sure that Dian Cécht could throw you into his healing cauldron and figure it out,” he recommended. Dian Cécht was the Medical and Healing God in the Celtic Pantheon. He had helped me to beat cancer.

  “It’s just I’m embarrassed about it. I don’t want the Gods to think I’m stupid for agreeing to this.” I tapped the table with my index and middle finger. “I was backed into a corner and was going to die if I didn’t agree to the implant. I had no choice.”

  “You don’t need to explain that to me.” Reg counseled, “You need to tell Alayna and maybe ask her to relay the message to the Gods so it’s not so embarrassing. But bottom line, you need to get rid of that thing. I’m turning into a monster right now so I know how terrible it can be. I can’t even trust myself.”

  “I can’t either. I don’t know when it’s going to take over or how long it will last. I’m at the mercy of a devil. Not a great place to be.”

  Reg stood up again and I did another double take. My body tingled and chills ran down my spine. I was so happy for my boy I could barely put cohesive words together to express it.

  “I want to show you this book over here,” he said, leading me down one of the aisles of book shelves.

  I loved being around old books and rubbed my fingers against the spines of the books at waist level. You could feel and smell the musty history sitting at your fingertips. Reg stopped in the middle of the aisle and reached for a book on the shelf.

  Instead of a book, he extracted a wooden stake, sharpened to a point at one end. He slammed it flat against my chest. “Take this motherfucking stake and jam it through my fucking heart.”