A Monk's Tail

by Kyle Spencer

  “It was-” I start.

  “It was my fault.” Talia steps in front of me, but not before giving me an intense shut the Hel up look. “Bow and I have been having an affair for a few months now,” Her body tenses at the words but Impressario’s eyes light up and he leans closer, “and we started getting careless. Last night, after a...really...wild…night we both fell asleep. When we woke up it was morning, which means the other sisters were up and about and we couldn’t sneak Bow out by the normal means. So I asked Sister Celeste...who sometimes joins us in our torrid…love…escapades.”

  “I never did such-ow!!” Celeste rubs her arm where I pinched her. Impressario seemed to not have noticed; his eyes are intently focused on Talia as he drains his glass.

  “I had her go out to ask these two her for help. They mentioned something about the catacombs and it was a chance we were willing to take. The rest, well, you pretty much know.”

  As Talia finishes her story Impressario leans back with a grin from ear to ear. “First you turn my opera into a night for the ages, then you tell me such a salacious story that would make even the Marquis de Baise swoon! Oh my dears! I shan’t ever forget this night. Anything at my disposal is yours.”

  The bath, hot and infused with oils and perfumes, is heaven.

  The silken clothes feel like getting a hug from an angel.

  The wine never stops flowing.

  Long into the night we sit with Impressario and Djambi, listening to his lurid tales and telling a few of our own. Well, my own, all of which Impressario enjoys immensely.

  “So long story short, I thought the captain of the guard was a succubus.”

  “Oh sirrah! If you tell any more of your stories I dare say I shall become jealous.” Impressario sits on the same sofa as he always has, now wearing shimmering black silken pajamas. He sips a White Medved’, a concoction Archy whipped up from basilisk milk, vodka, and coffee that the rest of us can’t get enough of. “Please do say that you’ll be staying the night here as my guests.”

  “But of course.” I smile and wipe the milk from my upper lip. “There is one thing I’ve been meaning to ask you though.”

  “What is it?”

  “We are looking for passage on a ship out of Aquarian.”

  “What??” The others choke on their drinks and turn to me. I motion for them to calm down.

  “Do you know of anyone we can talk to?” I ask our benefactor. He takes another sip and slowly shakes his head.

  “I must admit I don’t go down to the docks anymore. The view is spectacular, what with all the sailors with their taut muscles and bare chests...But the smell is rather off-putting.” He pauses to think again. “There is a place though. A club. The proprietor and I are...close friends. And I know they service a lot of the seafaring crowd. If you talk to him he might know someone. His name is Agador. The club he runs is called-”

  “Equuinox.” Archy interrupts to the surprise of us all. I cock an eyebrow at him and he shrugs. “I have maybe been once or twice.”

  Impressario smiles devilishly at the new information. “How the surprises just keep coming.” He titters. “But now, let us eat, drink, and be merry!”

  Brother Gideon's Revival

  “Praise hallelujah and put a coin in the plate!”

  - Brother Gideon

  It’s hot.

  And gross.

  And yet still more people are trying to squeeze into this big, packed tent. I’m scrunched between a wealthy-looking squirrel who has no business trying to fit into a suit that small and a poor (in every sense) mother fox trying to wrangle her litter of four cubs. All of us wipe the sweat from our brows in turn as the stale air presses down upon us.

  Granted this isn’t the first time I’ve been in a place of worship with oppressive conditions. Back at the monastery Master Roshi strongly believed in the mind-body connection and that for the mind to become strong, the body must not be weak. Therefore we didn’t just meditate, we sat still under freezing waterfalls for hours on end, or balanced (or at least tried to) on the top of a pole during a raging storm, or chanted mantras while slowly walking over smoldering embers, or listened to one of Master Roshi’s many meandering, boring-ass stories.

  But this is so much worse. Even the flies have ceased their erratic buzzing and are instead lazily crawling on the ground and on people, flying around for short distances only when a paw takes a swipe at them.

  The youngest of the four besides me - only a baby - burps up some milk and begins to cry. The urge to up and get the fuck out of this Helhole grows stronger by the second.

  Remember why you’re here, Bow. Remember why you’re here.

  I’m here because I’m getting paid to be here. But not getting paid enough, apparently.

  To be more specific, I’m getting paid to find someone’s lost grandson and the trail led me to this large circus tent pitched on the side of the road, right here sitting on a sagging wooden bench sandwiched between two people who would never get this close to each other in their ordinary lives.

  A twangy hum from an unseen organ in the front shushes the crowd; even the flies seem to calm down and pay attention. The whole tent holds its breath save for the light swish-swish of paper fans and the labored breathing from those most sensitive to the heat. A murmur ripples through the crowd from front to back. Seems someone has made their way onstage, although from my place all I can see are the backs of heads. Must be a maus or shrew.

  “Brothers and Sisters!” The voice booms like it’s coming from two feet away. “I’ve got some important news: Brother Gideon is not going to perform a miracle today.” Many people shift uncomfortably in their seats and a gathering storm of grumbles forms overhead. “No-no. Brother Gideon is going to perform three miracles today!” The cloud of grumbles bursts into thunderclaps of ecstatic cheers. Despite the sudden increase in noise, the speaker’s voice rises above it, clear as crystal. “That’s right folks! So think holy thoughts and get those donations ready!”

  Suddenly the tent is filled with metallic rainfall as everyone begins to jingle their coin pouches. The squirrel on my left heaves a sack the size of my head up and down on his lap while the mother on my right shakes only a handful of coins in her cupped paws.

  “Now please put your paws together for the one, the only, Brotherrrrrr Gideon!”

  The tent goes absolutely apeshit. People are jumping up and down on their seats. Coins fly above our heads towards the stage. A few people swoon.

  Standing on my bench I can barely see over the frenzy, but what I do see is a face much like mine - dark circles around the eyes and stripes running up and down the face but with much darker, earthier tones.

  A raccoon.

  Gideon raises his paws to silence the crowd. They immediately oblige. He casually adjusts his pearly white robes and gives a smile that any street hustler would immediately recognize.

  “Well hello y’all.” His voice rolls over us like a thunderwave but there’s a gentle, relaxed drawl to it. “Isn’t it just a fine day?”

  “I love you, Brother Gideon!” Someone shouts from the back.

  “And I love you too, darling.” He looks out at the crowd, each and every one of them hanging on his every word. Even I have to admit there’s a magnetism to this preacher; he sure knows how to command a stage. “I love each and every one of you and I thank you for joining me on this journey today. So as a special gift from me to you, I’m gonna perform one extra miracle.” The crowd goes wild once more, but is quickly reigned in by Gideon. “So let’s start out with a healing, shall we? Now I know there are those out there today looking for some healing. Lemme see those hands now, who needs healing?”

  About a dozen or so paws shoot up, most of them gnarled with rheumatoid. Gideon looks over the selection like he’s at a buffet and after a few moments of consideration chooses one on the far left. Most of the tent let’s loose a sigh of disappointment but there are cries of elation around the still upraised paw.

  “Come on u
p here, my friend!” Gideon calls out. The crowd is silent as an old wolf is pushed up onto the stage in a wheelchair. The chair looks like it’s been repaired about five or six times. So does the wolf. Gideon takes a knee in front of the old-timer. “What’s your name, brother?”

  “Elijah.” The wolf’s voice cracks. “Elijah Thistlethorp.”

  “And why are you in this here wheelchair, Brother Elijah?”

  “I was taking my harvest to market when my basilisk bucked and threw me off. Broke my back and lost use of my legs.”

  “And when did this happen.”

  “About thirty years ago.” Elijah answers and the crowd gasps.

  “So you’ve been stuck in this here chair for thirty years?”

  “That’s right, Brother Gideon.”

  “And do you have a donation today, Brother Elijah?” Gideon asks. Elijah answers by dropping a small sack into a flat tin bowl. “Well now, I think it’s high time you got up out of that there chair. What do y’all think?”

  The crowd cheers and the organ begins to play again. Gideon stands up and makes a show of walking around the wheelchair a couple of times, arms raised to the heavens. Elijah rocks in his chair, eyes closed and paws clasped in prayer.

  “And now!” Gideon bellows as the organ grows louder. “I say, now I say!” The organ crescendos. “Let Brother Elijah! Be healed!” He brings both paws down hard on the old wolf’s legs. There’s an audible clap and yelp of pain from Elijah.

  Everyone stays still.

  Elijah looks around, confused. Slowly he lifts himself out of his chair and takes a couple of stumbling steps forward towards Gideon. With a cry he embraces the preacher.

  “I’m healed!” He cries. “It’s a miracle!” Everyone rejoices in Elijah’s recovery. For his part, the wolf does a shuffling dance across the stage and kicks the wheelchair off it. This brings forth more cheers and some kind of hymn that only half the people singing know the words to. Gideon and Elijah sing along and do-si-do on stage. Once the song finishes, Elijah shuffles off.

  “You go on now, Brother Elijah!” Gideon calls as Elijah makes his exit. “Go on and live a good, holy life!” Others wave their goodbyes as well. One of the cubs next to me tries to clamor over their mom.

  “Bye-bye, E-lie-jaaaaah!” She calls.

  I’ve got to admit, as far as plants go, Elijah was pretty damn convincing. But that’s all he was - a plant. And Gideon is just another miracle-healing hustler. Figures.

  “Now who’s ready for the next miracle?” Gideon brings the crowd to its feet once more as everyone’s paw shoots up. “Hold on, hold on. Since there seem to be some new faces in the crowd let me explain what’s gonna happen here. If you’re picked you come on up here and place your donation right in this here plate. Then I’ll call down the spirits so they can determine if you have lived a holy life. If you have, and trust me they’ll know, you’ll receive a blessing that’ll bring you riches beyond your wildest dreams. But if you haven’t...well, the spirits will cast you down!” The organ clashes discordantly for dramatic effect and Gideon scans the audience, a knowing smile creeping onto his face. “Now who’s ready to be blessed! Alright! Now hold on, hold on! I can feel the spirits here right now! They’re telling me that there’s someone in need, someone who needs help...you! Yes you, sister! Come on up here!”

  A scrawny ferret, no older than I, timidly comes forward as the rest of the crowd sits down. She’s dressed in meager clothing and her face is gaunt. She climbs up the stairs to the stage and stands in stark contrast to Gideon’s dazzling white robe and perfect grooming. A big hug from the racoon puts her at ease.

  “Now tell me darling,” He guides her to the center of the stage, “What’s your name?”

  “E-Elizabeth.” I’m reading her lips more than hearing her words.

  “And it looks like you’ve been having a hard time of things.” Gideon is the perfect picture of empathy. “Is that right, Sister Elizabeth?” Elizabeth just sniffles. “I see, I see. And do you have your donation with you?” Two lonely plinks in the tin plate. “Hmm...no family to help you out? No home you can go back to? Now now darling, don’t cry. I’m gonna pray extra hard to them there spirits to bless you and you’ll never have to worry about money again. Are you ready?”

  “Y-yes, Brother Gideon.”

  “Now stand right here darling, and close your eyes.” Elizabeth scooches to the center and stands there, shaking slightly. Gideon takes a position behind her. Lifting his paws and eyes to the heavens he begins to hum. The humming rises and falls like waves crashing on the shore until it finally ebbs into silence.

  And then...nothing.

  Nothing.

  ...Still nothing.

  I snort at the miraclelessness, only to be shushed by the mother and all four of her cubs. Everyone else in the tent is on the edge of their seats; they know that something is about to happen.

  And happen it does.

  Gideon’s humming starts up again. Except it’s not coming from Gideon but from the tent entrance. An invisible presence ruffles the tent flaps and makes its way up the main aisle, humming in a loud, constant drone. As it drifts closer and closer to the stage Elizabeth’s shaking becomes more noticeable. Suddenly the humming stops and the crowd holds their breath. The air grows still and I get that weird feeling one gets just before falling from a great height.

  A surprise zephyr rushes through the spectators and lifts - lifts! - Elizabeth up off her feet. She spins in the air, eyes wide and two paws holding in a scream. Higher and higher now; probably a good five feet up in the air. People in the crowd begin to cheer for the ferret and a few shout prayers and well-wishes to the rooftop.

  Those shouts of encouragement fall just as quickly as Elizabeth does, out of the air and right through the stage, disappearing beneath the rough wooden planks. She has just enough time to process what’s happening to give a quick yelp before it’s muffled. Many people shake their heads sadly and mutter their own private condolences, but no one seems shocked or worried about the ferret’s sudden plummet.

  Gideon walks forward, wiping sweat from his brow. He shakes his head sadly. “Mighty shame, mighty shame...now for you new folks don’t go fretting about poor Sister Elizabeth - she’s alright. We installed this here door so anyone who’s, um...rejected by the spirits can make their exit without having to worry about prying eyes. Now let’s see, who’s next?”

  Far fewer paws shoot up this time around. It seems that many here fear the shame of rejection more than they hope for the blessings of wealth. The mother on my right keeps her paw down, instead opting to hold her little ones close and seeing how the next blessing pans out. The squirrel on my left, however, holds his pudgy paw high, a smug certainty slathered across his face.

  Gideon does the whole show of going through the oh-so-difficult-and-painstaking process of choosing the next recipient before deciding on my neighbor to the left. The squirrel adjusts his tie and, beaming widely the whole time, waddles up to the stage. The sound of his money sack hitting the tithing pan is like a gong - DONGGGGG! - that reverberates throughout the tent. It also draws a smile, imperceptible to those not looking for it - on Gideon’s face.

  Again Gideon guides his follower to the center of the stage and again the humming makes it way from the entrance. The wind lifts up the squirrel and sends his fat rolls jiggling. He drifts higher and higher. Higher than Elizabeth the ferret. High enough to reveal Gideon’s face behind him, eyes rolled back to the whites and a slick sheen of sweat soaking his robes.

  Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck I know what you are you fucking fraud.

  The squirrel lands gently on his feet to polite applause. He pumps a greatly exhausted Gideon’s paw up and down and makes his way off the stage. He waves at everyone as he slowly and purposefully saunters down the aisle, an emperor who cannot see that he has no clothes (not literally though, thank gods).

  Gideon stumbles backwards a little. He wipes his brow and gives a faltering smile. “Whew! I do say I’m
getting the vapors! But as I promised, one more miracle. Let’s get one more lucky person up here and call them spirits back.” He wheezes. His original showmanship is drained away just like his breath, and if my guess is correct its for good reason.

  After the success of the squirrel, everyone is clamoring over themselves to be the recipient of the last blessing of the day. Even I raise my paw...to tenderly lower the mother’s. I put a small velvet pouch - all my travel expenses - into her paw with the instructions, “Take this and leave. Don’t look back and don’t come back. Ever”

  “But I-” Her protests stops when I pull open my vest. The four guns tucked in there don’t have much of an effect. But the dagger does (always have a backup). She gathers up her litter and makes a beeline for the exit.

  Once she’s safely out of the tent I make my move.

  “Woo!” I shout as I walk over feet and hurdle knees to the relative emptiness of the center aisle. “Puh-raise the spirits! Ah say, ah say I need me some riches and...something that rhymes with riches!” My Gideon impersonation isn’t spot on but at least it has everyone’s attention now. The real Gideon doesn’t seem too impressed either. He narrows his eyes as I hop, skip, and jump up to his level.

  “Seems like we got us someone here who’s alive with the spirits!” He doesn’t miss a beat. But he is wary. He sizes me up and leans in closer, “Don’t see many of your kind around here. But the spirits don’t discriminate. You know how this works?” His head tilts towards the collection plate.

  “I think I have it figured out.” Dropping my act. I also drop my donation in the plate where it makes a solitary tink! Gideon looks down at it and gulps audibly. “You recognize him, don’t you?” I raise my voice so that the first few rows can hear and point at the locket in the plate. The simple brass oval holds a tiny portrait of Jerome Esposito, the lost soul whose loving grandmother hired me to find. Turning my back on Gideon I address the congregation. “Poor Jerome went out and searched for help with nothing more than the clothes on his back and the meager amount of money he could scrounge up. He was trying to find a way to prevent his grandmother from being evicted from the family home that has been theirs for generations. Except he didn’t find help. He found Gideon. He handed over all that he had for the false hope this fraud provides.”