Shifting Problems

by Jason Paul Rice

  A scream came from downstairs. “Young blood. You up in here?”

  I checked out the wide gash in the mirror. “I’m in the bathroom Reg. Why don’t you bust out the first aid kit and pour yourself a glass of the good stuff? Be down in a few.”

  “Oh, man. What’chu gone and done this time?” He hadn’t screamed, but I could still hear him.

  I went downstairs, and Reg had laid out the medical kit on my burned-up couch and had a rocks glass of Jameson in his strong right hand and his medical assistant, Colossus, on his lap.

  Reginald made a painful face. “I already see it’s gonna be some more stitch work. Anything else?” He set his drink on the coffee table and started digging into the kit and grabbing the necessary supplies.

  “Nothing that I know of.” It was the truth. Anything could have happened to me after I had been knocked out. Not exactly a comforting notion. I had inspected my body and this was the only new external injury, adding to the long list.

  “What the hell they hit you with, a brick?”

  “I don’t know. I was in the shower, got shampoo in my eyes and then, Wham, right upside the head. Perfect timing.”

  “Turning into the perfect storm with what you got going on?”

  He dabbed the wound with the antiseptic. I said, “Say Reg, the other night we were pretty hammered and talking about the McNights. I feel like you were telling a good story as I was passing out.”

  He rubbed his mustache. “Which one? One about the front porch murder?”

  Despite not having my hefty dose of morning caffeine, I perked up on my coffee table. “Yes. That one.”

  I closed my eyes and he started stitching my forehead. This time it hurt a little bit.

  He said, “Man, that was about—oh, about eight years ago. Gentleman worked for the gas company came to the door before reading the meter. BOOM! Like he was shot in the middle of the chest. Heart, lungs, stomach and guts flew everywhere.”

  “Must’ve been a pretty insane caliber. How close to the front door was he?”

  “Ha ha. The spirit of youth. Impatience. I was getting to that. He wasn’t shot by no gun.” Reg sipped his Jameson and continued sewing up my forehead. “They couldn’t find any guns. No explosives either. Combed the scene and nothing. No shrapnel from even a tiny IED. They couldn’t figure it out. Rumors started going around and eventually they make it to my ears. I disseminate it before I tell it to someone else as truth.”

  Reginald took another drink and continued the stitch work. “I like to hear stuff from at least two sources that I trust before saying something about it. So this is uncorroborated. Someone started some chatter that they were into vampires. Like real vampires, if there is such a thing.”

  “The Empusa I battled the other night would say otherwise, but go on.”

  “That’s about it. Them spooky bowling alleys don’t help the reputation either. Now you’re talking about this sex club stuff so I thought maybe this might have something to do with it.”

  “But how would a vampire cause someone’s body to explode? Most don’t know enough magic to do that. However, an invisible projectile of a super heavy pocket of air would do the trick.”

  “And vampires can do that shit?”

  “Well, Reg, I’m not sure anymore. I’ve been finding out rapidly that the rules are changing. These books we’ve been reading might be a bit outdated or we haven’t read the updated version just yet.” I was still in the infancy of my wizard training.

  He said, “I never knew they could even do magic like that. That’s why I never thought it could be true. It didn’t make sense. Anyway, since they didn’t have any evidence against the McNights, they couldn’t charge them with any crime. Think it got filed under spontaneous combustion.”

  “Interesting. That doesn’t tie everything together, but it does show that the McNights seem to have an affinity for dark magic. Wait till you hear what I found out last night about the McNights. I’m starting to think that this lovely scar I have to look forward to has something to do with them.”

  Reginald and I always shared all our information with each other. We read the same books and discussed the content at great length. We made an odd couple, but he was like the brother I never had and the father I’d always wished for.

  He asked, “Sounds good. What are all these scratches from?”

  “All right.” I checked the clock on my cell phone. “How about I tell you about last night, and then you come to a support meeting with me?”

  “Sounds good. I just gotta tell my son, you know. And maybe get smoothed up a little bit. Ha ha.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Just take it easy on the Old Spice this time. Oh yeah that reminds me, your punk ass son has a little cameo in the story. I’ll start the story from the very beginning of the action. So I went to Glenn’s, the so-called barber shop.” I laughed and told him about my night as he sipped on his glass of whiskey.

  About an hour later, Reg and I waited on the sidewalk across the street from my house. Satoku pulled up a few minutes later and I stuck my head in her open passenger window. “Do you mind if we bring my friend, Reg. He likes to get out.” I pointed a thumb at my best friend.

  She quickly nodded. “Sure.” She slid the gearshift into park and jumped out of the car to help get Reginald into the backseat.

  His eyes widened and his jaw dropped when he saw Satoku. “Heaven on earth. My eyes, they do deceive me. Why, an angel has fallen from the sky above and landed with such grace and beauty. I’m Reginald Evander Danforth. What is your name, my lady?” He bowed his head.

  Reginald extended a huge open palm in Satoku’s direction and she put her hand in his. He swallowed her tiny hand and they shared a gentle handshake. She spoke with a huge smile, “Satoku Meyer, the pleasure is mine.”

  Reg shook his head. “Oh, no. The pleasure is right here.” He tapped his heart.

  “Thank you. You are the sweetest guy ever. Some people could learn a lot from you.” She stared at me. “A lot.”

  And that was Reg. He usually captured a person’s heart within minutes of meeting them.

  We got Reginald inside the car, cruised down to the meeting, and went in. Most of the people knew Reg. He wasn’t a cancer survivor, but he’d lived most of his life without the use of his legs, so he understood the struggle that the group members went through. Sharon came rushing over to give him a hug.

  She poked him on the shoulder, and said, “Haven’t seen you in a little while.”

  Reg blushed and shifted around in his chair. “Yeah, you know, I been busy here and there.”

  Sharon smiled. “Well I’m so glad you could make it again. I know that the group loves seeing you too.”

  “Aw, you’re gonna make me blush. Ha ha.” Reg hadn’t realized it was too late for that as the freckles around his nose had gone into hibernation.

  Sharon stood up and turned to me. “Mike, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure, anything.”

  She paused for a few moments, calculating her words, and wrestling with the phlegm in her throat. “I’m not sure if this breaks some sort of protocol or something, but I know you work with the cops sometimes. I didn’t know if maybe you had heard anything about Stacy?”

  “This is way outside the department I consult for so I haven’t heard anything. I asked my partner about it and she’s going to find out as much as she can. And, of course, I’ll let you and the group know if I find out anything.”

  I sat on one end of the horseshoe of chairs with Reginald on my right and Satoku on my left. The meeting got underway and I faded out. My mind shifted to another meeting, the one with the Gods later today, where I would have to beg, borrow and plead to save some lives.

  Satoku shared. I found out she’d beaten Hodgkin’s lymphoma. The meeting came to an end and Satoku took Reg and me home. They talked the entire ride, quickly becoming good friends as I stared out the window. I had too much information to deal with. Too little time. Not enough
help.

  I got Reginald up his steps and he stayed on his porch while I went down to the river.

  17

  I walked down the steep hill in Blawnox, past the baseball field, the daycare center, and the row housing. I went all the way to the bottom and looked at the shimmering waters of the Allegheny River. I strolled down the riverbank with my stomach in knots.

  I had no idea if this would work and scanned around for anyone in the area. I scraped away at the mud on the base of the hill near the water. It took a few minutes, but I uncovered the secret door to the Deep Burrow. I opened the door, entered the dark tunnel, and pulled it shut. I knew how to navigate the tunnel from previous experience and walked up to the precipice. I dangled my foot over the side and pulled it back, feeling like I might pass out.

  My mouth ran dry and my body started overheating. If I didn’t hit the portal at the bottom, I would be smashed into itty-bitty pieces. I grabbed the sides of the tunnel and debated what to do. I’d already come this far and I really needed to talk to the Gods.

  I turned to leave and fell backwards. I dropped like a rock and prayed that I would hit a soft bottom. My speed increased and so did my fear that it wouldn’t work. Had Alayna had flipped some secret switch that I hadn’t known about? That had to be it.

  I fell and fell, and I finally closed my eyes and made peace with the situation. The rippling wind felt like it was going to pull my skin off.

  Suddenly, I was still.

  I opened my eyes to the vibrant images of the Deep Burrow. I landed in the woods as usual and walked out into the utopian setting.

  A spacious landscape opened up with a mighty forest off to the right. I heard a rushing river in the distance, behind the farms, houses and small white castles. The colors seemed brighter in the Burrow and my pupils widened to take everything in. A group of druidic farmers picked some red beets from the ground, wiped off some dirt, and tossed them into a handcart.

  I raised my eyes to the sky and the loose web of tree roots above with blue electricity radiating through them that acted as their underground internet. The sunlight could easily get through the pulsing roots to provide proper heat and growing conditions, although I still didn’t understand how the sun could be underground. Some land areas were blocked out by the thicker roots where the shade never went away.

  I should have developed a plan before I showed up out of the blue and wandered around aimlessly. I ran into Blodeuwedd in human form. The fair-skinned Goddess with long, curly brown hair wore a cloak fashioned from variegated flowers and exotic feathers. It was quite breathtaking.

  “Hello, friend. I hear you’ve been having some rough times,” she said in her silky, smooth voice.

  “It’s been a strange week so far. So I came here.” I stopped. I wasn’t sure how to phrase it.

  “I know why you are here. You would like audience with the Gods.”

  “How did you know?”

  She tilted her head to the side and smiled. “We know almost everything. Almost. We will meet with you, but it won’t be until later tonight.”

  “Tonight? I can’t wait until tonight.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Would you like me to cancel your request?”

  I’d never even made an official request. “No. I’ll keep the meeting.” I was stuck. I was already here and I didn’t have any scheduled meetings or priorities, so I stayed in the Deep Burrow.

  I decided to take a walk in the forest. The verdant grass faded into a reddish-brown dirt as I entered and slid a big branch off the path with my foot. I crushed the fallen rusty orange and red leaves as I encountered a vaporous mist that hid the ancient trees in the distance. The woody incense was thicker today, and I plunged further into the mystical woods.

  Crickets and flies as big as my fist buzzed around the twisted tree branches that swept the ground and touched the sky. I walked through the main trail as the mist started to dissipate, and heard an angry hissing coming from ahead.

  In a small clearing, a bunch of snotlings had a peryton surrounded against the huge trunk of an oak tree. I counted more than fifty of the little creatures that came up to my waist as I approached them from behind.

  As I neared the tiny, goblin-type green creatures, I realized they had the peryton, Redridge, cornered. I didn’t know what was going on, so I stepped in to help. I screamed. Nothing in particular, just a shout to get their attention. The snotlings spun around, top lips raised and fangs out. They extended their razor-sharp claws and hissed at me to stay away.

  A shriek from a thunderbird came from the sky and scared the snotlings, who scattered off in different directions into the woods. Redridge walked majestically toward me and lowered his head. He softly rubbed his rack on my leg as a gesture of thanks. I petted the back of his neck and we went for a walk through the forest.

  The peryton was a hybrid of a stag and an eagle. He had the head, neck and rack of a twelve-point stag, but his body blended into an enormous eagle with red feathers starting at the shoulder, bleeding into purple in the middle before turning bright blue at the tip of the wing. Tri-colored wings. He had a bright red collar and I still marveled at the majestic animal every time I planted my eyes on him.

  We came back out of the main entrance to the woods. The Druids were running around getting ready for Samhain so nobody had time to chat. Redridge and I laid down in one of the valleys of the green pasture.

  I fell asleep and had some wild dreams, actually nightmares of demons chasing after me. They were catching up. Slowly. My run downshifted to a jog, then a walk. They had gotten to me, clutching, grabbing, clawing at my skin. Dante was correct.

  Redridge poked me with his antlers and I woke up from the nightmare in darkness. I sat up with sweat clinging to my body and saw the peryton and Blodeuwedd in owl form. The owl flapped her wings and rose into the dusky sky.

  Redridge lowered his body and let me get on. I could feel his warmth and powerful muscles. I clutched the base of his wings. The mythical animal used his two eagle feet to build up speed and almost threw me off from his awkward running. He beat his wings and we rose off the ground, teetered a bit, but the powerful animal quickly straightened out our flight. We followed Blodeuwedd in owl form through the pulsing electric roots and into stark darkness.

  We reached the tell-tale dizzying speed with my body feeling like it was being twisted and pulled in every direction. We hurtled toward the vortex and smashed into it. The entrance tunnel thrashed us around and I closed my eyes to ward off the bright blue lights.

  We mercifully came to a stop before I threw up. I opened my eyes and noticed the vibrant rosebuds in the darkness. I followed Redridge, who normally didn’t pass through the vortex, and Blodeuwedd in human form up the Valley of the Gods with two mountains on either side. She led me into one of the many audience chambers that had been dug out of the bases of both mountains.

  A huge open room had been carved out of the mountainside with wall torches and fires beneath cauldrons illuminating the area. Seven round stone tables with wooden chairs around them were scattered about the room.

  Cerridwen, her wild, dark curls slithering around like snakes always made me uneasy. She attended to the three burning cauldrons on the right-hand side of the room and I noticed intricate nature scenes had been carved into the wall behind her.

  The Goddess of Poetic Inspiration, Rebirth and Transformation wore a loose red dress that barely covered her chest but swept the ground as she danced from cauldron to cauldron, stirring the ingredients with a huge wooden spoon. The aroma of pumpkins, cinnamon and squash filled the room as her golden bracelets rattled from the stirring.

  I noticed two other Gods and Alayna, who wouldn’t even make eye contact with me. I assumed she was here to eavesdrop on the conversation. Blodeuwedd sat down at a table with Cernunnos and The Dahgdha. Small crowd today.

  “We hear you’ve seen one of our own.” The Dahgdha said in a serious tone. The God of Wisdom and Power wore a hooded cloak, the hood seemed to f
loat around his head, leaving his short red hair visible. He puffed on a pine pipe as the smoke that smelled like spicy cloves danced around his freckled cheeks and icy blue eyes. The aroma mingled harmoniously with the one coming from the cauldrons. The Dahgdha spoke in a soft voice, a stark contrast from his muscular body.

  I tried to explain what happened. “Indeed. The demons lured him out of Clara Spiritus somehow and kidnapped him. Now I think the demons are going to use him for this G20 murder plot. They have him and one of my friends from a group I’m in.”

  “Stacy Redbok. We know.” Cernunnos said, as he threw some sunflower seeds toward the baby birds in his massive beard that hung to his belly. The Lord of the Wild Things had horns coming from the top of his head, wild dark hair, and a beard streaked with gray that housed several tiny birds that he continually fed seeds to.

  The Gods spoke with slight English accents, but they adapted to any audience concerning the content of the conversation and the vernacular.

  I said, “What do you know about the Jersey Devil? I guess you already know about the deal he’s trying to make with me.”

  The Dahgdha quickly answered, “Real name, Montidoro. He went to the earth’s surface to cause trouble as a young man in the 1850’s. That’s where he developed his nickname. Rumor has it that his father pushed the moniker because their names were too similar. What else? Demi-devil. Mother, a dragon. Father, Montidore, one of the thirteen devils in the Red Cavern. He’s tried a few acts on the earth’s surface but nothing of this magnitude. He’s a master shifter and one of the strongest demons the Red Cavern has to offer. I know nothing of any deal he has offered you.”

  Cernunnos spoke in his booming tone, “That is where the details become blurred. What deal have you been offered?”