The Devil's Been Busy

by J. D. Blackrose

  “That’s very nice of you. We’ll set up a plaque in your honor.”

  I waved that away. “Not needed. They earned it, and they were so cute when they lined up for cheese. They reminded me of kindergartners lining up for…”

  I smacked my hand on my thigh. “Dammit!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I checked my watch. Oh no. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I was so screwed. Forgetting about the wreckage behind me, I humped it down the trail, skimming the wooden walkway, and dashed to my car.

  Something felt off. Right. I’d lost a boot. I loved the boots, but too late now. I grabbed a flip-flop from the back of the mini-van, revved the engine, and flew down 480, praying a cop didn’t stop me.

  I rounded my exit and squealed to a stop at the grocery store, vaulting out of the car to rush into the entrance. My hair stood on end on the left and was squashed flat on the right. My clothes were covered in mud, manure, cantaloupe, nectar, and blood, and the unholy mess dried into a dust that migrated from my torso and legs to the floor, in a sifting, floating Pig-Pen like cloud. My boot tracked in an astounding amount of smelly, reeking brown muck, my flip-flop a jarring pink accent. Focused on my task as I was, I didn’t notice all of this until later and missed the employee picking up the phone to call the police.

  Skidding to a stop in the correct aisle, I locked onto my target and filled my arms, clomp-sliding toward the self-checkout.

  Two newly arrived cops stopped me before I could reach the checkout aisle.

  “Ma’am, you are creating a disturbance, not to mention a health hazard, and I’ve been asked to…” said one.

  He got no further. I shook my head and snarled, sending a cloud of wet gorilla stink toward the unsuspecting officer. His eyes went wide, and he jumped back.

  “You, by any chance, weren’t involved in that ruckus at the zoo, were you?” the second cop asked, talking softly to me, like I might blow at any second.

  I stared them down and answered with a simple, “Yes. That was me.”

  The officers stood aside, gestured to the door, and the first one said, “Please be on your way. I’ll pay for your groceries.”

  Pleased but surprised, I replied with a prim, “Why, thank you.” I gazed at the staring customers, most with phones in their hands, and my face reddened underneath the guck.

  As I rushed toward the door, one officer said, “I guess she really loves Cheetos.”

  “Maybe they’re good gorilla-fighting food?”

  “I’m not asking.”

  “Me neither.”

  I hurried to the school, zipping into a “pick-up only” parking spot and flashed my parent badge at the startled security guard. I carried my prize in blue plastic bags in my hands, and I clutched those bags like winning lottery tickets as I shuffled, boot…flip flop…boot, to the kindergarten. I stopped for a moment to smooth my hair, straightened my shoulders, and rapped a polite knock on the door. It opened, and the kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Chen, said, “Oh, Mrs. Friedman….” She trailed off when she got a look at me. “What happened to you?”

  “I fell.”

  “Into what?”

  “Trash compacter. Very long story, very Star Wars, no time for it now. Don’t the kids want snack?” I held up my blue bags.

  “Well, Mrs. Friedman, we thought you forgot about snack…”

  “Oh no. I would never forget snack,” I said, brushing past the blinking woman, whose eyes were watering from the stench.

  “Hi, Mommy!” Devi jumped up and waved her hands in the air. She couldn’t care less what I looked or smelled like. It warmed my heart.

  “Hey, Devi. I brought snack.” I held up the bags.

  “Cheetos!” the kids chorused, leaping to their feet, fighting to be the first at the sink to wash his or her hands and get a snack mat.

  Another mother, dressed in stylish jeans, a peach cotton sweater, Gucci floral-embroidered sneakers, and a delicate gold necklace and earring set, stood there, mouth open in an “O.” She held a platter of cut carrots, celery, and cucumbers, accompanied by healthful whole-grain crackers and hummus.

  Mrs. Chen cleared her throat. “Since we thought you forgot, Mrs. Friedman, I asked Amanda’s mom to bring in an alternative. We do prefer healthy snacks for our growing children.”

  I gave her a sideways glance, opened each bag of Cheetos, and placed them in the middle of the three tables where the kids bounced up and down in their chairs, waiting for their treat. “Yay!” they all yelled and dug into the bags, Cheetos flying everywhere as they smashed handfuls in their mouths, joyfully rubbing their orange-stained hands on their shirts.

  I shot Mrs. Chen and Mrs. Perfect a look, tried to toss my hair, and strolled out, head held high. Ha. I win.

  Later, at dinner, Devi regaled us with the story of my arrival and how her friends told her she had a cool mom since I let her eat processed orange powder inflated with air. I reveled in my hero status and got a wink from Nathaniel for a job well done.

  I was content, aching a bit, but content that justice had been served. That teacher and fancy-pants mom had gotten what they deserved.

  As for the were-gorilla, he’d gotten what he deserved, too, although I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. Being made fun of is damaging, and it sounded like his parents didn’t respect him or what he wanted. Nevertheless, he paid for his mistakes with his life.

  Only later, clean and snuggled in bed with Nathaniel, the kids asleep, did this thought occur to me. If Alupo bit a gorilla and he changed into a gorilla-man, what would happen to the wolves who bit into him and may have eaten his flesh?

  Ah, shit.

  I got out of bed and did ten pushups, followed by as many more as I could knock out, paying penance for the swearing of the day. I wasn’t going to get any more sleep, so I called Liam and asked if we could chat.

  “Now? Why?” he said.

  “Because I’m afraid things are going to get busy.”

  “Will you warm up my bagged blood in the microwave and let me have whipped cream with it?”

  “Whatever you want, Liam.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  After the Goatee/Curt fiasco, I was certain we were done with threats. Liam and I started seeing each other outside of Starbucks and became friends. He wanted it to be more, but I didn’t. I didn’t love him that way, and I’d met this guy named Nathaniel, yes, Jewish, and I was thinking he might be the one. Liam settled in with it.

  At my urging, he got some help with his wardrobe, started working with a trainer, and before I knew it, I’d created a monster.

  “That’s a natty jacket, Liam.”

  “You like? I thought it went well with the wing-tips. Now that I’ve built up a little muscle, I fill it out.”

  “You are aware that we are going to watch a basketball game at a bar?”

  “One has to look one’s best, Jess. You taught me that, and it’s worked out well so far. I got the job, right?”

  “Yes.” I smiled. “Congratulations again.”

  Liam had busted his butt and graduated early, applying for and winning a job in the IT department of Sherwin Williams, one of the biggest local employers, and well-known for good pay and advancing from within. This was a whole new start for him.

  “I’m getting that apartment in Beachwood,” he said. “Moving my mom in with me, too. I want her to be worry-free for the first time in her life. Now, I get to take care of her.”

  It was those statements that made me glad I’d arm-locked him months ago.

  The bar was full of Cavalier fans wearing burgundy and gold, watching the TVs while they threw back drafts, or for the more finicky, a bottle of Eliot Ness, an amber lager made by the Great Lakes Brewing Company. A few folks got a little fancy with Yuengling, which made me laugh because my mom remembered when Yuengling was the draft beer she bought for a dollar.

  “Can I get you a drink, Jess?” Liam asked, as he headed to the bar. Now that he was gainfully employed, he was always generous and bought the firs
t round, especially since I was still on student status and getting worried about the future. My dad may have been a jerk at times, but he wasn’t wrong about not being employable. No one cared that I could read Latin, Hebrew, Greek, and a little Arabic, or that I knew that accidental drowning was a common cause of death in Medieval England, or even that Lerna, the ancient city that was supposed to house the mythological Hydra was considered a sacred site and an entrance to the Underworld. I thought this was fascinating, but outside of trivia researcher for Jeopardy, I could think of no jobs for which I was qualified.

  “I got you a Yuengling,” Liam said, coming up behind me. He held a draft beer, which was already half-way gone.

  “Thanks. Looks like the Cavs are on fire tonight.”

  “The Cavs are good for Cleveland’s economy.”

  “Always thinking money.”

  “When you don’t have any, money is important, Jess. You grew up comfortable, in a nice neighborhood, with both parents. I didn’t.”

  “I know, and that is why I am so proud of you for what you’ve done to live your dream.” We clinked, bottle to glass. He pivoted to watch the game.

  I faced the TV screens, too, but froze when it started. A feeling crawled over me, a foreboding that crept like a shadow stealing across the street at that time of day when the temperature drops and the cold seeps into your bones. My skin tingled, and the hair on my arms stood up, and my first thought was, death is near.

  Whoa. That was a strange thought, but it stayed with me through the half-time. My heartrate sped up, and I became hyper aware of everything around me. The water ring on the table. The scraping of chairs on the scarred wooden floor. The man next to me yelling, “C’mon LeBron.” I could even the smell his date’s perfume. I concentrated on that scent and realized I could go deeper. I could smell her sweat and sense her annoyance at her boyfriend for paying more attention to the game than her. Her antiperspirant smelled faintly of lavender.

  A weight settled on my shoulders, urging me to sleep, to forget, to let my eyes close and relax. It whispered that everything was fine and that I was safe, Liam was safe, and nothing mattered except getting rest. The feeling was hypnotizing, and I almost capitulated, but one niggling thing in the back of my brain kept me from letting go. Who was Death, and why should Death care about me? I resisted the feeling, the alarm bells in my brain blaring louder until I was self-aware again.

  The itchy, prickling feeling continued to travel across my body, and I knew eyes examined me, dark eyes, frightening eyes, eyes that no one should see in the dim light. I sat stock still, eyes on the round table in front of me, the din of the bar receding while my subconscious searched for what stalked me. The feeling worsened as the stalker’s focus concentrated on the back of my neck, trying to wiggle not just on me, but in me, trying to get to my brain to trigger that primordial terror that assails us in the deepest night. Death is near.

  I refused to let it in. Statue still, I fought so hard I soaked my shirt with sweat, and I gasped for breath.

  “Jess, what’s wrong?” Liam asked, shaking my shoulder. “You’re pale and sweating. Are you getting sick?”

  I shook my head but didn’t say anything. I was afraid to move, like a rabbit caught in headlights, and I knew, just knew, that going out into the night was a mistake, that staying in the bar provided relative safety.

  “Could you get me some water?” I croaked. Liam, brows furrowed in concern, elbowed his way to the bar to fulfill my request. As soon as he left, the feeling went away, but that didn’t provide any relief, for I realized that the stalker’s attention had moved to Liam.

  The game ended, and the revelers left, some tipsy, some drunk, one throwing up, and others elated that the Cavs won in overtime. I still sat at the table, not moving.

  “Jess. Jess. I’m worried. What’s going on?” Liam shook my shoulder.

  I jumped up, grabbed his hand, and tugged. “Let’s go while the crowds are still here. We shouldn’t be alone.” I pulled him out of the bar and pushed my way into a larger group of people walking down the street to the CSU campus.

  “Jess! Talk to me! You’re acting spooky.” Liam yanked his arm back, forcing me to turn to face him.

  “Holy Jesus, Jess. Sorry. Holy Moses, Jess. Your skin is white. You have no color at all. I’m taking you to the emergency room.”

  I cast my eyes in every direction, trying to identify what scared me. “Do you feel anything out of the ordinary, Liam?”

  “No, what do you mean?”

  “Like someone’s watching us?”

  “If they’re watching, it’s only because they admire my jacket and are jealous they don’t have one like it. Or, maybe it’s the biceps and pecs in the jacket. That would be nice.” He waggled his eyebrows up and down like Groucho Marx and posed like a runway model.

  I didn’t scream when hands grabbed my friend by both shoulders and pulled him into the alley behind us. I didn’t scream, but I did dump my bag, grab my car keys, and my hatchet and run in after him. After all the buildup, a part of me was relieved the danger decided to appear. Action is better than inaction any day of the week.

  I ran a few steps and then stopped, realizing that I had no idea what was happening, and moving forward at breakneck speed would only get me killed. I stepped backward and hugged the alley’s brick wall, a lump in my throat, a chill consuming my body so that I trembled in the night. My unease settled in my stomach, and the churning acid gave me a metallic taste in my mouth.

  One step. Listen. Another step. Listen. Breathe in, scent the air. Hair gel, aftershave…blood and panic. My breath was shallow as I focused on the Thing, for by now I knew it was a Thing, before me, holding my friend. I pressed a button on my key chain where I had a mini-flashlight, raised my hatchet, and…

  Stopped dead.

  The skinniest man I’d ever seen held Liam in his arms. His skin was bone white and contrasted with his black shirt, pants, and tie. He cheekbones stood out in sharp relief from the rest of his face, while his hooked nose and protruding browbone loomed large over his mouth and chin.

  Liam was unconscious now, draped over the man’s leg while the man…drank…from Liam’s neck. Standing next to the skinny man, oh, hell, call him what he was, a vampire, were Goatee and Curt, somehow managing to look smug and revolted at the same time.

  “I told you we weren’t done with you,” Goatee said. “You think you can embarrass me and get away with it? This dude’s scarier and tougher than you and I put together, and I’m working for him.” He let out a fake sigh. “Guess that makes you and Ginger here his target.”

  I ignored the human threat and leapt forward, slashing with my hatchet. I caught the corner of the vampire’s trench coat, missing because he moved like lightning. I swung again and missed, the vampire far faster than I, leaving me with only a swish of sound to go by.

  Goatee and Curt started at the vampire’s speed and shuffled back. I shot them a look to tell them that I wouldn’t forget this, and listened for Liam’s breath, or his heartbeat, or anything to tell me he was alive.

  “Hunter.” The voice was skeletal, creaky, almost inaudible.

  “Are you talking to me? Why do you call me that?”

  The voice moved, and I slashed in the new direction, but missed again. The voice hissed. “Because it is what you are, even if you don’t know it yet.”

  “Whatever, dude. Drop my friend and vamoose. I’m not afraid of you.”

  “I can tell, and you fought well in the bar. That’s when I decided not to harm you, but to deprive you of your friend. You care for him.”

  “Yes, I do. What is it you want?”

  “I want,” whispered the vampire, his voice coming from everywhere at once, “for you to remember me.” Then, a nauseating ripping sound tore through the air, and I cast my flashlight back and forth, looking for the creature and Liam. I didn’t see them until I looked up at the fire escape. The vampire was three stories up, still holding Liam like a rag doll.

  Bu
t now, he was dripping blood from his right wrist into my friend’s mouth. I bounded up the fire escape while the vampire was poisoning my friend and slashed again, aiming for the vampire’s right arm. I connected at the shoulder, using as much force as I could.

  The vampire’s arm landed on fire escape with a wet plop, and the vampire screamed and jumped, to where I could not tell, leaving my friend with vampire bites on his neck and vampire blood in his mouth. I turned him to the side to dump as much of the blood out as possible, but he gurgled, and I realized that there was already too much in his stomach and throat. If the tales of vampires were true, then my kind, gentle friend was about to become a monster.

  That was the night Liam lost everything. I cried as I held him in my arms, not able to make sense of what had happened. Goatee muttered, “Holy shit,” and ran off, Curt close on his heels. I sobbed.

  A voice said, “Wow, you severed his arm at the shoulder? I don’t think he can regenerate that. Can he, Mary?”

  A female voice said, “No, I don’t think so. Maybe. It would take a whopping amount of powerful blood to make that happen. I think that vamp is the unhappiest vamp we have in Ohio.” She paused and then said, “hands down.” Her male companion groaned.

  “Hello! Who’s there? My friend needs help!”

  A man wearing a clerical collar with jeans, work boots, and a flannel shirt, held his hands out in a gesture of peace. The woman beside him wore a long skirt, a droopy long shirt, and a cross the size of a McDonald’s hamburger.

  The man spoke. “I’m afraid it is too late for your friend. He’s going to rise.”

  “You mean, he’s a vampire now? There’s no such thing!”

  “You don’t believe that. You can’t ignore what you saw.”

  “Well, I’m not letting you behead him, or whatever it is you want to do.” I grasped Liam tight to my chest.

  The priest sighed. “It would be a blessing for him, but I understand. Let me help you bring him down. We’ll do what we can, but he will have to be monitored. If he breaks any rules, even once, he’ll be destroyed.”