The Devil's Been Busy

by J. D. Blackrose

  “How? By whom?”

  “By you. I have a proposition for you, Jess.”

  “How do you know my name? And what proposition?”

  “First, we’ll help your friend. Then, I’m going to offer you a job. My name is Father Paul.”

  “Nice to meet you, sort of. What kind of job? Who was that guy? Why was there a vampire, a vampire, by all that’s holy, after me?”

  Father Paul took the stairs, stopping before me with his hands still out. “I will explain everything, but suffice to say, you have some unique skills that we look for in our employees.”

  I looked at Sister Mary. “This seems to be a Catholic thing. You know I’m Jewish, right?”

  Sister Mary shrugged. “We all bat for the same team.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I often dreamt about that first experience, where Liam lost all he’d ever wanted and I found my calling. Now, as I dozed in our hammock out back, enjoying the feel of the breeze, I relived it again.

  I became a monster hunter, and Liam learned the rules of living as a monitored vampire. He left for a while, heading down to southeast Ohio, where he could take night courses at Ohio University. I didn’t know what he told his mother because that was the one subject he never spoke about, and any time I’d tried, he’d held out his hand in a warning, and I knew not to push.

  He got a master’s degree in computer science by taking night and online classes, but had no way to use them in any ordinary company. So, he was hired as my partner, and we put his computer skills to use for the good guys. He learned how to take blood in sips and how to get bagged blood on the black market. He also learned a couple of neato tricks, like changing his clothes with a little shimmy. I had the feeling he was more capable and powerful than I knew, but that was okay with me. He was still my friend.

  I married Nathaniel, and we had a night wedding so Liam could attend. My old high school friends wanted to know who the super-cute guy was and if I would set them up on a date. I lied and said he didn’t swing that way, which pissed him off to no end. It got a little more tangled when my friends passed that news on and a few guys asked me to introduce them to my mysterious friend. I blurted out that he was involved with someone, thinking that would stop this, but it was a total turn-on for some of the men.

  I’d gone over this in my mind a hundred thousand ways, trying to figure out how I could have stopped it. I never found an answer, and eventually, I stopped trying. What was, was.

  I shook myself out of my reverie and returned to the present. My neck was cold since I cut my hair.

  I’d walked into the salon, and my hairdresser melted into hysterics, but after she calmed down, she figured out a solution, and I didn’t think it looked bad at all. My husband preferred it long, but it’s my hair, and I control my body.

  Speaking of Devi, my messy-headed mini-me, she jumped so hard on the hammock that I only managed to escape flipping by sheer luck.

  “Honey, what is it?”

  “Can we keep him? Can we keep him?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She tugged at my hand. “Come, Mommy. Look. Isn’t he beautiful?”

  I followed her to the far back of the yard. We owned a full acre, and the back part was wooded. I stopped in my tracks, and Devi jumped up and down in excitement. “He says we can call him Blaze, Mommy! Isn’t that a great name? He says we can be friends.”

  Blaze, the phoenix, was wrapping twigs, branches, and something that looked like Christmas lights into a huge nest that sat on the ground underneath our largest tree, a cottonwood that I sort of hated because it turned my yard into a white, allergy-inducing mess every spring. James and Jack, over for a playdate with David, stood next to Devi, eyes wide. Even Jack recognized that this was the biggest parrot, or ostrich, or emu, he’d ever seen. No glamour would work on the two of them now. The veil was drawn.

  Before I could stop him, Daniel snuck up behind me and ran past, his arms out wide to hug the big bird. Blaze wrapped him in his wings and nuzzled him on the head. I walked over.

  “Staying awhile?”

  I like it here. There is good work to be done. I think I can help.

  “Your language is better. You’re using sentences.”

  I’m a fast learner. Are you okay with me staying?

  “I’m not going to argue. Glad to have you aboard. I’ll have to introduce you to Liam, my vampire assistant.”

  You work with a vampire?

  “It’s a long story, but yes. He’s got a great fashion sense and is good when the chips are down.”

  I don’t understand that phrase.

  “He’s loyal.”

  Ah. That I understand.

  I sensed a sadness in him that I wanted to ask him about, but it felt rude. “I’m warning you, the kids may want rides.”

  Phoenixes don’t do parties. We aren’t ponies. He drew up to his full height.

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Life had gotten even more absurd.

  You cut your feathers.

  It took me a second. “Oh, my hair. Yes, it needed to be done since I’d hacked at it with a piece of glass.”

  Only defeated warriors cut their feathers.

  “Human hair is a little more complicated.”

  Devi came running, having gotten Nathaniel from the kitchen. “This is Blaze, Daddy. Isn’t he awesome?”

  Nathaniel was flabbergasted for a second, but he was skilled at making huge mental adjustments, and he went with it. “Hey, man. Nice nest.”

  Blaze settled in and preened his feathers.

  “Do you need anything?” Nathaniel asked. Blaze shook his head no.

  “Okay-d’okay then. I’ve got steaks to get on the grill. You sure you don’t want one? I’ve got extra.”

  Devi spoke up. “He says that’d be great, Dad. He’s never eaten cooked meat.”

  “Interesting. Well then, I’ll cook his rare. See you back at the house.”

  And there we were, a half-hour later, eating steaks, baked potatoes, and green beans on the deck, just me, my kids, Angie’s boys, my husband, and a phoenix. Liam was coming over for dessert. It felt normal. After dinner, I watched Blaze play with the kids. He was gentle, kept an eye on all of them, and they loved it when he wrapped them in his wings. He was also a damn good soccer player.

  Maybe I didn’t need to be afraid of babysitters anymore.

  Runaway

  Chapter One

  “Mom, I need to talk to you.”

  I was chopping veggies for our salad, but I set my knife down, turned, and regarded my eldest child, David, age eight. My husband, Nathaniel, placed the spice rub for the chicken to the side and turned as well. I brushed my hair out of my eyes, and Nathaniel pulled out a chair.

  “Okay, lay it on me,” I said. “If it is about the experiment you did in your room, that’s okay since nothing died. The smell was a little obnoxious, but we like your curiosity.”

  “It’s not about that, Mom, but thanks for the understanding.”

  “Okay, then what is it? Is something wrong?”

  “Mom, come sit down.” David pulled out another chair and patted the seat.

  Nathaniel chewed his bottom lip. Devi, our five-year-old daughter, put her Legos away. Even Daniel, the three-year-old, toddled to his room to play with toys by himself. I picked my cuticles, forcing myself to take deeper breaths. I was almost hyperventilating.

  What could it be? Age eight seemed young for girl stuff, or boy stuff, we didn’t know who he might like yet. Sex stuff.

  “Are you in some kind of trouble, honey?” I asked.

  David shook his head. “No, Mom, nothing like that, but I do have a favor to ask.”

  “What is it? Tell me. I’m dying here.”

  “Would you chaperone our field trip the day after tomorrow? We’re going to the Museum of Peoples and Culture. Matt’s mom had to bail at the last minute because the baby is due and she’s having, what do you call them? Confractions. So, we are down a chaperone, a
nd they may not let us go if we don’t have at least three parents. Plleeeeeaaasse. You’ve never gone on a class trip with us.”

  Nathaniel let out a whoosh of breath, clapped his hands, replaced the chair, and went back to the chicken. “You should think about it, honey,” he said to me.

  There was a reason I’d never gone on a class field trip. I love my children, but the thought of being on a bus with thirty fourth graders, and their teacher, and other moms made me break out in flop sweat. I would rather face down a troupe of goblins, or bargain with sasquatches, or even home a baby gowrow, if I had enough apples. I’d heard two babies were born recently, but I think they got a place to house them.

  I was a Monster Hunter, and the mother of three children, David, Devi and Daniel, and I knew chaperoning would be like hell. Correction. In my line of work, we had to be careful of using words “like hell” because one never knew if we meant the literal Hell or were making an analogy. In this case, I wasn’t sure which this would be.

  “Let me think about it, David.” Nathaniel shot me a look which meant, “Really?” I avoided his eyes. What did I have planned for the day after tomorrow? I checked my phone. Nothing. Training with Ovid, but that could be rescheduled. I stood, hip out and casual, thumbing through my phone, ostensibly looking at the calendar, but inside my mind was flailing for a way to get out of this.

  “I’m going to place a call,” I said. “Nathaniel, can you carry on with dinner?” My husband rolled his eyes to the heavens, but nodded.

  Speaking of the heavens, I decided this crisis was worthy of spiritual advice, so I placed that call, then hopped into the minivan and drove where I always did when in a quandary.

  Rabbi Stein knew about my monster hunting and that I worked for the Church as a Knight Templar of some sort, and he approved since I was ridding the world of evil and working for the big G. As he said, “We’re all on the same team.”

  “Rabbi?” I knocked on his office door. His secretary was already gone for the day.

  “Jess?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Of course, for you? Always. Come in.” Rabbi Stein’s voice was strong despite his years. He lived with back pain and had gotten too thin. He needed to eat. Of course, Jewish mothers always say that about everyone. Our answer to any problem, big or small, was food. Someone died? Bring a lasagna to the family. Someone born? Bring a casserole. Someone was ill? Make chicken soup. Someone broke a leg? Cake.

  “Next time I visit, I’m bringing some homemade schnitzel. You’ve lost weight.”

  “Will you make it the real way, with veal?” he asked.

  “No. I don’t eat veal on moral grounds. I’ll make it from chicken breast.”

  He dismissed the offer with a wave of his hand. “Ach.”

  “I make very good chicken schnitzel, Rabbi. I promise you will like it.”

  He lowered himself to his chair, and I ignored the wince he made halfway down. He looked at me from half-lidded eyes and pointed to me with his wire glasses.

  “You pound it nice and thin? It must be tender or it’s no good.”

  “I pound it nice and thin.”

  “And not too much oil. Just enough, no more. You know how to do it just enough?”

  “I do. Rabbi, I’ve been making schnitzel my whole life.”

  “You’ll make it with salt? It needs salt. Don’t go whining to me about watching my salt intake.”

  “What’s schnitzel without salt?” I asked, my palms up.

  He stared at me for another moment. “Okay, maybe I’ll try it, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  It may have taken twenty minutes of intense negotiation, but I had won round one. I texted Nathaniel to remind me to make the schnitzel.

  Having reached détente on the great Schnitzel War, I told Rabbi Stein what David had asked.

  “I fail to see why this is such a hard request, Jess. It’s one field trip. I’d go with him if I could walk that much.”

  “It means I have to interact with people, Rabbi, and not just any people.”

  “What do you mean, Jess? I don’t understand. Who are the people you are so scared of?”

  I tucked my head, refusing to look at him. “Moms.”

  He leaned forward. “What? You’re afraid of the other mothers?”

  “I’m not afraid, Rabbi. I’m not afraid of anything.” He made some movement with his hands to acknowledge my bravery in battle. I think he may have also rolled his eyes.

  “I’m not comfortable around the other moms because they are so perfect, and poised, and always know what to say. I don’t fit in.”

  The Rabbi gave me a hard look. “Jess, you sound like a seventh grader. Grow up and go with your kid to the museum. You’ll both treasure the memory. It’s a museum for goodness’ sake. What could go wrong?”

  In truth, it did go well for the first thirty minutes or so. The children were loud on the bus but didn’t misbehave. I sat in a middle seat to “keep an eye on the kids,” so that kept me from having to make conversation with the moms and the fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Butler, and there was little traffic. I began to think this might be fun after all.

  The Museum of People and Cultures was on the beautiful Wade Oval, near the Museum of Natural History and the Botanical Gardens. It was a lovely, sunny day, with blue skies and a pleasant temperature. I had a feeling it was all going to be okay.

  My grandmother used to say, “Man plans, and God laughs.”

  He must have had a real knee-slapper of a day.

  Chapter Two

  We started the tour with a discussion of modern technology, and then the plan was to go way back in time to the famous Lucy exhibit, which presented information about our closest ancestor on the evolutionary tree. Donald Johanson, a paleontologist at the next-door Cleveland Museum of Natural History, was one of the team that uncovered Lucy, and her skeleton was originally studied at the museum before being shipped back to Ethiopia. Now, both museums had a model of her and an extensive exhibit to explain her importance.

  We were lucky because a Japanese academic from University of Tokyo, Professor Noyoko, was giving the tour herself.

  I would have been excited, but I’d already pissed off Mrs. Butler by giving some of the boys chewing gum. “We do not allow chewing gum in class, Mrs. Friedman! And we certainly don’t allow it in the Museum!”

  She said Museum with a capital M. I heard it. Having nowhere to dispose of the gum, I gestured for each kid to spit the gum into my hand. I only realized that I’d messed up yet again when Mrs. Butler’s mouth curled in distaste.

  “What?” I’d asked. “You said they couldn’t chew it.” She shook her head and strode away while I was left wondering what I should have done. I thought about it for a moment, got nowhere, and carried on. Social proprieties were sometimes a conundrum. I preferred straightforward monster hunting. At least you knew where monsters were coming from.

  I held a palm full of partially chewed gum and boy spit, so I was relieved when Mrs. Butler suggested that we take a water break. The kids broke out their water bottles or proceeded to the nearby water fountain. I headed toward the ladies’ room to throw away the gum and wash my hands.

  I felt someone behind me and glanced in the mirror to see that Professor Noyoko had followed me to the restroom. I was going to thank her for taking the time to give a fourth-grade class a tour when a fox tail sprung out nowhere from under her skirt.

  Actually, what there were seven tails. Seven bushy, reddish fox tails. I whirled to look at her and caught her staring at me. Her eyes were dark pin-points, and she twitched her nose the way a dog does when it smells something good to eat. She released a musky scent that reminded me of something from my back yard.

  “Hey,” I said, because I’m a dunce sometimes and that was all I could think of. “You’re a fox person? A person fox? A werefox. No, that’s not right.” I smacked my palm to my forehead. “I know! You’re…you’re, what do they call it?”

&nb
sp; Noyoko let out a bark, and the pieces fell into place. A Japanese fox spirit. A kitsune, and it was inhabiting Professor Noyoko’s body.

  I reached for the fox, but she ran out before I could get a good grip. I did manage to catch the tip of one tail with my hand before she pulled free, which meant she ran off with a huge gob of pre-chewed gum stuck in her fur. That was going to take a lot of peanut better to get out.

  I exited, walking as fast as possible without going so fast as to raise suspicion. Yup, here I am, a mom on a field trip, nothing to worry about. I’m trying to find the class, not a fox spirit that is inhabiting a visiting Japanese professor. These are not the droids you’re looking for.

  Ironically, finding the class was how I found the kitsune, now firmly in human form. Professor Noyoko’s body had fled to the Lucy exhibit and established itself in front of the children, in tour guide form, where she sent me a smile of triumph, trusting that I wasn’t going to call her out in front of the kids. I hung in the back, trying to decide what to do about our crafty, four-footed spirit friend and why it had revealed itself to me.

  We were halfway through the Lucy exhibit when one of the boys, a troublemaker if ever there was one, decided it would be funny to torture the tour guide in the only way he knew how. I realized what was happening too late.

  “Shhhhh...watch...”

  “Ronnie, you can’t do that,” came a stage whisper back. “You’ll get suspended.”

  “Yeah, yeah I can. Look, she happened to get caught on a tree branch…” Ronnie, being quite clever although obnoxious, leaned against a fake tree centered in the exhibit meant to show that Australopithecus was partially-tree dwelling. He let it pop back up and with the innate precision of an eight-year-old boy making mischief, and caught Noyoko’s skirt with a branch so that the skirt flicked up and everyone could see her underwear, or in this case, seven reddish-brown fox tails. The kids stared open-mouthed. One girl asked, “Hey, are you into cosplay? Is that an animé character? Which one?”