I entered the main dining area to find Officer Bob grinning from ear-to-ear. “Nice job,” he said.
“Why didn’t you help me?” I held my arms out in disbelief that he was enjoying this.
“You said leave it to you,” he said, holding his fist to his face, as laughter tears welled in the corner of his eyes, sniffling to avoid breaking into hysterics. He half-way succeeded, biting his lip and doubling over making muffled choking noises.
I ignored him. He wasn’t worth my time. I looked up and realized one thing.
I had forgotten about the people.
The dining area was a still frame, with dozens upon dozens of people, including parents and teachers standing in front of their children with their arms stretched wide in protective stances, staring at me. I reached over to a condiment stand, pinched a napkin out of the dispenser with one index finger and thumb, and wiped my hands and face. I smoothed my hair and hobbled out of the dining room, head held high. Bob shuffled behind me, taking time to stop and calm Gary, promising to write a report and send an inspector.
“How do you always manage to lose a shoe and get sticky stuff in your hair?” asked Officer Bob, once he’d gotten his chill back.
“Just a gift,” I said, still miffed that he hadn’t helped me. I cradled the egg so that it wouldn’t break. We’d never get another one without leaving the museum, and I had a school bus to catch at three p.m. I placed the egg next to the Buddha. “Watch the egg, big guy, okay?” Buddha was in full-on Zen and didn’t reply.
“What’s next on the list?” he asked.
“A Japanese cherry blossom.”
“Is it cherry blossom season?” he asked.
“Not even close, and I don’t think they grow here. It’s too cold.”
“Well, maybe a twig?”
I shrugged.
Officer Bob thought for a minute. “If you can manage to stay out of trouble for a moment, I’ll go over to the Botanical Gardens and see if I can find one.”
“What if I come with you?”
He looked me up and down. “Dear God, no. Please don’t.”
“Fine,” I said, giving him the cold shoulder. “I’ll look for volcanic ash. They have a Pompeii exhibit somewhere, don’t they?”
“Not in the Asian center.”
“Obviously not. I bet I know more about Pompeii than you do.”
“Big volcano erupted, covering town in ash. Everyone died.”
“That sums it up, but it doesn’t convey the drama of the event, and no, not everyone died. A lot of the townspeople made it to safety.” I held my arms up as high as they could reach, standing on my tippy-toes. “The cloud was twelve miles high!”
“Great. You do drama. I’ll get a cherry blossom.” Bob headed toward the door.
“Heathen,” I said to his back.
I made my way to the nearby European section and wandered into the rooms with Italian cultural knick-knacks. Visitors wove around me, shaking their heads.
The Pompeii exhibit had a model of an exploding Mount Vesuvius, with tiny toy people being buried on the ground. It was several feet long, and the height was to scale, so you had to walk around it to see the whole thing. There was a rope around it and signs that said, “Don’t touch,” but they didn’t apply to me, so I leaned over and touched the model.
Immediately, alarms blared and the closest security guard raced into the room to tell me to get my hands off the display. I looked at him, and he stopped. That was it. Complete halt.
“Are you the one with the Buddha and the vase and the fox spirit whoojamabob thingee going on in the Asian collection?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Gotcha. People! This way, please.” And just like that, another wing of the museum was off-limits to paying visitors. The alarms shut off at some point, and I was alone in the room. I touched the exhibit again and realized that the “ash” was carefully constructed plastic of some kind, not real ash, not even a little bit, and my plan to get volcanic ash from this exhibit wasn’t going to work. I stared hard at the model volcano and tried to come up with plan B.
A tiny red pointy thing popped up in the opening of Mt. Vesuvius, followed by another equal and opposite red pointy thing. It was hard to see because of the fake smoke, but the pointy red things turned out to be ears as they emerged and were followed by a small, black eye, a sharp pointy nose, and the point of a devil’s forked tail. The one black eye glowed with hate. The second eye was a mangled mess of burned flesh seared shut forever.
“Monster Hunter! Ha! You’re nothing but a stay-at-home mom with illusions of grandeur. Can’t even get the ingredients for a simple exorcism.”
I couldn’t believe my eyes. I knew this creature; we’d crossed paths before in a most unpleasant way. I knew he had reason to hate me, and I had clear reason to hate him, but what was he doing in the museum? I crossed my arms and glared at the imp in disbelief.
“What? Didn’t expect me?” he taunted.
“Zric, you vermin! Are you involved with this?”
The imp shrugged, revealing serrated yellow teeth that clashed with his coloring. He reached to the back of his head with both hands and flicked his hinged horns back into place and cackled again, saliva dripping from a corner of his mouth.
“What? Me?” he asked with false modesty. “I know nothing about fox spirits and fish spirits and…”
“Fish spirits!” I snapped my fingers. “Juro! He’s inhabited by a kappa, a fish spirit?”
“Why would you ever think that?” The imp held up two glowing balls, each about the size of a golf ball. One gleamed with a reddish light, the other with a blue. “Why on earth would anyone summon a kitsune and a kappa at the same time?”
“Because you’re an evil son-of-a-bitch?”
“Ten push-ups for you.”
“I should have killed you last time.”
“But you left me alive, didn’t you, after destroying my eye!” The imp leapt out of the volcano, slid down the side to stand a few feet away from me, and stomped his foot.
“You set this whole thing up?”
Zric bowed. “It did take more planning than I am traditionally known for, but, yes. I’m going to force you to shame yourself publicly. You are going to ruin the museum, let your kid down, and die. It’s all in the plan,” he said, index finger to his temple.
“That’s not going to happen, you vile piece of crap.” I jumped forward to grab the three-foot-tall red monster, but he saw me coming and did a back flip out of the way. “Good luck with the exorcism, bitch.” He fled by bouncing up to an air vent, turning into smoke, and seeping through the slats.
I sat in the guard’s abandoned chair to think, my mind wandering to the past, when I’d first caught sight of Zric, but hadn’t understood what I was seeing. I was younger and couldn’t see the long game.
Liam and I had, indeed, gone back the next day and waited at the bus stop for Goatee and Curt to appear. They showed, all right.
Goatee was a hulking monster by that time. He’d put on muscle, and I could tell it was from a combination of steroids and weight-lifting because he walked funny, like he’d blown up his leg muscles so fast that he didn’t have time to learn how to use them properly. He’d also focused on his pecs and biceps, so his arms curled up and his chest pulled in. He looked like a Neanderthal.
Curt now sported a bandana around each wrist and wore a heavy chain clipped to his belt, which dragged down his pants on one side so I could see his tighty whities. I was never one to keep my mouth shut, so I mentioned his pants malfunction, in case he wasn’t aware of the breeze.
“Hey, Curt, your mama buy you that underwear? You look like an arthritic plumber who can’t remember where his ass crack is.”
Turned out that giant chain had a purpose and Curt had been training. Second banana no longer, tougher and meaner, Curt pulled the chain from his back pants pocket, unclipped it from his belt, and swung it nunchuck style, swish, swish, swish, around, around, around. I didn’t want
to get hit with that thing.
My bat draped over my back in a self-made holster, like a sword. My hatchet was in a thigh holster on my right leg. I extracted the bat and swung counter to Curt’s swings, trying to catch and wrap the chain around the top of the bat. He was fast though, and I couldn’t get my footing. He backed me up farther and farther, until I was at the mouth of an alley I didn’t want to go down.
He didn’t count on my partner, however, who shifted position as fast as the wind, got behind Curt, grabbed him with both hands around his neck, and yanked backward. Curt fell and Liam rode him down to the ground, holding the front of Curt’s shirt. Liam knocked the chain out of Curt’s hand like it was nothing.
That left me with Goatee, who was strong but slow. He charged me like a bull, and I sidestepped like a matador, pointing my bat at him when he’d realized he’d missed. He stormed back, not changing tactics, and once again, I side-stepped. “The steroids have rotted your brain, Goatee. You used to be smarter than this.”
“I’m strong and becoming stronger, you cunt, and Pascal will love it when I bring you back to him unconscious. You’ll be his pet, until he decides you are no longer amusing. He might be happy enough to let me have some of his blood.”
“You want some of his blood, you jackass? You’ll lose your humanity.” I held up a hand. “Fine, you have a point. You aren’t much of a human, but you aren’t a vampire.” I swung the bat at his head, not truly trying to hit him, but push him farther away. Something about the way Goatee’s eyes darted to the right and behind me made me stop and spare a look at Liam.
I screamed, “Liam! No!”
Liam had his fangs in Curt’s neck, sucking down blood like a two-pack-a-day cancer patient sucks down smoke. Curt’s head lolled back, and his face was pale.
“Liam! Stop!” I dropped the bat and pulled Liam’s shoulders, but he was latched on to Curt’s neck like a tick. Goatee laughed in the background. “Pascal’s gonna love this!” Then, he chanted, “Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.”
“You want him to kill your friend?” My mind whirled so fast I saw colors.
“Curt’s expendable, but if Liam kills him, you’re going to have to kill Liam yourself. Pascal is hoping for that.”
I shoved Liam once again, but it was for naught. I had no choice. I picked up my bat, and without thinking more about it, afraid I’d fail, I swung the bat at Liam’s right shoulder as hard as I could, twisting my body at the hips to get the full amount of torque. Liam took the blow and tumbled off Curt, flying several feet until he hit the rear brick wall. I kneeled to find out if Curt still had a pulse. I breathed a sigh of relief when a clear lub-dub beat under my fingers.
Goatee took this as a sign that he should attack me from behind and crashed forward to wrap me in his gargantuan arms. I’d placed the bat down on the ground when I checked Curt’s pulse, not that I could have done any damage with it anyway, given that I was wrapped in a bear hug by a wannabe pro-wrestler. I did manage to pull my hatchet from my holster and flick it down toward his thigh where it sliced through the muscle and the iliotibial band on his right leg. The thing about the IT band? It helps you stand, or in this case, not stand, as Goatee fell onto his right knee and released me to grab his right thigh.
I’d, thankfully, missed the femoral artery so though he was bleeding, he wasn’t bleeding out and would survive if he got to a hospital in time. He was a monstrous human, but still a human.
My chest was tight, and I gasped for air, managing to squeak out, “Like before, get to the hospital. We only want to know where Pascal is holing up.”
Goatee grabbed Curt with his left arm, holding his bleeding leg with his right. “After this, Pascal will find you. You should have killed us when you had the chance.”
I didn’t care a whit about anything he had to say. I turned my back and sprinted to Liam’s side. He was fine, but when I looked in his eyes, they held the fears of a human who has seen the darkness in his soul.
“You didn’t kill him, you hear? It’s okay.”
Liam got to his feet with a weariness that spoke of anguish of spirit rather than body. “It’s never going to be okay, Jess.”
“We didn’t find Pascal.”
“I got his scent. I think I can find him, but Goatee is right. Pascal’s going to find us.”
We limped out of the alley, and I thought there was a flicker of a red, devil-shaped tail skirting the corner.
Chapter Seven
Remembering that entire episode gave me fuel to fight. I didn’t care if I had one sneaker, a jammy sock, crazy hair, and no weapons. I had a Buddha statue that talked to me, and Officer Bob. I was going to take Zric down.
Zric had given me an opening by showing me the two glowing life-force balls. Both spirits, fox and fish, were controlled by the owner of their ball. These spirits were prickly about being forced to do things they didn’t want to do. If I could get the balls from Zric, I didn’t have to do an exorcism. I could release the spirits within a second.
Officer Bob found me sitting in the chair, tapping my fingers together as I schemed. He had a cherry blossom branch, no blossoms, and placed it next to the egg and Buddha. “That’s the best I could do,” he said. “They have cherry trees, but no blossoms yet. I hope that the twig will work. If you look closely, it has a tiny bud.”
“That’s great, Bob, but we may have another way.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I met an old friend a few moments ago, an imp named Zric. He’s the one responsible for all this. He’s summoned the spirits using their life-force, captured in two balls. If we can get those balls, we can free the spirits. They should leave on their own.”
He canted his head, brows furrowed. “Why do you keep saying two spirits?”
“Right. I forgot you weren’t here. Juro’s infected with a kappa, a fish spirit.”
Bob rubbed his eyes and shook his head in the tiniest of motions, as if a normal shake took too much energy. “At least that explains the smell.”
“You’re taking this awfully well.”
“Mrs. Friedman, at this point, I don’t think anything could surprise me.”
“Challenge accepted,” I said with a grin, adding, “Bob, you can call me Jess.”
“I’ll stick with Mrs. Friedman, if you don’t mind. I’m old-fashioned that way.”
“Okay,” I said, crinkling my nose. I motioned with my hand for him to speak.
“What?”
“Is Bob your first name or your last name?” I prompted.
“It’s just my name.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me your whole name?”
“No. Officer Bob works fine.”
I poked him in the shoulder. “I’m going to break you.” He didn’t respond, but closed his eyes and whispered, “I know You are testing me.”
I knew he wasn’t talking to me, but to the big G, and I gave him for props for that. It didn’t keep me from chuckling though. “Let’s go find us an imp. Is there a snack machine around here?”
“Downstairs in the basement near the restrooms. You hungry?”
I headed for the stairs. “Yes, come to think of it, but I wasn’t thinking of me. There’s only one thing imps like more than sowing chaos.”
“What’s that?”
“Chocolate. Do you have any singles? I found some quarters in my pocket.”
We loaded up on candy bars, and each of us ate one, swigged some Coke, and shared some pretzels. Feeling a lot better, we returned to the Asian room.
I held Buddha in my hand and petted him until I felt his presence. “Did you know about Zric?” I asked.
Ummmhummm.
“You did?”
In the way that any of us know anything.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
We are what we think.
“How does that help me? Is there any other detail you’d like to share?”
You won’t be punished for your anger. You will be punished by your anger.
He ceased his nattering.
Officer Bob and I placed the pile of chocolate in a little pyramid on the floor, except for two candy bars I kept in reserve. It looked like we were making a campfire of melty goodness.
What I needed now was a weapon. I thought I’d seen the perfect one around the corner in the Native American displays. Sure enough, there it was. It might as well have had a spotlight on it with angels singing, it was so perfect. I readied myself for a giant side kick to break the glass when Officer Bob stopped me. “If you wait a moment, I’ll get a key. You don’t always have to do it the hard way.”
Right. Once again, hadn’t occurred to me.
I waited. I waited some more.
I considered eating another candy bar but rejected the thought. Waited some more. Ate a candy bar.
Finally, Officer Bob waltzed in with an older woman wearing a thick bunch of keys around her neck on a lanyard. She was exceptionally short, only coming to my shoulder. I’m sure her hair was white, but it had taken on a blue hue.
“You want to do what?” she screeched when I showed her what I wanted. Her face was gaining color quickly, moving from flushed to fire engine red in no time.
“I need a weapon,” I explained, my voice reasonable.
“This is from pre-Colonial times! It’s a relic to be treasured.”
“It’s a tomahawk and the closest thing to a hatchet. I require it.” Still reasonable.
“If you think I’m going to authorize the use of a precious display item to indulge your flights of fancy, you are gravely mistaken! It is my responsibility to protect these treasures, and I’m not going to hand them to a greasy, unkempt, con artist like you!”
I was no longer reasonable. I took several steps back and executed a well-placed side kick to the glass, which cracked, and then, after my second kick, broke into pieces. I pulled the tomahawk from the display case, turned to the apoplectic museum lady, and said, “Listen, you little Oompa-Loompa, I am not a fake. I work for the Catholic Church and have saved Cleveland’s ass multiple times, not to mention the golem thing in Athens and the nastiness in Columbus, so… Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” I handed her a card. “Send the bills here. Tell them I was ridding the museum of a kappa and a kitsune, and killing Zric. It’ll make sense to them.”
The Devil's Been Busy Page 14
