Oompa Loompa lady backed away, only stopping to turn off the sirens. For that, I was grateful.
“See, Officer Bob, sometimes you do have to do it the hard way.”
His lips were pursed, and he did that thing where he talked silently while moving his lips, communing with someone other than me. He collected himself and said, “I see that now. What was the nastiness in Columbus, besides the normal political nastiness of our state’s capitol?”
“Sentient black mold infestation.” I shivered. “Truly revolting.”
“Of course, it was,” he said, and I got the feeling he was being sarcastic, but maybe not. I’m not always good at discerning such things. He exhaled. “Let’s go hide and see what’s happening with our candy.”
We approached the Asian artifact room on tip-toe, and I knew the imp had found the chocolate by the sniffling, scratching, and rustling of candy bar wrappers.
Sniff. Sniff. Scratch. Scratch.
“Is that him?” Officer Bob asked.
“I think so.”
I rounded the corner, tomahawk high, screaming at the top of my lungs, “Got you, you sneaky bastard!”
Then I yelled, “Juro! What the hell are you doing here? This candy isn’t for you. Oh, wait, you’re a victim. I forgot. Since when do fish like chocolate?” Juro, who had been laying on his stomach, shoving candy into his mouth, burbled, “I’m hungry.”
“Mr. Kappa, sir, you are locked into a body you don’t want to be in, right?” The kappa nodded. “And Juro the person is slowly receding and leaving you in charge, also right?” The kappa nodded again.
Officer Bob came up behind me “I don’t understand what’s happening at all.”
“When we first met Juro, the human Juro was still mostly in charge, unaware of what was happening to him. Now the kappa is in charge, and doesn’t want to be. The fish spirit wants to leave as much as we want it to. The fox spirit is a little different because they instinctively like to wreak havoc, but even a fox spirit hates having its life-force captured and used to control it.”
“What do we do about it?”
“First, can you go down to the candy machine and get those bagged kale chips? I think the kappa will like them better. Also, bring up a couple of bottles of that artisanal, purified water. We need one for the exorcism.”
“What are the others for?”
“Officer Bob, think. We’ve got a fish out of water.”
He shot me a look but walked to the stairwell to get the supplies.
I got down on my hands and knees and looked in Juro’s eyes. “Hey Kappa, I need Juro to tell me something. Where would I find petrified wood in this museum?” The fish spirit puckered Juro’s mouth, sucking in and out, swiveling from side-to-side. Finally, it said, “Earth and Minerals,” which sounded like, “Wurp and Mrinls,” but luckily, I speak Toddler, which, as it turns out, is very close to Fish, so I got it.
I retrieved the tomahawk, which I had placed on the floor, and left the Kappa/Juro combination on the floor, waiting for his kale chips and water. My mind was in the past.
Chapter Eight
Liam and I did return to the shady side of town. I was armed for bear with my hatchet in my left thigh holster, a squeeze container on the right, and my baseball bat in the sword position on my back, ready for an overhead draw. I had two thin stakes I had whittled myself out of a downed maple, both tipped with silver. I’d met a silversmith and jewelry maker at a craft fair and asked her to do the silver tips for me. She didn’t ask why or even blink at the request. Maybe it was the exorbitant amount of money I paid for ten stakes. Maybe creative people had broad imaginations.
The stakes were in my inside left jacket pocket, and my right inside pocket housed a grill lighter with a long metal wand, filled to capacity with lighter fluid. The damn thing cost a couple of hundred bucks online and incurred a thirty-dollar hazard shipping fee, but I didn’t feel comfortable buying one at my local Lowes, where half of my high school worked. There would be questions and gossip, which I wanted to avoid. The mean girls in high school had become mean women, and the jocks were now overweight armchair quarterbacks. Most importantly, every single one of them knew me.
Liam and I had driven this time. I was behind the wheel, and Liam hung his head out the window like a dog, searching scents for any of our bad guys. We cruised the neighborhood at five miles an hour, making sure we were seen, coiled and ready for a fight.
“Hello, Liam, Jess. Pascal sends his regards.”
I jammed my foot on the brake, left the car running, and shoved myself out of the car in a few seconds. Liam was faster, and by the time I got out, he had our conversationalist in his hands.
The imp was red, with a devil’s tail, two beady black eyes, and two horns that I learned later were hinged so they could flip up or down, which seemed so handy. Liam held him up by his neck.
“What, in the name of all that is holy, are you?” Liam asked.
The imp squeaked an answer, but it was impossible to understand given that Liam was crushing his neck.
“Put him down, Liam. Let’s see what the midget has to say.”
“I’m a full-grown imp, disgusting human. You should apologize, and don’t use the word holy with me. I don’t talk to that side of the metaphysical street.”
“I apologize to the real little people out there for comparing them to you.”
The imp’s eyes slitted. “I’m going to enjoy watching Pascal torture you.”
“Why is Pascal so interested in us?” I asked.
“He needed a plaything, and you remind him so much of your mother.” The imp did a back handspring and fled down the alley, while I stood stock still, shocked out of my mind. Liam recovered quicker than I did and took off after the imp. I pulled a stake and scrambled after him, my mind a whirling tornado of confusion.
The alley connected to yet another alley, and as the imp ran, he’d knocked garbage cans over so that we were running through muck of every kind. We almost lost his trail when he leaped up and climbed a brick wall with his gecko-like feet.
“How do we follow him?” I screamed, pacing back and forth for a fire escape, a ladder, anything. “He’s getting away!”
“I jump. You go inside and climb the stairs. He went into the fourth-floor window.” Liam did a standing jump that boggled my brain, and he caught the third-floor window sill. I didn’t hang around long enough to see how he did the rest. I flew into the building and with a stunning amount of stupidity and carelessness, crashed up the stairs directly to the fourth floor, running from door-to-door to find the imp.
I found him in the third door I tried. I pushed the door open, took one single furious step inside, and toppled to the ground as a hand pushed me on my mid-back. I hit nose first and got a good look at the dirty, porcelain floor with scratch marks from a hundred desks and chairs of the past.
Liam wasn’t in the room, but a skinny, white-faced vampire was, and the imp danced with glee beside him, looking like a circus clown. The room was unadorned, the walls plain, but there were two hard-backed chairs, a round side table covered by a white doily, and a pair of lit candles. The candles burned bright, casting flickering shadows on the walls as the light fell on the vampire and imp.
“Pascal, I presume?” I wiped the blood from my nose with my sleeve and shifted to my knees. Inside I was shaking, but I kept my voice calm and certain.
Pascal wore a shirt that may have once been white, but now was a faded yellow, and gray suit pants that hung on his frame. One shirtsleeve hung loose, and I grinned as I remembered that I’d taken that arm the last time he and I had met.
His hair was disheveled, but his shoes were shiny black, and he wore gold cufflinks, which he fingered occasionally. The cufflinks flashed in the candlelight.
“Oh, little, little Jess. So brave. So foolish. I could have snapped your neck right now, but I didn’t. I don’t think I want to kill you until you are more trained. It’s too easy.” Pascal placed his hands on his chin and studied m
e. His voice was hoarse and crackly, like old newspapers being rolled for kindling. I tensed at the sound, a shiver running down my back, and pushed to my feet, my tiny, pee-wee stake in hand.
Pascal laughed a raspy belly laugh, and the imp followed with an ear-splitting cackle like Salacious Crumb. My teeth set on edge.
“Your tiny stake isn’t going to be worth the effort, little Jess. Put it away.”
I did. It seemed better to have my hands free. “How do you know me? How do you know my mother?”
“I knew your mother. You didn’t.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I clenched my fists, holding myself from charging him.
“Oh, Jess, they kept the truth from you. Your mother was a Monster Hunter. That’s why the Diocese kept an eye on you, and why she died.”
“She had a car accident.”
“She did.”
“But you’re saying it was murder?”
“I’m saying it’s why she died.”
I stomped my foot like a little kid, tears pooling in my eyes. “What do you mean? Answer me!”
Pascal held up his only palm like he was weighing something. “I had a love/hate relationship with your mother. I hated her, which was fair because was always trying to kill me. I’d say, ‘on the other hand,’ but I don’t have another hand, thanks to you, so on the other side of the argument, life had gotten so boring, so droll, until she came along. She spiced it up a bit. I appreciated her attempt to blow me up on the Valley View Bridge. It made the news, you know.”
“That’s why it collapsed?”
“Uhmmmhummm. She’d prepared for weeks, making sure no one else would be on the bridge, planting bombs, luring me to the bridge that evening. It would have worked except for Zric here. He warned me just in time.”
“Your pet rat saved your life.”
“Hey!” said Zric. “I’m his assistant.”
“Yes, you are. Yes, you are.” Pascal petted Zric’s head, and Zric cackled again, that evil sound grating my nerves.
“I’ve decided I’m going to let you live, little Jess, at least for a while.” He took two steps toward me, and I flinched. “You need to suffer for what you’ve done to my arm, and toying with you will be fun.” Despite his veneer of calm, his eyes were hard, vicious, and spoke of death. Losing his arm had seriously pissed him off.
“I thought big, bad vampires like you could regenerate a limb.”
He opened his shirt so I could see his skinny, white, scarred chest and withdrew what remained of his limb. I had cut it at the shoulder, and I could make out a sprout, like a garden vegetable, growing from the stump.
“We can, and I will, but it will take some time. It doesn’t matter. I’ve got all the time in the world. You, little Jess, do not, but I haven’t decided how long you have, yet.” He had the satisfied face of a man tasting a fine wine and became even smugger as he inhaled deeply. His face twisted with something I couldn’t name, but it made my blood boil. My mind raced with ways to kill him, but just as quickly, it rejected each one. I wasn’t ready.
“You have a similar scent to your mom,” he said. “Liam, you can come in now.”
Liam crawled through the window, breathing hard, which was unnecessary for him but was a sign of his agitation. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he launched himself at Pascal, and Zric launched himself at me.
Pascal caught Liam one-handed and threw him to the ground, but I couldn’t help my friend because Zric leapt toward me, claws out, aiming for my face. I hopped backward, reaching for the squeeze container with my right hand, my lighter with my left. I kicked Zric hard in the belly, and he sailed several feet onto his back but bounced back up. He sprung forward and raked one hand down my cheek. The pain flashed hot, but I still managed to get ahold of my secret squeezy container. I jumped on him, holding him down with my weight, pointed the nozzle down, and said, “I’ll do it. I promise. This is your last warning.”
Zric bit me on the hand, so I pressed the nozzle and blinded him with Easy Cheez. I know he didn’t see that coming.
I shoved the lighter right in his face. He managed to turn his head, and I struck his left eye only.
Turns out setting someone’s eye on fire is an effective way of getting their attention, and true fact, Easy Cheez makes a great fire starter. The Boy Scouts taught me that. Goes to show how much oil has to be in the cheese-like product.
And, if I hadn’t needed it, I could always eat it later when I was hungry.
Zric was occup-eyed, (sorry-not-sorry) trying to put out the flames, which burned on the Easy Cheez accelerant, so I turned my attention to Liam and Pascal. Liam bled from multiple cuts and was bruised around the neck from Pascal’s ministrations. Liam dove low, trying to take out the ancient vampire at the shins, but Pascal simply jumped over him, turned mid-air, and kicked Liam in the ass. Liam flew into the back wall so hard he left a man-sized indentation right out of Scooby Doo.
“Tell me what you know about my mother!” I screamed while I jumped on Pascal’s back like a monkey and stabbed him with my pencil-sized, silver-tipped stake. It sizzled, made an unusual burning smell, and was immediately expelled from his body by whatever magic kept him alive in the first place.
I slid off Pascal’s back, reached for my baseball bat, and swung toward his head. Pascal ducked easily and straight-armed Liam, holding him by the neck.
“Don’t swing again, Jess, or I’ll snap his neck right now.”
I sheathed the bat, and Pascal dropped Liam.
Liam was beaten and knew it. He dragged himself up and out of reach, blood streaming down his chin, pink tears streaming down his cheeks, and pink snot dripping from nose. Sobbing vampires give new meaning to ugly crying face.
“Why did you pick me?” he pleaded. “Tell me why. I’m not anything to you.”
Pascal dusted some dirt off his shoulder and readjusted his cufflink “Au contraire, Liam. You mean a lot to me because you mean a lot to her.” He gestured toward me. “I’m looking forward to seeing what happens to her spirit when she has to kill you.”
“You mother-fuckin’ son of a bitch!” My anger was a burning fire in my belly once I realized what he’d said. He was playing with me, with us, because of my mother, if what he was saying was true. Now that Liam was out of the way, I drew my bat again and unleashed a swing meant for Fenway’s green monster, only I caught his left shoulder, not his head. Nonetheless, I connected hard. He grunted with the impact, his arm hanging limp, his shoulder dislocated. He skirted around me, quick as lightening, so I missed on my second swing, which was wild because I had lost control. A loud pop let me know he’d already snapped his shoulder back into the socket. He scooped up the injured Zric and poof! He disappeared.
“Where did he go, Liam?” I raced to the window and then around the room, touching each wall for a hidden entrance. I pounded the floor searching for a trap door, but I realized that was ridiculous since we were on the fourth floor. I opened the door to investigate the hallway, but saw nothing. I thought I bumped into something solid with my foot, but there was nothing there, and when I trod on the same space again, it was empty.
He’d gotten away. I collapsed to the floor, and Liam and I held each other while we each mourned. I mourned my mother, and Liam mourned his past life. We both wept for what could have been and what was taken from us.
We hung onto each other for a long time, he comforted by my human warmth, me regretting what had brought us here. As I thought about what I’d learned during the confrontation with Pascal, the more I clenched my teeth. I hit my fist into my palm and pushed away.
“Liam. We’re done bemoaning our fate. We will deal with it. Blubbering about our situation isn’t going to make it better.”
“I know, Jess, but I’m so lost.”
“You are not lost. You are with me, and though you’ve lost some things, you’ve gained awesome powers. That jump you did out there? AH-MAZE-ING. Your sense of smell? Insane. Your strength is developing, too.”
> “I wasn’t strong enough to beat Pascal.”
“He’s got a couple hundred years on you, my friend. There is only one thing to do.”
“What’s that?”
“Train harder. This isn’t over.”
Chapter Nine
I might have let the events of the previous night slip during my training session with Ovid. He’d changed his name from Adolf Sitler to Ovid Sitler to stop the teasing. Personally, I don’t think he thought it through carefully.
“What? Why did you do that, you idiot! You could have been killed!”
“Why didn’t you, or the Church, tell me about my mother in the first place? I had a right to know!”
“Your mother felt the time wasn’t right.” Ovid walked away from me, turning his back.
“Why would my mother not want to tell me when she essentially started my training at three years old?”
“She wanted you to be able to take care of yourself, even if you weren’t a Monster Hunter. She never wanted you to feel helpless. Remember when she taught you to throw knives?”
Despite myself, I smiled. Those were good times. “Yeah, we threw at human-shaped targets, and she made me aim for the head.”
“Right, because if you can hit the forehead, you can hit anywhere, and even hitting a vampire in the forehead, as long as you pierce his cranium, will take him out for a while.”
“Tell me about her.”
“While you train.”
“Okay!” I did a fast-change into a pair of shorts and a shirt, ready to learn more about my mom.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
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