Lady Marietta accepted the kiss. “Is that your meal, Liam?” she asked, pointing to me. “It is nice to have a snack ready and waiting, isn’t it? You may place her in the back.”
Liam gave me a cold stare and pointed to the rear. I bowed my head and scurried off, which was preferable because I could use the invisibility of meal on the hoof to develop a plan. I didn’t want to burn down the place since that would impact the entire town, but I needed to destroy them all.
I watched the scene in front of me, and it was obvious that Lady Marietta had to go first. She didn’t buy the descendant of Chapman story, I could tell, and she sat near Liam to best keep an eye on him.
I’d carried my bag with me the whole time and no one has asked about it, so I placed it on the seat next to me and fished around with my hand to find the stakes. I had ten in total, which should be enough for all.
I carried the bag in my left hand, keeping my shoulders drooped and my head down, and shuffled to toward the group of vampires who were raising a glass of merlot to their reunion.
Tingle held his wine, and the others joined him. “To our fallen brother, John Chapman! May he rest in peace.”
“I saw John only seven years ago, Liam. I’m surprised he didn’t mention you at the time?”
“He had not sired me yet, dear Lady Marietta.”
Lady Marietta placed her stiletto heel on the top of Liam’s foot and shot to her feet. Liam let out a gasp of surprise.
“Lady? Why do this?” Liam asked, throwing himself to the side where his pierced foot bled freely.
“Because I actually saw John three weeks ago, and you lie. He is not your sire.” She walked closer to Liam, and he twisted so that her back was toward me. “But someone powerful made you. I wonder who that was?”
She never got the chance to guess because I grasped a stake and in one smooth move, staked her through her back. She fell in heap of Prada and Louboutin, but I must have missed her heart by a millimeter because she did not die, though she was immobilized.
I’d moved past after staking her and slammed a stake into the next vampire, who turned to ash. I grabbed another stake, whirled backward, and caught Tingle, staking him through the neck when he ducked to avoid my attack. It was telling that none of them said anything but fought as if this were a minor inconvenience, that is until Tingle grabbed my right arm with his, gurgling as his trachea tried to repair itself, and brought my arm to his mouth, where he bit down hard on my wrist.
Liam jumped from behind him, wrapped an arm around Tingle’s chin, and unhinged the vampire’s jaws. When I was free, he pulled the stake out of Tingle’s neck and finished the job properly, while I moved on with my hatchet.
I swung left and right, chopping off pieces of vampire as I went, taking the head of the next two vamps with one swipe each. That left three, and two bugged out before I could get to them. This left Rowcliffe.
“You were a minister. A reverend. Trusted by the people of this town. How did you become a vampire?” I was bleeding from the wrist, and the two of us circled on another. Liam ran off to catch the two that had flown the coop.
“I was turned by a visiting English vampire, as Tingle was. We kept our identities as secret as possible, but my position called for Sunday morning services. We were forced to fake my death. Some unlucky drunk lies in my grave. Now you, Monster Hunter—yes, I recognize you for what you are—will be buried in a pauper’s box.”
Rowcliffe pounced, wrapping his hands around my neck to bring it to his mouth. His hands touched my Star of David necklace, and he leapt back, shocked at the sight of his smoking hands.
“No, no, no, Reverend,” I said, as I advanced. “Touching a religious object on a person of faith never works out for your kind.”
I slashed off his right arm and then his left at both elbows and, in an ode to my mother, grabbed two stakes and put one in each of his eyes. He fell to his knees, armless, sightless, and unforgiven. When I took his head, he was muttering, “I repent. I repent.” He turned to ash anyway. Too little, too late.
Liam ambled back into the center, wiping blood from his lips, wearing a different shirt. “They were tasty,” he said. “One of them must have had a good brandy before coming here.”
I motioned to Lady Marietta’s body, not ash but desiccated and translucent like a snake’s shed skin. “Did you drink her down?” I asked him.
His lips quirked into a sharp grin. “She was also tasty, and I wanted her to experience her life seeping away. As I drank, I got a Cliff’s Notes view of her life, and it was ugly and cruel. She deserved it.”
He continued, his face furrowed in sadness. “Right before she died, I caught sight of her childhood. She was once a little girl, the apple of her father’s eye, and wanted to be a mother herself.”
“I guess we all start innocent.”
“Yes, but we don’t stay that way.”
“No, we don’t.” I patted him on the back. “Where’d you get the new shirt?”
“Oh!” he said. “I seem to have picked up a new power as a result of drinking her blood. Watch.” He did a shimmy shake, and the next thing I knew, he was dressed in a completely new outfit, including an Ohio University sweatshirt that said, “Muck Fiami.”
“That’s not fair! I want to do that.” I put my hatchet back and glared at him. He whistled a cheerful tune. “Fine, but I’m taking her jacket.” I seized the leather jacket from Marietta’s flaking corpse and slid it on. “Score.”
“Jess?”
We walked out into the evening air, leaving the mess behind. “Hold on,” I said, and sent a text message to Father Paul to get a clean-up crew ASAP. I put the phone back in my pocket. “What is it, Liam?”
“We’ve gotten better and stronger, right?”
“Sure.”
“When do we go after Pascal?”
I gave that some thought. “I do want to go after him, Liam, believe me, but I want to take him alive. He’s got things to tell me about my mom. We can’t kill him; we have to capture him, and that’s a totally different thing. But we’ll do it, Liam. We will.”
Chapter Thirteen
Reflecting on the adventures of that night and the resulting discussion with Liam got me thinking about capturing things. I needed to capture the spirits in a circle, first and foremost. Then, I could deal with the imp.
The best thing to capture a spirit being is a circle. I’ve heard lots of things about how the circle has to be precise, but I’ve found that magic has a lot of flexibility. I gathered all the exorcism ingredients and placed them at equidistant intervals around the room to make the circle, or an oval, or some roundish shape. As Bob ran through the Asian room, I chucked the fox tails and the catfish spine into the middle of the circle and it snapped to life, capturing the kappa and the fox inside. Bob managed to slip out just in time. I winked at his Spider-Man underwear, and he gave me the finger. I was too sophisticated to return the gesture.
Zric hopped into the room, trying to remove something hard, bright, and shiny from the bottom of his foot, which was dripping scalding blood everywhere. I flung the tomahawk at him, as I had been taught, without thinking, without aiming, going by instinct, willing the sharp edge to fall where it should. My muscle memory served me well, and the tomahawk flew true.
Until that sonofabitch juked to the right at the last possible second. The tomahawk took off one ear and a horn, but wasn’t a lethal blow.
“Biiiiiiittchhhh!” he screamed. “Your mother was a bitch and your father was a nobody!”
“Well, your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!” I bellowed this as I ran away, chased by a murderous, Red-Hot red, bleeding imp. I detected a note of burnt cinnamon.
“She was a minor demon, not a hamster, you Church flunkie!” That was the end of the witty repartee because he was done playing and so was I, although I will admit to being disappointed in his Monty Python movie knowledge. Wasn’t The Holy Grail mandatory viewing in Hell?
Zric bounce
d from wall-to-wall, clinging like a lizard high on super glue, leaping from corner-to-corner. His razor teeth and claws were out and ready to strike, and he’d stopped paying attention to his bleeding foot. Before I noticed what he was doing, he’d whirled with such intensity that he’d created a vortex, which herded me back into the Asian artifacts room, encircling me with a spinning dervish of air, debris, and noise while the kitsune and kappa were still caught in the exorcism circle. The imp pounced, teeth bared, eyes wide, dripping blood and an acidic spit that scorched the floor. He sent sparks from his fingers, and some hit me, burning tiny, but painful, holes in my clothing and skin. Those that missed me drifted to the floor, scoring it with miniscule polka-dots burns. The floor looked like a teenager’s acne-riddled face.
There was a very real moment when I thought I might get taken down by a three-foot, demon equivalent of a cockroach, but my pride stepped up to stop me from taking that hit. I pin-wheeled my arms looking for anything, anything at all, to take him down. He landed on my left forearm, tearing at a chunk of muscle, skin, and tendon before my right hand found something rock-solid. I brought it up and over my head in a powerful arc and smashed the whatever-it-was on top of Zric’s head, aiming for the horn and ear that were already injured to create maximum pain.
Zric screamed and let off chewing my arm to fall on the floor, scrambling to get up on his feet. I slammed the object down again, smashing his tail, then his jaw, then his middle spine, repeatedly hitting him until I knew he’d rise no more. The life-force balls rolled away, coming to rest under a Chinese silk ottoman. Zric was a bloody puddle of red slime by the time I finished, and truth be told, I was happy about it and glad he suffered. I’m not proud of it, but there it was.
The wind died down, and I stopped to catch my breath. My chest heaved with my efforts, and the strain on my lungs had me gasping for air. I looked at the object in my hand, and despite my desperate need for air, I caught my breath.
My world spun. I had…I had…
Oh, no.
This was terrible. I couldn’t believe it. Oh, the karma, the karma.
I stared down at the object and realized that I had violently, willfully, happily, smashed an imp to death with the Buddha statue. The statue was stained with imp blood so deep that it looked like the Buddha itself was bleeding.
Murdering something with a Buddha? I was in deep shit. I felt for the Buddha’s spirit, finding what I expected. It was gone. The Divine had seen what I did, using a messenger for a weapon of death, and had abandoned me.
As a Jew, I didn’t go to confession, but I was certain there wasn’t enough confession in the world for this sin. I’d have to consult Rabbi Stein. Could I make a donation somewhere? I couldn’t imagine there was a Society to Help Imps Transfer to Society. I examined that thought. The SHITS? Not family-friendly. Maybe the Foundation for the Protection of Imps, the FPI?
Why didn’t I beat him to death with the Old Testament and get it over with?
I placed the Buddha back where he belonged, apologizing to it, and retrieved the balls, getting imp blood all over the ottoman, which then burned holes in the ancient silk. More destruction for the Diocese to pay for.
Officer Bob joined me, and we studied the trapped spirits. Juro was part man, part fish, and getting fishier every second. Professor Noyoko was all red fox with the big white spot, but I thought I could see an outline of her human shape if I squinted hard.
“What do we do now?” asked Officer Bob.
“I don’t know. We want them to go out of the bodies, so I guess we tell them what we want them to do.”
“That’s a little loosey-goosey. I thought ceremonies such as this had strict procedures.”
“It’s a Pied Piper moment, Bob. We do the best we can with the physical ingredients and hope it all works. Cross fingers.”
“I don’t understand the Pied Piper thing, but let’s do it on one, two, three.”
“Okay. Here’s the blue one. That’s for the kappa. I’ve got the red one for the fox. Ready?” We each took a breath, opened our mouths and yelled.
“Out, out, damn Spot!” said I.
“Go, Fish!” said Bob.
Yes, we heard ourselves, and by unspoken agreement, neither of us commented. The most important point is that it worked.
The spirits disconnected, leaving the human bodies on the ground. They floated up in the air, wispy outlines of white. The fish dove into an ocean I couldn’t see and surfaced right in front Bob’s hand. The fox shook its tails and trotted to float before me. I tossed it the life-force ball, and Officer Bob followed suit. Both sprits swallowed the balls, and their outlines became more distinct. With a flick of a fin and five tails, they were gone.
“Wow,” I said, looking at the floor. “I really did cut off two of its tails.”
“You’d better keep them, Mrs. Friedman. The kitsune might want them back one day.”
“Good point.” I picked up the tails, draped them around my neck, and leaned down to help a groaning Professor Noyoko and equally stunned Professor Juro. Noyoko stretched her shoulders, circled her neck, and ran her fingers through her hair. Or, tried to.
“What is this gummy stuff?” she asked, her eyes crinkled in confusion, as she hit a gnarled patch of hair.
“I…don’t know…” I said, checking my watch. “Oh no! Look at the time.” I made a hobbling beeline for the lobby where I found my son and his friends lining up for the bus.
“David, did you have fun?” I asked, ignoring the way the other mothers stared at me. I scooped a little jam out of my ear and flung it on the floor for the effect. I had wrapped my bleeding arm in sanitizing wipes, which the museum had in dispensers at every corner. I desperately wanted to get off my feet.
“Yeah, Mom! Since we couldn’t go to certain parts of the museum, we got to go to the Planetarium! It was awesome. Also, we got to eat outside on the grass. We were supposed to eat at the restaurant, but for some reason, it was trashed. I don’t know why. Best field trip ever!” He and his friends pumped their fists in the air.
David turned back to me. “Hey, Mom,” he whispered, nudging me in the side, pointing at the tails around my neck. “Did you get that fox spirit thing figured out?”
I rustled his hair. “Yes, David.” I patted my stiff hair with one hand. “This museum is clean.”
David jumped up and down, pointing at me. “I know that one, Mom! I know that one! That’s from the end of Poltergeist.”
My mouth dropped. “When did you watch Poltergeist?”
David clasped his hands behind his back and looked elsewhere, anywhere. “Uh…Dad let me.”
I bent down and made him look at me, hand under his chin. “Were you scared?”
“Mom, I stumbled on it while channel surfing. I thought it was a reality show.”
“Okay, then.” I was going to have to ponder what effect I was having on my children’s formative years. “Wait a sec. You want something from the gift shop? I’d like to purchase a trinket to remind me of this adventure.”
David was so happy, he skipped to the store. I made my purchase, and he chose a t-shirt that said “We Love Dead People” with the name of the museum on the back. He chose a stuffed buffalo for Daniel and book about the Inuit for Devi.
Mrs. Butler approached and pulled me aside, her face grim. “Mrs. Friedman. We do not allow crop tops at school. Our belly buttons are not for public display. You cannot accompany us on trips if you can’t obey the school dress code.”
“You’re upset that my sweater got shredded, but the burn marks on my face and my bleeding left arm don’t concern you?”
She blushed and looked down at the ground. “Of course, I am bothered by your bleeding arm. Are you okay?”
I felt bad about needling her for a moment. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you for asking.”
“Good. Don’t bleed on the bus seats or we won’t get our deposit back.”
“I’ll do my best to keep my blood to myself.”
“That wou
ld be most appreciated.” She gave me a sharp nod and strode away. I was left rubbing my temples and muttering my prayer for patience when Alicia Pembro trotted over to me, tsk-tsking.
“Is that real fox fur? You should be ashamed of wearing real fur. You know how many foxes must have died for that thing around your neck?”
“I know exactly how many. None,” I replied. “But I can’t help but wonder how many silkworms were involved in making your blouse, or how many South Africans died mining for that diamond on your left hand.”
Alicia’s hand flew to her mouth. “Well, I never!”
“I know,” I replied. “You never thought about it that way before. Glad I could help you out.”
Alicia prissy-walked to Collette to tell her how rude I was, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. My knees ached, and I was more tired than I could say. I wondered if Zric did this on his own or if Pascal pulled the strings from behind. It was an intricate, sophisticated ambush. I couldn’t image the imp planning this on his own, but maybe I’d underestimated him.
Professors Juro and Noyoko, restored to full humanity, trotted into the lobby to find me, holding hands. I sniffed Juro as he got closer, and though I still found his mustache disturbing, he smelled okay. Ish. Okay-ish.
“Mrs. Friedman, I’m told that I should thank you,” Noyoko said, her voice and posture stiff.
“You’re welcome.”
“I don’t remember much about the last several hours, but I’ve been told that I was possessed by a fox spirit you named Spot.”
“That’s correct, but we exorcised it.”
Her nostrils flared. “And Juro was possessed by a fish spirit?”
“Got it in one. A catfish to be precise, which I found interesting. Why a catfish and not a koi, for example?”
The Devil's Been Busy Page 18
