Foxy's Tale

by Karen Cantwell

  “No, Poppa,” Myron moved swiftly in front of her. “This is a nice young girl. She is my friend. I have food for you here . . .”

  “This is real?” asked Amanda of Myron. “He’s a vampire?”

  “Vell . . . in a vay. Yes. Vaht you vould call this thing, yes.” He nodded again. “A vampire. Ve say Vjeszczi, but,” he shrugged, “you say potato, I say pierogi.”

  “Are you one, too, then?”

  Nikifor brushed Myron aside. “He is nothing. Too weak to even draw food from the source. Drinks from tubes,” he sneered this last bit of information. The dapper vampire ran a long, bony finger up Amanda’s throat, then quick as a wasp he dropped toward her, his mouth open, sharp pointy teeth bearing down on her neck. She squealed and Foxy, without hesitating for even a second, jumped toward him and began striking at him with the only weapon she had, her dinky little flashlight. “Get away from my baby, you monster,” she screamed in an anguished voice she’d never before heard from her own throat.

  “Poppa, no!” Myron broke in and, before he could pull the man away, Nick grabbed the cloaked man from behind and hurled him away from Amanda with a great flapping of fabric and a hiss of fury. Foxy dropped to the floor, crying and hugging Amanda by the legs. “Baby,” she sobbed, “are you all right?”

  Nick yanked the silver cross from his neck and waved it in front of the cloaked figure.

  Budzinski looked puzzled. “That is the second time a human has flashed me with a cross. Is there some new lore I don’t know about? Please tell me this isn’t another fiasco like all of that wooden stake nonsense.”

  Knot began to wail. “Oh, oh, oh. This is too much. Too much.” He ran to the stairs past the dumb struck Congressman X, taking them three at a time screaming, “I always knew this city was full of bloodsuckers!”

  “Poppa,” Myron wailed. “Finally, after all this time, vaht am I? Chopped liver already? I’ve finished the task. Set you free at last.”

  Just as the cloaked creature spun around to take a second stab at Amanda, a woman in a bright blue wool coat strode out of the shadows across the small space and held out her arms. “Master,” she breathed.

  As the man rose to his full height, Foxy again lashed at him with her flashlight but he flicked it out of her hand as if it were no more than a mosquito. He gazed hungrily at Amanda before turning to the woman in blue.

  “Mariah?” Nick yelled.

  She glided to Nick and draped herself around him like a mink. “You are such a beautiful boy.” She rubbed his arm and then ran a hand through his hair. “Now I’m torn. Man, or boy?” She laughed. “Either way, I have a Nick.”

  “Is that why you came after me? My name?”

  “It didn’t hurt.” She purred in his ear and played with his hair. “But there were other reasons.” She raised her head to take in Nikifor Budzinski, then she sighed. “But we are ultimately beholden to the one, true Master.”

  “Ahhhh, Mariah,” said Budzinski, in a voice like warm oil. “Come to me,” he now whispered in a stage voice. “We must depart this place and find a good meal. Where are the others?”

  “After we dine, Master. After we dine.” With no resistance from the awestruck group they left behind, the two of them seemed to float up the stairs, the man waving his bat-winged cane, the woman with her arm hooked tightly into his.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  The snowball fight began sometime before lunch. As people emerged from their apartments and houses. they gathered at DuPont Circle and spontaneously divided into teams. East versus West, one team at either side of the fountain. They built snow forts and stockpiled snowballs. They texted and emailed their friends. They arrived wearing protective gear, ski parkas, boots, hats, thick waterproof gloves, and ski masks. Some had painted faces and wore feathers stuck into their wool hats. They carried hastily fashioned banners on broomsticks and waved them triumphantly in the air above everyone’s heads, like Joan of Arc leading the French troops against the English invaders. They yelled and laughed and screamed mock threats. Every time a snowball made contact with a person on the opposing side, a roar went up from the crowd, which swelled to perhaps a thousand. By the time the cloaked man and the woman in the bright blue coat ran from the house and past Second Chances, the park was so crowded, the streets surrounding it overflowed with a mass of humanity all hurling snowballs in every direction. In the middle, the fountain with its Greek statues stood mute in the midst of a snowy chaos. The fountain became the promised land to capture, and first one side held it, then the other swarmed forward with snowballs flying to take it over.

  Into this melee bounded the cloaked man and Mariah in her blue coat. But with so much snow, so many people, such a chorus of yelling, and even police cars with lights flashing cruising slowly over the snow-packed streets, it was hard for Myron to keep up. He tried. How he tried. He yelled, “Poppa, Poppa, what about me?” He ran on and on, stumbled in the snow, raised himself up again, stumbled forward until finally, pelted by snowballs, exhausted, cold, and feeling as if he was back in Prussia all over again, after all these years and all the searching and all the deals and all the disappointments, up from his soul and out of his mouth a wail erupted like the howl of a lonely wolf that’s been abandoned by its pack. “Poppa. I’m your son, too. What about me? Don’t you care?”

  *****

  A week later the sun had come out, the snow had been plowed away, and most of it had melted. At least for now, the streets were clear. Life returned to normal. Nick’s father came home and Nick moved back. He and Amanda met every day at the Metro stop and drove to school together. There were no more notes, and if it were spring it couldn’t have felt any lighter or more full of promise.

  Knot and Amanda were eating leftovers and had the local TV news on one evening, when Amanda happened to see Congressman X shielding his face with his arm as reporters swarmed around him yelling questions.

  “Look, Kuh-not,” she said. “It’s your boyfriend.”

  “Humph,” said Knot. He stared at the TV and turned up the volume. “Ah ha! He got caught at Apex. Finally, outed. I hope he gets disbarred.”

  “What’s Apex?” Amanda asked.

  “Poor child,” said Knot. “So much you don’t know yet. It’s a very lively gay bar.”

  “I don’t think congressmen get disbarred, Kuh-not,” said Amanda. “Maybe recalled.”

  “Whatever they do, I hope they do it to him. He wasn’t worth my time. One little vampire sighting and he abandons me.”

  Later in the week, after school was out, Nick drove Amanda to Rock Creek Park again. It was a warm day for December and they sat on the same bench in the disappearing sunlight. Nick put his arm around her.

  “Thanks for being there for me. I really appreciate it,” he said.

  Amanda smiled and lowered her head. She was shy all of a sudden even though they’d been spending a lot of time together. He put a finger under her chin and lifted her head and kissed her gently.

  “What’s going to happen to us?” she asked.

  “I applied to Cal Tech early decision. My counselor says my chances are good for getting in. Maybe you’ll come out to visit?” He brushed her lips with his again, and they lingered like that, in the cooling day with their lives in front of them, dreaming about tomorrow.

  “There are some good culinary schools in California,” she told him. “I looked it up online. California Cuisine, you know.”

  “You’re the only dish I want,” Nick said.

  *****

  The antiques from Palm Beach arrived in boxes and crates. Foxy took an industrial sized screwdriver to the first box and started to do battle with it. She had halfway opened the top of the first crate when she heard the tinkle of the little bell above the door. She stood up, pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes, turned to help the customer, and couldn’t believe what she saw.

  “Cara mia,” Carter said softly in the voice Foxy never thought she would hear again. He held a small box, gift-wrapped in silver paper wit
h a yellow ribbon around it. “I couldn’t bear to let you go. Are you very angry with me?”

  “Are you married?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I could not do it. Not after I met you.” He held out the gift. “Because I never took you shopping. I brought you this from Worth Avenue.”

  Foxy was torn between her newly minted caution and a desire to see what was in that gift-wrapped box. So small it could have been anything. She was thinking jewelry. She was thinking what could happen? She was thinking how good a new necklace would look pointing prettily to her décolletage. She stretched out her hands to receive the gift. As he walked slowly towards her, it was as if she were watching a film of her own life opening up like a rose. She couldn’t help but wonder if this rose would have thorns, and then the little bell rang again.

  She looked beyond Carter to see Buzz Vance standing at the door, a carton in his hands, a grin on his face.

  “Well,” he said. “I finally found that faucet. If you want, I can install it for you.”

  Foxy liked the sound of that.

  *****

  Amanda popped open her laptop and started to type Amanda’s Life in Hell.

  She stopped. She looked at the blog title. She started to type again. But first she backspaced the title.

  Amanda’s Dish (she typed)

  Vampires! Who knew? Not me, that’s for sure. And now that Mr. Standlish has disappeared, there’s no one I can ask about it all. I wish he would come back. But I don’t think I’ll ever see him again. I’m glad Nick is okay, though. And his dad, too. Foxy’s got a new man in her life – or maybe she does. I hope she doesn’t make the same mistake again. Me? I just want to finish the school year and be happy.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Dulles Airport, Washington, D.C.

  Snow fell lightly as the little, bald man climbed out of the cab and handed the driver a fifty dollar bill. “The changes are for your keeping,” he said.

  The cabbie didn’t seem too grateful as he drove away, and the little man pulled his coat tighter and wrapped a scarf around his neck. It had been many days since the big snow and his trail had finally led him here. He didn’t do well with crowds, and people were rushing around him towing wheeled luggage of all sorts and sizes. A man bumped into him hard as he walked through the big glass doors, and even though it wasn’t his fault, he said, “My excuses,” and nodded. The hurrying man muttered, “Idiot!” and rushed away.

  As he entered the vast building, even more people scurried about. He was reminded of the rats in the house. He saw large TV-like screens with long lists of destinations and times and it meant nothing to him. He had no idea how to decipher these things. His glance finally landed on a long stretch of counters, and behind them were big signs with names of airlines. He moved closer, then finally saw what he was looking for. Air France. He shuffled forward and accidentally bumped into a young boy of about six or seven. He smiled at the young boy who looked excited to be going on some adventure. “You are having some good time are you today?”

  The boy’s eyes grew big and he screamed a horrible, high pitched scream. “Stranger! Stranger!”

  The man was confused and started to move away when a mother swooped in, grabbed her son, and yelled at the man, “You should be ashamed of yourself!”

  The man mumbled to himself, “Such unfriendliness in this place,” then stepped in line at the Air France counter. After just a few minutes, it was his turn to talk to the lady with the vest and pretty blue and red bow tie.

  “Ticket please.”

  The man shook his head. “I’m not having this ticket.”

  “Are you traveling Air France today?”

  “No. I believe my papa is on one of these planes. Can you direct me to where I might find where they are leaving from?”

  “Sir, this is a ticket counter. If you need to find your father, check the departures.” She pointed to the big television screens. “But you can’t go beyond security unless you’re flying out. Are you flying with him?”

  The man shook his head and looked sadly at his toes. This had all ended so badly. Again.

  “Tell me,” Myron said, “vould a man vith a valking cane be going through this security?”

  “Sir,” the woman said. “I’ll need you to step aside so I can help other customers.”

  He nodded and followed the ropes that led him away from the counter. That was when he saw it. The cane with the bat wings on top. Poppa’s cane. Leaning against one of the biggest glass windows the little man had ever seen. Swiftly, he moved and grabbed the cane while looking around desperately – could he still have been there? Or did he just leave it behind? The little man remembered this cane well. His hands caressed the smooth cherry wood and golden bat wings. He tried to turn the top, knowing it had a function – that it was not there simply for decoration. It was tight, but finally budged and, in three quick rotations, it released from the body of the cane, which contained a small hollow. Myron knew too well what vials should be hidden there. But that was not what he found.

  So like Poppa, he thought. Myron dug with his index finger, eventually pulling out a small piece of paper. A note. Placing the cane under one arm, and the golden bat wing top in his pocket, he unrolled the paper and read.

  Myron. You are still a putz.

  Also by Karen Fraunfelder Cantwell

  Take The Monkeys and Run

  http://amzn.to/ew5k47

  The Chronicles of Marr-nia

  http://amzn.to/gWIGI1

  Citizen Insane

  http://amzn.to/wN8H3q

  Silenced By The Yams

  http://amzn.to/OE4bej

  It’s a Dunder-Bull Wife

  http://amzn.to/x6mZkA

  Also by LB Gschwandtner

  The Naked Gardener

  http://amzn.to/98VLNX

  Page Truly and The Journey To Nearandfar

  http://amzn.to/gel6q7

  Maybelle’s Revenge

  http://amzn.to/xAYDbC

  Shelly’s Second Chance

  (written under pen name L B Swan)

  http://amzn.to/t9vmi9

  Megan’s New Love

  (written under pen name L B Swan)

  http://amzn.to/tgbjUb

  *****

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Except where permitted by the copyright holders, this ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.