Inhuman Heritage

by Sonnet O'Dell

  “I mean sure he’s good looking, and he’s got these tanned arms that just feel good wrapped around you but he’s a dumb ass. If it wasn’t bad enough that he cheated with my roommate, but then when I kicked her out he takes her in. Why? Because he felt sorry for her. Why do men always want to take care of the damaged ones? Skeesie cow caused our break up, you’d think he’d be mad at her for that.”

  I looked up at the beefy tattooed woman who looked like she could punch a dent in a long haul truck and not even break a sweat. She was staring into the mid distance. I knew she was trying to just give me companionable silence but damn it I wanted more than that. I wanted to be told I was right about something, for once.

  “It’s not wrong of me to think it’s incredibly poor taste to shack up with the woman who single handed destroyed a near perfect relationship is it?” I stared at her large chin almost able to count stubble; she probably had to shave a lot and waited for an answer thinking on top of that she wasn’t a natural blonde either. I snickered quietly to myself “dye job.” My phone started to bounce along the bar. I’d pulled it out along with some other things in search of what I had done with my wallet when she’s insisted that I pay up front if I was going to go over three drinks. I looked at the caller ID and smiled.

  “Incarra,” I said what I thought was quietly into the phone but later realized I’d probably said it in a too loud drunk voice.

  “Where are you? You sound funny.”

  “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m at Toby’s...”

  Before I could continue anymore, the bartender gruffly took the phone from out of my hand and pressed it into her own ear. She had a deep earthy voice that was beginning to make me think that she used to be a bloke.

  “Are you her friend?” she asked Incarra. Incarra must have replied in the affirmative. “Then I am going to kindly ask you to come remove your soused friend from my bar stool.”

  “I am not soused,” I said offended and reached my arms out flexing them back in to touch the tip of my nose with the tip of my index fingers. “See, no loss of motor function yet.”

  The bartender turned slightly away from me talking in a lower voice into the phone.

  “She’s on her seventh White Russian, I’m now out of Kahlua and she smelt like vodka when she arrived. I dunno, something about an ex-boyfriend.”

  “Hey! Hey! Hey!” I said snatching my phone back carefully keeping my hand over the receiver. “One time I don’t want you to talk and you become a chatty Cathy.” The bartender looked at me non-plus and perhaps like she was thinking about snatching the phone back. I turned from her and leaned in on myself.

  “Incarra?” No reply. I looked at my phone, removed my hand from the receiver and tried again. “Incarra?”

  “Cassandra! What the hell do you think you’re doing? Don’t you know there is a special hell for people who drink before lunch on a weekday?”

  “Mmhmm, along with murderers, rapists and people who talk at the theatre.”

  “Don’t sass me!” I giggled. I couldn’t help myself, Incarra sounded exactly like her mother.

  “He, he sass, sassy, I’m sassy Cassie.” I snorted another fit of giggles. Incarra took deep breaths, she did not sound as amused as I did.

  “Cassandra! This is serious. You’re drunk! You’ve never been drunk!”

  “I am not,” I said rather loudly. I cringed, shooting looks at the other bar patrons, then huddled closer to my phone to whisper. “Okay, I’m a little drunk but shhh, don’t tell.”

  “I knew this was going to happen. Something happened to you that you didn’t want to talk about, you dropped out of college, god knows how you’re making money and now you’ve been driven to the demon-alcohol!”

  “Pfft!”

  “This isn’t something you can just pfft away. What the hell happened?”

  “Don’t remember, the mighty demon Kahlua forbids it,” I said turning with a flourish and slammed my empty glass on the bar. “Speaking of which, bar keep, refresh my drink.”

  “No way! I’m cutting you off.” I winced.

  “Ouch that had to hurt.”

  “Cassandra,” came Incarra’s peeved voice reminding me I was still on the phone with her, “who the hell says ‘bar keep’ these days? Stay there, I’m coming to get you.”

  “But I don’t wanna be got!” I whined which led Incarra to use words like meltdown and death spiral, several times. My phone beeped so I looked at the screen. “I got to go, I got another call.”

  “Cassandra, don’t you dare hang...” I hung up on my best friend. Not the smartest move in the history of the universe but the “demon” alcohol had told me to do it.

  “Cassandra Farbanks, you’re on the air caller,” I said clearly to my second call of the day.

  “Cassandra?” I recognized the voice immediately. It was Simian Urquhart, werewolf and father of my god daughter Zoe. I hadn’t seen him since New Year’s, he’d become very busy of late. Something was going on privately amongst the wolves and no one had been able to garner what.

  “It’s me. What’s up dog?”

  “Dog?”

  “Cause you turn into a big fluffy...oh never mind it was funnier in my head. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I want to hire you for some work. We’ve got a dignitary coming to town, he needs to be fetched and brought to the community.”

  “Bodyguard work? Simian I’ve never...”

  “It’s simple, we’re not expecting trouble. You’ll look harmless but pack a punch if needs be plus I bet you could use the pay check.” More money meant more booze-the great god Kahlua be praised.

  “Alright. I can meet you a little later, say seven at yours and you can take me through the details.”

  “That’ll be fine. There’ll be some people for you to meet too so dress nice.”

  “Gotcha, I won’t wear pants.”

  “You’ll wear a dress? This I have to see.”

  “Shut up or I won’t bring you any Snausages.”

  Simian laughed at me, told me he’d see me at seven and hung up. The bartender was eyeing me suspiciously; she had obviously been listening to my conversation. I straightened myself up on the bar stool, slipped my phone into my pocket and banged my glass in the bar top impatiently.

  “So, are you gonna get me another drink or not?”

  “Not!” she replied. Dead pan. I pulled a face, straightened it and tenderly got to my feet giving her the evils the whole time.

  “Fine, I’ll just take my business elsewhere.” I gave her a curt nod and managed a fairly straight line towards the door. I had to hold onto the frame when I got outside because the sudden burst of daylight made my eyes hurt and I wanted to crawl back into the nice dark bar. I’d have to go find another nice dark bar to crawl into. I let my eyes adjust to the light, people were passing me, giving me some surreptitious glances as they did and I took one step at a time, my feet feeling vaguely numb. No one had mentioned to me that a side effect of too much alcohol was physical numbness as well as mental and emotional. I kept feeling out the ground in front of me to make sure it was solid. I think it took me twenty minutes just to make it to the curb where I could see down either side of the street. I watched the cars whizz past for a little while counting how many red cars went by and muttering to the lamppost that unless it was going to count the blue cars this game was not going to work.

  I stared up at the sky after that, a dreamy expression on my face but a death grip on the railing as the passing traffic began to make me feel a bit like I was stuck spinning around inside a washing machine. I had to swallow back essence of vodka a few times. I was going to kick Wraith’s butt for this spell. I couldn’t remember why I had asked for it. I could remember how it worked, I drank and I wouldn’t remember...something. Pretty much the reason why anyone turns to booze, to forget something but like with most people drinking on its own didn’t really make you forget.

  I thought I heard my name being called so I turned to look up the street.
Incarra was walking towards me. Her pigtails, the ends of which were a fierce green this month, were swaying in the breeze, which smelt vaguely like kebab meat and car exhaust. She had on black jeans, dangled with silvery chains, artistically ripped holes and I knew on the back pockets there were a red heart and a black spade sown on. She wore the same pair of black canvas all-stars she’s always had, much attacked with glitter and studs and fabric pens. Even if her children, in the far distant future were to dress her in a suit for her funeral there were be a clause in her will that stated she would have to be wearing those shoes or the location of the loot would not be revealed. Of course this was envisaging a future where 1. Incarra had children-when she was known for stating she would have children when they came with a returns policy and 2. That Incarra would have money of any kind. I followed the line of her body up to read the slogan of her black T-shirt which read, “it’s not P.M.S.; it’s you.” The “it’s you” was encased in a big red dot. I snickered till I saw the serious and slightly pissed expression on her petite face. Everything about Incarra was small, from her height to her features. She’d gotten that I was sure from her father, a Japanese man of poor moral values, openness to pre-marital sex and no forwarding address. She’d tried for a few years to find him but came to the conclusion that she never would. I started to back away from her. I knew that look. It was the kind of look you saw in I love Lucy re-runs, the “Lucy you got some explaining to do” look. Incarra would attach herself to me like a howler monkey on steroids if she could, slowly forcing me into submission and the eventual revealing of secrets. I’d seen her do it to others and did not relish the thought that, this was her plan for me now. I took more steps backwards and found I could in fact move my limbs without falling flat on my face in the gutter. Incarra stopped recognizing my flight reflex taking hold.

  “Cassandra, it’s alright,” she said in her best soothing talking down the crazy person voice. I took another step back and muttered to my chest.

  “Run Forrest run!” I turned quickly onto my heel, wobbled a little bit and made a dash for it down the street. I looked back to see Incarra behind me doing her best to catch up to me, her little legs pumping furiously. I cackled. It’s the only way I can describe the giddy unlike me sound that I made running down the street, bumping people out of my way. I was faster than Incarra, my legs longer and I used that to slowly increase the distance between us. I was so cocky that I started to sing at the top of my lungs.

  “They tried to make me go to rehab but I said no, no, no!”

  Incarra started to fall behind, tired and disbelieving that I would ever stoop to singing Amy Winehouse as a taunt. I turned a corner and was out of Incarra’s sight before she could even get a second wind.

  * * * *

  In retrospect running away from Incarra was not my brightest idea. In fact it was probably only second worst to the fact that I had applied myself with magic and booze to avoid the truth. Just another form of running. I had not been mature enough to handle my change in circumstance. It was like the rug had been pulled out from under me and instead of slowly, tentatively getting back to my feet, I’d laid on my back and wallowed in my self pity.

  * * * *

  It’d taken me a while of sitting in my apartment, hiding from my best friend, staring at a worm swimming in the bottom of a bottle of Tequila to realize I’d really crossed a line. People-whether human or non-drew lines in the sand for a reason. I was not this person, I did not go round publicly distressing my friends, I was stronger than this. I reiterated this to the worm-who I had fondly named Norbert-thinking that he would understand. After all his life, too, was buried under an incessant pool of liquor.

  My phone rang again on the coffee table, Incarra calling for the seventh or eighth hundredth time. I just watched it do its merry jig on the wood, ignoring it and watching the colors of the late afternoon sky through the skylight. They turned brilliant orange, then fresh pink and were closing to deep lilac and purple shades when I got a knock on my front door. Imagining I’d ordered a pizza as I felt a rumble in my stomach, I got up from the floor and walked to answer it. I opened the door and went flying to the floor as arms and hands and in fact whole bodies tackled me. Incarra was riding on my chest trying to pin my upper body as I flailed at her. Anton had very gingerly wrapped his arms around my ankles and was holding them tightly closed trying to keep his eyes from wandering up my dress. I’d changed for my later meeting.

  “This is an intervention!” screamed Incarra as I bucked and tried to throw her off me. I screamed in fury at being attacked, in my home and by my friend.

  “What the...? Get the hell off of me!”

  Anton peered around Incarra.

  “Um, we can’t, this is an intervention. It’s for your own good.”

  I wailed and made another attempt to throw Incarra off me suddenly aware of what time of day it was.

  “No, you can’t be here! You’ve got to go.”

  Incarra dug her skinny knees into my sides to hold onto me while she looked back at Anton.

  “Didn’t you bring the cuffs?”

  “Sure I did but I’m not going to be the one that tries to put them on her. I’m not stupid.”

  Incarra snatched at what he was offering to her and brought them into my view. I was looking at a pair of purple fluffy handcuffs, the kind you bought if you were thinking of “experimenting.” I was about to be restrained by fluffy manacles which was not only ridiculous but embarrassing. Incarra climbed up my body so that my face was pressed against her abdomen, silencing all my protests as she secured my wrists into their bindings. The sun set and I shuddered from my fingers down to my toes. Incarra looked around sharply.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “I think the handcuffs did it for her?” said Anton cracking a cheeky grin. Trust him to be the one to make a joke. Incarra sat back letting me breathe and looked from side to side like she could feel the change in the air as I whimpered beneath her.

  “It’s too late,” I mumbled and just to make my night complete, Aram walked out of my bedroom.

  Chapter Eight

  Aram stared at us and Incarra and Anton stared back. I threw my head back against my now cuffed wrists and mumbled.

  “I am fortune’s bitch!”

  Aram was dressed as well as ever. Tight leather pants, floppy topped black boots that had to be vampire made because the design was not of this century. He had a white poet shirt on, all billowing with the lacing undone to let his pale flesh peek through. His hair was carefully tousled, his eyes torn between intense and amused. A small smirk quirked his lips.

  “I came to see if you were yet recovered pet, and what chaos do I come upon? Both a man and a woman, your new found desire for intoxication makes you so liberal.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Don’t get the wrong idea. Besides, Anton would rather do you than me any day of the week.” Anton gave a slight nod as if to agree with my statement while still being dumbstruck by someone of Aram’s beauty. I used their all-consuming fascination with staring at my ex-boyfriend to push Incarra, my hands still cuffed, off me and onto her butt on the floor. She rubbed it cursing softly.

  “Someone should tell you if you really want to restrain someone you cuff their hands behind their back.” I looked down at Anton who let go of my legs without a word from me and scurried back. Aram reached down and lifted me by my elbows to set me to right on my feet. He’d finally settled on being amused whilst stroking the fluff of the cuffs.

  “Why did we never think of handcuffs?” I shoved him slightly in the chest and to his surprise he wobbled a step back.

  “Don’t get cute, Aram.”

  Incarra and Anton exchanged a look mouthing “Aram” to each other and then went back to staring. Anton look suspiciously like he was checking out the rear of my ex vampire honey a little too intently.

  “What is the situation here, pet? Have I come in to foil a kidnapping?” I shook my head.

  “No, they’r
e friends. Better than I deserve,” I said mumbling the last bit to myself so that pretty much only Aram’s vampire hearing could pick it up. I held the cuff on my left wrist with my right hand and manipulated my hand till I could pull it free of the loop. I quickly did the other hand as well and tossed the cuffs back to Anton. This was a problem. The sun had set, my friends were now effectively in the other world, I looked out into the corridor-my apartment door was still sitting wide open and I could see the difference. There was also the fact that if Aram stayed there was the entire likelihood that Incarra or Anton might twig that he was a vampire. It was going to take some major bullshitting to get myself out of this and I already felt horrible for how I had treated my friends of late. I was also starting to sober up which I wasn’t ready for. I knew I had to face the truth but I didn’t need to face it tonight on top of this mess.

  My land line started ringing. I would have answered it if I hadn’t been greeted by three hard stares. I let the machine get it. I listened to my own voice telling people to leave a message after the beep. Magnus’s smooth timid voice came across loudly.

  “Cassandra, I know you’re mad at me about the other night. It’s only temporary but if you would consider trying again, I’ll ask her to move out. I really wish she hadn’t interrupted us because I’ve really missed you. I want to see you again, so please call me.”

  I stumbled to find words turning to Aram deluding myself that I needed to explain it wasn’t what it sounded like. Aram was snarling, his fangs were exposed under his curled back lips and his eyes shone with an angry otherworldly light. Anton and Incarra both got wide eyes and crawled towards each other and way from Aram for safety. I looked at Aram and without explanation or ceremony shoved him into my bedroom. I locked the door behind me.