Golem in My Glovebox

by R. L. Naquin

  And then there was that first time I met Bernice. Completely unimpressed with her job title, I came damn close to bitch slapping her for taking me prisoner.

  Okay, fine. I guess I did—under the right circumstances—take the bossy-pants stance.

  And I was about to do it again.

  * * *

  I’m not sure why I thought Maurice would be pleased to have an under-the-bed monster staying with us. At the risk of sounding racist or speciesist or whatever, I’d kind of wondered if they would already know each other, since they were almost the same kind of creature.

  In fact, he did recognize her immediately. But he wasn’t at all pleased.

  He looked her up and down and scowled. “It was you parading around in front of humans and endangering all of us?”

  She smiled, but it wasn’t friendly. “Hello, Maurice. Looks like you landed on your feet here.”

  He shook his head in disgust. “I swear to the gods, Stacy, you don’t have the brains of a mollusk. You were raised better than that.”

  She folded her arms and lifted her chin. “You don’t get to tell me how to live. And you hardly have judging room, my friend.”

  I didn’t have to be an empath to feel the tension spark off the two of them. Whatever their history was, it wasn’t good. Which made me feel a bit squidgy about what I was about to do.

  “Actually, Stacy, he does get to tell you how to live. At least for now. You are now officially under his care.”

  Stacy froze, the green draining from her face. Her mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, as if fighting to keep her objections from bubbling up her throat and out her mouth.

  If I didn’t know and love Maurice as much as I did, my blood would have turned to ice water from the look he gave me. Or maybe battery acid.

  He gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes. “Zoey, can I speak to you alone, please?”

  Riley put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a reassuring squeeze. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll stay with her.”

  Stacy’s frozen stare of shock melted into a fake, sickening-sweet smile. She plopped into a chair and busied herself with the task of fluffing her tutu.

  Maurice turned on his heel and left the room without checking to see if I followed. He led me through the kitchen and out the back door.

  In the recent past, my back yard had been used as a refugee camp for lost monsters. To keep them safe and undetected, both by everyday humans and the henchman of the terrifying Collector who had been kidnapping them, Maurice had overseen the creation of a protective bubble around the space. While the entire property had the advantage of a fairy ring around it as an early-warning system and first line of defense, this backyard bubble worked by hiding its contents from view.

  When we stepped through the bubble, no one outside could either see or hear us. The bubble was imprinted with a small, recorded loop of time—about thirty seconds worth. From my kitchen window, if you watched for more than a minute, you could see the same bunny run across the yard several times. Sound, too, was imbedded into the recording, repeating the same birdcalls and pattern of blowing wind every half minute.

  It was genius.

  At that moment, we only had a handful of guests on the property, and none of them were in sight. This meant that Maurice had me pretty much alone in a soundproof room.

  “I’m begging you, Zoey,” he said. “I do everything you ask me to do around here. Please don’t put me in charge of her. I can’t do this.”

  His desperation crept across the grass in a sticky mass and oozed up my ankles and calves. Whatever history Maurice had with Stacy, it wasn’t good.

  “Who is she?” I asked.

  He folded his arms across his chest and scuffed his sneaker at a cluster of dandelions, sending the fluff drifting toward the direction of the swimming pool. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

  He sighed and waved me over to an abandoned fire pit a short distance away. We each sat in a folding camp chair. I rested my elbows on the canvas-covered arms and waited.

  Maurice examined his fingers, gathering his thoughts. “We grew up next door to each other. Together all the time.”

  I don’t know what I’d expected him to say, but that wasn’t it. “She was your childhood sweetheart?”

  He nodded. “We used to talk about getting married someday and who would be the one to convert—whether I would switch to under-the-bed, or she would become a closet dweller.”

  “Wait—what? Convert? I thought you were just, I don’t know, born a closet monster.”

  Maurice frowned. “It’s more complicated than that. When monsters are born, they go where their families are, obviously. But when they reach maturity, they pledge to a league, and the affiliation becomes permanent.”

  I stared, waiting for him to crack a smile. He didn’t move. “Seriously,” I said. “You have to join a league.”

  He nodded. “Yes. It sets the tone for the rest of a young monster’s life.”

  For some reason, it seemed like the most ludicrous story I’d ever heard. I couldn’t get past the idea that Maurice could have chosen to be anything other than the closet monster I knew and loved. Also, I was pretty sure he was yanking my chain. “So, being in the Closet League—what’s that mean, exactly? Go, team Closet? Is there a bowling team? Are there meetings?”

  Maurice made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat. “See, this is why I don’t tell you anything. You don’t take me seriously.”

  I did my best to look contrite. “I’m sorry, Maurice. I’ll be serious. So, what happened between you? Obviously, you didn’t stay together.”

  He looked away and shrugged. “People grow apart, that’s all. We lost touch.”

  “Uh huh.” I didn’t believe him. But the set of Maurice’s shoulders told me that was all he was willing to share for the moment. “Can you set aside your differences, or is it too much baggage?”

  “Too much for what, exactly?” He narrowed his eyes.

  I took a deep breath and let it out. “I can’t exactly let her go back out on her own at the moment. Not until Bernice gets a team out here to rebuild the O.G.R.E. squad in the area and we’re sure Stacy isn’t going to go back out on a sightseeing walkabout. Also, if I understand your laws correctly, she would normally be paying some sort of fine or doing jail time for breaking the rules, right?”

  Maurice shifted in his chair and frowned. “Well, yeah. But you’re not going to send her to Bernice, are you? She’ll be locked up.”

  Yeah. There was more to their relationship than he wanted to let on. It was as clear as the worry on his face. He was angry with Stacy, but he didn’t want her in trouble with the Hidden police. “I had something different in mind.” I smiled. “If she stayed here and worked off her punishment, it would probably be easier for everybody involved, including Bernice.”

  He gazed, unfocused, at the distant tree line, his brow furrowed. I let him think it through.

  “So, you want me to be her jailer, basically.”

  “Not her jailer. More like her boss.” Maurice loved bossing people around. He had to love this, at least on some level. “Have her assist you. You really could use some help around here, what with all the Hidden coming and going.”

  Maurice ran his palm over the top of his head, leaving the sparse hairs standing up in a haphazard swatch. “Zoey, I just...Maybe we could...Gah!” He rose from his flimsy chair and paced around the campfire. “You have no idea what you’re asking me to do.”

  I raised one eyebrow and titled my head. “Then maybe you could explain it to me. Why’d you two break up, Maurice?”

  He glared at me. “I told you. People grow apart.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yeah.”

>   “Okay, then.” I couldn’t help him if he didn’t help me. But I could certainly make things more uncomfortable for him. “She can sleep under the bed in the spare room. You might as well go get her settled so she can start helping around here.”

  “That’s my room!”

  “Technically, it’s the room with your closet in it. I’m not sleeping with a monster under my bed. Don’t be crazy.”

  Maurice scowled. “Fine. I’ll take care of it.” He marched off, muttering to himself in a low voice, fists clenched at his sides. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and lightning will strike me dead.”

  I shook my head and grinned. Maurice could make all the noise he wanted. He could complain and stomp off. He could even yell at Stacy and make her work off his anxiety. But I could read the truth on him. He was relieved. And he was excited.

  You can’t lie to an empath.

  When we got inside, Riley had Stacy sitting in a chair in the living room while he stood nearby, looking tough with his arms folded. When she saw us, relief spread across her tense face.

  Reapers. Scaring the crap out of the Hidden since 200 BC. Or something.

  “It’s settled,” I said. “Stacy, you’ll now report to Maurice. He’ll give you jobs to do throughout the day. You will do whatever he says.”

  Stacy’s monstrous face wrinkled into a scowl. “That’s ridiculous. You can’t put me in servitude. You’re not a judge. Plus, you’re not even telling me how long I’d have to stay here. What kind of Aegis are you? I thought you were all nice and helpful. You solve people’s problems. That’s your job.”

  Maurice stalked toward her, sucking air into his chest to make ready for the whoopass can he was about to pop open in her face.

  I stuck my arm out and stopped him on his way past. “I’ve got this.”

  He looked into my eyes and read what was there, then nodded and stepped back. “Okay.”

  I smiled at Stacy and took a seat on the couch across from her. It probably wasn’t an especially nice smile. More like the kind of smile a cop gives you right before he slaps you with a speeding ticket after telling you that your taillight is out. Stacy might have been better off dealing with the reaper she was so terrified of being alone with.

  “You’re right. I solve problems. I help people.” I leaned toward her. “Right now, you are the problem that needs solving. And I’m going to help you, too.”

  “I’m not a problem. And I don’t need help. Just let me go home and I’ll stay out of sight.” She lifted her chin in a stubborn show that was negated by her quivering lower lip.

  I shook my head. “The Board has a team coming out here to renew the local O.G.R.E. squad. You took advantage of the interruption in police activity and jeopardized the entire community. I don’t imagine a judge would look well on that.”

  Her green skin paled to an off-white. “We don’t need to involve them.”

  I shrugged. “Well, I can’t let you go home. Those are your choices. You stay here and work for Maurice, or I hand you over to the Board’s team so they can take you back to headquarters for a trial.” As far as I knew, it wasn’t much of a threat. There weren’t any active judges for a trial.

  Stacy flicked her gaze around the room from face to face, then to the door. She might have been calculating whether she could bolt and make it outside before we could catch her, or she might have been worried about someone from the Board coming in to get her. Either way, I gave her time to think it all through. Finally, she nodded her head in agreement.

  “Alright,” she said, shoulders slumped. “I’ll stay here and work it off.”

  I patted her on the knee and smiled—this time a friendlier, welcoming look. “Good choice. Maurice will get you settled, and you’ll answer directly to him.”

  I nodded at Maurice, grabbed Riley’s hand and went out the front door. Whatever was going on between the two of them was private. And I had to admit, part of the reason I’d set things up this way was because I had a hunch Maurice had some baggage to work out.

  Also, I really didn’t know what the hell else to do with her. From what I gathered, the Board could deal out some harsh punishments. I didn’t want to be responsible for Stacy getting stuck in a cell for ten years or having to spend the rest of her life on a chain gang of trolls. Assuming, of course, she ever got a trial. Under the circumstances, Bernice might have been tossing people into prison without a second thought.

  Maybe my imagination made the Board harsher than it was, but I’d rather Stacy stayed with Maurice. Whether she believed it or not, my job was to help people, not punish them. Though a little punishment for forcing me to miss Molly’s party might make me feel a better.

  I let out a heavy sigh and sat on the porch steps. Riley settled next to me and rubbed his palm over my back.

  “You okay?” He kissed the top of my head, and I leaned against his chest.

  “Tired, I guess.” I glanced at the tree at the end of my driveway and felt a stab at my heart before looking away. Iris used to hang out down there, keeping watch over me. Keeping me safe. Now he was gone.

  My mother could have saved him. Not only was she an Aegis, like me, she was also a necrofoil—someone with the power to hold back death till help could arrive. But after we defeated the Collector, she’d already been kidnapped again when I went to get her, this time by someone or something even worse than her original captor.

  The great irony in the whole thing was that Iris had died in part to rescue my mother, then someone else had taken her while we were busy trying to save her.

  About a month had passed since then, and still we had no leads on where my mother and the other Aegises had been taken or by whom. The only clue was the note I’d found attached to a filthy ragdoll:

  She’s my mommy now. Come and find us, Aegis. Let’s play!

  Since then, nothing. No leads. No word. And I was stuck playing social worker to all the monsters in the country. I wouldn’t mind if I didn’t have my own problems to sort out. I liked helping people. But come on. I couldn’t keep saving the world and not save my own mother. I didn’t expect life to be fair, but some reciprocity from the universe would be appreciated.

  Riley snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me closer. “Maybe we could take a weekend. Go down to Monterey or something.”

  I nodded. “Maybe. Sara’s getting used to running the office without me, and Maurice can handle the house for a few days if nothing else happens.”

  A tiny movie projector in the back of my head ran a reel behind my eyes, showing Riley and I romping through the surf, having drinks with little umbrellas, riding a ski lift, visiting a ruined castle. Clearly, the miniature filmmaker in there wasn’t concerned by where we went.

  As if in direct answer to my greedy thoughts of deserting everyone for a getaway, my phone chimed out the wedding march. I dug it out of my pocket and saw Bernice’s area code but a number I didn’t know.

  I considered not answering. If I tossed the phone in the bushes, we could jump in the car and make a run for it. They had toothbrushes and clothes in whatever beach town we decided on. I let the phone ring a time or two more while I daydreamed this scenario before I answered.

  “Zoey, it’s Art,” said the tinny voice from the speaker. “I think I know who took your mother.”

  Chapter Three

  Art was one of my least favorite people in the entire world. And I was one of his.

  A million years ago—okay, about twenty—Art had been the reason the Board had taken my mother away from my father and me, wiped our memories, and relocated Mom to the East Coast to set up shop as an Aegis there. Art blamed my mother for his lack of upward mobility in his middle-management job.

  When he came back last year as Riley’s boss, he’d walloped me with a bad-luck curse to test me for Aegis-hood. In the end, I’d lived through it, and A
rt and I came to an understanding, even a grudging mutual respect. I put in a good word for him with Bernice, whose entire Board of Hidden Affairs had been murdered. Art got what he always wanted—a spot on the Board. Bernice got some much needed help. And Riley and I got left alone. Win-win-win.

  Until that moment, I’d had no further contact with him. This probably made Art as happy as it made me.

  “You found my mom?” I sat up straight, my heart beating fast. “Where is she? Is she okay?”

  “Wait, don’t get too excited. I don’t know where she is. But I do think I’ve figured out who did it. That’s more of a clue than we’ve had since she was taken.”

  A little of my excitement deflated. Not all, but some. “Oh.”

  Riley squeezed my shoulder. “What do you know, Art?”

  “Is that Riley? Am I on speakerphone? Take me off of speakerphone!”

  I stretched my legs down the steps and crossed my feet at the ankles. “There’s no one else around, Art. This is a secure line. You may proceed. Over.”

  Riley poked me in the side. “Quit teasing him,” he whispered.

  I winked. “Seriously, Art. Riley has to hear this, too, and nobody else is here. What’s going on?”

  He paused for a long moment. “Zoey, there’s a prisoner missing from the compound. I wasn’t here when she escaped, and I only found out this morning. She’s been gone for about two and a half years.”

  Riley scratched his cheek. “That’s not long before the Board members started showing up dead.”

  “Exactly,” Art said.

  “So who is she?” I asked.

  Again, silence. When Art finally spoke, his voice was low and quiet. “I can’t tell you over the phone. I really can’t. Bernice doesn’t even know I’m calling you. You have to come out here, Zoey. Bernice won’t listen to me, and you’re the only one who can fight this person.”

  If it weren’t for the shakiness in his voice and the fear seeping through the phone line, I’d think Bernice put him up to this to get me out there.

  I gave Riley a questioning look. He shrugged.