by Michael Todd
Okay.
Tell him the man watches and puts his dong on your shoulder until you’re done.
I’m not saying that.
C’mon! He hates being managed.
Katie cleared her throat. “I’ve heard they got the idea from him. They have a slave driver known simply as ‘the Captain’ who comes around and watches over your shoulder. He doesn’t say a word, just reads every word you type.”
Juntto’s eyes grew large. “Oh, fucking hell, no. I am Juntto. No one lords it over me like that. I would slash through the paperwork and grow until I filled the space. I would spear the Captain with a leg torn from the vile desk. I might even rescue the others from that damnation!”
Katie patted his leg and stood up. “Just don’t do anything to warrant paperwork and you will be fine. Humans have become a bit more ruthless in the days since you were last here.”
Juntto shook his head, visibly startled. “I see this. No paperwork. Got it.”
Katie turned, trying desperately to hold her laughter back. “Okay, eight in the morning. Don’t forget.”
She walked out of the room and shut the door behind her, leaning against it. She let out a loud snort and started laughing so hard that tears rolled down her cheeks. That should do it.
I love that you fuck with him. Seriously, I have rubbed off on you. Pandora could barely get the words out, she was laughing so hard.
Whatever it takes to prevent him from snapping the hot dog vendor’s neck for not having mustard.
Pandora giggled continuously. They’ll appreciate that at the station. Can you imagine them taking a statement from Juntto?
Katie started chuckling again, deepening her voice. Uh, yes, Juntto, can you explain what happened? I like mustard, man have no mustard. So, I rip his head off. He will learn to have mustard.
Pandora bellowed. Oh, your detectives would be lost. Good preemptive action.
Gotta make the best of it, right?
The next morning Katie got out of bed relatively easily. She had so much on her mind that she couldn’t have stayed asleep any longer if she wanted to. She changed her clothes and headed to the kitchen, where Angie had left two dozen donuts sitting by the drawered toaster.
Pandora let out a sigh of relief. Thank you for Angie. She seriously saves my stomach from eating itself.
Katie took out three donuts and put them in the toaster to heat them up. I would be inclined to agree with you this morning. I was not looking forward to walking all the way to Krispy Kreme. I feel testy, so I might have been the one to rip the wiener man’s head off.
Or something worse, Pandora whispered.
Katie smiled and took the donuts out, grabbed a mug and poured a cup of coffee. She even put the coffee on a timer for me. That girl needs a raise.
Agreed.
They sat down at the table by the window and looked out at the bright sunny day. It didn’t look at all like it was the start of fall, but that was okay with Katie. She wasn’t ready to fight in the cold just yet. She took a bite of her donut and pulled her phone out of her pocket after feeling it buzz. It was a text from Angie.
Eating breakfast. All is good, although he seems to have this strange fear of paperwork?
Katie laughed, typing back, Good on both accounts. Don’t tell him the truth.
Pandora sniffed. So far so good?
Yep. We gotta go to the precinct, though, and update Travers and Schultz on what’s going on. Katie grabbed the last donut and stood up, looking around for her keys.
When she arrived at the station, both detectives spotted her and dropped what they were doing.
Katie walked up to them. “You got a minute?”
Detective Schultz ushered them into an office. “For you? We got two. What’s up?”
Katie stared at them both for a second and then launched into it. “This has to stay between us, but I thought it was pertinent to tell the two of you. I have Juntto. He is in my custody, and is working for me.”
Travers let his mouth hang open, then blurted, “Wait, what? That monster you fought? I thought he was dead. The news said you killed him.”
Katie shrugged. “The news didn’t wait to get the whole story. The deal is, I need him for this fight. If he goes nuts, which he shouldn’t…
He absolutely will.
Don’t help, Pandora.
“If anything happens, I will be responsible for putting him down.”
Schultz hesitated and traded a wary glance with his partner. “Well, that’s a lot to compute. I was pretty happy he was dead.”
Katie nodded. “Yeah, well. He is harder to kill than you might imagine.”
3
“There were nice drapes in condo. Why you just don’t take those down and sew something for me?” The Leviathan sighed, following Angie into the store. It smelled of perfume and was populated by clothed mannequins frozen in impossible positions.
Angie rejected the idea. “You are not going to walk around with drapes on. Besides, I don’t sew.”
Juntto gasped. “No wonder you are single! What woman doesn’t know how to sew?”
Angie grabbed a pack of boxers and slapped it hard against his chest. “Quite a few, actually. Shocking, I know. We don’t cater to men’s needs anymore. They try to force us to, sure, but we refuse. Most of us, at least. Women have careers, families, and all the things men have.”
Juntto looked at her with complete and utter shock. “This is Earth, right? I didn’t wake up on another planet, did I? I can deal with women wearing pants, but this sounds terrible. How do men eat or dress?”
Angie stopped and let out a deep breath. “They use their brains. It’s crazy, I know. Absolutely shocking. But you’ll get used to it. And you should probably remember that if you talk to any women. They don’t like to be talked down to.”
Juntto shook his head and followed Angie. “Times have changed.”
Angie stopped at a rack of shirts. “Okay, if you are going to live here for a while, you might want to understand clothes. There are basically two levels: Walmart, which is cheap and neither fashionable or durable. Then there are brands like Dolce, Calvin Klein, and many others that cost more, and they tend to be both fashionable and more durable at the same time. Therefore, they will last longer, and you get your money’s worth. Then there’s fashion, which is going to be a bit trickier. You don’t want to walk around with a short-sleeved button-up shirt with a dragon embroidered on the back.”
“Even if I killed the dragon myself?”
“It’s a cloth dragon.”
“I have killed a dragon, though.”
Angie couldn’t tell if he was joking, so she smiled uncertainly. “No dragons, okay?”
“What about this one?” Juntto held up a short-sleeve Hawaiian shirt.
Angie grumped. “This is going to be a long fucking day. Think, here, Juntto: would you kick demon ass in a Hawaiian shirt?”
Juntto shrugged. “I don’t know. I kick ass no matter what garment I am wearing. Is there some sort of rule about that?”
Angie put the shirt back. “Let’s just say that you want to back away from most things that have plants printed on them. Trust me. You will look ridiculous.”
They made their way to the sock area and stopped in the aisle. Juntto narrowed his eyes and walked forward, staring at the mannequin on the edge of the aisle. It was wearing a tight black shirt, black fatigue-like pants, boots, and had a pair of sunglasses on. “Now, this I like. What are the labels? Is it this Walmart you talk about?”
Angie turned her head and studied the mannequin. “No, actually they don’t sell that here. Walmart is its own company. These are Calvin Klein pants, a Calvin Klein t-shirt, and Steve Madden boots. I would have to say that’s a good outfit, and it’s this season’s fashion line.”
Juntto began to undress the mannequin, and Angie had to hold him back. “No, we’ll get some fresh clothes. From the rack.”
“I see. Yes. Fresh.” Juntto pulled on his raggedy shirt. “I’
ll take them in many colors. That way if I happen to conquer any banners, I will have appropriate clothes to match.”
“Katie said no conquering.”
“Of course. This is just in case. If I happen to conquer any banners in the course of normal events. I want to be respectful of their colors.”
“Okay, still—no conquering. And don’t skimp on the socks. They should be this Mr. Klein too.”
He walked off toward the rack of socks, and Angie chuckled. “Oh, boy, I created a monster here. Juntto the Viking with style. Great.”
She ran after him and helped him pick out the right socks for his boots. When he selected ankle socks, she launched into a whole explanation of sports socks versus dress socks.
Turner held up his chicken wing with a proud face. “And then I was like bam! Not today, Satan, not today.”
The guys laughed, Brock sitting back and watching his friends. They were all finally able to relax after a hellacious trip to the underworld. One of the first things they had done after they woke up was devour some donuts, and then drink beer until lunch. They decided to hit up the Hard Rock Café. Sean had warned them that it was seriously touristy, but the rest of the guys wanted something exciting. Even in the middle of a weekday, the lines had been exceedingly long, but Brock and the boys had come to expect that in New York.
Eddie laughed and took a gulp of his pint. “Right, and then Satan came up and said, actually yes, Turner, today would be the perfect day.”
They all laughed, except for Turner, who angrily chomped down on his chicken wing. “Whatever. You’re just jealous because your job was to man the damn cart.”
Eddie shrugged. “Hey, I got a hot medic out of the deal, and I’m pretty sure you got the white Mr. T.”
Turner just narrowed his eyes. “I took one for the team. You guys looked like you needed a bright spot since you struggle to get chicks to touch you on a normal basis.”
Sean ooohed and covered his mouth. Eddie threw a napkin at him. “I get chicks.”
“Like who?” Turner eyed him suspiciously.
Eddie took a moment to think, but couldn’t name one. He grinned, and the table burst out laughing.
Brock swallowed the last gulp of his beer and shook his head at the waitress when she asked if he wanted another. The rest of the guys got another round. Turner pointed to Brock’s empty beer. “What’s wrong with you, dude? It’s like two in the afternoon, you don’t have work, and the beer is cold and delicious. Why are you being a pussy?”
Brock feinted a punch and Turner ducked. “Don’t break my balls. I just want to go back to the room, turn on SportsCenter, and enjoy the quiet and tranquility for a while. I keep hearing bells tolling and demons snarling. I need to recoup.”
The table went quiet for a moment. They all thought about their time in hell.
Brock shook his head. “I don’t wanna bring the party down.” He pulled out his wallet and tossed some money on the table. “I’ll catch you guys back at the condos. Don’t do anything stupid.”
The guys chuckled, and Turner put out his arms. “Hey, it’s us here. We would never do anything stupid.”
Eddie downed his beer. “Nothing that we could get caught for, anyway.”
Brock rolled his eyes as he grabbed his light jacket and headed out of the restaurant. He jumped into a cab and told the driver the address of the condo. As the cab drove through traffic, he almost told the driver to turn around. He could go back and get hammered with his boys. Then he remembered the demonic snarling, and he could almost smell the sulfur. No. He needed to rest.
The doorman held the door and nodded at him kindly as he walked through and across the large marble entry. He pressed the button on the elevator and stepped inside, hitting the floor his condo was on.
As the elevator moved up, Brock closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, enjoying the silence. Suddenly the elevator shook and quickly came to a stop, the doors slowly opening to the wrong floor. He glanced at the numbers, realizing he had stopped on Katie’s floor.
That couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.
He leaned out of the elevator and looked up the hall. Katie was standing there in a tank top and tiny little yoga shorts, propped against the doorframe seductively. He could tell she was definitely getting some of that lustfulness from her demon, but he didn’t mind. He stepped out and gave her a questioning look.
She crooked her finger in his direction.
Brock bit his lip and let out a breath. Who was he to say no to an angel? Even when she was acting less than angelic. He walked forward until he stood in front of Katie.
She put her arms around his neck and pressed her body against him. “Did I interrupt your plans?”
Brock wrapped his arms around her waist. “Watch sports? Or play a sweaty, sporty game? I’ll take door number two.”
Brock leaned in and kissed Katie, and she writhed against him for a moment, then broke off. She giggled and stumbled back into the condo, Brock hot on her heels.
The door slammed shut. The hallway outside Katie’s door was silent for a moment, then there was a quick ruffling and a sound like clothing hitting the floor.
A bed frame squealed. Katie giggled.
The sound of the frame slamming against the wall echoed down the hall.
Juntto picked up the cloth napkin, looked at it for a second, and stuffed it into his shirt. Angie pulled it down into his lap. “Napkin goes in the lap, big guy.”
Juntto looked at the place setting in front of him. “This is different than last time I was on Earth.”
Angie was surprised. “You actually ate at a table with place settings and not at an old wooden one where everything was consumed with your hands?”
Juntto glared at her. “Yes. I was a great warrior, but I dabbled in the politics, too. We ate at fancy estates, although they were a bit different than this one. There are no candles or servants here.”
The waitress walked up with a smile, dressed in a blue button-up shirt and a knee-length apron. “Good afternoon, and welcome to the Grand. May I offer you one of our bottles of wine?”
Juntto put out his hands. “Ah, here is the servant. Excellent.”
Angie looked mortified. “I’m sorry, he’s not from this country. We’ll take two glasses of water and two glasses of iced tea. Thank you.”
Juntto’s shoulders slumped as the waitress hurried off, trying not to show her discomfort. “Who eats supper without a bottle of wine?”
Angie put the napkin in her lap. “First of all, no one eats supper anymore. This is lunch. The large meal and wine, if you choose, comes at dinner, which you would have called supper. Secondly, it is frowned upon in this century to call anyone a slave or servant.”
Juntto grumbled to himself. “Humans are so picky. You put napkin in serkr, no one happy. You talk to vist, no one happy.”
Angie narrowed her eyes. “Serkr? What is a serkr?”
Juntto sighed and pulled on the top of his shirt. “Serkr. This is serkr.”
“Oh, okay—your shirt. Got it.”
The waitress returned with their drinks. She set them nervously down in front of Juntto and took the rest of their order. When she had left, Juntto looked down at all the silverware on the table. “So many instruments. What happened to one fork and one knife? Why do you need so many?”
Angie pointed her finger at the row of forks. “It’s easiest to remember if you start from the outside in. That is your salad fork. It’s just manners. We brought it over from the English.”
“The English, always so…how do you say it…snob faces.”
Angie choked on her water and put it down. “Snobbish? Right. Snob faces, and they weren’t that. They were just mannerly and proper. People liked it.”
Juntto pushed around the lettuce in the bowl. “You know what I like? Big slabs of beef. You can just tear it apart with your teeth. We should go to one of those restaurants.”
Angie grimaced. “Um, I don’t think they make those types of
restaurants. You want to pull beef apart with your teeth, you might want to learn to cook and eat it at home.”
Juntto rolled his eyes. “Men cooking…”
Angie pointed her fork at him. “Don’t start with that again.”
Juntto took a bite of the salad, slowly chewing it with a pained expression. “You eat like rabbits, too. Oh, and another thing. I was on this internet you showed me last night, and I discovered something.”
Angie just looked at him. “You press Enter, and it gives you information?”
Juntto waved his hands. “Yes, that too, but the excitement of that quickly wore off. I discovered these things called me-mes.”
Angie just looked at him. She had no clue what he was talking about.
“Oh, this is something the great and powerful Angie does not know! Ha!” Juntto clapped his hands and sat up straight in his chair. “Do not worry. I will enlighten you. Me-mes. they are pictures of something like a cat or a dog making funny face. Then there is something written on it. For example, I found one that depicted a white cat sitting in a table of some sort. This gave one the impression that the table’s legs were, in fact, the cat’s legs. A cat with wooden legs! Over top of the image it read Lieutenant Dan, you got new Legs! I deduce that the cat was once a soldier named Dan. Perhaps some witch or warlock turned him into a cat and took his legs. Modern times are strange. There are many strange and mysterious me-mes.”
Angie giggled. “You are talking about memes, not me-mes. Ha! Yeah, that’s a kind of humor these days.”
“Really? I don’t like it. The humor is not funny at all. These people have no respect. You make fun of a man with no legs? I had a comrade a century ago missing a leg. He would have pulled your spleen out of your stomach for making small of him.” Juntto forced himself to take another bite of lettuce.
Angie pushed the croutons onto a side plate. “I can’t argue with you on that. People today are meaner than ever. They feel that sitting behind a computer screen protects them from the outside world. It makes them feel strong and brave, and they say things that normally they wouldn’t dare say to someone’s face.”