A Girl's Guide to Guns and Monsters

by Greenberg, Martin H.

  “Where were you last night?”

  “With a friend,” she said numbly. “Father Castelo.” Castelo would cover for her if they called. Not that it mattered. Janice was dead, which meant very soon, Lena Greenwood would follow.

  She had been through it so many times before, but never like this. Never when it was her own fault.

  Within a day, the grief would lose its edge. Two days, and she would begin to flirt with random strangers. A week, and her body would start to change, adapting to the desires of the people around her. Her mind would do the same, and she would float along until someone else claimed her.

  “Do you have any idea what might have done this?”

  Lena looked at his hand on her arm. “Yes.”

  Janice was dead, but Lena wasn’t gone yet. She broke his hold with ease, tossing him through the doorway like a doll. The other officers did their best to break his fall.

  Lena glanced at her neighbors. “I always liked you,” she said to the girl. “I wanted you to know he’s been cheating on you. I can smell it.”

  By the time anyone recovered, Lena was gone.

  “You’ve done the best you could,” said Father Castelo.

  Lena bowed her head, hiding behind hair both longer and lighter than it had been a week before. Everything had been so clear, but lately she was having a harder time concentrating. She had put this off as long as she could. Another day, and she would be gone. “Even if I found them, I’m not strong enough to fight.”

  “What will happen to you?” He fidgeted uncomfortably, tugging at his collar. “Forgive me. I’m used to counseling the sick and the dying, but this—”

  “I know. It’s all right.” She still couldn’t look at him. “I don’t plan to die.”

  Overhead, the stained glass in the arched windows brightened as the ghosts emerged, sensing her intentions. But they wouldn’t interfere, not unless she directly threatened Father Castelo or if he commanded them to help.

  Castelo rose, brow wrinkling as he watched the dead circle the church like blue smoke. “The werejaguars—”

  “It’s not them.” Lena took his hand. “I need your help.”

  “I’m only a priest.” Castelo chuckled softly, still not understanding. “Even in my younger days, I was never much of a fighter.”

  “I don’t need a fighter.” Lena pulled him around until they stood face to face. She stepped closer, her body brushing against his. “You’re a good man. For years you’ve helped me. You’re as passionate as Janice used to be about protecting the innocent from the darkness.”

  “I’m sorry, Lena.” He shook his head and pulled away. “I understand you’re grieving, but—”

  “I’m no mourning widow seeking comfort, Eduardo.” Lena smiled, refusing to release his hands.

  “Is this why you came here tonight? To seduce me in my own church?”

  “I came here to try to save myself,” Lena snapped. “Because you loved Lena Greenwood. Because by giving myself to you, I might be able to hold on to some small piece of who I was.”

  She pulled away, moving toward the altar. “I’ve never had this chance before. I’ve drifted from one lover to the next, never caring about past or future. But Janice gave me more. Now, with her gone, I have the chance to choose.”

  “What about my choice?” Castelo asked angrily. “You would have me take you as a slave, or else turn you away and condemn you to God only knows what fate?”

  She managed a smile. “You’re welcome to take your complaints up with God. He’s never listened to me, but you might have better luck.”

  “I can’t help you.” He chewed his lip, the only outward sign of conflict. “I can’t be a part of your continued enslavement. I don’t want—”

  “Don’t lie! Not here.” Rarely in Lena’s existence had she ever known anger. This moment was one last gift from Janice. “You think you can hide your desire from me? You’ve controlled it better than most mortals, but don’t lie to yourself.

  “You want this. You want me. A strong woman to fight the darkness, protect the helpless, and look damn good in the process. One who loves and fights with the same passion. Powerful, but also vulnerable. One who needs you. I need you, Eduardo. I need the strength you can give me.”

  He flushed, but kept his distance. “What kind of monster would enslave you like that? What is strength worth if it must be given by another?”

  “Strength is strength.” She raised her chin, allowing her own lust to seep forth and touch him. “Do you think Janice was a monster?”

  “Of course not,” he protested.

  “I could force you. I can break through the walls you’ve . . . erected. I could give you pleasure few mortals have ever known.”

  “But you won’t,” he said, his voice unsteady.

  “No,” she agreed. “Because some of what Janice made me still lingers.” She hugged herself. “I understand your conflict, but you didn’t create me. You’re not responsible for my nature. And if not you, who knows what I’ll become.”

  She could feel his resolve weakening. “If I’m to be cursed to such servitude, let me find a higher purpose in it.”

  Elena Madera made her way along the Santa Cruz River toward the Interstate. She spotted the werejaguars immediately, watching her from the darkness beneath the bridge. Gold eyes shone in the beam of her flashlight.

  A familiar figure jumped into the water and waded toward her. From a distance, he could have passed for just another vagabond living at the edge of the city, if not for the easy, predatory confidence in his movements. “Go away.”

  “Territorial, aren’t you?” Elena smiled. She counted two others in the darkness. “Most cats hate water, but not jaguars. No wonder you love it here.”

  He sniffed the air. “I know you.”

  “Thank you.” Her scent had changed over the past month, along with the rest of her. But if he still recognized her, it meant something of Lena Greenwood had survived. Her hair was longer now, tied back in twin black braids. Her skin was soft and brown. She wore a long white coat which would be murder to keep clean, but did a nice job of hiding the three feet of Toledo steel sheathed on the back of her belt.

  “I’ve been volunteering at the homeless shelters lately,” Elena said. “Strange how many of them talk about monsters, especially here at the river. Creatures chasing them away, hunting them in the night.”

  All three werejaguars were approaching now. The mother and her young. Apparently, the family that ran drugs together, stayed together. The mother’s features shifted, fur covering her body, though she remained humanoid. Combining the best of both forms. Her sons simply drew their guns.

  This time, Elena was faster. Her coat flew out behind her as she leapt, drawing a chrome-plated .45 and killing the first werejaguar before he could react. She put a bullet into the arm of the second, and his weapon dropped into the water. Undeterred, he charged, slamming into her with his full weight.

  Elena rolled back, planted her feet in his gut, and flung him away. By the time he attacked again, she was ready. Her sword hissed through the air, and he fell into the river.

  She spun, hurling the sword to catch the mother in the stomach even as she leapt.

  “What are you?” the last werejaguar asked, sharp teeth distorting her words.

  Elena walked toward her. “Bow down to him, for he avenges the blood of his children and takes vengeance on his adversaries. He repays those who hate him and cleanses his people’s land. Deuteronomy, chapter thirty-two.”

  She grabbed the hilt of her sword and planted a foot on the werejaguar’s chest. “Answer my questions, and I’ll be merciful.” Eduardo would like that. Much as he hated the darkness, he also hated suffering of any kind. She would do her best to make this quick.

  JIANG SHI

  Elizabeth A. Vaughan

  My doorway was filled with a small army of angry bikers, dressed in leathers and tattoos. The one in front snarled at me, his fist still tight from pounding on my front door.
“Lady, your van was found with our stolen hogs alongside I-75. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?”

  Uh-oh.

  Itty and Bitty, my two white Westies, stopped barking and smelled the biker’s boots, their little tails wagging like mad.

  Now, normally, my pre- menopausal middle-aged response would have been to curse and slam the door in the biker’s faces, but it had been a rough couple of days, what with attacks by evil possums and ninja rats, trips to the ER, mysterious doctors who threw lightning, and one ancient Chinese sword-wielding mouse with a magical artifact who still hadn’t explained much of anything. So what the hell . . .

  I shushed the dogs, opened the front door wide, gave the group a weary smile, and lied through my teeth. “I have no idea. Would you like some coffee?”

  They all just looked at me, and the anger bled from their faces. One of the bigger ones, the bald one with the nose ring, said, “That would be real nice, ma’am.”

  Ma’am. Swell. “Please,” I said. “Call me Kate.”

  It took two pots of my special stash of Michigan Cherry coffee before they really calmed down. I just kept listening to their outrage, nodding, pouring fresh cups, and repeating my lie. “I have no idea what happened. Sugar?”

  They’d thank me and tell me again how their hogs had been stolen from outside the honky tonk where they’d been hanging out. They’d found their bikes gone, and gotten the runaround from the cops and the impound lot where all the vehicles had been taken.

  I think they’d have forgiven the thefts, but the bikes had taken the worst of it when the rats had attacked my minivan as I was driving home from the hospital. Bud, the one with the nose-ring, was especially upset, since his ride had been found in the ditch. “Some sumofabitch side-swiped it.” He mumbled into his coffee.

  I made sympathetic noises and topped off his mug. In point of fact, I’d rammed the bike from behind with my van. The sparks had been very impressive as it slid across the expressway.

  Not the time to offer that detail.

  Tiny, who was not, leaned back and made my dining room chair creak in alarming ways. “The world is going to hell, ma’am. Plain and simple, just going to hell . . .”

  There was a stirring under my collar at that statement. Wan, short for Wan Su Yi, the aforementioned ancient Chinese mouse, had been riding on my shoulder when they’d knocked. He’d taken cover just before I opened the door. He’d been carrying his sword at the time, and the point was digging into my neck as he squirmed.

  “You don’t mean that literally, Tiny.” I said, knowing that Wan would take it as such.

  “Well, no, ma’am, but just the same.” Tiny dropped the chair back to the floor with a thud and slapped the table with his palm. “What kind of dirty, thieving lowlife scum would be stealing our rides?”

  Well, in point of fact, it had been a possum and his ninja rats, but damned if I was going to tell them that. I just shook my head, kept my mouth shut, and ground the beans for another pot. As the riders all agreed with Tiny, I took a quick survey of the kitchen and the great room.

  The damages in the house from the epic battle between us and the ninja rats weren’t really obvious. The broken glass had been swept away, the blood mopped up. I’d put the toilet brush back into its holder in the bathroom. But I still didn’t have a clue as to what the hell was going on, and Wan, who may or may not be the “Lord of Ten Thousand Years,” had better provide some answers and soon.

  But first, I had to get rid of the bikers.

  It took the rest of my precious stash of coffee to get them on their way. I told them where I bought the coffee at a place up in Dundee. They gave me the name and phone number of the impounded lot where my van was. Tiny winked at me, and slipped me his cell number as he walked out the door.

  Oh yeah. That was happening.

  I closed the door firmly and leaned my forehead against it, listening to the rumble of their hogs as they pulled away.

  “We must talk, Kate.” Wan wiggled out from under my collar to stand on my shoulder. He stood upright, his tail whipping back and forth. His sword was on his back, the bright red tassel hanging from the pommel. “There is much you need to know.”

  “Oh sure,” I snapped, as I turned back toward the kitchen. “Now you want to talk. Now, after we’ve fought off possums and ninja rats and wrecked my van, damn it.” I started to gather up the coffee mugs and load them into the dishwasher.

  “The Honorable Doctor McDougall—”

  “Do we know he is honorable?” I growled.

  “—has warded this house,” Wan said, easily balancing as I moved back and forth. “We cannot be complacent and assume that those forces allied against us will—”

  “And what forces might those be, Wan?” I stopped abruptly.

  “Kate,” Wan’s voice was soft. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, and for a moment I could swear that he was looking at me with pity in those small black eyes. “Perhaps we should sit, Honorable Lady.”

  I sighed. “All right.” I dumped soap into the machine and got it started. The familiar sound of water was comforting in an odd way.

  I went to the living room and plopped down on the sofa. Itty and Bitty ran for their usual spots, each on one side of me. They jumped up, circled around, and then settled down for a nap.

  Wan leapt for the coffee table, standing on a pile of magazines next to the remote.

  “Okay,” I said, sagging into the cushions. “Explain.”

  “Let me begin by asking you—what do you know of the history of the Middle Kingdom?” Wan asked.

  “China?” I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. “Well, let’s see. There’s the Ming Dynasty and the Han Dynasty. The last empress, the Opium Wars. Lao Tzu, Confucius, Mao Zedung, and Ho Chi Minh . . . no, wait, I think he is Vietnamese.” I opened my eyes. “That’s about it.”

  Wan was frozen in horror, his mouth gaping open.

  “Er . . .” I thought about it a minute. “General Tso’s? Dim sum? Moo shu? There was that Disney movie . . . what was the girl’s name?”

  Wan put a paw over his eyes. “The level of your ignorance is appalling.”

  “Oh, excuse me,” I said.

  “What of its religion?” Wan asked, keeping his paw over his eyes.

  “Mythology?” I asked.

  Wan dropped his paw and glared at me. “Shall we offer comparisons with Christian mythology?”

  Eeep. “Point taken,” I felt guilty. “Wan, I’m sorry, but—”

  “What happened when you touched the talisman?” Wan was staring at me intently. “Tell me, Kate.”

  My mouth opened, but the words wouldn’t come. How could I explain?

  I was floating, suspended between earth and the heavens, moving freely as if underwater, clouds all around me.

  I gasped at the change, then gasped again when cool air rushed into my lungs, with a taste of rain and spring on the air. I breathed again, filling my body with energy and light, lost in the sensation.

  The clouds eddied around me, heavy with mist, white and intangible. I started to try to tread the air, to see if I could turn, but my hands passed through the clouds, collecting the heavy drops within. I couldn’t move.

  Something else could, though. I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye. There was a rumble, like far-distant thunder on a sunny day. I saw a huge form moving in and out of the clouds, flowing like a snake. I had a quick glimpse of scales that glittered all colors of the spectrum, then a huge head reared up before me.

  I’d seen enough to know a dragon. No wings, just a fierce, lovely face and huge teeth and claws. A museum print come to life, the only source of color in the white billowing clouds.

  My throat closed at the memory, lovely and fearful at the same time. “I saw—”

  “A dragon,” Wan said.

  “Yes,” I licked my lips. “Wan, what . . . who . . .”

  “Kate,” Wan placed his palms together and bowed his head to me. “You are the Wise One, Bearer of the Scale,
chosen of the Emperor Dragon, Lord of the Dragon Kings, Ruler of the Weather, and the Waters of the World.”

  I stared at the small talking mouse on my coffee table for one solemn moment, and then reality came crashing in. “Bullshit.”

  Wan jerked his head up. “Wha—”

  “That is the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard,” I started to struggle up out of the sofa cushions. The dogs opened their eyes for a moment, then returned to their naps. “Of all the stupid—” I glared at him as I fought free of the cushions. “How stupid do you think I am?”

  “Kate,” Wan looked up as I towered over him. “Kate, please—”

  “Bullshit,” I snarled. “Tell me again how the Emperor Dragon has chosen a fat, middle-aged woman from Toledo, Ohio. Go ahead, I dare you.”

  “Our enemies have sought me over the centuries to gain control of the jade necklace that bears the talisman of the Wise One,” Wan replied. “But once you touched the talisman, you became the target. They will now wish to kill you, Kate. I have placed you in grave jeopardy. Doctor McDougall knows this. He will return, hopefully bringing his colleagues wise in the ways of magic, to protect you.”

  It had been a mistake. The doctor had demanded to know why they were attacking us, and Wan showed us the necklace concealed in the hilt of his sword. It had been so tiny, and so lovely. Heavy pieces of jade, with an odd-looking circular medallion that had looked like mother-of-pearl, with all the colors reflecting in the light . . . I had reached out, just barely brushing it with my fingertips. . . .

  I closed my eyes, and for a moment I could feel the jade on my skin, heavy and cool on my shoulder-blades . . .

  I shook myself from the vision and opened my eyes. Wan was staring up at me, a satisfied look on his face. “It calls to you, does it not?”

  “Wan, that is ridiculous.” I rolled my eyes and threw my hands in the air. “That’s as crazy as—”

  “Talking to a mouse,” he snapped.

  I glared at him, and ran my fingers through my hair. “I need to pee.”

  Wan crossed his arms over his chest. I could feel his tiny glare on my back as I walked away.