by Gary Jonas
I stopped the song.
“Hey!” Kevin said, and zapped my leg.
I grimaced.
“Something wrong?” Helen asked.
“Leg cramp,” I said, and rubbed it. “All right, you’ve got free coffee, so spill the details.”
“I use magic to prevent recordings,” she said.
“My cousin uses magic to sweep the floor,” I said.
“No, I’m serious. Magic is real.”
I nodded. “I know. I’m a wizard,” I said.
“Come on.”
“I blasted those two shark dudes for you.”
She studied me. “I didn’t see that. Of course, I was busy trying to get away from them.”
“You seriously didn’t see it?”
“If you’re such a powerful wizard why was it so hard to save me?”
“I’m not much for practicing.”
“Show me something.”
“Oh, this ought to be good,” Kevin said.
I wanted to shoo him away, but since she doubted my wizarding skills, I didn’t want to tell her an invisible demon with red skin and a black diaper was trying to look down her dress.
“Magic requires blood,” I said.
“Really?”
“My magic does. There are other kinds of wizards and sorcerers and witches and mages and dumbass demons, too.”
Kevin flipped me off.
“That’s a lot of magic.”
“Hurts the brain, doesn’t it?”
“So show me what you can do.”
I put my right arm on the table, turned palm up to display a Tarot card tattooed on my forearm in the middle of another tattoo of flowing plants and flowers. The Tarot card, however, was part of a full deck that had been tattooed into my arm with blood magic, so the price had been paid. I could ask a question, shake my arm, and the Tarot card would give me an answer. Not a real answer, of course. Bullshit Tarot answers, which were a step above a fortune cookie in my view.
She frowned as she looked at the tat. “Flowers?”
“Don’t judge,” I said. “I was drunk.”
She laughed. “I wasn’t being judgmental, I was born on a flowery island myself.”
“Whatever. See the card?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Okay,” I said, and focused on my question. “Should we be worried about the shark dudes?” I gave my arm a shake and the card shifted to the Five of Pentacles.
“If I know my Tarot,” she said, “that card means we should be worried.”
The card did indeed mean worry.
“Unless it’s reversed,” she said, “in which case it’s the end of an adverse situation. Right?”
“Something like that.”
“Is it reversed? I mean, it is to me, but it would be upright for you. Does that mean you’re the answer to my problem, but I’m now your worry?”
“Hell if I know,” I said. “I hate Tarot cards.”
“That was impressive magic, though,” she said. “I have to hand it to you because that little trick works because of someone else’s power, not yours.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the magic is in the tattoo, so you didn’t use any of your own magic there.”
“Not exactly,” I said. “It draws on my magic to work.”
She shrugged. “Can we ask another question?”
“Not for twenty-four hours.”
She laughed. “So even with someone else’s magic, you’re extremely limited.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“I already did.”
“Bored now,” Kevin said and moved off to mess with someone else.
“Fine,” I said. I bent my arm, and scratched open the wound from earlier enough to draw blood. I dabbed my finger against the scrape, winced a bit, then put my finger in my mouth. I didn’t have to do that in order to use the blood magic, but it made the task easier.
I pointed at the salt shaker, and it levitated six inches above the table. Kevin had loosened the lid, so it slid off the container, and bounced twice before rolling onto the bench seat of the booth. The motion distracted me, and the shaker tilted enough to spill salt, and I lost control of it. The container dropped to the table and tipped over, making a mess.
Helen laughed and shook her head. “Impressive.”
“Whatever. Your turn,” I said, as I righted the salt shaker. “What’s the deal with the record guy? Why don’t you want to sign the contract?”
“Because the contract is draconian, and if I agree to it, I’ll be his slave.”
I grabbed a napkin, held it in one hand beneath the edge of the table then brushed the spilled salt into it. “You don’t want to do radio interviews and long concert tours?”
She shook her head, and her grin gave way as a troubled look crossed her face. She scanned the customers in the diner, then leaned forward. “I mean I would literally be his slave if I signed that contract.”
“Good incentive not to sign,” I said as I folded the napkin so the salt wouldn’t spill again. “You don’t want to spend your prime years chained up in a recording studio.”
“I can’t sign any contracts, Brett. If I sign a contract, I’m enslaved to the contract holder. I fought for many years to get my freedom.”
“Many years? You’re what, twenty-five?”
“I’m a bit older than I look,” she said.
“Twenty-six?”
“I was enslaved for thousands of years.”
And I was worried she might think I was crazy.
I looked around for the waitress and raised my hand. “Check, please?”
Helen pulled my hand down. “I’m being serious.”
“I know,” I said. That was the problem. I knew she meant it. Her eyes told me she believed it.
“You heard me sing,” she said.
“Indeed I did, and you’re incredibly talented. Alas, you’re also batshit crazy.”
“No,” she said. “What I am is a siren.”
CHAPTER FIVE
I stared at Helen. “Aren’t sirens part bird, part woman?” I asked. “I don’t see any feathers on you.”
“Don’t believe everything you read about mythology.”
“So you’re not a bird chick?”
“No.”
“But your voice can lure men to their deaths.”
“I can sing people into doing things for me with some degree of success.”
“That’s why the shark dudes were wearing headphones.”
She nodded.
I’d felt the power in her voice, so maybe she was telling a version of the truth. I didn’t think she was thousands of years old, but she had some kind of magic, and it cost me nothing to let her believe she was a siren. Still, if I ever took her to bed, I’d be looking for feathers.
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” I said. “You’re a siren, and some record producer wants to sign you to his label, and knows enough to get Mako Clansmen to fetch you for him?”
“He knows I’m a siren.”
“Why the shark dudes?”
“We’re on an island,” she said. “They’re convenient.”
“How did he know about them?”
“He’s a god. He wants to regain his power in the world, and he thinks I can help him with that.”
“Hell, I’m a rock god myself,” I said.
“Apollo is a real god. You’re just a … I don’t know what you are.”
“Apollo? That’s the best you can come up with?”
“He’s the god of music, Brett.”
“He’s famous, of course. He had space missions named after him. You’re telling me he’s living in Nashville?”
“He works in Nashville.”
“So he’s a god, but he has a day job?”
“Gods get their power from people believing in them. He’s believed to be a myth now, and he wants to change that.”
“By recording a siren.”
“He has the muse
s, too.”
I grinned. “So he’s putting a band together. Think he needs a guitarist?”
“He plays a lyre.”
“He needs to get with the times. Nobody plays a lyre these days. Well, maybe Sting.”
“And now Apollo.”
A woman shrieked on the other side of the diner. I turned to see Kevin pulling her shirt down to try and expose her large breasts. She was wearing a bra, much to Kevin’s consternation, and she pulled her shirt back into position.
“I don’t know what happened,” the woman said, clutching her shirt and keeping her arms tight to her chest. “I’ve never had that kind of wardrobe malfunction!”
Kevin shrugged and trotted back to me. “She had boulder holders. I hate that.”
He hopped up on the table and nearly knocked my coffee cup over. Fortunately, it was empty.
“What’s going on?” Helen asked. “Did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“The cup. I don’t feel an earthquake, and you’re too far away to mess with that woman over there.”
“What you gonna tell her?” Kevin asked.
“Truth be told,” I said, “there’s a demon sitting on the table. He’s a horny little red-skinned bastard.”
“Don’t call me red-skinned,” Kevin said. “It’s racist.”
“Your skin is red, dumbass.”
Helen blinked a few times. “I hope you’re talking to your imaginary friend,” she said.
“You don’t see him?”
She shook her head. “Can’t say as I do.”
“Right.” I studied her, but she would make a good poker player. “He’s not imaginary. Unfortunately, it seems I’m the only one who can see him.”
“Where is he?” she asked.
“Sitting right between us.”
“Point to his head.”
I pointed.
Helen threw a punch at the air where I indicated.
Her fist connected and Kevin fell off the table into my lap.
“Okay,” Helen said. “I felt that. I believe you.”
Kevin crawled under the table. “I felt it too,” he said. “That hurts. Let’s see what she has under here.”
“And you say you can’t see him,” I said. “I’m not buying it.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Helen said.
“Me?” I asked.
“Mmmph!” Kevin said.
“Oh, him,” I said, getting it.
“He’s the one who lifted my dress earlier, right?”
I nodded.
“I thought it was the wind at the time, but it felt different.”
“Mmmph!” Kevin said again.
I leaned down to look under the table. Helen had her legs tightly crossed around Kevin’s head.
“He tried to get under my dress again.”
“You’ve got him by the head,” I said, sitting up.
Her lips tightened, and Kevin gave a muffled grunt.
She flinched.
“Ow!” she said. “The bastard zapped my ankle.”
Kevin pulled free and bolted to the center of the diner.
“She tried to break my neck!” he shouted.
“Serves you right,” I said, then realized that if Helen couldn’t see him, even though I wasn’t facing her, she might think I was talking to her. “Not you. Him.”
“Where is he?”
“Center of the room hiding under a table.”
She looked toward the center of the room, and I had a hard time believing that she couldn’t see him. She leaned back and directed her gaze my way. She winked. “If he comes near me again, tell me. I’ll smack him upside the head.”
“Cool.”
“Why do you have a demon?”
“It’s not like I asked for him to be here. My father sicced him on me. I’m not good enough with magic to send him away yet.”
“Your father’s an asshole.”
“I keep saying that.”
“Well, this has been interesting, but I think it’s time for me to head back to my hotel.”
“Wait,” I said and reached across the table to touch her hand.
She pulled her hand away. “For what?”
“I’m supposed to help people. It’s one of the things my father set up. I work with my cousin, Sabrina. She’s the lead singer of my band. And I have a witch on my father’s payroll, too. Her name is Lakesha. Oh, and I have a vampire friend. Maybe we can help you with your little god problem.”
“No offense, Brett, but if you can’t even get rid of a simple nuisance demon, what makes you think you can face a Greek god?”
“He’s clearly not at full strength.”
“The demon or Apollo? Don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter. Either way, you’re out of your league.”
“I helped you with the shark dudes.”
“Why do you want to help me?”
“I have to help people or my father will cut me off, and if I’m going to be helping someone, why not help a beautiful woman who thinks she’s a siren?”
“I’m not going to sleep with you.”
“You think I’m in this to get laid?”
“Are you?”
“Well, I wouldn’t turn you down, but no, that’s not it.”
“Then why?”
“I’ll give you an excellent reason,” I said raising my right forefinger. “You can hit the dumbass demon, and I like watching him take a beating.”
“You can’t hit him?”
“Not so far.” I realized I was losing because she could hit the demon and I couldn’t which proved she was better equipped to handle it on her own. Except that I had helpers. “Look, at least meet the team. We can protect you from the shark men while you’re in Galveston.”
“Apollo will be here Monday afternoon.”
“Then maybe we can kill him for you.”
“You can’t kill a god, Brett.”
“You don’t know that. Has anyone ever shot him with a machine gun?”
“I don’t need him killed. I just need him to stop trying to recruit me.”
“We can help.”
“Is the vampire male or female?”
“Michael is a dude.”
“But you work with two women?”
“Yeah.”
She considered that for a moment. “Fine. I’ll meet them. I don’t see how it can help, but it can’t hurt.”
“Awesome. Does one in the afternoon work for you?”
“Why so late? Are you going to church?”
“Hell no. I don’t like to get up before noon.”
She grinned. “One o’clock will be fine.”
I pulled a business card out of my pocket and handed it to her. “The address is on here.”
She slid out of the seat, tucked the card into her clutch purse, then gave me a nod. “Until tomorrow,” she said, and walked out the door.
Kevin scrambled out from under the table. “She’s quite a bitch,” he said. “I like her. Think she’d be willing to give me a spanking?”
CHAPTER SIX
Michael sat on the sofa, but Sabrina sat in a chair across the room from him. A movie played on the TV, and they both looked away from the screen when I entered the house through the front door.
“Hey, guys,” I said.
Kevin darted around me, and slid to a stop in front of the carpet. He looked down at Mangani, and took a step back when she twitched toward him. He got down on his hands and knees.
“You didn’t notice me before,” he said.
Mangani twitched.
“Oh, you like that?” He patted Mangani and she did a little flutter. Kevin looked up at me. “She likes me, she really likes me.”
I ignored his pitiful attempt at Sally Field, and waved to Sabrina. She didn’t answer me. She folded her arms and stared at the TV, though the set was either muted or they were watching some shitty experimental minimalist French film where the director felt sound was overrated. There weren’t any lights on, so the flick
ering images from the screen threw soft colors over the room. Michael gave me a shrug.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“Not in my view,” Michael said.
“Typical,” Sabrina said.
“Did I miss something?” I asked.
“She’s pissed,” Michael said.
“What about?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Sabrina asked, her voice accusatory.
“You keep saying it’s nothing.”
“When a woman says it’s nothing, it’s always something,” I said.
“I know that,” Michael said. “But I’m not making a big deal over that pop star she’s getting so wet about on the damn TV.”
“He’s dreamy.”
“Nobody’s ever heard one of his songs.”
“Don’t change the subject. You know what you did.”
I didn’t want to get involved here. “Well, in that case, I’ll just head upstairs to smoke a joint, and you two can have fun smoldering.”
Kevin moved to get up, but Mangani did a little roll as she reached for him, and he bent to lick her.
“Gross,” I said.
Kevin looked up at me. “What? She likes it. You should try it sometime.”
“Pass.”
“You talking to me or Sabrina?” Michael asked.
“Neither.”
I flipped the upstairs light on and went up to leave the heavy silence between Michael and Sabrina behind. What I wanted right then was to get high and to escape the demon for a bit. I’d cut back on the weed because Lakesha could always smell it on me, and I was tired of her giving me shit about it. But I liked it, so I didn’t want to let go completely.
The damn demon followed me up the stairs.
“What ya doing?” he asked.
“Go away,” I said. I went to the closet, took down a wooden box I kept on the shelf, and unlocked it. Inside, I still had rolling papers, a selection of roach clips, a lighter, and most of a dime bag. I rolled a quick joint, and went out on the upstairs deck to kick back and smoke my way into peace and tranquility. I set the box on the deck beneath my lawn chair, and lit up.
The demon followed me, grinning. He hopped up on the deck railing and swung his legs back and forth. The light from the house behind mine threw his shadow at me. They kept their backyard illuminated all night because they said their dog was afraid of the dark. I didn’t buy it, but it meant I didn’t have to use the lights on the deck.