by Gary Jonas
“Go back inside, Kevin. I need some solo time.”
He grinned. “No,” he said. “I want to watch.”
I rolled my eyes and took a hit.
The taste of sour milk mixed with lima beans assaulted my taste buds. I worked up some saliva and spit over the railing. If I’d been thinking, I’d have spit in Kevin’s direction, but he was off to my right. I held the joint out in front of me and stared at it.
It looked fine.
I touched the rolled tip to my tongue. Sour milk.
“What the hell?”
Kevin chuckled.
“Did you mess with my pot?”
He shook his head.
“Liar.”
I sniffed the joint. It smelled normal. Maybe it was the papers. I started to flick it away, but Kevin held out his hand. I dropped it into his palm. He took a hit and grinned.
I rolled a fresh joint.
Lit up.
Tasted.
Sour milk and lima beans. I hate lima beans. Sour milk is nasty too.
Spit.
I took a fresh rolling paper out, licked it. Tasted like paper. I checked the herbs. Smelled and looked normal. I rolled a fresh joint in the paper I’d just tasted, lit it up, and as soon as it touched my lips, the nasty flavor struck me again.
Kevin laughed.
“Did you do this? Did you piss on my stash or something?”
He shook his head. “Good idea, but I didn’t think of it. I didn’t know where your stash was. Get past the flavor and keep smoking. I want to watch.”
“I can’t get past the flavor,” I said and flicked the joint at him.
It bounced off his forehead and landed on the deck. He hopped down, picked it up and stuck it in his mouth. He inhaled deeply and held it. “Tastes good to me,” he said trying not to exhale. “I like it. ‘Ere,” and he handed it to me.
I held up a hand. “What did you do?”
He blew a smoke ring at me. It smelled wonderful. He gave me a big grin, took another hit. “What makes you think I did anything.”
“My father put you up to it.”
He nodded. “Try it now,” he said. “It’s good shit.”
“It tastes like shit.”
“To you. Are you sure you don’t want to smoke some more? Maybe it’s an acquired taste.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “If I can get past the nasty taste, it won’t get me high.”
“Bingo.”
“Are you enjoying it?”
“Oh yeah.”
I reached under the chair and grabbed the box. When I stood, I shoved it into his midsection. He grabbed the railing so he didn’t go over. I was surprised the box and my hand didn’t go through him. He smiled at me, and I realized he wanted the box so he solidified to accept it. I tried to slap him upside the head, but my hand went through him now. Figures.
“It’s all yours,” I said, and went back inside.
He didn’t follow, so I closed and locked the door. That probably wouldn’t keep him out, but it made me feel better for the moment. It was time for my favorite activity. Sleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As soon as I walked in the door at Something’s Brewing, Lakesha’s metaphysical bookstore, I knew the day was going to blow chunks.
“Did you get the cat food?” Lakesha asked without even a hello. She stood behind the counter dusting the back shelves where she kept crystal balls and statuettes. She was a big woman, who seemed to like everyone but me. Her black cat, Isis, sat on the countertop, and swiveled her head toward me, narrowing her gaze in disapproval.
“What cat food?” I asked. Kevin entered the store behind me, but Lakesha couldn’t see him.
Isis looked down at Kevin and meowed.
Could the cat see him?
“Hey, pretty kitty,” Kevin said.
Isis meowed.
“Yeah, I’m supposed to mess with the stupid human,” Kevin said with a nod.
Lakesha tossed the duster on the shelf beneath the cash register. “I left you a message, Brett. Isis is down to only the salmon and beef flavor, and she won’t eat that two days in a row, so I need you to pick up some chicken and tuna or some of the turkey flavor.”
“I didn’t get your message.”
Isis thumped her tail on the counter.
“Well, get your ass in your car and go get some. She’s hungry.”
“I have a client meeting us here in a few minutes.”
The cat growled. Lakesha scratched Isis behind the ears. “I know he’s worthless, but if you scratch out his eyes, he won’t be able to read the labels on the cans.”
“The cat isn’t a fan,” Kevin said. “Cool.”
“Shut up,” I said.
“Don’t tell me to shut up,” Lakesha said.
“I didn’t mean you.”
“Well, you sure as hell wouldn’t talk to Isis like that. You’d best apologize right this instant.”
“Sorry if you thought I meant you.”
“Apologize to Isis, too.”
“I’m not apologizing to a cat. I wasn’t talking to her either.”
“So you’re telling yourself to shut up? Good advice, but you clearly can’t follow it.”
I closed my eyes. “I give up.”
“You’re an idiot,” Kevin said, with a big grin. He reached up and scratched Isis under the chin. “I’ll make sure the loser gets you some food, Isis.”
The cat meowed.
“Yeah, I zapped him a few times yesterday.”
She meowed again.
“Sure, I can show you. I just went,” and he zapped my hand.
“Ow!” I said and shook my hand.
And I swear, Isis grinned.
“What’s wrong with you?” Lakesha asked.
I rubbed my hand. “I’m tired.”
“You’re always tired. And Isis is always hungry. Her needs are more important than yours.”
“I’m not going to the store right now.”
“In that case, go to the back, get down The Guide to Blood Magic by Jared Carpenter, and start reading where you left off.”
“I told you, we have a client coming.” I didn’t bother to mention that I hadn’t even started reading the book. Every time Lakesha gave me reading time, I just took a nap.
“You can either read until the client arrives, or you can go get Isis some food.”
“Fine. I’ll read.”
“Way to earn some respect. Isis won’t forget this.”
“Isis wouldn’t give me credit for getting the food anyway. She hates me.”
“You have to build rapport with her.”
“She’s a cruel cat.”
“She’s not cruel.”
“My scars say otherwise.”
Before I could head to the back, the front door opened, and Helen stepped into the shop. She spotted me instantly, and smiled.
“I see you found the place,” I said.
Her smile didn’t waver. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”
“I rock at obvious stuff.”
“He also rocks at being rude,” Lakesha said, approaching Helen. “I’m Lakesha. Welcome to my shop.”
They shook hands.
“Thank you. I’m Helen. I don’t know how much Brett has told you.”
“Nothing.”
“I said we had a client.”
“Client suggests payment,” Helen said. “You didn’t say anything about paying last night.”
“This is on the house,” I said. “Well, on my father anyway.”
“All right,” Helen said, and moved to the counter where Isis sat. “Is the demon here?”
“I hope you don’t mean Isis,” Lakesha said.
“Isis is the cat,” I said.
“Hi, Isis,” Helen said, and the damn cat allowed Helen to pet her without complaint. “Is the demon here?”
“Yes.”
“What’s this talk of a demon?” Lakesha asked.
“Gift from my old man.”
�
��And you’re just now telling me about it?”
“He’s mostly harmless. Red dude stands four feet tall and likes to make my life a living hell.”
“Then he can’t be all bad,” Lakesha said. “What kind of demon?”
“A nuisance demon,” Helen said, and her eyes drifted toward him. She looked away, and I once again suspected she could actually see him. What game was she playing here?
“Pain in the ass demon,” I said.
“You’ll think pain,” Kevin said.
Lakesha went to one of the display cases on the far wall. She took down what looked like a magnifying glass and held it up to her left eye. She scanned the room and stopped when she was facing Kevin.
“By the light of the moon and the dark of the sun,” Lakesha said, “display your visage as though I’m the only one.” She lowered the glass and walked over to Kevin. “What’s your name, demon?”
“You can see me now?” he asked.
“Your lips moved, but I couldn’t hear you. Hang on.” She walked to one of the bookshelves, scanned the books until she found the one she wanted. She took it down, flipped through the pages.
“Is it book club time?” I asked.
“Hush, child,” Lakesha said.
“I’m not a child.”
“Prove it by acting your age.”
“You prove it.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Kevin said.
“I didn’t have a comeback,” I said, though admitting it bugged me. Hey, it happens to the best of us. One would likely occur to me in an hour, by which time it would be irrelevant.
Lakesha tapped a page, and looked over at Kevin. “While the air is stirred, make silent voices heard.”
“When overhead flies a bird, don’t get hit by a falling turd,” I said. “Your witch spells sound stupid.”
“The words are just anchors of my intent, Brett. The magic comes from within and without.”
“Without making sense, you mean.”
“She means the sigils,” Kevin said, pointing at the ceiling.
I looked up. The ceiling was covered with soft swirls that looked like thick paint sloshed on to dry, but now that I really looked, I saw there were all kinds of wards and sigils worked into the design. “Huh,” I said. “I never noticed that.”
“There’s a surprise,” Kevin said.
“Most people don’t notice,” Lakesha said. “That’s kind of the point. Okay, demon, what’s your name?”
“He goes by Kevin,” I said.
Lakesha rolled her eyes. “I see he’s already influencing you.”
“Shh!” Kevin said.
“Really, dude?” I asked, offended. “You zap me, insult me, wake me up, and hex me too?”
He put a hand on his heart. “Demon,” he said by way of explanation.
“Name,” Lakesha said.
“Kevinaticulus.”
Lakesha drew a symbol in the air, and pointed at him. “Begone, Kevinaticulus, by the beard of Odin and the phallus of Osiris.”
Kevin tapped his foot. “You can’t banish me, witch. I’m tied to Brett the Wonderdog here.”
“Courtesy of my father,” I said. “Can you show me that spell? Maybe if I do it, he’ll go away.”
Kevin laughed. “Take your shot, loser boy.”
“Follow my directions,” Lakesha said. “Do as I do.”
“Ready,” I said.
I followed her exact motions on drawing the symbol in the air, then I said, “Begone, Kevinaticulus, by the beard of Odin and the phallus of Osiris!”
“Whiskers and wooden dicks aren’t going to cut it, you dope,” Kevin said. “Has to be your own magic, not witchcraft.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because wizard magic and witch magic aren’t compatible.”
“Nonsense,” I said.
“You did something wrong,” Lakesha said. “You always do things wrong.”
“So it’s my fault?” I asked.
“Naturally.”
“I told you,” Kevin said. “A regular spell won’t cut it. You have to use your own personal magic to send me home. Otherwise, I’ll keep right on pestering you.”
“This is all very interesting,” Helen said, “but I’m lost.”
Lakesha handed the glass to Helen. “Look through this. Do you see the demon?” She pointed at Kevin.
Helen looked through the glass then nodded. “He’s very red.” She didn’t have a real reaction to seeing him. Was that because she could see him without the glass? Or was it just that she was a siren who had lived for thousands of years while looking as hot as Jessica Alba?
“Red?” Kevin asked. “That’s the best you’ve got?” He turned around, pulled down his undies and mooned us.
Helen kicked him in the ass and knocked him into the air like a soccer ball. He landed in a heap and slid against a bookshelf.
“Cheater,” he said.
Lakesha studied Helen. “You can make contact with a nuisance demon?”
“She’s a siren,” I said. “Not the kind on a police car, but the kind who guides men to wreck their ships on the rocks.”
“I haven’t done that in centuries,” Helen said.
Lakesha studied her and frowned. “You’re a siren, but you can’t see a nuisance demon?”
She shrugged.
“That’s not an answer,” Lakesha said.
“You could always see him, right?” I asked.
“What makes you think that?”
I poked her in the side and she laughed. “You looked at him in the bar when you took the stage,” I said.
“Don’t poke me,” she said. “I’m ticklish.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t have told me that,” I said and started tickling her. “You just happened to be able to kick Kevin when he went to peek under your dress.”
“Stop it,” she said, laughing and trying to twist away from me.
I pinned her in the corner, and kept tickling her sides. She squirmed pleasantly, and tears rolled down her cheeks. “Then you looked right at him when you came in here today.”
“I can’t breathe!” She slapped my hands away.
“Admit you can see him,” I said.
“All right, I admit it. Just stop tickling me!”
I stopped.
She wiped tears from her cheeks and took a few deep breaths. “I can catch sight of him from the corner of my eye, or if I focus my concentration on him. But it’s not very reliable since he was able to lift my dress in the alley without me seeing him coming.”
“The spell should work for you,” Lakesha said. “Repeat after me, making the same hand movements, and you’ll be able to see him and hear him without having to focus on him.”
They went through the nonsense about light of the moon, and being heard like a bird turd landing on the roof of a car.
“Look at him now, without adding any magical juice to it,” Lakesha said.
Helen smiled and pointed at Kevin. “There you are, you little shit. Now you can’t sneak up on me to look up my dress,” she said.
Kevin leered at her. “We’ll see about that.”
“Will that spell work for Sabrina and Michael?”
Lakesha hesitated while she considered. “Yes for Sabrina, but I don’t know about Michael. It’s worth a shot.”
“What about on mundanes like my bandmates?”
Lakesha shook her head. “Probably not.”
“But you’re not sure?”
“Depends on whether or not they have any connection with a magical bloodline in the last few generations.”
“And there’s no way to just make the son of a bitch visible to everyone?”
“No.”
“I can do that,” Kevin said. “But why would I want to let everyone gaze upon my glorious visage?” He scratched his balls as he spoke.
“Why indeed?” I asked.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“You want to protect a woman you just met from a god?” Lakesha asked after
I explained the situation to her. Lakesha, Helen, and I were in the back room of the shop, seated around a small table Lakesha used for Tarot readings. There weren’t any cards on the table right now, though. Instead, the table was covered by a purple cloth that draped all the way to the floor.
“Well, we’re talking about a third-rate god at best,” I said. “And protect is a strong word since it’s really just helping her tell him she won’t sign a recording contract.”
“Something she should have done herself.”
“I did do that myself,” Helen said. “He won’t take no for an answer. And Apollo is not a third-rate god.”
Lakesha sighed. “On the positive side, he’s supposed to be a lord of light and healing.”
“He used to be,” Helen said. “But after centuries of being forgotten or confined to the realms of mythology, his disposition isn’t quite so sunny anymore.”
“As long as we’re not trapped in an episode of Star Trek, we should be okay,” I said.
“What are you talking about?” Helen asked.
“It’s a TV show,” I said.
“I don’t watch TV,” she said.
“They say it rots the brain,” Lakesha said. “And Brett here watches far too much of it, which explains a lot.”
“I thought you liked Star Trek,” I said.
“I do,” Lakesha said, “but you can’t expect me to pass up an easy opportunity to smack you down. That said, I do know the episode you mean. It was called ‘Who Mourns for Adonais,’ and I always loved it.”
“Shouldn’t it be called ‘Who Mourns for Apollo?’” I asked.
Lakesha rolled her eyes. “The title is from Shelley.”
“I don’t know her.”
“Percy,” Lakesha said. “The poet. Husband of Mary Shelley?”
“Frankenstein,” I said. “Cool! But Apollo isn’t Frankenstein, though he does throw around lightning in that show.”
“Never mind,” Lakesha said.
“Does the real Apollo throw lightning around?” I asked.
“He’d rather throw plagues around,” Helen said. “Haven’t you read The Iliad?”
“I’m waiting for the movie.”
Lakesha reached over and smacked me upside the head.
“Hey!” I said.
“You know the story,” Lakesha said. “The Trojan War.”
“A movie about condoms? Is it a porno?”
“Did you see Troy with Brad Pitt?”