The Haunted Onsen

by Phil Gabriel

  “Yes, Ally,” I said, “I am a hemisphere away. And my Oath means I can’t hurt you.” I took another long drink of my beer. Ally had a perplexed look on her face, like someone who reaches for a weapon that is no longer there. Her eyes had shifted back to their normal blue color.

  “Why can’t I feel the moon?” she asked in a tiny voice.

  I growled out, “Fucking lawyers aren’t the only ones who can find loopholes. I just freed you from your curse of lycanthropy. Until I will it, you will remain human; remain vulnerable, remain weak.”

  “What?” she said. “That’s impossible!” I saw her strain to trigger her transformation with no success. “Isn’t it?” she added.

  “Oh, yes, one other thing. You’ll start to age normally.” I threw in another insult. “Is that a gray hair I see?”

  She tried to bluster, slamming her hand down on the desk in a gesture that, minutes ago, would have broken the desk in half. She broke her hand. She looked in horror at her twisted fingers and said, “Why don’t they heal? Why don’t they heal?”

  Her eyes turned to me through the screen, and I was glad she was far away. “What did you do to me, you bastard? I’ll rip your guts out!”

  I repeated, “I have freed you from the curse of the lycanthrope virus. I can just as easily return you to your former state.”

  “I don’t need you, you bastard!” she screamed. “I’ll get Brock to bite me again.” In the background, Ms. Cappuccetto cowered in fear. I almost felt sorry for her. Of course, she had once thrown me to the wolves, so sympathy was in short supply.

  “Oh, little bitch,” I crooned, “that will just result in terrible scars. Scars that will never heal. You’re fucking immune until I will it.”

  “I’ll get the witches—” She was stopped by my laugh.

  “Oh, by all means,” I said, “get a second opinion. Ask them how well they did removing the phantom dagger from their tattoo artist. Ask them to show how well they can counter my spells. Talk with Wendy, the good little witch, who can no longer pronounce curses.”

  “Hell,” chimed in Kitty-Sue in Pam’s voice, “that little witch can’t even say her own fucking name!” Then she laughed in glee at the joke. Crossing magicians carried a high price.

  I whispered another spell and reached through the screen of the iPad. Twisting my right hand counterclockwise, so my thumb pointed down, I grabbed Ally’s expensive silk blouse at the neck and turned my hand up, bunching the collar so tightly around her neck she couldn’t breathe. Then I lifted her off the ground. The iPad on her end levitated with my arm.

  Ten minutes earlier, she could have ripped my arm off for this; now she was helpless. My fingers tore through the material but bunched up enough to hold her in midair.

  “My reach is long,” I said, “and my patience is short. We may be in different worlds, but I will always be able to reach you.” I dropped her to the floor. She landed on her butt with a slam that would leave bruises. It took her a few moments to pull herself up to her feet. I pulled my arm back through the iPad.

  Ally was a backstabbing bitch, but she knew when she had a losing case. She moved directly to bargaining. “What do you want?” she asked in a low dangerous voice.

  “I want you to leave my employee alone,” I said. “I want you to stay the fuck away from my offices. I want you to be a good little tame bitch and not cause any more trouble.”

  “You ruined my outfit,” she muttered as she gathered the strips of the torn blouse together. The look in her eyes would have set iron aflame, but she nodded slightly.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kitty-Sue smile and mouth the word “Costume.”

  “One more thing,” I said. “You will have to wear that ‘goddamn sleazy French maid outfit’ every day. If it’s good enough for Ms. Cappuccetto, then it’s certainly good enough for my bitch.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but I looked past her at Ms. Cappuccetto. “Ms. Cappuccetto,” I said, “do you have a spare uniform that Ally can wear until she purchases her own?”

  “Of course, Mr. Freeman,” she said. She stepped over to a filing cabinet and pulled out a spare uniform and tossed it to Ally. Acting with an intelligence buoyed by self-preservation, she pulled another uniform out and quickly started to change. I was only slightly distracted by her naturally red pubes.

  “Change now, Ally,” I said. “I don’t want to catch you out of uniform again.” I had never seen a werewolf blush before. Or perhaps it was rising anger that reddened her face.

  She opened her mouth to argue. I raised one finger. “That’s one,” I said. “If you’re not changed by three, the immunization is permanent.”

  “Two,” I said. She looked in my eyes and saw the resolve. She suddenly started stripping, hampered by her broken hand. Her blouse was pulled over her head, and her shoes came off. Then she slithered out of her skirt and panties. Good thing for her broken fingers werewolves didn’t wear pantyhose.

  Werewolves aren’t modest. For Ally, the humiliation was having to dress to please me, a mere human magician.

  The new blouse was on, but she couldn’t do up the buttons with her broken fingers, so she settled for pulling the front closed. There were tears of pain in her eyes as she pulled up the black miniskirt. Since Ally was much taller than Ms. Cappuccetto, the skirt was scandalously short on her. I could see her pubes peeking out of the bottom of the skirt.

  I held up my third finger and started to say, “Thr—” when Ms. Cappuccetto helped by throwing the white apron around Ally’s waist and tying the bow in back. The apron was long enough to partially hide Ally’s crotch.

  “Hmph,” I said. “Close enough. But get your garter belt and stockings by tomorrow.” Kitty-Sue was peering through the screen, enjoying Ally’s humiliation.

  “There will be random uniform inspections,” I said, then felt Kitty-Sue’s claws on my arm. “Held by my beautiful assistant, Ms. Kitty-Sue.” The claws retracted, and Kitty-Sue smiled.

  “My reach is long,” I said, “and mercy is short. If I die, the immunization is permanent. You will stay human, never to feel the bright silver moon on your skin, never to run through the cool forest, never to feel the strength of a were. You will age, watch wrinkles appear, the gray hairs sprout, the joy of life wane. Until finally, you will think your time as a wolf was a fever dream, an episode of madness. And you will curse the madness, curse the wolf. On that day, your wolf will die.”

  I let that sink in for a moment while I finished my beer. I had a sudden thought. Ally-as-human would not last long in New York. The pack would either exile her or kill her. They had no use for mere humans. But I had a use for her, had a service she could perform.

  “Unless…” I said.

  “Unless what?” she asked in a whisper, all traces of her attitude gone. Ally’s head was bent over her hands, her intact hand cradling her broken right hand. Tears dripped on her joined hands.

  “Unless you come to Bangkok. To work here at my nonprofit, work here to help any human magicians.”

  “You want me to run your office in Bangkok?” she asked haughtily. That would be a big step down for her, from an internationally famous lawyer of a multibillion-dollar firm to running a small nonprofit in Thailand.

  “Oh, no. You will never be in charge,” I said, happily dashing her hopes. “I want you to come here and work for my student, a mere human magician, Ms. Daeng.” At this, Daeng leaned in and gave a little wave. “To serve her, to wait on her hand and foot, to always be ready with coffee in the morning, to run her errands as if your life depended on it.”

  I raised a finger. “To wear the goddamn uniform every day until I release you from your service and lift the curse.”

  She couldn’t meet my gaze. Instead, she looked down and whispered, “How long?”

  “A fucking hundr—” I was stopped by Kitty-Sue’s claws on my bare arm. She was right, a hundred years was too much. In my anger, I would have condemned Ally to death or insanity. Time to bargain.

&nb
sp; “How long do you think I should give you?” I asked.

  “A week,” she snapped back quickly, looking pleased with herself. At the look in my eyes, she backtracked. “A month,” she offered.

  Kitty-Sue shook her head, and I agreed; in a month Ally would learn nothing.

  Out of sight of the camera, I flashed ten fingers twice at Kitty-Sue. She shook her head and made the twirling finger to her head sign for insanity. Twenty years would drive Ally crazy. Not that I gave a shit, but leaving her with no hope would be counterproductive.

  I flashed ten fingers, and Kitty-Sue shrugged her shoulders. She wasn’t sure the were-woman could last that long without her wolf.

  “I like ten,” I said over the video.

  “Ten months!” said Ally. “That’s way too long!”

  “Ten years,” I replied flatly.

  Her face collapsed, and she started crying. Unfortunately, I remembered her taking part in the hunt—the hunt where I had been the prey. Her tears only sweetened my revenge. I could see her quick glances to see if the tears were having any effect. At my stone-faced reaction, she instantly dried up.

  “Ten years of slavery, just to get my wolf back?” she pleaded.

  At the desperation in her voice, Kitty-Sue gave a tiny shake of her head and made the thumb-and-forefinger squeezing gesture indicating I should drop the ten years to a lower number.

  “If you get here in three days and don’t cause any more trouble, I will make the curse last only seven years,” I said.

  “Seven years?” she said. “But if you die, it becomes permanent?” At my nod, she continued, “The way you piss people off, you’re certain to die in the seven years, then I’ll never get my wolf back.”

  Kitty-Sue and John both nodded at this. Magicians aren’t noted for long-term survival. Did I really piss people off that often? Yes.

  I looked at Daeng; could I transfer control of the curse to her? I drank more beer while considering the phrasing of the transfer spell.

  “Daeng,” I said, “please remove your glasses.”

  “Chai-ka,” she said as she pulled the glasses off. It took several minutes to transfer control of the spell to Daeng; it was harder than creating the original spell. In the end, she had the elements she would need to remove Ally’s curse, as well as a few parole days. Daeng now had both carrot and stick. Now either Daeng or I could unlock the spell when necessary.

  While we had been working, Ms. Cappuccetto had helped Ally button up her blouse and straighten up her apron.

  “So, Ally-cat”—I saw her anger at the nickname and decided to keep it— “Ms. Daeng will be your boss here in Bangkok.” Ally couldn’t resist a sniff of derision at this young woman being her boss. I continued, “And you would do well to obey her, for she holds the key to the cage that contains your wolf.”

  I gave Ally Daeng’s phone number and instructed her to contact Daeng for further orders when she arrived in Bangkok in three days. I closed the connection and turned to my companions.

  Daeng had a strange expression on her face. She couldn’t meet my eyes. Finally, she muttered, “Will I have to wear the ‘sleazy French maid costume,’ too?”

  I leaned back and looked at her, overcome by the image of her dressed as a French maid. “Well,” I said, “you certainly have the legs for it—” A sharp pain in my shin, made by a Pam-sized foot, interrupted me.

  With a nasty look at me, Kitty-Sue said, “No, sweetheart. The French maid uniform is only for women who try to kill him.” With another dirty look at me, she continued, “You will never be forced to wear that uniform.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Daeng. “All the women that try to kill Ajarn-Scott—”

  “And don’t succeed,” interrupted Kitty-Sue.

  “And don’t succeed,” repeated Daeng, “are forced to wear that uniform?”

  “Exactly!” chortled Kitty-Sue. “We call them the ‘Faction of French Maid Assassins.’”

  “I don’t understand all of your jokes,” said Daeng. “But I won’t have to wear the uniform unless I try to kill Ajarn-Scott?”

  “Honey, don’t worry,” said Kitty-Sue, “I’m sure you won’t cause trouble for Scott.”

  “Although, I have to admit,” mused Kitty-Sue, “almost every woman he knows tries to kill him. It’s like a curse.”

  I crossed my arms. “Kitty-Sue, you know that’s not true. Not every woman I know tries to kill me.”

  “Oh yeah, it’s only the ones who screw you. So, what’s the percentage?” asked Kitty-Sue. “More or less than fifty percent?” She laughed loudly.

  “You know I don’t discuss exes,” I said.

  “I don’t plan on betraying and killing Ajarn-Scott,” said Daeng as she rose from her seat and headed towards the restrooms.

  I waved to the waiter to bring more beer.

  “Speaking of betrayal,” said Kitty-Sue. “You know Ally is planning something.”

  “When did you hear that?” I asked.

  Kitty-Sue and John shared a glance. Of course, they both had much better hearing than me, so had caught some of the whispers in the background I had missed during the phone call.

  “You know she’s gonna ask Brock to come here and kill you?” said Kitty-Sue.

  “Yeah,” I said, “he’s going to have to get in line.” The number of people who wanted me dead was long, and I had just added to the line. “I’ll make Brock wear the damned uniform if he tries anything.”

  Daeng overheard as she returned and took her seat. She seemed upset at the talk of more werewolf assassins.

  “You thought having werewolves come into my domain in Bangkok was a good idea?” asked John.

  Oh, yeah. Pissing off a wolf pack and having them come into John’s area could be considered a bad move.

  “You’re right,” I said. “It’s not a good idea.” I was ready to stammer an apology when John interrupted.

  “Not a good idea,” echoed John. Then he clapped his hands together. “It’s an excellent idea,” he said with a broad grin. “I welcome the sport! That pack of failed mongrels will be a great addition to my trophy wall.”

  The thought of Ally-cat’s head mounted on a wall brought a smile to my lips. Maybe I could keep the white maid’s hat on her mounted head.

  In Pam’s voice, Kitty-Sue said, “I got dibs on the tails! I have a great use for them.” Then she looked at John shyly. “Unless you want them?”

  “Not at all,” said John. “I’m only interested in the heads.”

  “Of course,” said Kitty-Sue, “if they know the Jungle Lord is here in Thailand, they might steer clear.”

  “That would be a shame,” said John. Looking at the three of us, he said, “Let’s just keep that bit of information unadvertised, for now.” Daeng looked on in puzzlement. She didn’t know about John’s heritage.

  “So,” I said to John, “you’re offering to help Daeng if the pack shows up?” I wondered what his assistance would cost me.

  John’s eyes brightened, and he leaned forward eagerly. “I would consider it a favor if you let me handle the wolf pack.”

  Turning to Daeng, he said, “Just call me if any other wolves show up.”

  “Chai-ka,” said Daeng. “I will try not to bother you. But if the wolves come, I will call.”

  I had a sudden vision of a moonlit night on Soi Sukhumvit in Bangkok. A werewolf pack was racing down the road, weaving madly through the heavy traffic, howling in fear as they were chased by John, wearing only a loincloth, swinging from the skyscrapers with his grass rope. Daeng followed in a racing tuk-tuk.

  I shook my head to clear the vision. Prophecy or overactive imagination? While I had been lost in thought, my friends had continued talking.

  Turning to me, Daeng asked, “Ajarn-Scott, I ate a lot, but I’m still hungry. Is this an effect of the magic?”

  “Yeah,” I said, “using magic speeds up your metabolism. In time, you’ll learn to control it. Advanced magicians”—I nodded at John— “can survive withou
t food for a long time.”

  The table was bare and all the bottles empty. Kitty-Sue dropped our privacy bubble, and we called for the bill. I insisted on paying for the broken window, even though there was no evidence that we had caused the damage.

  21

  Of Course, It’s a Trap

  We walked out into the warm night with rain still coming down. May in Thailand is almost always wet. Princess was in her umbrella shape, so I popped her open and held her over Kitty-Sue and Daeng. John and I had spent so much time under jungle rains that we enjoyed the drizzle.

  Daeng reached a hand towards Princess to take her from me, ignoring the warning hiss of metal-on-metal that came from her. She was stopped by Kitty-Sue. “Don’t touch Princess until you’ve been introduced.”

  “Princess?” asked Daeng.

  “Yes,” said Kitty-Sue, pointing at Princess, “his umbrella, his sword, his bloodthirsty instrument of war. The last girl who tried to grab Princess ended up in a pet carrier on her way to a furry convention.” She didn’t mention that the last girl had been her evil sister. She had trapped me with pheromones and magic, and it took all my skills to break her spell. After escaping, the sexy scent of her sister’s secretions had almost driven Kitty-Sue to murder me. Did I mention her sister was evil?

  “Hey, what was the name of your boyfriend from the tournament?” asked Kitty-Sue.

  “His name is Bandit,” she said. “Why?”

  “Just in case we run into him again,” said Kitty-Sue.

  I laughed at the name, but squelched the laugh when I realized this was not a joke. Kitty-Sue gave me a cool look. Someone with as many names as I have used shouldn’t be making fun of other people’s names.

  We came to a crossroads, and Daeng indicated we should turn left. I shared a glance with Kitty-Sue and John, who both nodded slightly. We followed Daeng down the left-hand road.