by Michael Todd
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.”
Chapter Three
“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 wo
uld 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.”
Juntto finished his salad and pushed the plate away. “In my opinion that doesn’t make them brave; it makes them cowards. Part of being brave is being able to state your opinions and stand behind them. In my world, a man who does that is considered to be of the highest caliber, even if his opinions are strange or foolish. Beings where I come from are not so sensitive. You want someone to tell you the full and utmost truth. Even our women—they want to know what the man is thinking, how he feels. They do not get hurt feelings by it.”
Angie snorted. “That sounds like the kind of place the men on this planet would love.”
Juntto grimaced. “Men here are too weak for my world.”
Angie chuckled. “I got a few you can take back with you, then.”
“They would be turned to pets or dinner, whichever was needed.”
“What you were talking about? We call them emotions. They are what makes humans human. We have empathy and sympathy toward other people. That is why you don�
��t see us going around just killing people because they talk too much. We value life.”
“And you think my people don’t because we don’t cry when someone says something mean about us? We reserve true emotions for when they are most useful. Anger, love, revenge, triumph, pride.”
Angie thought his people sounded interesting. “Maybe that’s why your world does so much more with their time; they aren’t worried about what anyone else has to say.”
The waitress put their main course down on the table and walked away, seeing them in conversation. Juntto didn’t even glance at it. “For example, if I met you today, I would say that you are smart and beautiful. At the same time, I would say that the fit of your dress makes you look slightly like a gifr.”
“A what?” Angie asked dryly.
“Uh, uh, the small creatures with long noses and hats that run around in gardens,” he tried to explain.
“You are referring to a troll. You just told me I looked like a troll.”
Juntto put his hands up. “Yes, but now you are aware that these are my thoughts. So what? Does that make them truth? One makes you feel good, one might not. But they are both true, so far as I think them. However, unless you give me power in your mind, they cannot do any damage to you. So, it is not about what people say, it’s about humans’ inability to not care. Humans give people power they should not.
“Why would you care if someone that you had never met and would never see again thought you were ugly? Does it change your face? Does it change your life, who you court, who you feud with, what your children think? No, it does not. It changes how you think of yourself. I don’t understand why you would allow a stranger to have that kind of control over you.”
Angie crossed her arms on her chest. “Right, but why do you feel the need to put those opinions out there? To hear yourself talk? If I shouldn’t care what you think, why even say it? You can do so much more with that talk coming out of your mouth. Seriously. There is a place for honesty, but we are taught very young to keep our opinions to ourselves unless we have facts to back them up and they will actually be productive to the conversation. Commenting on someone’s looks or someone’s personal attributes may reaffirm to you that you like the way you are, but you can do damage to someone else. It is called being a damn bully.”