The Devil's Been Busy

by J. D. Blackrose

  “In other words, a babysitter.”

  “A loving, kind maternal and paternal substitute so we can go have wild, kinky sex without three kids threatening to knock on the door.”

  “I might be able to get behind that.”

  I gave him one more peck and readied my bag. My tomahawk was vibrating, it was so excited to go on a true hunt. It must have heard what was happening. Yes, I know I’m talking about an inanimate object, but this tomahawk was special and particularly reliable. I packed my usual grill lighter, baseball bat, a few empty small Tupperware containers, like you’d pack raisins or nuts in…or at least, like other moms would pack raisins and nuts in. I wore a leather jacket and stuffed every pocket with weapons. My pack was ready to go, and my harness for my bat was in the car. First, one stop.

  I screeched into the synagogue parking lot and jumped out. Now that I was moving, I felt better, but my stomach was still in knots, and my mind raced with the possibilities of what Liam might be going through. I stopped at the water fountain for a quick slurp and headed for Rabbi Stein’s office.

  “He’s in with a congregant!” said his assistant, who I ignored. I knocked and entered the Rabbi’s office. “Rabbi. I need your help.”

  Rabbi Stein looked at me over his glasses, and the woman sitting in his guest chair gazed at me, face scrunched up in confusion. It was then that I noticed that she had tears in her eyes and tear stains down her cheeks. My face flamed hot.

  “Uh. Sorry. I’ll wait out here.” I retreated a few inches but then stuck my head back in. “It is sort of an emergency though.”

  “I understand, Jess. Please wait for a moment.”

  I sat in a chair while his assistant glared at me and harrumphed with righteousness. My knees knocked up and down with my anxiety. The rabbi opened the door, and the woman exited, saying, “Thank you, Rabbi. I appreciate your listening to me.”

  “Loss and grief are not something you go through alone,” the rabbi replied. “That is why we have a community to support one another. Let those people in.”

  “I will, Rabbi. Thanks again.”

  I stood and held out my hand. “I just wanted to apologize for barging in like that. It was thoughtless of me. I hope things get better for you soon.”

  She shook my hand. “Your emergency must involve someone you care about very much.”

  “It does.”

  “Then, I hope things get better for you, too.”

  Chapter Six

  “Please, sit down, Jess.”

  “I can’t. I need a favor.”

  “Sit down. Jess.”

  I sat.

  I wanted to apologize. “I’m sorry for what I did. It was callous of me, and I am truly sorry. What happened to her? Who died?”

  “If you came to services, you might know that she lost her husband in a car accident. The synagogue has created a fund for her and her children.”

  The worm of guilt squirmed through my gut, while a drumbeat of shame banged in my head. “Here’s twenty for the fund, Rabbi,” I said, pulling out a bill, “but please email me her name and phone number so I can reach out later.”

  “I will. Thank you. She could probably use a shoulder now. What is it that has you all aflutter?”

  “Pascal kidnapped Liam, and now I have to rescue him. I don’t know where he is, but Blaze is in the air. Shura is helping Nathaniel watch the kids. Could you bless this water?”

  Rabbi Stein licked his lips, sat back in his chair, and looked at me. I was on the edge of my seat, tapping my foot.

  “Let me see if I have this right. The bad vampire kidnapped the good vampire.”

  I nodded.

  “The phoenix, who you originally killed and locked in a lorikeet cage, is now flying around in the air trying to find Liam’s location.”

  I tapped my nose.

  “So, who is Shura?”

  “A wolf.”

  “The one that escaped from the zoo? It’s been all over the news.”

  “Yeah, she’ll go back when she feels her duty is done. She senses danger to my pack, so she came to help and is living under our deck. My garden has never looked better, but my bird population has taken a hit.”

  It was a credit to Rabbi Stein that all he did he was steeple his hands.

  “You want me to bless the water?”

  “Exactly. A good weapon against a vampire.”

  “We don’t really do that in our religion, you know.”

  I was bouncing with impatience. “I know, but I need every angle I can get.”

  “Go dump the water. I have a better idea.”

  I grabbed my bag and did as he asked, returning with three Tupperware Mini-n-Midgets squares, still damp on the inside but otherwise empty.

  “What are you going to do, Rabbi?”

  The man turned, holding a clunky bottle. “We don’t normally bless water, but…” The rabbi held up one finger. “We do bless Manischevitz every Friday.”

  Despite my tension, I laughed. The rabbi filled each square with kosher wine and said a blessing. I capped them and put them away.

  “You think it will work?”

  “It would take a miracle.”

  Point one, Rabbi Stein.

  With my holy wine hand grenades and the rest of my weapons ready, I headed downtown blaring AC/DC’s “Dirty Deals Done Dirt Cheap.”

  Getting downtown took no more than fifteen minutes. I parked in a lot near Cleveland State University and walked toward the outer part of the city, like I was heading to Lake Erie, but I angled to my left, deep into druggie territory. There was only one dealer in this neck of the woods, and he didn’t like me at all. In fact, he’d threatened me the last time we met, reminding me that I wasn’t as scary without Liam, but if I needed to find Pascal, I was using every resource possible.

  I’d donned a hockey neck guard, a fast-pitch batting helmet with a faceguard, and shoulder pads. The helmet restricted my peripheral vision, but I felt better having my head and face protected. It wouldn’t stop a bullet, but it could protect me if I fell or took a punch. I wore steel-toed shitkickers in black that I had heeled with a layer of silver. The silver wouldn’t last long, but it might help today. I had my various doo-dads on my back, in my pack, or in my pockets. Armed for bear, and really, with the size of Snuggles, I was armed for elephant.

  Lots of nasty men stood on the steps of Snuggles’ dilapidated house, several with big guns at their sides. If you didn’t have money, you weren’t getting in. I could have fought my way through, but money was simpler. Two guards approached me.

  “What the fooock we got here?” a pock-faced man said. His hair was stringy, and his pants were soiled, but the high caliber rifle in his hand and the machete at his waist made me take pause.

  “What the fuck you wearing, bitch?” said another guy. He appeared unarmed until I saw his fists, which were adorned by brass knuckles. That was a good idea. Note to self, brass knuckles.

  “I have a form of Ebola, and I don’t want to spit or bleed on you,” I replied, as if this was normal. I held up a fifty-dollar bill to each of the guards. “All I want is a conversation with Snuggles.”

  “You mother fuckin’ have Ebola? Why’d you get so close to me?” yipped one guy, dropping back. He grabbed Mr. Grant though.

  The other guy ignored the money and drew a pistol from his back. It probably had been tucked into his pants. What a douche.

  “You go away before I make you bleed in the street,” he said, sounding convincing. His eyes were hard, and though his stance was all ways of wrong, I knew he would pull the trigger, and if he did, none of that would matter. A three-foot shot would kill me sure as anything, and you didn’t have to be a marksman to make that work.

  “You don’t want me bleeding in the street, tough guy,” I responded. “I told you. I’m sick, and if you get any blood spatter on you, you’re going to be sick, too.

  “What you think I am? A fool?” he said. “Get your ass off our steps.”

  “These a
re Snuggles’ steps, as you well know. Why don’t you ask him? Tell him Jess wants to talk to him and that she’s here to buy information with cash.”

  The lanky haired guy shot the one holding the pistol a look, and pistol guy jerked his neck toward the door. Lanky Hair went inside, and I could hear him from where I stood.

  “Boss, there’s a woman out there dressed like Casey from the Ninja Turtles, says her name is Jess, and she’s here to buy some info.”

  There was a massive belch from the back, and an angry voice bellowed, “Shoot her! That bitch doesn’t get in here, even with money!”

  I whipped out my ‘hawk and sliced in a counter-clockwise circle, sending pistol guy to his knees with a slice across his hamstring, then cutting two others on their arms and chest. I leaned forward and spit into the bleeding leg of my pistol-wielding friend. I didn’t want to hit the gun, just in case it fired, so I held the blade to my friend’s other leg and picked up the pistol between two fingers. “These things are gross.” I dropped it, gently, on the grass next to the steps, right into a pile of dog shit.

  Pistol guy was frantically wiping the blood from his bleeding leg with his sleeve. “Why’d you go and spit in it? Now, I’m gonna die of Ebola or something. Help me, please!” He looked around for anyone who would help, but they’d backed off, and the two other bleeders staggered away before I spit at them, too.

  I marched up the steps and right into Lanky Hair’s chest. We were too close for his rifle but not too close for the ‘hawk, which hummed with happiness. Using a short grip, I sheered down his arm, shoulder to hand, taking off skin, muscle and tendon, and almost hit bone. The man fell, screaming, and I spit in his wound, too. I didn’t know a man could make those sounds. So high-pitched, like the Vienna Boys’ Choir.

  I left the bleeding dudes where they lay, holstered the ‘hawk, and drew my bat, clomping into the house with my silver-heeled boots.

  “Hey, Snuggie.”

  The Jabba the Hut wannabee shifted in his specially-made Laz-E-Boy. “What the hell you doing here? You freak! Boys, I said kill her!” No answer came except moans and shrieks as the men tried to get their arms and legs to reconnect to their bodies. Snuggie’s beer empties were piled around him, and I wondered if he bothered to get up to piss or if had a few bottles hidden around his chair. I couldn’t tell, given his sheer bulk, and his accurate aim as he threw cans at me.

  “What did you do, you nutcase?” Snuggles roared, throwing a few more at my head. I batted them away.

  “What do you want?” Snuggles was huffing and puffing with the exertion. A noise from behind me made me whirl, and I swung the bat with enough torque that when I hit the man sneaking up on my six, his shoulder popped, and he fell down the inside steps to the cellar, screaming the whole way.

  I leaned on my bat. “I wanted to buy some information.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “Where’s Pascal?”

  “I don’t know where that perversion of nature hangs out. Why would you think I know that?”

  “Because you know everything that goes on down here, you worm, and I don’t have a lot of time. So, give me a direction.”

  “I don’t know.”

  I held a hundred-dollar bill in his face and wished I hadn’t gotten so close. He smelled something awful, like a soiled diaper combined with sweat, nacho cheese, and beer. With a top note of Dr. Pepper.

  “A hundred ain’t enough for me to tell you anything. Pascal’s bad ass, and I don’t want to get on his bad side.”

  “He doesn’t have any good sides.”

  Snuggles squirmed a little. “That’s true, gotta give you that, but even more reason to not rat him out.”

  I swung the bat as hard as possible on the table next to Snuggles, sending white powder, money, a spoon, and lighter in the air. I held my breath and stepped back.

  “Whatcha do that for!” Snuggles yelled again, holding his hand over his nose and mouth. He didn’t partake of his own product.

  “You can recover the money, big boy, but if I swing again, it is going to be your knee, so choose.”

  “Fuck me.” Snuggles wiped the sweat from his brow with his other hand. “Fine,” he said. “But I need more money.”

  I handed him four hundred dollars. “That’s all I have, Snuggles, so take it or leave it. After all, knees are optional.”

  Snuggles downed a Pabst. “He’s near Little Italy. I don’t know where, but that should give you a place to start.”

  It did. Little Italy was basically a small, rhombus-shaped area in the corner created by Mayfield Road and Euclid Avenue. This helped, assuming Snuggley-poo wasn’t lying.

  “Why do you want to find him in the first place? He’s bad news.” Snuggles popped another can.

  “He’s holding a friend of mine hostage.”

  “That other vampire who came with you last time you beat up my people?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You shouldn’t go. Free advice. If Pascal has him, he’s dead or being tortured until he’s dead. You can’t save him.”

  “We’ll see. I think your guys are bleeding out. You should call an ambulance.”

  “Screw them. They couldn’t do their jobs.”

  I stomped out, grabbed two bandanas from inside my pack, and tied the one man’s arm up as best as I could. The bleeding leg on the other guy had slowed. I pulled out a burner phone and called 911, putting it down next to the ashen, suffering men. I felt guilty hurting them so badly, but it was only a tiny bit of guilt because they were bad people, and bad people need to be put in their place. In fact, as I considered it, I might not feel any guilt at all.

  I headed for my car. Time to drive east to University Circle and Little Italy. I spied a blur of activity above me, keeping pace with my car. Blaze was headed in the same direction.

  Chapter Seven

  I managed to find a lot and paid for parking. Most of the parking was for residents only, which is why if you went to Little Italy for dinner, you used the valet service that worked for all the restaurants.

  I walked up to Murray Hill Road and stood in front of La Dolce Vita, whose buffalo caprese salad with prosciutto was to die for. I’m not much one for eating pork, being Jewish and all, but I did allow myself that specific treat now and then. If the Eternal didn’t want us to eat pork or shellfish, it would have been nice if He hadn’t made them taste so good.

  On the other hand, that was the whole point. It’s easy not eating disgusting stuff.

  A whoosh of air told me Blaze had arrived. He was still glamoured, so if anyone was looking, it would appear that I was talking to a hazy bunch of air, which made me look crazy but at least hid the reality of a huge, emu-like bird with feathers of bronze and large, grapefruit-sized eyes.

  Blaze spoke in my head, as usual.

  He’s somewhere here.

  “How did you know that?”

  I found Liam’s car. It was halfway to his apartment but abandoned on the side of the road. I did concentric circles until I caught his scent. Was this confirmed by your Snuggle-bunny?

  “It was, which gives me high confidence that we are in the right place. Now, we have to find him somewhere here.”

  If I had known you were going to shake that guy down for the info, I wouldn’t have wasted my time flying around the city like a chicken with my head cut off. Never mind, scratch that. Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face.

  “It’s a funny mental image, that’s all, and now you must do ten push-ups.”

  I do not have to do push-ups. That’s your thing, not mine.

  “House rule.”

  I’m a bird. How would I do push-ups?

  “We’ll figure out something. Do you have an idea about where to start searching for Liam?”

  My nose tells me Tony Brush Park, at the end of this road, was visited by a vampire recently. It smells of death and decay.

  “As good a place to start as any.”

  By this time, diners were staring, some whispering
to each other. One pudgy man approached me with his hands spread wide. I could practically hear him thinking, Don’t upset the lady talking to herself.

  “Are you okay, miss? Do I need to call someone for you?”

  I gave him a wide smile. “No, sir, I’m fine. I’m in a play at the community center, and sometimes I have a habit of rehearsing my lines to myself. I apologize if I worried you.”

  “Ah! A thespian! I, myself, sought a life in the theater. Alas, it was not to be.” He wiped his brow with the back of his chef’s jacket sleeve. “Do you do Shakespeare? The Merchant of Venice is a personal favorite.”

  I gave him a cold stare. “It isn’t mine.”

  He didn’t understand my reaction but did perceive my ire, so he backed away and whispered to a beefy doorman at Mi Bella, across the street, who gave me a concerned look. Mi Bella makes excellent eggplant parmesan, and I briefly wondered if I could order some to go.

  The big Mi Bella doorman looked like he was heading in our direction, so it seemed a good time to move. Blaze and I walked to the park and found suitable observations posts. I hid in a tree at the edge of the park, where I had a good view of the playground equipment and the church beyond. The truth is Pascal could most likely smell us, so he’d know we were here, but I was glad to be in the park when it was still light so I could get the lay of the land.

  I couldn’t imagine what Pascal wanted, but whatever it was, I’d find it. Liam’s life was on the line. My stomach flipped, and tears gathered in the corners of my eyes, but I shoved that away to focus on the task at hand. It worked for a few minutes.

  Dusk settled, and as it did, my sense of dread sunk to new depths. It was joined by its best friend, guilt, and my nerves were on fire. Finally, a text came.

  I see you found the park. I’m about to walk in now. Don’t do anything stupid or Liam is dead.

  Got it, I texted back.

  The skinny vampire ambled into the park, dragging a sack along behind him. At least, that is what I thought it was, until I realized it was Liam, so black, blue, and bloody I couldn’t see his features. Pascal pulled him by the leg, and Liam’s arms dragged above his head.