I rubbed my face. “See, I knew all that. Can’t you be more specific? Anything? Any tiny detail?”
Red Leader shook her head, a tiny tear in her tiny eye. “No, but we’re here to help, and from what we can sense, our presence is something the big bad isn’t expecting. We’ll throw everything off kilter. That’s what piskies do bestest!” She announced this last part with pride, raising her sword in the air. The rest of the piskies raised their swords in the air and yelled, “Huzzah!”
“Why are you here to help?”
Elowen spoke up. “We live at the zoo, near Waterfowl Lake. When you stopped the were-gorilla, you saved our home.”
“If you live at the zoo, why did you attack Rocko?”
Their wings moved even faster, creating a buzz like a cloud of locusts. Elowen flew as close as possible to Rocko’s face, completely undisturbed by Rocko’s growl.
“Rocko? Is that you?” she exclaimed. “We didn’t recognize you. Sorry, dude.”
Rocko swiveled to show his back, and Shura looked away to hide her smirk. The piskies didn’t seem sorry, not one tiny bit.
I held up my hands in a stop motion. “How many gorillas do you think there are in Cleveland?”
Red Leader shrugged. “We don’t know. Why would we know that? But we do know that you have precisely seventy-three irises around your house, and they are overcrowded and need to be split into new beds.”
“Fine, but you owe Rocko a serious apology, more than a lame, ‘sorry, dude.’”
The piskies buzzed their wings again, and Elowen nodded.
I turned to my enormous emu-like friend. “Blaze, what should I do here?”
Ask them to take a drop of blood from your hand and swear allegiance. They might be useful.
“Good idea. Okay, Elowen, we would love your help, but since you’ve been stopped by the barrier, I need your promise.”
I pricked my finger on the tip of Blaze’s wing and pushed it through the barrier, which responded reluctantly, like sticky glue. One-by-one, each piskie drank a drop of my blood and swore allegiance to me and mine. As soon as they did so, the barrier dropped, and they flew into our property. It snapped back into place with an audible click.
Elowen spoke. “We’re a little tired. May we ride along?”
“The basket?” I asked. Elowen nodded.
“Sure.” The entire chorus of pixies, several dozen once I got a clear view, settled in my laundry basket. Red Leader sat on my shoulder.
“Do you have a name?” I asked. Funny as it was, I couldn’t call her Red Leader forever.
“Lowena,” she replied. “It means joyful.”
“Well, Lowena, let’s rock and roll.”
“I don’t rock or roll. I fly.”
Another piskie appeared out of nowhere, zipping to the laundry basket to salute Elowen. She flew to my shoulder to acknowledge Lowena as well, and I did a double-take. This piskie wore black leather pants, a black shirt with a deep V-neck, a matching leather jacket, combat boots, black lipstick, and heavy, dark eyeliner.
I stared at her. “Goth piskie? Gothskie?”
The piskie floated in the air, tapping her foot. “Yeah, and what’s wrong with that? You think every piskie has to wear bright colors and sparkle?” She got right in my face, holding her sword so close I was cross-eyed. I noticed she wore leather cuffs with spikes.
“General! Stand down!” Red Leader flew between me and Gothskie.
“It’s just this ignorant human here…”
“Saved our home. We have all sworn allegiance. Where were you?”
“Guarding our six. Someone has to think tactically.”
I couldn’t help it. I had to touch her boots. I reached out with a finger. She smacked my hand. “Hey! Gigantor! Cosplay is not consent. Got it?”
“Oh! You watched Night at the Museum? We love that movie.” Really, my life is one interrelated movie script.
Gothskie sniffed. “Of course, many of us were extras. Better to hire us than pay animators.” She scooted down to my finger, which still had a drop of blood on it, and swore her loyalty. It sounded exactly like David saying he’d clean his room.
Lowena settled back on my shoulder. “Can we get something to eat? Piskies need to feed frequently.”
“Fruit juice? Honey?” They all perked up their ears at the word honey, so I walked to the house, trailed by a phoenix, a gorilla, and a wolf, while schlepping a laundry basket of piskies.
Chapter Five
Nathaniel is one of the most easy-going people I’d ever met, and he didn’t bat an eye when I told him Rocko came to visit, but a basket of busty, svelte, glittery piskies made even Nathaniel stop and stare. The piskies flew out, buzzing around, touching his hair, crooning sweet nothings in his ear. One alighted on his finger, and he stared in wonder at the perfectly proportioned, voluptuous piskie, who leaned forward to make sure he got an eyeful, almost literally, she was so close. I kicked him on the shin.
“Piskies. Friends. Allies. Need honey.” I was nothing if not eloquent.
Nathaniel shook his head, shooed the little minx off his finger, and dove for the pantry before he got in any more trouble. He came back with both honey and pancake syrup, poured them into Pyrex custard cups and let the girls go wild. They were a maelstrom of sticky piskie, and more than once, I had to duck a dollop of honey as they rolled in it, throwing it in the air with abandon. I caught Nathaniel staring and gave him a look.
The insanity was interrupted by David, [MMG6] who crashed through the kitchen, not even noticing the pesky, overgrown fruit flies bathing in syrup on the kitchen table. He tore past us, knocking over a chair, screaming, “She’s after me! She’s after me!” He was followed by Abby, who, for some reason, was on the main floor and chasing David with her arms out, yelling, “One kiss!”
Abby was, in turn, followed by the other girls, Devi bringing up the rear. She held an item I didn’t recognize and was notching nerf arrows in it and letting them fly.
“Devi Julia Friedman!”
Devi stopped mid-step at the use of her middle name. Ah, Mommy-voice, how much I love thee.
“May I please see that bow?” I gestured for her to show it to me. In the background, the older boy and kindergarten girls ran around the dining room like NASCAR drivers, Abby begging David to stop so he could hold her hand.
Devi handed the bow to me. It was beautiful, like nothing I’d ever seen. The upper and lower rim joined in a beautiful curve, the handle risers, elegantly meeting in a gracious notch. The string was remarkably strong for so something so delicate.
“Where did you find this, Devi?” I asked. Nathaniel heard screams from the dining room and left to investigate. The piskies were drunk and lay on the table like side-walk sketched Barbie dolls, legs askew. I righted a few skirts to protect their modesty, and to keep male eyes from lingering too long. It sounded weird to say piskies have long legs, but there it was. Amazing, and not fair.
“I found it in the crawlspace, Mommy,” Devi said. She wiggled with worry, afraid she was in trouble. “You said I could go in there.”
“Yes, I did. You’re not in trouble. I’ve never seen this before.”
“It’s really cool, Mom. Look!” She notched a nerf arrow and let it fly. It landed smack on Gothskie’s back, and she was the only one not inebriated. She’d been guarding her chorus, tapping her foot in disgust at their hedonism. “What is wrong with them?” Nathaniel exclaimed, as he reentered the kitchen holding David like a baby. “Abby is saying she’s in love with David. She almost ripped his shirt.”
Gothskie turned at the sound of his voice, staring at him with…lust? She flew to Nathaniel’s shoulder and rubbed her body into his neck, behind his ear, like a cat. “Oh, my, such a maaaaaan!” she said. “Tell me what you desire, and it shall be yours, my love.”
“What?” Nathaniel and I exclaimed at the same time. Gothskie dove into Nathaniel’s shirt and did something with his…
“Hey!” I yelled, jumping to Nathaniel, sho
ving my hand down his shirt. “He’s mine!” The piskie escaped my grasp and dove toward the floor, flipped up Nathaniel’s pants leg and made a bee-line straight up. Nathaniel shook his leg violently, trying to get Gothskie out of there, all the time holding David, whose eyes were scrunched up in fear.
I grabbed David, placed him on the ground and blocked for him as he fled to his room, where he locked the door. Abby followed and sat in front of it, crying for him to come back, professing her everlasting love. The other girls watched in confusion. Devi left the kitchen to join them, leaving me, Nathaniel, that bitch Gothskie, and the other piskies who were coming around.
Nathaniel stood stock still, a glazed look on his face, holding onto the back of a chair to stay upright. He panted in a way I did not like and let out a groan. “I’m sorry…” he gasped, looking at me with a face somewhere between ecstasy and horror.
I did the only thing I could do. I smacked the front of his pants with an open palm, and Goth Tinkerbell, that hussy, slid down his leg and out the bottom, where she hit her head and lay stunned on the floor. Nathaniel’s face was red, and he curled up in a fetal position.
“I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry!” I plucked Gothskie off the floor and placed her in a large mason jar. I stabbed holes in the top with a screwdriver and put her on a shelf with my plants. I handed Nathaniel an ice pack, apologizing again.
I studied the bow. The exquisite curve I noted previously was indeed remarkable. In fact, it reminded me of a lipstick commercial where the model’s lips were lined into a…perfect Cupid’s bow. I smacked my hand to my head.
How in the name of all that was holy had a Cupid’s bow gotten into my crawlspace? I was certain I’d never seen it before. There wasn’t one Cupid’s bow; there were dozens. The original Cupid’s bow, the one the god Cupid used, was hidden by the Greek government in an unmarked building, in an unmarked crate mixed in with other unmarked crates. That’s where Spielberg got the idea.
I cleared my throat, picked up the bow, and marched downstairs to the back bedroom, where the crawlspace was located. I was trailed by piskies of every color, except the Goth one dressed in black, because, even though it was unreasonable, I was still mad as hell at that chick and had left her locked in the jar.
I hadn’t been in the crawlspace for years, and it was dusty and full of cobwebs, as you’d expect. Devi had pulled out the old boxes of china, kids’ clothing, and parts of a crib that we’d never use again, and behind all of that, she’d found a trunk that I’d forgotten about. It was a trunk of my mother’s that I’d shoved in there one day and not looked at again, angry that she’d lied to me about her life.
“Devi, was the bow in the box?”
“No. It was scrunched behind it.”
That was so odd. I knew I’d never seen the bow. You’d think I would remember it. I opened the trunk now, wiping away years of dust, revealing a pile of old photographs, hand-written notes, and some clothes.
I lifted a onesie from the pile and realized the clothes were all baby sized. My mom must have saved some of them for some sentimental reason. I didn’t recall my mom being a sentimental person, but the presence of the baby clothes gave me pause. In addition to the onesie were some booties, a tiny dress I must have worn in my first two weeks of life, it was so small, and a baby blanket that I think was knitted by my nana.
Underneath this top layer was a scarf used to divide the baby clothes from the bottom layer. I lifted it and was struck by a faint scent of my mother’s perfume. It stunned me and threw me into a memory.
She rarely wore perfume, probably for the same reason I didn’t wear it: it made you more vulnerable to monsters, who had notoriously good noses. That evening, however, she wore a fancy black dress with a rhinestone choker and the scarf I now held in my hands draped over her shoulders. She’d sprayed a touch of the perfume on the scarf and in her hair, a trick she taught me later, so the scent would linger. I remember that she wore heels, small ones to be sure, but it was so unusual that I recalled them perfectly. Small, black kitten heels with a rhinestone clip on each toe. She wore little makeup but with mascara and red lipstick, she looked like a queen to me.
My dad was equally dressed up, wearing a tux and smooth, leather shoes. I watched while he whispered something to her and she laughed, a private moment. Then, he took her clutch and removed the switchblade she’d inserted, putting it in a drawer out of my reach. He gazed at me and shook his finger, warning me not to try to touch it.
He didn’t know, but when he had turned his back, she snuck it into her bag again. I don’t remember anything unusual about that night other than seeing my parents dressed up, for a wedding, I believe, so she most likely didn’t use the blade, but she made sure she had it, just in case. I’d forgotten that little tidbit or hadn’t given it any thought at the time. My mom always had something sharp with her. Now, I saw it in a different light.
Next was a pile of photographs. I flipped over the top layer and smiled. The photo was me and my dad, taken by my mother when I was about eight. He looked so young and happy. Piskies buzzed around my head, chittering.
“Who is that?” asked a light-green one.
“I’m the little girl, and that is my father,” I replied, pointing.
“No,” said the piskie, who was wearing a yellow dress. “This one.”
Elowen had turned over another photo. It was an evening setting, a woman and a man sitting at a table. The woman’s back was straight, and she’d scooted her chair back as far as it could go. She wore sensible black pants, low-heeled boots, and a sleek black jacket. The man wore a suit, leaned forward, and looked like he was saying something urgent.
The woman was my mother. The man, or vampire in this case, was Pascal.
What in God’s name was my mother doing with Pascal?
I studied the shot more closely. They seemed to be out at a restaurant, on an outside dining patio. My mother had a wine glass on the table in front of her, and Pascal had something that looked like oysters. The obligatory bread and butter sat in the middle of the table. All of it was untouched. The person taking the photo was outside of the restaurant and not particularly close. He or she had used a zoom lens to catch the detail. My mom’s face was steely, her arms crossed, and I could almost see her shaking her head. Pascal had one hand forward, reaching toward her, and seemed to be pleading with her.
I‘d memorized every one of my mother’s expressions, and that look meant, “No. Not on your life.”
Whatever Pascal wanted, it wasn’t happening, but I still couldn’t figure out why they were together. She hated him, hunted him, even planned the demolition of a bridge to kill him, and here they were sharing appetizers?
I was about to bring the photo upstairs to show to Nathaniel when the screams rang out.
Chapter Six
I grabbed the bow, snagged a nerf arrow, and shot Abby with it, betting it would reverse the effect. Only a moment after the arrow hit her in the back, she reached around, jerked it off, and said, “Hey, what’s the big idea shooting me with arrows?”
Debby responded, “Devi’s mom did it,” and all the girls turned to me with one shared accusing look, except for Devi, who studied the floor like it had suddenly sprouted fascinating ancient text only she could decipher.
Dany poked Abby on the shoulder. “Do you still love David, Abby? I thought you wanted to kisssssss him.” Dany made kissy noises, and the other girls jumped in to join the fun.
Abby poked Dany back, “What are you talking about? Boys are gross. David especially. Let’s go back downstairs. Why are we sitting here in the hallway?”
“Because you wanted to hug David, that’s why,” said Sammy. “You’ve been chasing him around the house saying you wanted to marry him.”
“Have not!” Abby’s hands were on her hips.
“Did too!”
“Nuh uh!”
“You like boys! You like boys!”
“Do not!”
I gave Devi a look, and she felt my
gaze because she ripped her eyes away from the riveting floorboards and pulled her friends downstairs. I hid the bow in a hallway closet and meandered into the living room, managing a calm, outward exterior. Daniel obviously woke up at some point with all the noise and hubbub and cuddled in Nathaniel’s arms, head on his shoulder. I wasn’t fooled though. His eyes were wide and watching everything.
I motioned to Nathaniel to hand Daniel to me, and my sweet little boy gave me a kiss on the cheek as I gathered him in my arms. I rocked my youngest for a few minutes, then placed him in his crib. “Go to sleep, Daniel. You’ve slept through worse. I know you want to be a part of the action, but if you don’t sleep, you’ll be super crabby tomorrow.” I sang him a goodnight song and snuck out, closing the door almost all the way.
The piskies! I checked the kitchen, and they were gone. I hustled downstairs, flashing a “wait a minute” finger at Nathaniel who shot me a look that meant, “Get back here!” I nearly flipped at the sight before me. The piskies were doing the girls’ hair. The girls had pooled their bows, barrettes, bobby pins, and assorted hair what-nots, and the piskies were oohing and ahhing over each girl’s hair, doing complex braids and up-dos. The girls clapped their hands and stared at the piskies in utter adoration. All of them except Devi, who looked annoyed that her sleepover had been hijacked by tiny warrior dragonflies.
I pointed to Sammy and the piskie doing her hair. “That up-do is entirely too sophisticated for a five-year-old.”
One of the piskies flew back to take a look from a distance. “You think so? It is gorgeous, but, maybe. Petal,” she said, talking the other piskie in a palest shade of peach, “we should try something a little more textured and not so severe.” She turned to me. “Do you have mousse?”
Before I could ask what mousse was, Abby held up a squeeze bottle. “I have some!” she said. “I also have hairspray, gel, and leave-in conditioner.” She flipped one bottle after another out of her bag. I couldn’t believe she brought so many products to a mock sleepover.
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