Monster (8 page)

She climbed into the car and restarted it. She feigned searching for her last cigarette, fumbled around in her pockets for a while.

Monster slouched. He wasn’t responsible for what happened at the apartment, and though it had been a bit dicey, he’d managed to keep things from getting worse than they could have been. The kojin could’ve done some real damage, eaten a few people, destroyed a lot more property. Monster had kept that from happening. But the Reds wouldn’t have cared. If Judy hadn’t vouched for him, they would’ve been more than happy to put the blame on him. It made their paperwork easier. She’d saved his license, some hefty fines, and maybe even some jail time.

He owed her. And maybe if he’d handled things better, she wouldn’t have lost her apartment. Even if it wasn’t his fault, she’d still had a lousy day, and he could relate to that. If she wanted a night of crypto hunting, it didn’t seem too much to ask.

Monster threw open the passenger door. “Okay. You can come along. But let’s get this straight. I’m not responsible for you, and nobody knows about it. Tomorrow night, if anything happens to you, I’m just walking away. No report. I didn’t see nothing, and I don’t know anything about it.”

“Sure, sounds like a deal.”

She offered her hand, and they shook on it. “Tomorrow night, ten o’clock,” said Monster. “Don’t be late.”

“Oh, I’ll be here.” She gunned the engine and sped away. Monster took the kojin from Chester. The paper gnome had no eyes, but Monster had worked with Chester long enough to recognize his disapproval by the way he folded his hands on his hips.

“What? What is it?”

“Every night you go out there, you take your life into your hands?” repeated Chester.

“Well, don’t I?”

“Whatever you say. Although I don’t know if it’s a wise idea to bring a light cog along in any case.”

“What are you talking about?” Monster did a whiny imitation of Chester. “‘She did kind of get you out of a jam.’ Isn’t that what you said?”

“Yes, but that didn’t mean I thought you should give in to her.”

“Then why didn’t you just keep your trap shut?”

“I don’t know. I like her, I guess.”

“You like her? What’s to like about her? She’s grouchy, bitchy, and hard to get along with. I can’t stand people like that.”

“No surprise there,” Chester mumbled, but it was a stage mumble. The kind that could be heard across the street.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Monster. “Oh, nothing.”

Monster glowered at Chester. “It’s just, people don’t generally like people who remind them of themselves. Or so I’ve read.”

“Are you calling me bitchy?”

“I’m just remarking on something I’ve read. That’s all.” Monster stood there and scowled unilaterally. “None of it matters anyway,” he said. “She’ll forget all about it by tomorrow. Probably sooner. But at least for a few minutes she’ll have something to look forward to.”

“Wow. That’s almost decent of you,” said Chester. “In a minimalistic, barely-do-anything kind of way.”

“What else could I do? Buy her a new wardrobe?”

“I wasn’t criticizing. I was paying you a compliment. Usually you’re too busy feeling sorry for yourself to notice other people’s problems. Nice to see some empathy now and then. Maybe this Judy brings out something good in you.”

“Her life stinks. My life stinks. I can relate. But that doesn’t really matter.” Monster shrugged. “She won’t be back.”

“I don’t know. She seemed kind of determined.”

“Hell, if you like her so much, why don’t you go work for her?” Monster tossed the kojin stone at Chester, who was caught off-guard, tipped over, and had his head flattened beneath it. Since he was flat to begin with, there was no noticeable effect.

“Put that someplace safe,” said Monster. “And for the record, I am not bitchy. Guys can’t be bitchy. It’s a genetic impossibility.” He walked away as Chester wiggled out from under the stone.

“Saved by a Y chromosome,” mumbled Chester, this time to himself.

Liz sat on the sofa, stitching together another one of her devil dolls.

“Hey,” she said. “Do you need some help with the groceries?”

Monster paused at the threshold. “Oh, crap. Sorry, I forgot.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” She nipped off the end of a thread with her sharp teeth. “Did you at least remember the dry cleaning?”

He cringed. He had remembered, all right, but the clothes had been in the back of his van. It was possible they’d survived the crushing, but he’d left them there.

“Don’t tell me you forgot.” There was a little fire in her eyes. “No, I didn’t,” he replied defiantly. “But there was this kojin, and…”

She scowled, and her fangs showed whenever she did. “Bless it, Monster—can’t I rely on you to do anything?”

“There was this kojin, this huge Japanese ogre with a hundred arms—”

“I know what a kojin is. What I want to know is why it kept you from getting my dry cleaning.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“It’s never your sacred fault. You blessed mortals always blame everyone but yourselves for your screwups.”

He adopted his soothing voice. “Take it easy, baby. There’s no need for that kind of language.”

“To Elysian, there isn’t! I have a big meeting tomorrow. I was going to wear my blood red suit. Mr. Moloch himself said I should wear it to make a good impression. Said it brought out the flames in my eyes.”

“Just start yelling,” he mumbled. “Nothing brings out the flames better than that.”

She was too busy seething to notice. Liz rarely lost control of her temper, but when she did, there was nothing to do but weather the storm.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this blessed promotion? Finally there’s an opening in Marketing, and I’m not going to get the sacrosanct thing because you”—she glared, and the carpet under her feet began to smolder—“can’t even blessing remember to pick up my blessed blood red suit.”

Chester poked his flat head under the front door. “What do you want me to do with this kojin?”

“It was his fault.” Monster pointed to the paper gnome. “Not mine.”

Chester uttered a stifled peep and retreated. He knew better than to be nearby when Liz was mad. Paper and enraged demons did not mix.

She stalked forward and raised a finger to poke Monster in the chest, but changed her mind. “You know what? Forget it. Why do I even bother? I should know better than to count on you.” She glanced down at the six footprints burned into the carpet. “That’s just great. Look what you made me do.”

The heat faded. She went to the sofa and started back on her doll.

Monster debated on whether to make up or not. Sometimes it was better to leave things alone, give Liz time to boil. When she burned hot, it was usually over quickly. Other times, she simmered with a low, steady heat that could build to an explosion, usually figurative, sometimes literal.

She didn’t like to talk about it, but sin was a high-pressure job. It wasn’t hard to get people to do bad things, but competition was stiff in her demon-eat-demon world. A demon was only as good as her last inspired atrocity, and even that didn’t count for much.

She wasn’t mad at him. He wouldn’t give a damn about that. She was sad. That always bothered him. He didn’t know why, considering his misery didn’t usually register with her. But that was what she was, and regardless of the logic behind it, he was mildly fond of her.

“I’m sorry, baby. Really, I am, but there was this kojin and—”

“There’s always something,” she said. “Don’t get mad at me just because you’re unhappy with your job,” he said. “Maybe if you’d listened to me you wouldn’t be in this mess. I told you that the temptation and corruption racket were pretty full up here. What’d you expect?”

It’d just slipped out, and he bit his lip. “You never believed in me,” she said softly.

He slid closer. “You said it yourself. It’s an old devils’ club. All the good jobs were taken centuries ago. You’ve only been upside for a few years now. You can’t expect to make assistant to head of gluttony overnight.”

She didn’t look at him as she tossed the doll onto the coffee table. She folded her arms and frowned at her feet. “It’s just frustrating. I know I’m qualified for that job.”

“I know you are, too.” He put his hand under her chin and raised her head toward his. “Remember that time we went to the pizza buffet and you hexed that guy to eat until they had to call the paramedics because they thought his stomach had split open?”

She smiled at him. “That was fun.”

“And what about when you slipped those addictive ingredients into those bake sale cookies?”

“Oh, yeah.” Liz slapped him playfully on the shoulder. “Those kids were tearing each other apart for that last one!”

“I’ll never forget when that little girl broke that chunky kid’s arm. What was it she screamed?”

Monster and Liz remembered in unison. “That’s mine, fat-ass!”

They laughed, and Monster remembered how beautiful Liz could be when she laughed. Shame it always had to be at other people’s expense, but nobody was perfect.

Liz was suddenly kissing him as she started to pull off his T-shirt.

“I want you,” she whispered in his ear, and for the first time in a long while, he wanted her too.

They had sex on the sofa, and it was good. It’d been a long time since he’d seen any passion in her eyes. True, the passion didn’t originate from him but from her fond delight of her own cruel accomplishments. But Monster wasn’t picky.

Afterward, they lay sprawled on the sofa. It wasn’t a comfortable fit, but they made do.

She almost immediately slipped back into a sullen mood. “I just know they’ll give that promotion to that suck-up incubus in the mailroom. Blessed brownnoser.”

Monster said, “Work sucks.”

“Yes, work sucks.”

She slid away from him. Liz wasn’t much for cuddling in the afterglow.

“How are you going to work now?”

“I’ve got a ride,” he said. “At least, for tomorrow.”

“Who with?”

“Just some woman who wants to go on a ride-along.”

“Really.”

Liz’s tone was flat. Not surprising. She wasn’t the jealous type. She didn’t need to be. Not when she could glimpse every lustful thought running through Monster’s mind. And there was no way to actually have sex with another woman without Liz instantly knowing at a glance. One of the disadvantages of having a succubus girlfriend.

Not that it was an issue. Monster wasn’t interested in Judy. Sure, he’d noticed she had a nice ass, and maybe she had a bigger chest than her loose T-shirt let on, though he couldn’t be sure.

Liz fixed him with a knowing stare.

Monster quickly redirected his mind. “So what’s on TV?”

“I stopped by the video store and rented a movie on my way home. We can watch it together.”

He plastered on a forced smile. “It’s called
Red Fury.
”

And for a moment he had hope of something involving commandos and machine guns.

“It’s about this young boy and this wild horse who struggle against racism and…”

He zoned out after that.

* * *

Judy spotted a convenience store just a few blocks from Monster’s house. It was her only hope.

She could feel the memories seeping to the bottom of her brain, becoming buried beneath more ordinary recollections. In a few minutes, perhaps less, she’d forget. Or at least stop thinking about it until something reminded her of it in a way she couldn’t casually dismiss. She couldn’t let that happen.

Judy ran a yellow light and bounced over a curb as she recklessly screeched to a halt in two parking places. A car that had been going for one of the spaces honked, but she ignored that. She had no time.

She ran inside the store and dashed to the short aisle of writing supplies. Quickly, she tore open a black marker and scrawled on her forearm in thick letters.

MAGIC IS REAL.

She grabbed a notebook and quickly started writing everything she could remember.

TROLLS ATE YOUR APARTMENT. PICK UP MONSTER TOMORROW AT 10. DON’T BE LATE. PAULIE KNOWS ABOUT MAGIC. CHESTER IS A PAPER MAN.

She filled a half page with these notes before she was interrupted.

“Miss, are you going to pay for those?” asked a kid in a blue and red shirt with a name tag labeling him a “sales assistant.”

“Relax, junior. I’m not stealing them.”

The kid didn’t look entirely convinced, but he retreated to the safety behind his counter.

Judy grabbed a beef jerky, some orange juice, and a few other items that caught her eye. She went to the register and bought a carton of cigarettes too.

“Why’d you write on your arm like that?” asked the sales assistant while Judy pulled some cash from her wallet.

“Huh?” she said. “Your arm. Why’d you write on it?”

“What are you—”

Judy read the words on her forearm. And she remembered. She flipped open the notebook and scanned the contents and smiled. The details were fuzzy, but they were there. The trolls, the big thing with all the arms (red or black, she wasn’t quite sure which), Paulie and his faerie skulls. It wasn’t perfect, kind of like remembering something somebody had told her instead of something she’d experienced herself, but it worked.