Temporary Monsters (12 page)

Chapter Seventeen

“You would be wise not to move!”
the voice boomed over the intercom.
“We have you surrounded.”

Sheila stopped to look distractedly at the ceiling.

“Oh, Daddy,” she murmured. “Always with the big talk.”

“What are you saying?” Karnowski demanded. “He doesn't have us surrounded?”

Sheila frowned and shook her head. “He's still far too disorganized to do much of anything. As long as his secret plans stay secret, he's fine. As soon as he gets any interference—you guys showing up, the swami defecting, pretty much anything that's happened to Lenny—he falls apart.”

“You'll rue the day you crossed Foo!”

“He's just trying to confuse you until he comes up with a something he really
can
do,” Sheila continued. “Since one of his former planners is now with you, it makes it that much more difficult.”

“Lose all hope, pitiful mortals!”
Maniacal laughter boomed from overhead.

Every pronouncement from Foo seemed to make Sheila more annoyed. “You're safe for now. As long as he's talking, he's not doing.”

Lenny wasn't sure he should believe her. “Then why is he laughing?”

“He just likes to show off his state-of-the-art sound system. You know how men are.” She pointed an accusing finger. “You, Lenny Hodge, of all people, know that.”

Lenny's mind was racing. He knew how men were
what
?

“Laugh has very good bass and treble,” Karnowski said. “But we believe this woman—why?”

Lenore frowned in Sheila's direction. “I have some difficulty seeing her true intentions. Mostly she seems—conflicted.”

Conflicted? Lenny didn't think that sounded at all promising.

“Or maybe she's—confused,” Lenore added. Her frown deepened. “Or confessional. Or maybe confounded. Confuscatory?”

“The outlook is hazy,” the swami agreed. He looked pointedly at Sheila. “We would all feel better if you put that gun away.”

“Oh, this?” Sheila looked at the gun as if it had jumped into her hand. “These are all over the place. I sometimes forget I'm carrying one.”

“Now she's lying,” Lenore said in a much more certain tone.

Sheila stared at the other woman.

“You're right. I do feel like shooting someone. But who?”

“I will finally defeat Terrifitemps!”
the voice crowed overhead.
“No one can stand in my way.”

“We'll just ignore that,” Sheila continued. “I do seem to have this gun.” She surveyed the Terrifitemps team. “It would be a shame not to use it.”

She looked at Lenny first. “Oh Lenny.” She sighed. “Bottom line—I still haven't worked out my feelings.”

“Everybody loves Lenny!” Bob the horse agreed.

Sheila looked fondly at the gun in her hands. “Lenny, you're working for the enemy. Why can't I just get over you and put a bullet through your heart?”

The gun waved to Lenny's left.

“Or what about the traitor in our midst?” Sheila asked.

Phil shook his head. “The swami way is the way of peace. Well, peace and profit. Or peace, profit, and continuing curiosity. Don't you want to know what makes Lenny tick?”

“I tried,” Sheila replied wearily. “I really tried.”

“Everybody loves Lenny's ticks!” Bob the horse added.

The gun moved past Phil to point at Lenore. “Or maybe I'll just shoot my romantic rival. If I can't have Lenny, then nobody can.”

What? Lenny and Lenore had only met a few hours ago. He glanced at his redheaded teammate. She was certainly attractive, if maybe a little spooky. But romance? No matter what Lenny might hope for at some quiet time in the future, right now they were all too busy with crazed criminal masterminds, not to mention their equally crazed gun-toting daughters.

“You're talking nonsense,” Lenore replied. “You're confusing him. Let it go. That Lenny Hodge is a person out of the past. He's moved beyond you now.”

“He has, has he?” Sheila was shouting now. She moved closer, waving her gun back and forth between Lenore and Lenny. “Hah! You'll never see your first day cover again.”

Lenny blinked. Since he had joined Terrifitemps, he had hardly even thought about his stamp collection. As rare as that cover was, maybe it was the price he had to pay to have Sheila out of his life forever.

“You still try to escape, pitiful fools? It will do you no good. Wait! My daughter is—where?”

“Hi, Daddy.” Sheila waved.

“How can I be the world's foremost criminal mastermind if my own daughter won't listen to me?”

Foo's daughter sighed and looked away.

“I was planning to destroy them with a wall of fire! But no, my own daughter is in my way!”

Sheila pointed her gun up toward the state-of-the-art speakers. “I may have some issues with you, Lenny, but my father can be really difficult.”

“I think Sheila needs a good lesson. What if I flood the whole complex while you're standing—”

Everybody jumped as Sheila pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into the ceiling.

“Quite an echo in here,” the Baron remarked as the loud bang reverberated down the hall. Lenny noticed that the Baron was inching away from the others in his party. Bullets didn't kill vampires, did they? Maybe he was trying to distract Sheila. But to what end?

“You are limiting yourself, my dear,” the Baron continued. He had moved to the far side of the hall, a few yards distant from the other Terrifitempers, and had begun to glide in Sheila's direction. “Why settle for a short and unhappy life with the likes of Lenny when you could spend the rest of eternity as a vampire bride?”

“Another one?” Karnowski asked. “Karnowski thought you reached your limit—at least one bride ago.”

“I have no limits,” the vampire admitted. “Not when I meet someone as feisty as this.”

“My mother had a thing for vampires.” Sheila made a face. “Me, not so much.”

Lenny wondered if feisty and crazy could be synonyms. He frowned. Did he see movement out of the corner of his eye?

“Nobody ever asks the pooka,” Bob interjected petulantly.

Sheila frowned at the ghostly blue horse. “Ask what?”

“For the secrets you hide even from yourself within your heart,” Bob replied wistfully. “Pookas are the masters of romance.”

“That's it!” Sheila screamed. “I may have to shut up and listen to my father, but the day I take advice from a horse—”

Lenny winced as Sheila fired off three quick shots in Bob's direction.

Bob whinnied as the bullets passed through him to ricochet farther down the hall.

“That tickles. But as I was saying—”

Lenny saw movement on either side of the hall, two lines of flowing black, like water rushing ahead of an approaching flood, both lines heading straight for Sheila.

The Baron's cape rustled as he threw up his arms. “Now, my children! Make your master proud!”

The two lines at the corridor's edges fanned out, rushing Sheila from either side. Lenny realized the moving darkness was hundreds, maybe thousands, of cockroaches, swirling around his ex-girlfriend, climbing up both in and out of her clothes to her waist, her arms, heading toward her face.

“Ick! Ack!” Sheila screamed. “Ewww!” She shot at the floor a couple times, but the roaches were not deterred. They swept up and over her like a great, crawling tide.

“No! You can't!” Sheila continued. But then she spoke no more, for the insects had reached her chin and were close to crawling into her mouth. She made a gagging noise, dropped her gun, and ran. She fled down the hall, shedding roaches behind her.

The discarded insects swirled in her wake, forming letters as they spread across the floor. The Baron read the words aloud with pride.

THIS PRETTY WOMAN

SHOULD NOT CARRY A WEAPON

IF WE CAN HELP IT

He beamed as he looked back to the rest of his team. “Such talented insects.”

Sheila's shrieks faded with distance. Somewhere, in some other faraway hallway, Foo was shouting out of some other intercom, too far away for Lenny to make out the words.

“Karnowski is astonished we have a moment's peace.”

Swami Phil nodded. “You seem to have temporarily pushed back the legions of Foo. We may even have time for a counterattack.”

“A counterattack?” Lenore asked. “We've already thrown ghosts and roaches at them. What do we have left?”

“They even laugh at the power of the pooka!” Bob agreed.

“We still have the greatest weapon of all.” The swami paused for a minute to roll back the sleeves of his Nehru jacket. “Lenny, you are about to reach your full potential.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Where are we—exactly?” the swami mused.

“In reaching Lenny's full potential?” Lenore asked.

“No, where are we in Foo's secret headquarters? We need someplace a little out of the way if we're to give ourselves enough time to make this succeed.”

He walked over to the wall on the left-hand side of the corridor. “I believe we have a minute to reconnoiter. After that, it's best if we are hidden from the hallway cameras.”

Swami Phil took a moment to look up and down the hallway. He moved two steps to his right, then knocked on the wall, sharply, three times, midway between floor and ceiling.

Lenny heard a faint whirring sound. A panel slid away on the wall in front of the swami, revealing a large video screen. Lenny and the rest of the team crowded in behind Phil. The screen displayed a map of one part of the headquarters, complete with a large red X and the words
YOU ARE HERE
.

“Just what we needed,” Phil said to himself. “Now where do we go from here? What else is on this level?” Phil touched his finger to the display and began to move it slowly to the right. The swami traced his finger down the corridor on the screen, and the map display began to move as well.

“The airplane hangar?” he mused before shaking his head. “Too obvious a means of escape.” The finger traveled a few inches farther. “The satellite library? No, they'll expect us to seek out information.”

His finger moved farther along the map. “There will be people around the barber shop and the bowling alley.” He paused. “We might be able to subdue the clerk in the flower shop, but it's right beside the gift kiosk.

“Aha!” Phil slapped the screen with the palm of his hand. He turned to the others and smiled. “We're going to the comedy club.”

The swami abruptly turned left and walked down the hall. After an instant's hesitation, the rest of the team followed. They pursued Phil around the corner into a new hallway with a dozen different doors on either side. The swami opened the third door on the left.

“Foo always operates according to a grand vision,” Phil said as the others followed him into the room.

“He was intent on building a full-service secret headquarters,” Phil explained. “But some services were never completed. This particular project was doomed to fail.”

Lenny looked around the large room, walls and curtains done all in shades of deep red. He saw a bar on the far side of the room. The shelves behind the bar were empty. Chairs were stacked atop half a dozen dime-sized circular tables.

Lenny felt somebody had to ask. “Why would a comedy club fail?”

“Foo doesn't find anything funny,” Phil replied.

“What's with the creepy laughter, then?” Karnowski asked.

“Well, except maybe total world domination,” Phil admitted. “But that's not exactly comedy club material.”

The swami walked over to the raised stage at the far end of the room. “This room is a nice open space. Almost totally forgotten, until Foo decides to remodel it into another chamber of doom or some such.”

Phil turned to face the others. “It is perfect for what we need to do next. I need quiet. And I'll need Lenny to concentrate.”

“So Lenny will be at your mercy, then?” Karnowski demanded. “You claim to be on our side now, but what happens when Lenny is in your power?”

“I sense no ill will,” Lenore said with her customary frown of concentration. “The need for advancement, the desire to make a quick buck, a burning urge to one day make infomercials. But no ill will.”

“We are on the edge of a great new frontier.” The swami slapped Lenny's back. “We will plumb the true depths of Lenny's abilities. Where do they come from, where do they lead? What are Lenny's true capabilities?” He turned back to the rest of the team. “Ladies and gentlemen, prepare to enter the Lennyverse.”

Even the Baron frowned at that. “That sounds vast—and dangerous.”

Swami Phil shook his head, a smile of inspiration on his lips. “Look at what we have witnessed so far. I think, whatever threatens Lenny, and I mean really threatens him, his gift will save him from the threat.”

Even Lenore seemed skeptical of that. “And we can depend on that—why?”

“Because I won't be doing the driving—Lenny will. I am going to attempt to put that gift under Lenny's direct control. But come, we must begin. Even here, we risk the chance of discovery. Lenny, if you will step on stage?”

Lenny did as he was told.

“Now, if you will look at me?” Swami Phil unbuttoned the top of his Nehru jacket and reached within to pull out a number of medallions, each attached to a gold or silver chain around the swami's neck.

“Wow!” Bob the horse whistled. “That's a lot of bling!”

Phil nodded. “Even my mystical powers will not get me through airport security.” He turned to look at Lenore. “I will need your help. We must determine which amulet is the most appropriate. All of these have positive qualities. But which is best for our current purpose?”

Lenore frowned in concentration as Phil lifted each pendant in turn. The first was a simple silver oval.

“I will describe each amulet's primary power—as I have perceived them. But some of these mystic ornaments may have further uses far beyond what I have discovered. This first object is particularly useful for reaching out to deceased relatives in the vast beyond.”

Lenore nodded at his description. Phil moved on to the next chain, and what looked like a jagged piece of petrified wood. “This one will help you to find water in the desert.”

The third pendant showed two large silver letters “SP” encrusted with small, glittering stones. “This one helps you make better rhymes with a hip-hop beat.” Next, he fingered a golden amulet, studded with emeralds and rubies. “And this particular piece is great for starting conversations with single women in bars.”

Lenore's frown, if anything, was deeper than before. “Each is as the swami has stated. Were we looking for water or hoping to pick up girls?” Lenore sighed. “I can think of nothing in the least bit useful here.”

“Pookas are always useful!” Bob piped up from the back of the crowd.

Phil sighed as he studied the four medallions he held in his hands. “On reflection, these are not quite as powerful as I had hoped. I must pull out the final amulet, the one I use in emergencies.”

He let the first four pendants bounce against his chest as he reached inside his jacket one more time. This final chain sported a gem larger than any of the medallions Lenny had seen before. The huge stone sparkled even in the club's indirect lighting.

“Impressive!” the Baron remarked. “Is that a diamond?”

“Actually,” Phil replied, “it's a cubic zirconia, but by far the finest zirconia that can be produced today.” He twirled the chain between his fingers. “It is an artificial gem of awesome power.”

“Lenore?” Karnowski demanded. “Does swami finally speak true?”

The young woman took a step away from the glittering stone.

“This is almost beyond my comprehension.” She shook her head. “Something within this zirconia can reflect and redirect forces of tremendous—almost unbelievable—completely off the scale—” She took a deep breath. “All I can say is wow!”

Swami Phil nodded as if he expected no less. “Then we shall begin. We need quiet, and something more. We will be dealing with the ghosts of Lenny's past. And ghosts respond best to other ghosts.” He waved toward the back of the room. “Perhaps we might find a
real
ghost among our number.”

“Me?” a tremulous voice responded from the edge of the crowd.

“The nameless ghost?” the Baron asked. “I had forgotten he was here.”

“I get that a lot,” the ghost agreed, real excitement in its voice. “Who knew I'd go from that boring pit into a life of adventure?”

“Are you sure,” Lenore asked, “as eager as he is, that this ghost is the right one for the job?”

“I can think of other volunteers!” Bob the horse agreed.

Karnowski waved away the pooka's objection. “It must be. Foo installed too many protections. This structure and this room filled with strong wards that prevent me from summoning any further spirits. Besides, if Karnowski knows his ghosts, our friend here will be perfect guide.”

“Very good.” The swami turned back to the small raised stage. “Lenny. Are you ready?'

Lenny nodded. He was more than ready. The swami was going to open Lenny's past. Would it bring him a greater understanding of his gift? Maybe even the true meaning of his life? For the first time since he could remember, Lenny felt genuinely excited.

“I need you to concentrate. We must prepare to send you into a trance”—Phil clapped his hands three times—“swami style!”

The swami swung the jewel casually back and forth. “First, a ground rule or two. You are returning to your past, but it is a remembered past, a past that is dynamic, even capable of change. This is about exploring your gift. Whatever happens, do not become mired in the days that you have left behind.

“If you feel trapped, frustrated, held back, you must only snap your fingers to move ahead. Snap your fingers, and the gift will come.”

“Snap my fingers?” Lenny asked as his eyes followed the zirconia.

“Like this.” Phil rubbed thumb and index finger together with an audible snap.

Lenny looked down at his right hand. He was never very good at snapping his fingers.

“Go ahead,” Phil urged. “Try it.”

This time, his fingers snapped just fine. Maybe this trance thing was working already. Lenny smiled. He snapped his fingers again. Did he imagine it, or did the air shimmer around him?

“Very good.” Phil returned to twirling the pendant before him. “And one more thing. Even with all our safeguards, this trance can lead to danger. We will need a safe word, in case we find some negative aspects of your power, or your gift takes you too far; a word that when spoken will return you to the here and now. It should be but a single word. Something not casually used, but easy to remember.”

Word? Lenny thought as the gem sparkled before him. Maybe he could come up with something after he took a little nap.

Phil nodded to Lenny's right. “Is our guide prepared?”

“I am ready to do my ghostly duty!”

The zirconia spun.

“You're letting that
ghost
do this?” Bob complained loudly. “When you have a pooka right here? I say thee nay!”

The swami looked at Bob for a long moment.

“The safe word is onomatopoeia,” he said at last.

“That sounds like the mambo!” Bob the horse enthused. “Onomatopoeia! Onomatopoeia!” The pooka swung his ghostly blue hips to the rhythm.

The gem swung and shone.

“I am beginning to regret my cha-cha exorcism spell,” Phil admitted. “Anyway, once you have heard this word you will be awake and fully restored, as if you had just woken from a healthy nap.”

“Onomatopoeia!” Bob sang. “Onomato-
pee
-a!”

“Onomatopoeia?” Lenny repeated.

Lenny was suddenly awake. He was in the middle of a big, red room, with the rest of Terrifitemps staring at him. And Swami Phil had been explaining—what?

“Huh?” Lenny asked. “What am I doing?”

Phil grabbed the twirling gem in his right hand and turned to glare at the pooka. “Bob, please! This spell is of utmost importance. Lenny's very existence may be at stake!”

“Very existence?” Bob crossed his front forelegs and bowed his head. “I suppose I wouldn't want to do that. Is it my fault that pookas were born to dance?”

“Now, everyone, calm and quiet please.” The swami turned back to the dais. “Remember, Lenny. You should only use your safe word as a last resort.”

The zirconia sparkled.

“Now stare into the gem.”

Lenny did as he was told. The large cubic zirconia spun before him. Who cared about safe words? It was calm in there with the sparkling lights.

“Oogleybook,” Phil intoned in a low but powerful voice. “Nanglytoot, chim chim cheree. Wampun, stompun, goolyflaspmun. You are in my power.”

Goolyflaspmun?
Lenny thought absently. But the world around him was drifting away.

“I am in your power,” he said aloud.

“Exactly. Now relax, and let the ghost be your guide.”

The gem sparkled.

Lenny relaxed, and drifted.

“You seek an earlier time,” the swami continued. “A simpler time. Go back, back, back.”

“Earlier time,” the ghost's voice echoed. “Simpler. Back, back, back.”

Lenny took a deep breath and opened his eyes.