Monster (11 page)

The radio doll reported a gargoyle in an attic that was nearby. Monster called in for the bag and gave Judy directions.

By the time they got to the house, the heat in her palm had become a bothersome itch. She scratched it and noticed an odd-shaped spot on her left hand. “What the hell?”

“Oh, that’s just the mark.” Monster grabbed his bag and got out. “Stay here. This shouldn’t take long. Keep an eye on her, Chester.”

“Mark? What mark?” asked Judy, but Monster was already on the front porch, so she turned to Chester.

“What mark?”

“The mark of the curse,” said Chester. “The curse that the parahuman put on you. You shouldn’t ever shake with the left hand.”

“You couldn’t have warned me earlier?” she asked. “Sorry. Didn’t want to make a fuss.” He checked her hand. “Doesn’t look too bad, a minor misfortune hex. Doubt it can do much except inconvenience you for a few minutes once it activates. But it might be smarter to look both ways before crossing the street in the meantime.”

The door to the house opened and Monster stepped inside. Judy stared at the house while drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.

“Screw this.”

She got out of the car. Chester folded himself into a parrot and landed on her shoulder. “I wouldn’t recommend that, Miss Hines. Probably smarter to stay in the car while the curse is still in effect.”

“You said it was no big deal.”

“It’s not. Unless you put yourself in a bad spot.”

“I came to see stuff, not sit in the car.”

“I didn’t really want to say anything, but you’ve made several dumb decisions tonight. Maybe you should take a moment to consider if this might be another one.”

He had a point. The only reason she had this bad luck curse was because she’d done something stupid.

“But if it’s a misfortune curse, how do I know if I go back to the car that it won’t blow up or something?” she asked.

“That’s far too improbable,” said Chester. “The curse doesn’t have the strength to circumvent plausibility. It just pushes small events in certain disadvantageous directions. The odds that the car should explode are remote. The odds that you’ll pick up rabies from a gargoyle bite are significantly higher.”

Judy went back to the car, lit a cigarette, leaned against the hood, and waited for Monster.

“Why did I do this?” she asked herself aloud. “What was the point?”

“You were curious, Miss Hines. Like a monkey obsessed with opening a puzzle box.”

“I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop using monkey analogies.”

“Sorry.”

“So what do you get out of this?” asked Judy.

Chester said, “This body is not my true form. I’m actually a sixth-dimensional entity using this paper construct to interact and interface with this plane. In the process, certain energies, for lack of a better word, are transferred back to my home dimension. These energies, though abundant on this plane, are dwindling in my own, making them a valued commodity.”

“Just another working stiff,” she said. “Aren’t we all? But it’s not a bad gig. I just bought a house and am sending one of my progeny to the Translucent Spheres of Supremacy. She’s majoring in quantum duality mechanics with a minor in accounting.”

“So you’re married, then?”

“In a manner. My true nature is hard to explain in terms you could understand.”

“Because I’m a monkey,” said Judy. “I never said that.”

“But you were thinking it.”

“I don’t judge,” said Chester. “I rather like you lower entities. You’ve done quite well for transient globs of possibly sentient protoplasm.”

“Possibly sentient?”

“The jury is still out.”

Monster exited the house.

“Did you get it?” asked Judy. “Got them. There were two.” He held up two gray rocks in his palm. “Surprised you stayed in the car.”

“Didn’t want to get rabies.”

Monster chuckled. “Gargoyles don’t carry rabies.”

Judy brushed Chester off her shoulder. He folded himself into his gnomish shape and shrugged.

“Are you ready to go?” asked Monster.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

Judy took a long drag of her cigarette before flicking the stub at Chester. It bounced off his paper body, burning a small hole in it.

“What was that about?” said Monster. “Nothing to worry about, boss,” replied Chester. “You get used to it in this job. Protoplasm can be touchy.”

Monster didn’t answer a lot of calls, going after only a few. He offered excuses, saying he didn’t have the right equipment, that it was too far, or the rescue fee wasn’t worth the trouble. But Judy knew he was just taking the easy ones because he didn’t want her getting in the way. The few calls he did answer were simple stuff: some gremlins (resembling scaly hamsters), an attercroppe (a snake with arms and legs), and a grylio. The grylio looked like a polka-dotted iguana, but Monster warned her that it was extremely venomous. He was immune, so it wasn’t much trouble for him, even if it did sink its teeth into the tender flesh between his thumb and forefinger. But he was used to getting bitten and just slapped a Band-Aid on the wound.

“Guess we should call it a night,” said Monster as the first hints of dawn lit the sky.

“Guess so,” she agreed.

Monster studied her out of the corner of his eye. She was down, and he supposed she had the right. She’d had a bad run of luck lately, and it didn’t look to be getting any better in the future. Incognizants ignored the magic around them with ease, but light cogs had a rough time in this world, always struggling to make sense of things they couldn’t quite grasp but couldn’t quite forget either.

Monster pulled in to a diner with a pasted-on 1950s sensibility.

“Want some breakfast?” asked Monster. “On me.”

“Sure,” said Judy, without enthusiasm. She wasn’t hungry, but she wasn’t in a rush to get back to Paulie’s place.

The diner was all chrome and neon. The Big Bopper played on the jukebox. Maybe later in the day it might’ve been charming, but after a long night, it just seemed tiresome. Most of the other customers were starting their day while Monster and Judy were finishing theirs. Nobody seemed to really care about anything other than coffee and breakfast. Surprisingly, the drowsiness of the customers didn’t seem to register with the waitstaff, all of whom appeared overjoyed to be working there.

A teenager, looking very much the part in poodle skirt and sneakers, flashed a gleaming smile. “Hi, I’m Chipper.”

“I noticed,” said Judy.

Chipper tittered, and it was probably the first time Judy had seen someone ever legitimately titter. “Right this way!”

She sat them at a booth, took their drink orders, and skipped away. She skipped back, and Judy was mildly impressed that someone could skip with two mugs of coffee without spilling a drop.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said. “This is a No Smoking building.”

Judy tapped the cigarette on the table. “Have you ever watched any old movies?”

Chipper nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I love them.”

“Then you’ll notice that everyone in old movies smokes. All the time. Even when they’re in church. Hell, even when they’re in intensive care, they’re lighting up. So if this is an actual
authentic
fifties dining experience, then I think it’s reasonable to expect that I can smoke.”

Chipper’s smile never faded. “We aren’t going for the total experience, ma’am. I mean, if we were going to be accurate, all the black customers would have to be seated in the back of the restaurant. And we wouldn’t want that, now, would we, ma’am?”

“She’s gotcha there,” said Monster.

Chipper took their order, managing to squeeze in two more
ma’am
s in Judy’s direction, before skipping off into the kitchen.

“Sorry it wasn’t more exciting,” said Monster finally, “but that’s just not the way this works. Usually.”

“I noticed.”

Around three in the morning, Judy had decided that Monster’s job was just as boring as her own. Dragons and sorcery didn’t really change the nature of the world, and working stiffs were just the same whether grocery clerk or monster catcher.

“Even if you could get certified,” he told her, “it wouldn’t matter. There’s not much call for the job anymore. Cryptos aren’t common enough to make a living at this. I don’t even earn enough to pay my rent most months. Not without a little extra help from my girlfriend. It’s just the way the world is going. Cryptos are just like any other animal. Gotta have space to live. The more space we take up, the less for them. Some can adapt, but most are disappearing. Pretty soon, it’ll be one bag a night.

“Not that that’s a big deal either. The cognizant birthrate is falling too, and in two or three hundred years no human alive will be able to understand magic. It’ll probably always be around in some form, but who’s gonna notice? Probably be replaced by numerology, astrology, tarot cards, all those things humans like to think of as magical but really aren’t.”

Judy had gone through a phase as a teen, had had a shelf full of books about signs and planetary alignments and all that jazz. It would’ve been nice to think she could’ve been on to something.

“It seems like you’ve had plenty of business lately,” said Judy. “There’s always surges. Usually two or three a year. This one’s a little earlier than predicted, but that’s not unusual.”

“So what are you going to do?” she asked. “What are your plans when all the cryptos dry up?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t thought about it.”

“Aren’t you worried?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” He stared into his coffee, gruffly feigning indifference. “Do you ever wake up and think,
What the hell happened? What am I doing?
And you realize that every-thing’s all screwed up and it’s probably your own damn fault but it’s too late to fix it and you just have to learn to live with it because there’s no way you’re going back to school or dealing with the rat race or starting from the ground up. Because that sounds good, sounds like it should work, but if you weren’t such a screwup in the first place you wouldn’t be in the mess you are now. So why bother starting over? Because you’re still a screwup and that’s not going to change, no matter how you want it to.”

She could relate, all right. It was all the stuff she tried not to think about in her own life. She glanced around the diner and noticed that same making-it-day-by-day posture in at least half the customers. We couldn’t all be Chipper, so optimistic and bright, jaunty because tomorrow was certainly going to be a better day, and usually today wasn’t all that bad. Judy’s life wasn’t even that bad. Just not very good, which in some ways was even worse. When you were at the bottom, you could work your way up. When you were at the top, you could gaze forward to the future with optimism. But the middle was tough. The middle was where it was too easy to be lazy and cynical at the same time.

Sometimes, she thought the starving people had it easy. Then she realized how idiotic that thought was and only felt worse about herself.

She stared into her own cup. “Eh, I try not to think about it,” said Monster with a forced smile. “I’m half hoping my demon girlfriend kills me before I have to.”

“Sounds like a plan,” agreed Judy. “What can I say? I’m an optimist. So what about you? What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know.”

She really didn’t. Not a clue as to what her future might hold. She’d probably erase her memory rune, forget the past few days, and just go back to the Food Plus Mart and work there until she died. It wasn’t the best plan, but at least it was simple.

Chipper brought forth their food. Judy was in a bad mood and would’ve preferred her breakfast swimming in grease, with ham like rubber and bacon like overdone toast. But everything was perfect. The eggs were fluffy. The bacon was crisp. The ham was succulent. It didn’t lighten her mood—only made her more aware of her bad attitude.

“More coffee, ma’am?” asked Chipper, already pouring a fresh cup.

Judy forced a smile. “Thanks.”

“No problem, ma’am.” Chipper skipped away.

“I swear, if she calls me ‘ma’am’ one more time…”

Monster chuckled. “Ah, she’s just a kid. Give her a break. She’ll have plenty of time to get bitter and angry.”

Judy found some consolation in that possibility. Not that she was optimistic about it. Some people went their whole lives without getting their hopes crushed.

She hated those people.

A terrible racket rose from the kitchen. It sounded as if the chef had dropped every pot and pan then smashed all the dishes. A busboy came running out of the swinging doors, leaped over the counter, and landed hard on his face. Wiping the blood from his nose, he continued to flee.

“There’s a giant dog in the kitchen!” he screamed. Something howled. It didn’t sound like a dog. “This sausage is really good,” said Monster.

Half the customers had risen from their seats and were moving toward the exit. The other half were uncertain, waiting to see what would happen.

“This place is really great,” said Monster. “Don’t know why I haven’t tried it before.”