The Writings of Mary Lewys

“No one you’ve heard of.” She flipped the plastic lid off her coffee and blew the steam from the black brew. She smiled with a deep inhale.

“Try me.” He looked at the cup before tightening his grip on his bag. The corners of a laptop poked against the canvas material.

With her lips pursed, Nerissa flipped out her identification wallet to flash the laminated I.D. card and badge. “S.I.C.N.”

“Sicken?”

She laughed. “Supernatural Investigations, Criminal Negotiations.”

“There is no such thing.” Nathanial stated it without malice or mockery. It was a matter fact in the same way he sipped at his cup and set it back down.
“Oh, really?” She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. “How’s your dad?”

“You mean my step-dad.” He sounded full of derision. He frowned as he looked at the ground. “He’s another in a long line of losers my mom thinks she needs to live with.”
“I’m not talking about him. How’s your dad?”

He wilted like a delicate flower under a heat lamp. His frown deepened with the curving of his spine. He let slip his bag from his lap but hung onto the strap to keep it from hitting the floor. Nathaniel eased it down until he could release the band. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.” Nerissa sipped her coffee with a smile. She smacked her lips. “May I meet him?”

“Do we have to do this here?” Both glanced around the posh coffee house filled with brown pillows, browner stuffed chairs and highly varnished brown wood. Being the only patrons, the barista wandered between the curtains that separated the counter from the kitchen. Nerissa rested her chin on the heel of her hand and drummed her fingers against her cheek.

Nathanial rolled his eyes. He extended his lower lip to puff his bangs out of his eyes. “Dad? Dad, come on.”

The air heated by twenty degrees. Nathanial glowed faint red for a moment before a meticulous outline of an eight foot demon appeared around him. With eyes wide open, Nerissa leaned back. She could still see the boy, but the demon swallowed him whole with its presence.

“Dad, this lady wants to meet you.”

You called me for this? Its voice was verbose. Vibrations rippled her coffee. Nerissa looked up and down at the unhallowed figure before she sipped her coffee.

“Look, it wasn’t my idea.”

How many times have I told you –

“Shut up, Dad. This wasn’t my idea.”

Do not tell me to shut up, young man. I am your father.

“Or what? What, Dad? You’re going to do what? Nothing. That’s what you’re going to do. Nothing.”

Just because you are my son and we’re bound by blood and bone does not mean I cannot punish you.

“Oh, yeah? When have you ever done that – oh, right. Only every day of my life!”

You are lucky I am stuck in Hell. That is all I am saying.

“You don’t frighten me.”

Nerissa buried her laugher in a large gulp of coffee. When she couldn’t stop laughing, she took another drink. She coughed and straightened up. “My name is Nerissa Compton. I work for a secret government agency that handles unnatural crimes. I hope to recruit you for my team. I am prepared to make a very handsome offer for your services.”

If asked, Ms. Dawson would have said the air heated in the small office while she and Nathanial waited. Once the principal’s door opened, she tugged at her collar and sighed once the door closed. The nearest absentee note worked as a fan.

“Nathanial, I wanted to see you today – ”

“Whatever you say,” he said with a voice that cracked at the highest pitch. “I didn’t do it.”

“No, Nathanial,” Principal Hall folded her knotty, age-spotted hands on her desk. She looked every bit the stereo-typical, tight-assed head administrator in full tweed and hair bun. She squinted at him from behind her horn-rimmed glasses with a death stare. “I – whatever you did – listen, Miss Compton is here to see you.”

Without moving his head, Nathaniel slid his eyes to the woman sitting against the dull, white walls of the principal’s office. She sat in a hippy-style chair beneath the plaques and framed diplomas. He didn’t smile at her wild hair or dark make-up, but he did nod. She flashed him a very small smile.

“Nathaniel, would you like to get something to drink?” She reached for her over-sized, black leather purse on the floor as she stood.

“I’m seventeen.”

“Ms. Compton, I cannot allow you take a student off school grounds.”

“It’s coffee.” With a flick of her wrist, Nerissa held up the government ID and badge that she produced from her black leather coat pocket to Principal Hall. Her eyes stayed on the young man. “You game?”

“Sure.” Nathaniel pulled his messenger bag strap over his head as he walked out the door. Nerissa followed while the principal sputtered nonsensical protests. From her seat, Ms. Dawson stopped typing to watch them go before leaning over to see the look on the principal’s face.

Nerissa found herself captured in the café by the rain. Her hair was perfect in that jutting, bed-head, wild woman way that she liked. It complimented her dark eye make-up and heavy eye-liner. Her dark, red lips drew on the white cigarette as she watched the people with umbrellas, hats, and newspapers over their heads pass by. Her chin rested on her fist as her elbow rested on the small, round table.

Also on the checkered, table-clothed table rested a stack of brown file folders, each an inch thick. The brown was once dark but had faded a shade or two lighter from age and use. Next to the stack, an old, dull brass ashtray overflowed with burnt and stubbed-out cigarette butts: a sign of a long captivity. But the expression on Nerissa’s face reflected nothing of her self-imposed captivity for the sake of good hair. She stared with empty eyes and a guarded face at the passersby.

She stubbed out her cigarette as the ember glowed as close as it dared to the filter. She pushed the porcupine mass of filter butts about to find a place to extinguish the cinder. Her large, blue eyes glanced at the choreographed “No Smoking” sign hung in a wooden frame above the thirty year old, hard plastic cash register station. By sheer luck, the owner was in her debt. Nerissa could have her way in his small coffee house café so long as she didn’t upset the other customers. Since she was the only person in the shop, she pulled another cigarette from the dwindling pack. She tapped it on the table twice while sweeping the room for a sign of her waitress. By the time she sucked her first blessed lung-full of smoke, the small, college-aged girl appeared.

Her long, braided hair with pretty red ribbons offset the 50s style glasses that hung from the tip of her broad nose. The waitress wasn’t pretty by any stretch of the imagination, but Nerissa didn’t look at her long enough to notice. She was the contrast opposite: neat fitting sweater, expensive dress slacks hemmed for her short height, boots with the right amount of heal to give a nice lift to her ass but she was still able to run despite the heal. Her clothes were all black to match her hair. Nerissa would be beautiful if she didn’t dress and style her hair as if she were executive Goth. “Another coffee.”

The waitress with the white, button-down shirt and short, pleated skirt spun on her terribly, practical shoes. She marched through the soft, white curtains that cut the back of the café off from the main floor. Nerissa lifted an eyebrow as she could see the pot of the sacred java on the counter behind the cashier station. She shrugged and reached for the top folder file.
The brass, hanging bell on the front door rang as the door swung in. The static sound of rain filled the front area of the café as he stepped in. He shook off his brown overcoat to spill the water on the rubber-bottomed matt. His shoes scuffed off the grit of the streets as he rubbed one then the other on the matt. He rubbed his dark, brown hair until it spiked on end.

He dropped his damp stack of file folders onto the table next to Nerissa’s. As he slipped out of his coat, he pulled out the chair opposite her. He slipped his silk-lined coat over the back of the chair before sitting.

“Nerissa.”

“Geoffrey.” Nerissa made no attempt to hide her fake smile except to take a long drag from her cigarette. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise.” He watched as the waitress set the cup and saucer of coffee on the table. When the waitress looked at him, he pointed to the cup and held up one finger. She nodded before disappearing into the back room again.

“So,” she shook four packets of sugar before tearing the small, white envelops and pouring the grains of sweet into the black liquid. The spoon clanked as it bounced off the sides of the cup. Nerissa blew on the steaming java before sipping. “What did you need, Geoffrey?”

“Thirteen hours of surgery. Six weeks in recovery. Three months of rehab and two weeks vacation.” He slouched into a supervisory position. His eyes met hers until she turned away. Her thin fingers covered the spider web scar that covered the right side of her neck. The wound was still pink at some of the white, thick parts as a sign of healing. She could feel it start from behind her ear, spread half way around her neck and stopped at her collar bone.

Nerissa swallowed. “So?”

“It’s time to go back to work.” He pushed his file folders until his topped hers. After the waitress approached, he took the cup of Joe from her hands with a brief smile.

“Is it?” Her fingers left her scar and combed through her hair. She watched the faceless, blobs of people pass by the window. She didn’t smile. She didn’t frown. She didn’t look at Geoffrey.

“The problem hasn’t gone away. In fact, from what we are able to monitor, activity is growing.” He sipped his coffee. “I brought you some candidates. You need to put the team back together.”

She flipped open to the top file folder. Her eyes scanned the page as she tapped the ash from her cigarette. After another long inhale, she exhaled the smoke in Geoffrey’s face. “Is this the best you have?”

“Former MI-5 isn’t good enough since when?”

“Since they killed Tom and my team.” She pushed the files back to him. Her chin rested on the heel of her hand as she stared at him with the same look of boredom she had since he walked in the door. “I have started finding the new team.”

Her hand rested on the top of her pile of folders. Her deep red fingernail polish matched her lips. She did not move her hand when Geoffrey reached for the top file. He peeled back the corner, but couldn’t read much. Nerissa smiled.

“I am guessing I won’t know who until it’s too late?” Geoffrey sighed before taking another sip.

“No, you won’t. It’s my team now. We’re doing things my way.”

“So long as you continue to pass your psych evaluation.” As he stood, he lifted his coat from the back of the chair. He slipped it on while staring. He scowled as if he couldn’t read Nerissa’s blank face. He shrugged his shoulders until the wet coat settled. “Keep your appointments.”

“Will do, chief.” Her eyes never left his, even as she took another drag from her cigarette. It was long and deep so she could exhale straight into Geoffrey’s face. He coughed and waved it away. He closed his eyes against the white whirls and turned to leave the café.

Nerissa smiled wider until she looked down at the table at his full cup of coffee. “Fucker stiffed me.”

He stopped thinking of the creature as “the creature” when he realized she had breasts during the body search. Though Zee and Marmaduke said nothing from the shadows of the warehouse, Matt figured the fairy leader had grown into a twisted version of the woman from which she exploded. He shoved her into the back of the patrol car and slammed the door. Her spittle covered the window as her ranting voice grew muffled.

As he folded and slammed her over the booking desk, Matt wondered about the evidence he would have to manufacture. It would have to be good to stick in court, especially since the paperwork on this creature didn’t exist. However, she started her rambling again. A full, demented confession blasted from her mouth, “She was my form, not hers! It was mine to take! It was mine!”

Full confession in front of other officers sealed his case shut. Matt never showed his inner sigh, but he did nod back at the cheers for an excellent arrest. But it was Zee dashing in at the last minute, with a gold fish in a glass of water that stole the show. She told everyone to relax, the fish was okay.

“So, that’s how the case ends?” Zee raised her margarita glass. Her purple umbrella clashed with the crushed ice green dish. Her platform, black boots knocked together as she dangled them off the edge of the building. Matt sat next to her on the roof of her apartment building with his own iced drink. He bumped his glass against hers with a smile. He wore a clean suit.

“Pretty much. Full confession like that may not put her away in prison, but a psychiatric ward will do.” He sucked at the bent straw under his own umbrella. He closed one eye and twisted his head. “Ow.”

Zee laughed and pointed. “Brain freeze!”

Over the rooftops of the other brownstones, the sun sank to leave the sky a shade of purple only found in orchids and crayon boxes. Below their feet, streetlights popped on one by one as their sensors discovered enough darkness. A taxi rumbled down her street and round the corner. Matt took another drink before he set the plastic glass down on the cement ledge next to him.

“If I haven’t said it, thanks, Zee.”

“You’re welcome Matt.” As she sipped at her own drink, Zee wiggled closer. Her shoulder touched his and her head fell against his shoulder. “Wait until you get my bill.”

“Yeah. Just because I look like a dinosaur doesn’t mean I have a peanut brain,” Marmaduke cupped his brow and looked to the sky. The sun was sinking. The sky changed from bright azure to a medium blue with the promise of a royal blue in a few hours. The old, spiral towers with gothic crosses cast shadows across the green grass and elder trees of the garden. He watched a few birds overhead before glancing at the human. “No matter what Zee’s told you.”

Matt smiled a cock-eyed grin. He rubbed the back of his neck before running his fingers through his hair. “Good. How do we go about it then?”

“Well, the wizard – ”

“Monk. He said he was a monk a hundred times.” With a roll of his eyes, Matt shoved both hands in his pants pockets. His walked turned into a shuffle after a glance back over his shoulder. “I don’t know how you kept from snapping his neck every time he corrected you.”

“I’ve known Jimmy for years now.” He waved Matt off with a large, lumbering hand. Though his face was flatter than the average human’s, Marmaduke grinned with full tusks in view. He shook his head with a laugh.

“Jimmy the wizard.”

“I know.”

With a snort, Matt kicked at a large, dark stone in the path. It skipped across the other rocks as a flat stone would a smooth lake surface before rolling to a stop in the grass. “Jimmy the monk, the former wizard.”

“Don’t try to figure him out.” Marmaduke tossed the velvet, brown bag tied with a dramatic gold rope up into the air. He caught it with his other hand. “Your life-span isn’t long enough.”

Matt couldn’t help but notice the ripple of strong muscle through the troll’s arm. The creature wore a black, leather vest and tan sweat pants. His black hoodie jacket was tied around his waist. Either loose coins or keys jingled in his pockets, but Matt couldn’t decide which a troll would have. “Thanks.”

With a tilt of his head, Marmaduke eyed the human at his side as they passed through the open, wooden gates. The stone path ended and the pavement of the parking lot began. Two older cars with great gas mileage sat near the single parking lot lamppost. Marmaduke stopped staring. “Can I say something?”

“Sure.”

“You’re a cop, right?” He tossed the full bag up into the air and caught it with the opposite hand.

“Yes.”

“First time talking with a troll and dealing with fairies?”

Matt nodded with his bottom lip sticking out. “As far as I know. However, as I run through old cases in my head – ”

With a swift pat on the back that sent Matt stumbling forward, Marmaduke reached for his shoulder to help keep him upright. He pretended to dust off some lint from the grotesque Hawaiian shirt in order to cover up his helping. “You are handling this amazingly well.”

“Really?” Matt coughed. He blinked to make sure his eyes were still in his head. His hand rand down his chest to remove some of that invisible lint. “That’s because the screaming is on the inside.”

“Most humans can’t handle it – especially doctors, firefighters, and cops. It’s like they can’t handle the monsters outside of what they’ve been trained to see – the usual monsters: child molesters, pyromaniacs, serial killers.” He didn’t glance back. Marmaduke left the monastery’s small parking lot for the winding, tree-lined drive to the main road. The sound of end-of-day, rush-hour traffic filtered through the long bows of the pine trees.

“I didn’t have much of a choice.” With his hands back in his pants pockets, Matt double-timed his steps to keep up. He spotted passing headlights as he walked up the drive. He spotted one, a white taxi cab, passing and wondered if the troll would fit in the car.

“Zee tends to do that.”

With a large, grey-skinned hand, Marmaduke gripped Matt’s arm and lifted it from his side. He looked at the watch. As he released his arm, he looked down the street from the end of the drive. “Yes, yes, she does.”

Matt stood at the edge of the road, only a few steps from the white line where commuters raced home for dinner. He watched with wonder as not a single car swerved. Each vehicle stayed its course despite the fact that he was standing next to a troll. A large, elephant-skinned, large-tusked creature stood in a Village People vest and held a bag of magic powder and no one noticed. If they noticed, the drivers and passengers didn’t care.

With a laugh that he buried in his hand, Matt rubbed his face. Two day’s worth of growth covered his jaw and cheeks. He looked like hell and he knew it, but he couldn’t do anything about it no – just like he couldn’t do anything about the ridiculous clothing Zee picked out for him from her ex-boyfriend’s stash. He laughed and rubbed his face, believing that Zee was the only person who could cause this type of situation in his life.

“With this, we can kill most of the fairy tribe set up underground.” Marmaduke tossed the brown bag into the air and caught it. A shiny, new pick-up truck slowed in its approach. “However, if one is as large as you say, well, it will be a little messy.”

He stepped back. Matt watched the truck roll to a stop before him. The driver side window rolled down. Zee’s grinning face was reveled from behind the shaded glass. Matt chuckled. “So long as we can arrest it with enough evidence for a conviction for one of the murders – ”

“Evidence shouldn’t be a problem.” Marmaduke clamped a hand down on Matt’s shoulder to help steady his climb into the truck’s bed. The axles groaned from the weight. Matt did as well. Once in, he filled the bed and leaned his back against the cab as he sat. He tucked the bag between his legs and offered a hand to Matt. “Turning it in will.”

At the bottom of the stairs, after another glance about, Matt placed his hand on Zee’s shoulder. She spun with her patent leather purse flapping in her fists. He stared while the knot in his brow deepened. He pursed his lips. “What just happened?”

“Well,” Zee rolled her eyes up to the station’s platform, “we took the Z train across town to my stop and – ”

“No, back there in the tunnels.” He placed his other hand on her shoulder. The weight of his arms was carefully balanced, but he lowered his chin to catch her eyes. “What was that place and who was that – what was that thing?”

“Oh! Well, that was Charlie’s – it’s a fun place if you know where to find it. Great jazz band on Saturday night. The pixies don’t even play instruments. You should hear them – ”

“Zee!”

“I don’t mean The Pixies, as in the band.” With a toothy smile, Zee mimicked Matt by placing her hands on his shoulders. Her purse hit him under his arm. “I mean wee little pixies that are so cute you just want to take one home, but don’t. Just don’t. Really.”

The lines on his face grew deeper as Matt frowned. “What did we just do?”

“We hired a troll.” While she tried to frown, she could manage a suppressed grin only. She dropped her hands and slipped out from under his hands. With a quick skip, she bounded off the sidewalk to cross the street.

Matt did not follow. “We did what?”

“We – well, I hired a troll to take care of the fairy problem.” Zee spun in a circle, stopping long enough to grin at him. She walked with a brisk step to the sidewalk down the street. Overhead, the street lamp glowed on to encircle her in light. The two-story brownstones lined both sides of the road. Unlike other sections of town, the windows here didn’t sport flower boxes or pretty curtains. Front stoops were empty and surrounded by rusted, dented garbage bins.

A brown, dented taxi cab rumbled by before rounding the corner at the end of the street. The smell of exhaust and burnt oil snapped Matt back to his senses. He jogged to catch back up.

“What? Why? Who?”

Zee laughed as she wrapped her arm around his. One long leg with a knee-length, platform boot crossed over the other as she leaned against him. “Look, he’s going to be well equipped to take care of this. It’s standard subcontracting, Matt. Like you do with me. When you run across something hinky, you call me and I do my whole lay-hands-on thing and give you the intel. Then, I give you an invoice and I pay my rent and buy groceries. You should know how this works.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He glanced back over his shoulder: still nothing. His eyes moved along the windows for any watchers. “What am I going to tell the Lieutenant?”

“Um, I don’t know.” She shrugged. “That it’s been taken care of?”

“By a troll?” Once at her stoop, Matt stopped. He rested one foot on the first step, but he left his weight on his other foot as if he had no intention of moving further. “Why, yes, I want a psych evaluation, sir. Zee, you can’t be serious. What am I going to tell these girls’ family?”

“How about nothing?”

“And then it goes into a cold case file where they live with the knowledge that whoever killed their loved one is running free.”

She clicked her purse open. Her long fingers pushed items about until she pulled out a ring with a key and small, plastic skeleton on it. “But they’re not.”

“But they won’t know that.” Matt rested a hand on his knee as he leaned over. He looked up at Zee with the most worried expression Zee has ever seen. Matt hinted at pleading with his voice. “I have to have a body, clues and a case to close.”

“So, what do we do?” Zee dropped her key back into her purse and clicked it shut.

“We’re going back.” He lifted his hand to take hers. Behind him, a police van zoomed by with sirens wailing. The noise bounced off the old stones of the buildings before fading. Matt kept his eyes on Zee. “We’ve got to find that troll and work this out.”

A large figure sat down at their table. By large, Matt sized the figure out at least twice his size. He couldn’t see the figure’s face because of the hoodie pulled down as low as it could go. The jacket was zipped up tight under the figure’s square chin. As Matt scooted his chair closer to Zee, he noticed skin like a rhinoceros covered the hand that was spread out over the table.

“You called?” The figure’s voice was deep as a subway train rumble. If the figure breathed, Matt couldn’t detect it. He went to pull at the tie that wasn’t there. Instead, Matt sighed and ran his hand down the loud, Hawaiian-printed shirt Zee had lent.

“Hey, Marmaduke.” With her black and white, fingerless gloves, Zee patted the figure’s hand. She rested her chin on her laced fingers and batted her thick, black eyeliner eyes. “Thank you for taking my call.”

“I was heading home. You’re lucky you caught me.” Marmaduke rubbed his nose.

“Lucky for us then.” Zee smiled. “We need your help.”

“We?”

“Matt here is my,” she turned to look at Matt for a moment, as if the right word would be written on his forehead. Zee smiled wider at the site of him out of his element: the shirt, the khaki pants, and the running shoes. His hair was as snappy as ever. She picked at her nails to keep from running her fingers through his thick, brown hair and messing it up. “Associate. He – ”

“Fairies are infesting the sewers and undergrounds. We need a large amount of iron – ”

“Is he serious?” With a shift of his shoulders, Marmaduke turned to Zee. “Fairies?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.”

Matt’s mouth hung open. Zee reached over and closed it.

“It’ll cost you.” Marmaduke pushed away from the table. His chair scraped against the cement to shoot up sparks. He stood with a heavy hand on the chair’s back.

“The usual?”

With a small nod, Marmaduke walked off into the darkness without looking back. Zee watched him go and gave a brief wave after he disappeared.

Matt grabbed her arm. “Do I want to know what the usual is?”

From down the narrow hallway, a door clicked opened. Zee walked stark naked from one room to the other across the hall. She was pale and lithe. Her head was dropped as she pulled black elastic ties from her hair. The defused lighting blurred the details of her body. Matt squinted until the bathroom door closed.

“I’ll shower first.”

He waited, even after the light glimmered from under the painted bathroom door and the sound of running water wandered down the hall. He stood still. His eyes shifted, but he remained glued two steps away from the front door. “Despite everything that has happened tonight, this is by far the weirdest.”

Zee’s apartment had dark blue walls. Plastic stars mapped out the constellations on the high ceiling. From where Matt stood, he could only see one window in the far wall. If three unique blue curtains didn’t cover it, he would be able to see the street below. She owned a ratty, old couch that faced a small television on a black, painted stand. A 50s style oval pattern rug of blues and grays covered most of the floor. Any free space was filled with book shelves containing various plastic toys, old books, left-over chemistry kit parts, half-burned candles, and random stacks of paper that Matt didn’t want to know about or touch. He ignored the spines on all the tomes as he took another step in.

On the bare patch above the couch, an old print was thumb-tacked to the wall. It looked to be an ancient painting of the arch-angel Raphael. Creases ran through the angel’s dark wings, face, and just below its exposed knee. Matt folded his arms over his bruised chest as he wondered about the long quill in the angel’s hand and the half-serpent, half-man chained beneath the angel’s foot. In comparison to all the plastic gizmos and doodads filling up Zee’s place, the print seemed out of place.

He heard the water turn off. Returning to his place near the front door, he folded his arms tighter over his chest. He rocked on his feet and wiggled his toes against the grit that had wormed its way through his socks. His arms dropped as the dark purple, bathroom door clicked open. Zee stood in the doorway with her hair wrapped in a white towel on the top of her head and a matching, terrycloth bathrobe. The smell of lavender and lilac filled the air as Matt stiffened.

“Ever been to my place before?” Zee leaned against the doorframe. She stuffed her scrubbed-pink hands into the robe pockets. She had a gleam of tease in her eye.

“No.” Matt barked. He winced at the loudness of his voice in such a tiny place. “No, first time.”

“You want to shower?”

“Do you have any clothes I can borrow?”

Her shoulder pushed her towards her bedroom. “Yeah. Plenty of exes left one thing or another.”

“Allow me to rephrase that: do you have any clothes I would wear that I can borrow?”