The Writings of Mary Lewys

I played sick the next day. When mom came to wake me, I performed an understated “my tummy hurts.” By the end of my underrated performance, she was sure she felt a fever. Two Tylenols later, she was on the way to work and I wrapped up in a blankie bed on the couch. Part of me wanted to stay under the covers and watch bad daytime television. It would be the easy thing to do. A year ago, I would’ve done it.

I dressed and caught the cross-town bus. The non-descript industrial park was full of cars like it should’ve been during the week. I rarely see it like this, since my job tends to be after-hours. For a change, I stood out in my black hoodie and big pants. I shuffled down the sidewalk. With a few punches of the keypad, the door popped open and I slipped in before some suit or coverall noticed me.

* * *

“Nathaniel! Now!” Her voice pierced the darkness. From the alleyway, I lifted into the air. My dad’s form held me a few feet off the ground. I swung his arm towards the four ghouls running down the city sidewalk. My red glow flashed when their dead, grey skin impacted with my dad’s limb. I didn’t feel a thing, but the one we caught square went squish on the brickwall of a nearby brownstone. Leave it to yuppieville to attract a bunch of undead that eat the dead but prefer kid flesh.

One ghoul managed to hang on. It tried biting through my dad. We coiled one finger and flicked it across the street. The other two, we played whack-a-mole with our feet. By the time Mellathion and Evie caught up, all that was left were four puddles of gray. Even Nerissa smiled at me, which was the scariest thing I’d seen in a while.

* * *

Other than Nerissa’s office, I had never used another room in our office building. I don’t need to work out. We never met, so the conference room gathered dust. But I wasn’t interested in bulking up or chatting with my co-workers; I wanted information. Though it wasn’t large, the room behind the door tagged “Research Library” held very unique books. Old books with leather covers filled with old knowledge I couldn’t find anywhere else.

I had no idea where to start. Nerissa sectioned and labeled the books, but I had no idea where she’d stick the tome about demon slayers. Would it be under 18th Century Occult History? Or Alzetca’s Human Cookbook? I pulled a couple of thick, promising books from the shelves and sat down for a browse. The wooden desk chair was surprisingly comfortable. I lost track of time.

* * *

“Dad?”

Yes, my childe.

“I’m going to need help in a minute.” The alley smelled. For such a nice section of town, rich people sure have smelly trash. If Nerissa hadn’t told me to stand here and wait while Elfboy and Witchie chased whatever out of the funeral home from around the block, I wouldn’t be here. Hell, I was surprised some cop hadn’t questioned me for loitering.

Harm is not in your path. Why do you summon me?

“Because in a minute, I will be in harm’s way.”

Childe, why endanger my vessel? Why persist in this peril?

“I don’t have time to go into it.” Lie. He couldn’t see until he was around me, so he had no way to know. Sure, I might have a headache later from all the ranting. It was a risk I was willing to take.

If I say to thee nay, shalt thou expound upon thy flawed logic?

“Fine. Look, it’s a job, all right? I get paid.” I peeked around the corner. Another shiny SUV puttered down the street. I don’t know where they parked those things around here. Cars lined the streets. There wasn’t a spare spot. I noted the color and license plate number.

A trade. T’is not a service thou execute. Fool me not, childe.

“Or what? I’ll rue the day?”

Hast thou ever savored pain? Veritable agony? I am willing to risk my vessel for my childe to learn a lesson.

“Dad? What? What do you want me to say?” From around the end of the block, I could hear a car horn honk and screeching tires in the distance. Whatever was coming was coming. “For the first time in my life, I have money. I might be able to go to college or move out or buy a nice place for my mother.”

The future t’is not for thee. The vessel, upon two score and one year, shall inherit his paternal form.

“I’ve heard it all before, Dad.” I heard glass break and metal crunch. Something roared. “Listen, can we talk about this later?”

Nay. I demand the true reason for thy reckless behavior.

“Fine.” I stepped back into the shadow of the brownstone. The street light reflected off of windshield and ground glass on the sidewalk. Hopefully, these “ghouls” wouldn’t see me until it was too late. “I like it. Okay? I feel like I’m doing good. I’m helping. I’m making a difference.”

Fruitless pursuits.

“Right, because you’re coming.” He couldn’t read my thoughts, but I vowed to see if there was something I could do about that.

* * *

“Nathaniel?” Nerissa poked her head in around the door. I rubbed my eyes and stretched. From my jacket pocket, I dug out my phone to check the time. I had been reading for three hours. “What are you doing here?”

“Research.” I doubted she’d buy my fake smile, but I tried anyway.

“Uh-huh. Demon slayer, huh?”

Mellathion’s got a big mouth. “Yeah, something like that. I was just trying to see if there was any lore or something.”

She pushed open the door. She sat down opposite me across the table. Her hand grabbed a book or two, but ended up drumming on the dull finish. She stared at me with her dark eyes. “You didn’t see this coming, did you, kid?”

“How could I see this coming? I mean, Dad opened me up to a bunch of questions, but I didn’t know about vampires, ghouls, gnomes, werewolves, or whatever until I met you.” I closed the book I was reading and added it to the read pile. I pulled the next book down from the unread pile. “Why does she want to kill me?”

“Don’t take it personally. It’s not you she wants to kill.” Nerissa sighed as she crossed her legs. “She’s stopping your father before he can get a hoof-hold on our plane. It’s a preemptive strike.”

“But I haven’t done anything yet. Why me?”

“Birthright, kid. Sucks to be you.” Without a second glance, she stood and walked towards the door. Her hair stood in all directions. I don’t know how she managed to make it look sexy.

“Hey, Nerissa.” I watched her turn. “What would you do in her shoes but knowing me? Could I talk you out of it? Or would you kill me?

She slipped on her sunglasses. From the doorframe, she picked up her suitcase. She looked at me for a long minute. “I would kill you, Nathaniel.”

All the air went out of the room. She left. I looked at my short stack of books.

* * *

“Now, Evie, Mal, I need you to circle around back. I’ll take the front.” Nerissa was amazing. She could do anything with a cigarette in the corner of her mouth: talk, drink, run, sit, stand, even in a stiff wind, she managed to keep ash off her coat. Her hair was especially wild which told me that the mission was serious. I sat in the back of her piece of shit car and looked out Mel’s driver side window.

“What about me?” She’d called me after my last class to meet. I’d climbed into the car after walking a block from the nearest bus stop. I was embarrassed. I was about to fight evil. I had to take public transportation to do it.

“See that street, Nathaniel?” Her finger poked the glass of her side window. She twisted in her seat to look at me over the fat frames of her sunglasses. “There’s an alley about two blocks down. You wait there. That’s where they’ll head if they get out.”

“Who?”

“Nat,” Evie opened her door. “You may be the muscle, but we don’t always need you.”

“I’m the muscle?”

Mellathion patted my arm. “Well, you and your Father.”

All Short Stories by Mary Lewys is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

I never had been so glad to have Maggie drive me home. After gym, I visited the nurse who gave me an ice pack. Useless. Keri gave me two Tylenol before Algebra, so my head wasn’t pounding by the time we reached my apartment. She came in to help me with the math homework and gave me half of one of her Carisoprodol knock-offs. Forty-five minutes later, I didn’t give a shit about anything. My book was open and Mr. Richard’s hand-outs were spread all over my living room floor. Maggie and I leaned against the couch as we sat on the floor and watched Sponge Bob.

“What was up with that bitch anyway?” She snorted at the television. Her head rested on a couch cushion with her long hair spread out like a fan. She could be so pretty, but I could never figure out how to broach that whole “she’s my friend” thing. I wanted to kiss her, but I was too afraid she’d punch me in the mouth.

“Who?”

“In gym. Seriously. What was her problem?”

“Fuck if I know.” I laughed at Squidworth. I picked up the work sheet, stared at it for a minute and tossed it back on the floor.

“Ever see her before?” Maggie slumped off the couch onto the floor like a cat in slow-mo, pouncing on a mouse. She worked out the first problem and wrote in the answer.

“Not that I know.”

“You sure this isn’t some elementary school girl who had a crush on you or something?”

“Nope. Not unless she dyes her hair or something.”

After working through a couple of problems, she pushed her hair back to look up at me. “I’m gonna ask.”

“Ask what?”

“Tomorrow. I’m gonna ask her what her deal is.”

After I dug out the last Funyon from the bag, I crumpled it up. I climbed to my feet in search of another lunch-sized bag in the kitchen. I yelled back over my shoulder. “I don’t need you to fight my fights.”

“I ain’t gonna fight her.” She shouted. “I’m just gonna ask.”

* * *

Next day at school, I went through the day without a stare, glare or concussion. Homework this and quiz that; nothing out of the ordinary. The pretty, pretty people looked down their noses and everyone else did their clique-thing. I stuck to myself, except for lunch with Maggie and skipping half of fourth period to hang out with Joe in the computer room. He had the latest Final Fantasy game for the PSP. He wanted me to check out the graphics and I ended up on a thirty minute potty break.

The great thing about dressing down and being quiet is no one tends to pay attention to you. When I beat the bell back, I mumbled something about being sick to the teacher, put the pass on her desk and grabbed my books. I don’t even think she noticed. She cleaned the chalkboard and muttered under her breath something about us damn kids and our damn attitudes. It made me feel like I was doing something right.

I stopped at the drinking fountain outside my sixth period: Mrs. Bedford for Algebra. It was the best fountain in the school as the water was cool. I hiked my backpack on my shoulder as I stood. I used my jacket coat to wipe my mouth. I turned – bam! She stood right in my face.

“Hey.” Nikki smiled with her Crest-white-strip teeth. Her perky-and-pastel sweater and skirt raised the hairs on the back of my neck. “Nathaniel, is it?”

I stared. Not that, “wow, pretty girl talk to me” stare that I saw on many of my poor classmates’ faces when a pretty girl talked. My usual “can I go home now” face stayed in hers. I learned long ago that if I didn’t open my mouth, I couldn’t sound like an idiot.

“Nat, listen,” she leaned against the wall. Her finger twisted her long, blond hair in that too-too casual way. “I just wanted to let you know I know.”

“Congratulations.” I stepped to walk around.

She stepped in my way while still twirling her hair. Her head tilted to the side. “I know. I know who you are.”

“Yeah? Who’s that?”

“You’re Daddy’s little boy.”

My jaw cracked when it hit the ground. My black and red backpack dragged my arm down to my side. The hallway twisted in on itself and my hip slammed into the water fountain before I caught myself.

Her smile upped in wattage. Her whirly fingers ran down her chest in a suggestive manner. Nikki lifted her chin. “See you later, Nat.”

She side-stepped me and walk-skipped down the hall. If it hadn’t been for the bell, I would still be standing there.

* * *

“You really think she knows?” He sat on the back of the wooden slate park bench. His mud-covered boots smeared dirt all over the seat. I watched the mud rather than look at him. It was dark enough for no one to notice his ears with his hair pulled back into a ponytail, but he still made me nervous. I don’t know why. It isn’t like I hadn’t seen some nerdy kids wear pointy-ears. I guess the difference was his were real.

“Uh, yeah.” It was close to midnight. I’d had to sneak-out after Mom popped a Xanax and curled in bed with Project Runway. Fall had come. My double jersey jacket kept me warm enough. I hadn’t recognized Mellathion at first until he explained that his hair changed with the season. Streaks of red and brown ran down his back instead of the blonde. I kicked a pebble on the sidewalk. It skittered out of the sphere of light and into the grass of the city park. “What am I going to do?”

“Outside our merry band of compatriots, does anyone else know?” With a small pocket knife, he peeled the skin of a large apple. His fingers looked like mother of pearl. “I mean, besides your father.”

“Well, kind of, but not really.” Way to be Captain Vague. “Showed Mom once, but I think she’s blocking it out.”

Mellathion nodded his head. He sliced a piece of apple and extended it to me on the edge of his knife. I made sure to touch only apple. Knowing him, his blade was so sharp, it could slice an atom. He popped a slice of apple into his mouth and chewed. I couldn’t figure out of he was thinking or scanning the park for potential rapists. He turned his head long before I heard the shoes on the cement.

It was way too late for any sane person to be jogging through park without an AK-47. Yet, the unmistaken footfalls filled the silence. Small, white running shoes appeared first, followed by pretty-in-pink jogging pants. A coat to match entered the light. And I nearly fell off the bench when Nikki’s head appeared on top of the jogger. She paid me no mind as she ran on buy. As quickly as she appeared, she disappeared into the darkness.

“Wow.” Mellathion munched on a new piece of apple. He snorted. “You’re in trouble.”

“What? Why? ”

His hand clamped on my shoulder. He shook me gently in that big-brotherly way I have come to rely on. “She’s a demon slayer.”

All Short Stories by Mary Lewys is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.