Daddy’s Little Boy, Part 7
“Are you certain he said his name was Flauros?” Mr. Johnston pushed his glasses up his nose in that annoying, bookish manner. He looked older up close as we sat center stage in the high school auditorium. It had seen better days since the arts rarely received funding anymore. A few spotlights lit up the circle of books. Upstage, Nikki punched and kicked away at one of those training dummies you see in all the martial arts movies. It was made of some dark wood with pegs and posts jutting out, just to keep things interesting. She smacked it hard enough to crack it.
“Yeah, that’s what he said.” I shrugged and tossed some moldy, boring book over my shoulder. My jacket layed in a heap. Teach me to wear black to “do research.”
“What’s the big deal, Nigel?” In between huffs and punches, super blonde girl circled the dummy with a spinning kick and punch combo. Sitting on my ass, I had to admit, she was impressive. I expended energy at trying not to imagine my body in the dummy’s place. She smiled. “We find him. I kick his ass. Chalk one up for the good guys.”
“You know, it’s not that simple.” He whipped his wire-framed glasses off his face with seasoned practice. His disapproving scowl had no effect. Nikki kept right on Kung Fu fighting.
“You don’t know anything about him?”
“Sorry. I’ve only known about Dad for a year.” I sighed. I flipped pages in the book without really looking at the fading print. I wanted to say something about wasting a lot of time researching when we needed to be out there stopping the demon’s dark reign to take over the world, or something like that. I suppose he could’ve come to Earth just to try the newest flavor of Ben & Jerry’s. It’s not like Dad and I talked long-term plans ever. Did he even have any, beyond taking over the world when I turned twenty-one?
“Here we go.” With a straightened spine and lifted chin, Mr. Johnston held up a small, paper-back sized book bound in some green linen. He read from the yellowed page. “Flauros, a strong duke, is seen in the form of a terrible strong leopard; in human shape, he shows a terrible countenance, and fiery eyes, he answers truly and fully of things present, past, and to come; if he be in a triangle, he lie in all things and deceive in other things, and beguile in other business, he gladly talks of the divinity, and of the creation of the world, and of the fall; he is constrained by divine virtue, and so are all devils or spirits, to burn and destroy all the conjurors adversaries. And if he be commanded, he suffers the conjuror not to be tempted, and he hath twenty legions under him.”
“Why does that sound incredibly stupid?” With her hands on her hips and her ample boobage heaving, Nikki left her workout to read over her mentor’s shoulder. “Grand-general, great duke, mighty, terrible, strong, and he enjoys offerings of rum, spicy foods, lamb, and resin incenses. Wow, take him out for a lamb curry and I win.”
The lump in my throat reminded me that I was in deep, deep trouble after Flauros got his fuzzy head handed to him. I was next on the hit list.
“S. L. MacGregor Mathers’ edition of the Goetia doesn’t give much else, but if we choose to read between the lines -”
“Spit it out, Nigel.”
“Nikki, please, if you mind. A triangle. While it says here that he lie in all things, Flauros is in a triangle. I believe that is a clue on how to trap him, three feet by three feet, pointing east.”
“Way to be specific.” I scratched my head as I tried to do the math on the grand conclusion, but gave up. I was new to this demon business. Heck, before Mr. Kitty Face showed up, I thought Dad was it. I should’ve known better.
“Well,” Nikki smiled and dropped a hand on Mr. Johnston’s shoulder. “It looks like a three person job to me.”
* * *
“So, what’s up with you and that stiff?” It was hard to make my lunch tray bumping hers seem innocent. Maybe it was because I was tired from searching through “traditional tomes” all night, but I sat down a little too hard next to Nikki on her solo lunchtime bench. She’d dressed in a pretty, pretty cardigan and perky capris. She smelled like roses and her hair fell down her back in waves of gold. It made me want to punch her all the more.
“Excuse me?”
“Mr. Johnston. I always thought he was gay.”
Her reaction was well-practiced, though I doubt she’d had this conversation before. She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Please. He’s British. He only sounds gay.”
“So, what’s the deal? Are you guys, um -”
“Um, what?” Nikki smiled around her straw at me. She enjoyed my blush a little too much. Thank God for tater tots. I chewed a few to buy me time.
“You know, are you guys, um, you know. Pumping uglies?”
“Really? ‘Pumping uglies’? Do people still say that?” It was annoying how smug she sounded. I couldn’t decide if I hated her because she was a visual representation of ever girl who ever rejected me from the age of three, she was going to kill me at some point, or because she thought she was too good to talk to anyone that made me so mad.
“That isn’t a denial.”
“What makes you ask?” With a snap of her jaws, Nikki bit a baby carrot in half. I swallowed. The noise in the cafeteria rumbled quietly in the background like a burbling brook of hormones, of girlish giggles and boyish grunts.
“Well, you’re not dating a football player or baseball player. Hell, you don’t give any of the guys in this school two seconds. I figured maybe you were into older men.”
Her laugh attracted attention for only a minute. It was that loud. I ate a few more tater tots, the perfect remedy for pink cheeks. Fellow students returned to their own cliquish communications. With her napkin from her lap, she covered her face as she fought back the remaining giggles.
“Maybe I haven’t found the right guy,” Nikki dropped her napkin on her tray. She rose to her feet and stepped free from the bench seat. As she lifted her tray, she turned to me and smiled. “Or maybe I have and he just doesn’t know it.”
I watched her walk off and ate the rest of my tater tots in silence.
* * *
Tack. Tack. Tack. I woke to the sound of tack, tack, tack. My room was dark. My clock on my nightstand was the only light: 2:00 am. Tack. As I lifted my head from my large, fluffy pillow that conveniently covered my ears, I heard the sound of something bounce off my window. Tack.
My hands pushed against the dirty glass. Damn it, I needed to clean my room. Of course, I’d forget my sudden decision to dig out all the junk from under my bed and wipe down surfaces by morning. But as I wiped my hands on my tank top, I pressed my face to the dust-encased screen.
She stood down on the back lawn of my apartment building. And by “lawn,” I meant patch of weeds the landlord mowed once a year. She wore make-up that was thick enough to make Martha Stewart look like Lindsey Lohan’s mug shot. Her hair was pulled up in a wild tangle on her head. She wore club clothes that were sparkly and tight enough to leave nothing to the imagination. For the record, I did not imagine. I would swear to that in court.
She smiled. “Hey, Bozo. Get dressed.”
“Nikki?” I couldn’t believe my eyes. Maggie knew she could knock. Mom wouldn’t mind if she crashed to sober up. She’d done it before, but it’d been a while. As I squinted through the screen to try to get a better view, I wondered if my friend had had that talk with the slayer and what transgressed between the two.
“Nothing gets past you.” With her hand on her hip, silver bracelets glinting in the moonlight, Nikki twisted back and forth like a schoolgirl waiting for a bus. She knew she looked good. I saw that much on her face. “Come on. Hurry up.”
“Where’re we going?”
“We found your demon buddy.”
* * *
I hit the brick wall thirty feet off the ground. That didn’t hurt nearly as much as the fall. I expected to see the red glow around me crack, but it didn’t. For the first time, I felt pain in Dad’s presence. Either he blocked it from me before or it was bad enough to get through. My muscles hurt. I would bruise.
Nikki yelled her warrior yell, which was remarkably un-Princess-Warrior-like, and planted her two inch, square heeled boot in the middle of Flauros’ spine. He roared like a wounded lion and went down after flying twenty feet. Though my body argued otherwise, I got to my feet and ran towards him. Before he could finish pushing himself up, my Dad’s fist caught him square under his jaw. He went flying.
The disco lights beamed through the night sky in time to the tech-trance beat. According to Mr. Kitty Face, raves were the best place to dine. Young souls high on drugs and music taste just like KFC’s Famous Bowls. Leave it to a demon to know all about those gross piles of swill.
Fortunately, Mr. Johnston ushered out the remaining party-goers before Flauros could have more than a light snack. Three bodies lay crumpled in the grass under the full moon and swinging lights. I couldn’t tell if they were still breathing or not. I didn’t have the time to check. Judging by their loose-fitting yet stylish clothes, I didn’t I know them. I didn’t want to know them.
Flauros landed off the mark, flat on his back, ten feet to the right of the silver sand triangle Mr. Johnston was pouring on the turf dance floor. Flauros clawed his way to his feet. “What are you doing, Eligos? Don’t you know, we could rule this plane together?”
“Not interested.”
Tread lightly, my childe.
I didn’t tread. At full run, I leapt high into the air using my father’s strength and smashed the demon back into the dirt. I rolled to keep from hurting myself further; something about distributing energy I’d learned in fifth grade science class. My shoulder popped and I winced with the sharp pang. When I looked up, Nikki had stepped in.
Her small fist tangled in the scruff of his neck. Clods of dirt fell from his head and shoulders as she lifted him up. Nikki dragged him five feet and threw him the last five. The demon’s furry form didn’t even bounce. Once it hit the sand, he stuck like it was fly paper.
“Well done, children.” Though I didn’t find his tone condescending, my father snorted in my head at Mr. Johnston. He smiled as I walked over to join Nikki. She stayed back as he poured more silver sand in a circle around the triangle. From his old, leather knapsack, he pulled four white, pillar candles. We helped him set them at the four corners outside the circle.
Mr. Johnston began to pray. When he did, my father’s form dissipated and I sunk down to the earth. I watched as the demon in the center screeched and writhed as if being stuck with a thousand blades all at once. It was the most horrifying sound I had ever heard. Nikki took my hand. I couldn’t turn away as Flauros’ fur burned black before his skin melted away. In a flash of white light, he was gone.
“Thank you,” Nikki whispered as she stepped into my line of vision.
“No, thank you. You helped me and my -” I paused. I wasn’t sure I wanted her to know anything about Nerissa and gang, and vise a versa. It physically hurt to smile, “family. My mom, especially.”
“I’d like to meet her.”
And before I knew it, her lips were on mine. Soft, warm, her mouth was smaller and felt odd. She opened her mouth for more, but I pushed her away: two-handed on-the-shoulders shove. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I thought we – ”
“We what?” I scowled as I spotted Mr. Johnston trying not to pry. He hurried about to blow out the candles and rub away the sand. My cheeks turned red. “We nothing. You’re going to kill me, remember? That’s why you’re here.”
Nikki stammered. One of her hands grabbed my sleeve. “Nathaniel, please, it doesn’t have to be like this.”
“No, it doesn’t.” I pulled my arm away. I started to walk away, but turned at the last minute. Mr. Johnston had wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She pressed her face into his tweed chest. I was angry that I could still feel her lips on mine. “Maybe instead of killing me, you can find a way to help me. I know you can.”
As if ordained by a greater power, the music ended. The lights stopped swirling and blinking. I could hear my Converse shuffle through the grass as I left. I didn’t look back.
* * *
The next day, I told her everything. She couldn’t peel her eyes away from my shiner or the other bruises I had covering my body. It felt funny to feel such pain, but it reminded me that I was still alive. For now.
I offered to show her, but she said to wait until I was done. I told her about Nerissa and fighting vampires, about goblins and all the creepy creatures that we’d fought. I told her about Mel the forest elf that lived near the city park. I told her about Evie the witch. I even told her where our offices were located.
I talked for what seemed like forever. By the time I was done, I had two dented Coke cans at my feet. I flopped back into the old couch cushions with a sigh. She curled her legs under her where she sat next to me. She was quiet for a long time.
“Are you shitting me?” Maggie smiled. Her black hair hung straight around her make-up-less face. She was still in her jammies with a coat thrown over. I had called her as soon as I got home and she came. Mom wasn’t even up yet.
“No, Maggie. I wish I was making this stuff up, but I’m not.” I frowned. My hands turned into fists against the side of my legs. “It was Nikki that set the limo on fire for prom.”
“Remind me to thank her.”
“She could’ve killed you, Maggie, and it’s my fault.”
Her hand rubbed my fist until she could lace her fingers with mine. I could feel the tears welling in my eyes, though I didn’t want them. Crying like a girl in front of a girl was the worst crime in the guy code of conduct book.
“Look at me.”
“No.”
“Nate.” Maggie used the voice. I don’t know what it was about that tone, but it was like I was powerless to resist. Without lifting my chin firmly planted on my chest, I looked at her.
“It’s not your fault. Besides, I told you,” she chuckled, “best prom ever.”
I didn’t know how to tell her that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything bad happened to her on account of me. I bit my lip as I remembered the fire, the ambulance, and the scared look on my mother’s face. How was I going to explain my black eye to my mom?
And before I knew it, her lips were on mine. Soft, warm, her mouth felt like it matched mine. My skin tingled and blood pounded in my ears. When she opened her mouth for more, I obliged without question. My hand cupped her neck and she moaned.
“Wow.”
“Yeah, wow.”
Maggie rested her head against my shoulder. I caught hint of a blush on her cheeks and chest before she settled in. “Why didn’t we do that sooner?”
“I don’t know,” I brushed the hair way from her face. It felt weird and nice to touch her. I wanted to tell her that I was too scared to kiss her before this because I was afraid she would be hurt – not by the kiss, but by my father in my life, only I didn’t have the words.
“Well,” she smiled. I could hear her smile in her voice. “You’ve met my folks tons of times and I’ve hung out with your mom. When do I get to meet your dad?”
I stroked her hair. “Never, if I can help it.”
“You’re such a daddy’s boy.”
Tags: short story