9

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’ams 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.”

More kitchen staff fled in a mad rush, and by now most of the other customers had gotten the idea.

Judy fixed him with a stare. “What?” he replied. “I’m off duty. Let somebody else handle it.”

Someone in the kitchen screamed.

“At least let me finish my eggs,” he said. “They got the yolks just right. I mean, look at these yolks. Do you know how hard it is to find a place that makes yolks like I like them?”

The unidentified creature thumped the wall and roared. Almost like a lion’s roar but with a strange warble at the end.

Monster pushed his plate away. “Okay, okay. I’ll take a look.”

Another person filtered out of the kitchen. “Oh my God! It’s going to eat Chipper!”

“There’s no rush,” said Judy.

Monster was already up and heading toward the door. Judy decided to follow.

The kitchen was in a shambles. Pots, pans, and broken dishes were strewn everywhere. The sink had been crushed and was gushing water. There wasn’t much room, and the giant beast took up most of the space.

Though it had a dog’s head, it wasn’t a dog. It was huge and black, with scaly skin. Its body was that of a walrus, complete with the thick tail, but it had legs, four of them. Each foot ended in a wide paw.

It had Chipper cornered, but its bulky body was wedged between the fryer and the grill. The waitress had climbed atop a refrigerator and was safe for the moment. The beast’s tremendous size kept it from reaching her.

“You should do something about it,” said Judy. “Use one of your magic letters or something.”

“Until I know what it is, anything I try will probably make it worse,” he said. “Do me a favor and get my reference guide from the car.”

While Judy retrieved his guide, Monster watched the creature menace Chipper, edging closer and closer. It lashed out with a large paw, nearly knocking over the refrigerator and sending Chipper toppling into its jaws.

“Hey!” he said. “Hey, you dumb thing!”

The creature turned its head, eyed him, then returned its attention to Chipper.

Against his better judgment, Monster grabbed a nearby fork and flicked it at the beast. The creature failed to notice, and the refrigerator teetered after another swipe. Chipper screamed.

Monster pointed one finger at the creature’s tail end. He narrowed his eyes and forced out a lightning bolt. Just a little one.

“Ouch.” He sucked his finger. “Son of a bitch, I hate that.” The beast turned from Chipper and threw another annoyed glare at Monster. It bared its teeth and uttered a growl.

The beast paused, unsure whom it wanted to eat more. Trapped by its cramped quarters, it went back to Chipper, the easier snack. It managed to tip the refrigerator. The results didn’t please anyone, the beast included. The refrigerator crashed onto its head. Chipper tumbled onto its back.

The first thing in the manual was to remove any civilians from the area of risk. Monster didn’t usually follow the manual, but he didn’t need another casualty on his record. One was just bad luck, but two in two days usually meant a board inquiry.

“Miss, come this way,” he said soothingly.

Chipper, eyes wide with terror, kept her death grip on the creature. Monster swallowed his annoyance. He took a step forward, closer to the creature’s giant fish tail. It twitched limply now, but it could start swinging with crushing force at any moment.

He held out his hand to her. “Come on,” he said. “Come on.”

Trembling, she reached toward him.

The beast sprang to life. Chipper was thrown off, striking Monster with enough force to knock him to the floor, which was fortunate, as the creature’s tail would’ve crushed him where he stood otherwise.

Chipper scrambled roughly over him. Her knee mashed his sternum, and she stepped on his arm. He swore as she dashed out of the kitchen.

“You’re welcome,” he groaned.

The creature snapped and growled at Monster as it struggled to turn around. He backed out of the kitchen. Judy was in the empty diner with his crypto guide.

“Took your sweet time.” He ignored the thrashing and roars as he took a seat and flipped through the book.

“Should we maybe get out of here?” asked Judy. “Oh, it’s fine. The thing is so stuck in there that it’ll never get out.”

“And the trolls in my closet weren’t anything to be frightened of either,” she said.

“You wanted me to handle this, so I’m handling it. Anyway, I’m betting this thing is pretty rare, and I’m not willing to pass up the score. You can go if you want. It’d probably be better if you did.”

“I’m staying.”

“Suit yourself.” He skimmed the identification indexes. Since he didn’t know what this thing was, he had to work his way backwards, using distinctive features. It wasn’t hard to identify. Even in the world of cryptobiology, there just weren’t that many dog-headed seal beasts.

“Az-i-wu-gum-ki-mukh-ti.”

“What kind of name is that?” asked Judy. “Inuit. It isn’t usually seen outside of Greenland. In English, it’s often referred to as a walrus dog.”

“That’s original,” said Judy.

The az-i-wu-gum-ki-mukh-ti howled. “Walrus dog sounds almost cute,” said Judy, “and that thing is not cute. So now that you know what it is, can you capture it?”

“No problem.” Monster picked up a napkin holder, a cube of aluminum, and traced a rune on it. He consulted his pocket dictionary.

“You’d think you’d have memorized those by now,” said Judy.

Monster ignored the comment. Rune magic was just writing, but with a thousand-letter alphabet and rules of grammar and punctuation that were nearly beyond human comprehension. It was the shorthand of the universe, and the universe wasn’t particularly bright when it came to interpreting it. A rune spell that could humanely incapacitate one yeti could blow the head off another. And he didn’t want to kill the walrus dog.

He completed the rune, satisfied it would do the trick. “Now what?” she asked. “Now I throw this at it, freeze it in a block of ice. I make the world safe for greasy-diner-goers everywhere, and get a few bucks for my trouble.”

“You said it’s from Greenland, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, isn’t Greenland the one with all the ice? What if it doesn’t freeze?”

“Actually, Iceland is the one with all the ice,” he said. “No, it isn’t.”

Monster spoke through a tightly clenched jaw. “It doesn’t matter. Even if Greenland is the one with the ice—which it isn’t, because that would make no goddamn sense—this isn’t regular ice. This is magic ice.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Muttering obscenities, Monster entered the kitchen. Judy didn’t follow, and that was probably a good thing, since he was very tempted to push her into the walrus dog’s maw before freezing it. The creature had managed to turn itself halfway around and had destroyed the kitchen in the process. The counters were uprooted; half the tile floor was knocked loose. Broken dishes littered the floor, and water was spurting from several broken pipes. The stove was knocked askew, but Monster didn’t smell any leaking gas.

No lightning bolts, he reminded himself.

The walrus dog snapped at him, but it wasn’t much of a threat. When it came to land mobility, the thing was definitely more walrus than dog. It lashed out with its paws but came up short.

Monster tossed the napkin dispenser at it. It bounced off the az-i-wu-gum-ki-mukh-ti’s black scales without leaving a mark. A blue flash engulfed the creature, and by the time Monster’s vision cleared, the walrus dog was encased in a block of ice.

Judy entered, and Monster smiled smugly at her. “See? Frozen. No problems.”

“I take it, then, that it’s supposed to be doing that?” asked Judy.

The walrus dog shimmered. Its scales lightened as it slowly absorbed the ice around it.

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Monster flipped through his dictionary. “I’m on top of it.”

The glow increased as the ice thinned enough for the creature to twitch its tail.

“Yeah, I can see you’ve got it all under control. Good luck with that.”

She went to the front door. The handle snapped off.

Her left palm itched. The misfortune hex had struck. She pushed on the door, but it was designed to open inward and didn’t budge. She tried getting her fingers between the door-jamb, but the seal was too tight.

The light coming from the kitchen and the raspy breaths of the walrus dog did not inspire Judy with confidence. Monster appeared through the swinging doors.

“We should get out of here.” He stopped at the front door.

Judy held up the handle.

Monster went to the door on the other side of the restaurant. That handle broke off too.

She scratched her palm. It was itching like mad. “Sorry.”

He shoved his shoulder against the glass door. “I already tried that,” she said.

The walrus dog howled.

Monster picked up a napkin holder, cocked back his arm, and hurled it into the door. It bounced improbably off the glass and smacked Judy in the head, knocking off her hat. She stumbled back and fell over a chair.

“Son of a bitch!” she grumbled. Despite the sudden throb in her skull, she was painfully aware of the itch in her palm.

The walrus dog pushed its way through the swinging kitchen door. The rune spell had transformed it into a living ice sculpture. Little pieces of ice cracked off its body with its every movement, but the shards were replaced with a steady refreezing. The az-i-wu-gum-ki-mukh-ti got stuck halfway through the kitchen door. It dug its frozen claws into the tile and struggled to pull itself the rest of the way through.

“This isn’t fair,” said Monster. “It’s your bad-luck hex. Not mine.”

Judy righted a chair and sat. She was having trouble concentrating, and her knees were weak. But she was getting used to functioning with head wounds, so she was aware enough to keep her wits about her but dulled enough not to be frightened by the prospect of being eaten by an ice sculpture.

“What about a lightning bolt?” she asked. “Does that do anything to ice?” said Monster. “I don’t know. But it’s not normal ice, is it?”

Only the walrus dog’s hind legs remained stuck, and it was wiggling those free. Judy wasn’t that worried. The thing was too big and clumsy to be much of a threat, and the transformation to ice hadn’t helped it any. They could probably outmaneuver it fairly easily, but her aching skull reminded her that nothing was easy right now.

Monster leveled his hands at the walrus dog, closed his eyes, and unleashed a blast from all ten fingers.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.”

The creature absorbed the lightning, drawing it into its body. The ball of electricity crackled in its heart. The beast bayed, and voltage leaped off it. The diner’s lights exploded in a shower of sparks. Monster sought cover behind a booth, and Judy, having regained some semblance of balance, joined him.

“Great idea,” said Monster. “Don’t get mad at me. This is your job, not mine. And if you’d listened to me in the first place and not tried freezing the thing, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“If I’d ignored you in the first place, I’d still be finishing my eggs.”

They chanced a peek. The walrus dog had freed itself and was advancing in their direction. It was getting slower if not weaker. It batted aside the tables in its way.

“We could run around it,” suggested Judy. “I bet there’s an exit in the kitchen.”

“If we get anywhere near it, we’ll be fried,” said Monster. “We could bash it with a chair. Maybe stun it enough to get past.”

“Everything in this place is metal. Not sure striking a living lightning generator with a metal rod is a smart thing to do.”

A single paw trod into view. Monster and Judy jumped back against the wall as the crackling walrus dog raised its head, with a maw of jagged ice shards, and howled.

The howl ended in a whimper as its jaw fell off. Fissures split the az-i-wu-gum-ki-mukh-ti’s huge tail, and it shattered. The creature tried to raise a paw. The limb broke apart. The walrus dog attempted to keep its balance, but its frozen limbs weren’t able to keep it from falling, so it rolled to one side. The electricity in its heart fizzled, and the az-i-wu-gum-ki-mukh-ti exploded in a glittering burst. Frost covered Monster, Judy, and the diner in a thin coat.

“Is it dead?” asked Judy. “What do you mean, is it dead? Of course it’s dead.” Monster wiped the ice from his face. “Damn, I guess I lost the collection fee on it. Not even good for parts.”

Monster and Judy found the back door out of the diner through the kitchen. They went around to the front, where most of the customers and employees were standing around in mild confusion. Chipper was still flushed and wide eyed, on the verge of madness, and Judy forced herself not to smile at the perk-deprived moppet.

Judy guessed the combination of danger, chaos, and magic caused the stupefying effect. Monster ignored the crowd and got into her car without saying a word. But Judy thought she should say something to ease the crowd’s bewilderment. Without her magic rune, she’d have been just as confused.

She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled to the crowd, though not too loudly. The bump on her head was still throbbing. “It’s okay, folks. It’s all taken care of. The, uh, the big dog is dead. It won’t hurt you. You can all go in and finish your breakfast now.”

Much to her surprise, they seemed soothed. Probably because the crowd was eager to pretend that the walrus dog attack had never happened and to get on with their otherwise dreary lives. A few of the braver or incognizant employees and customers headed toward the diner.

Judy started the car. “Should we maybe stick around? In case the cops have any questions?”

“Are you nuts? Let’s just get out of here before we get into any more trouble.”

She glanced at the diner’s frosted windows. “Guess you’re right.”

“You’re bad luck, you know that?” said Monster on the drive back.

“It wasn’t my fault. It’s that hex that elf put on me.” She glanced at her hand, still slightly itchy, but at least the mark had vanished.

“It’s not like you weren’t a jinx before you got that. I’ve only known you two days, and I’ve been nearly eaten by a yeti, trolls, a Japanese ogre, and some Greenland walrus monster. Not to mention losing my van.”

“It’s not like it’s been all rainbows and puppy kisses for me.” She touched her bruised and cut forehead.

“If I were you, I’d wash that glyph off my face and move on. Before I ended up dead. Or worse.”

One more head injury and she’d have to use her fingers and toes to count to twenty. Her life was hard enough without the possibility of brain damage. Monster was probably right. She resented him for the advice, but she couldn’t argue.

She dropped him off at his house. “Sorry things didn’t work out like you hoped,” he said. “I don’t even know what I expected,” she replied, more to herself than him.

Monster sucked his teeth noisily to cover the awkward silence.

“Forget it. Not your fault. At least you let me come along. You didn’t have to do that. I wouldn’t have changed my statement, y’know. To the Reds. You aren’t as bad at this job as you think.”

“How would you know?”

She laughed. “I guess I wouldn’t. Not really. But all I know is that every time I’ve been around you, I’ve been nearly killed. But I haven’t actually been killed. And that’s probably thanks to you. You might be a screwup, Monster, but considering what you do for a living, you can’t be that big a screwup. Otherwise, you’d be dead by now.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me for telling the truth,” Judy said. “Guess I won’t see you around, huh?”

“Guess not.”

The conversation had ground to a halt. Monster muttered a quick “Take care,” then grabbed his bag and headed up the sidewalk and waved at her without a backwards glance.

She muttered as she lit a cigarette.

She sat in the idling car and smoked two cigarettes.

“Fuck it.”

She used her sweaty palm to wipe the glyph from her forehead. It didn’t remove it, merely obscured it, but she felt the slight disorientation as the haze settled on her mind. Or maybe that was just the concussion.

Judy stopped by a convenience store to purchase some aspirin for her aching skull. The clerk behind the counter asked her about the purple swelling and smudge on her forehead. But by then she didn’t remember much of it, and what little she did recall she didn’t believe.

What Judy believed was irrelevant to the universe. It wasn’t as if it were hiding things from her. It just didn’t care to share certain information. Judy was a tool, a linchpin in a cosmic engine. And an engineer didn’t usually bother explaining himself to the nuts and bolts. He just screwed them into place and let them do their job.

Judy was in communion with the most primal aspect of creation. She just didn’t know it. Her thoughts and desires were broadcast to the heart of the universe. But the signal was lousy, and most of those thoughts never reached their destination. And the few that did were garbled and all but unrecognizable. Judy’s will was a remote control with bad batteries trying to guide a massive universe more comfortable with pushing galaxies around than with the subtleties of daily human life.

The resulting chaos was understandable and only getting worse as the signal grew stronger every hour. Had Judy been aware of it, she might have taken more care in even her most casual thoughts. It wouldn’t have made any difference, but at least she could’ve tried.

Lotus was perfectly aware of this, though. She sat in her cozy den, staring at the strange letters scrawling across the stone tablet’s surface.

Ferdinand glanced up from her crossword puzzle. The muscle-bound woman paused in her steady, noiseless gum chewing. “I hate when she does that,” she said.

“Does what?” asked Ed, sipping her tea.

Lotus could sit there for days sometimes, looking into the stone’s depths, never moving. Both Ed and Ferdinand knew she was doing something, and they assumed it was terribly important. And that was all the thought they gave to it. It wasn’t in their nature to wonder. They just followed orders. If they’d ever tried to gaze within the stone themselves, they would’ve seen nothing worth noticing.

But Lotus saw the patterns within the patterns, the way it all tied together and how it was designed to turn out.

She also saw something was missing, an anomaly she couldn’t account for. The stone was working against her, but it wouldn’t make any difference. In only a few hours, less than an instant as Lotus measured time, she would know where to find Judy. And she would fix things, keeping everything on track despite the universe’s attempts to screw it all up.

That was her job, and after several billion years, she was quite good at it.