What had Alex gotten me into? What had been in that envelope that was worth lying in wait and attacking me? Who had even known I had whatever the hell it was? Whatever it had been had a hell of a lot more mojo than I thought it had based on the low-level buzz it generated.
The dude behind the counter gave me an incredibly small amount of change considering what I was purchasing. I dropped it in my wallet and went to the Buick. At least I would be able to lick my wounds in comfort. I peeled the wrapper off the Popsicle and ran it across my split lip.
Who could possibly care if Aldo got whatever was in the envelope? He was not a power player. His place on the Council wasn’t an honorary one. He actually worked at it, but the Council reminds me a little of the school board. Anyone who actually wants to be on it probably shouldn’t be. Think about it. What self-respecting denizen of the night would live in a place that gets this much sunshine? There were no power vamps here. Everyone knows that the seriously cool California vampires live in San Francisco and the ones with any power at all live in L.A. Aldo was nothing but a meaningless title with a penchant for dressing like Elton John.
Why the hell didn’t I have any warning before those guys dropped out of the trees? I couldn’t think of a single thing other than humans, which didn’t set off a little warning buzz in my flesh. To be honest, there were a few humans who set me off, too. I’m not always sure why. Sometimes they turned out to have a little witch blood or a jigger or two of shaman in their personal genetic cocktail.
Sometimes they were just nasty-ass examples of the species and needed to be avoided.
The other question that nagged me was what were the repercussions of this little misadventure likely to be? I hadn’t left a job uncompleted since I was fourteen and decided that no one could really expect me to bike some stupid box all the way down to Twelfth and J when I had cramps.
I had shoved the box deep enough under my bed that I was sure Joy, my mother’s housekeeper, wouldn’t find it—nobody’s that good with a vacuum, not even Joy—and let it sit for a day or two. Fine. Three days.
When I developed a huge zit on the end of my nose, I figured it was nothing. Shit happens. Then the zipper on my jeans stopped working between third and fourth period classes and I had to spend the entire day trying to tug my T-shirt down low enough that not everyone I walked past in the halls yelled out “XYZ, Melina.” That made me a little bit nervous. But then a pipe burst in the girls’ locker room and flooded only my locker, forcing me to wear the dreaded borrowed PE clothes and earning me the nickname Wedgie Girl for the rest of the year.
I got on my damn bike, delivered the stupid box and never pulled that crap again. Give me something, tell me where it’s supposed to go and I will whine, complain and insult your forebears, but I will definitely deliver it. I’m a Messenger. It’s what I do. Mainly, because if I don’t, I know bad shit will rain from the skies until I do.
I didn’t say it was a great work ethic, but it seems to work for everyone. I often wish it didn’t. In case you haven’t guessed, I’m not exactly crazy about my job.
I flipped down the vanity mirror on the Buick. My lip was still pretty puffy, even with the Popsicle ice pack. I wondered how noticeable it would be tonight. Another one of the perks of my job is that I heal fast. Not freaky fast like a werewolf or a vampire, but faster than your average Josephina. With any luck, the worst of it would have passed by the time I was downing margaritas with Norah in Old Sacramento.
I started the Buick, slipped the frozen peas between me and the seat back, strategically positioning them by my kidney, and headed for the dojo. Mae might not have answers, but she’d at least understand some of my questions.
“LOOK WHAT THE CAT DRAGGED IN,” MAE SAID AS I LET MYSELF into the dojo. River City Karate and Judo was a typical storefront kind of affair in a typical strip mall along Thirty-fourth Street. There were probably fifteen similar places dotted around the city. At least, the other places looked similar to an untrained eye. None of those other places had Mae, and Mae had been my lifeline from the moment I’d first laid eyes on her twenty years ago.
Back then, Mom had been thrilled I wanted to do something besides sit and talk to my imaginary friends. She didn’t have a clue that it was one of those imaginary friends who had suggested that I study with Mae and had coached me on how to talk Mom into it.
Mom still doesn’t know what I became that day when I slipped in the cool blue pool behind her. She’s not stupid, however. She knows something’s not quite right. I’ve done my best to shelter her and Dad and even my brat of a little brother, Patrick, from it, but I am not allowed to be fussy about my clientele. I’ve learned that the hard way, which is pretty much how I’ve learned everything else. The learning curve for Messengers is steep and unpredictable.
Mae used to be a Messenger. She sees all the stuff I see and hears all the stuff I hear and has had to deal with all the crap I’ve had to deal with. I’m not the first person that has been sent to her for training. There are a few of us around. We don’t exactly hold conventions so I can’t give you an exact number, but any place with a large population probably has a Messenger or two living there. Places like Montana? One Messenger might cover the whole state. New York City? I shudder to think about how many of us must be roaming around with boxes for banshees and envelopes for elves.
How did Mae get promoted up out of her Messenger gig into a training job? Mae won’t say. When I ask, she smiles and tells me that I’ll learn in time. It was the same thing she told me about the flying sidekick. She was right about that. I imagine she’s right about this other thing, too. Still, it’s hard to be patient. It’s not in my nature. I will, however, persevere. Stubbornness is very much in my nature.
Mae has been my lifeline, my rock, my cheerleader and my mentor. I don’t know what I’d do without her.
When I was little, Mae helped me not to be afraid of some of the things that visited me, and she taught me how to defend myself. When I was older, she taught me to respect myself in ways that I might not have honored without her constant presence in my life. It sounds trite, but courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control and indomitable spirit are guiding principles that can get a person through some dark times. At the very least, I know I can count on myself.
Which is good, because a lot of the time, that’s all I’ve got.
“Is that really a nice way to talk to someone who brought you chocolate-covered honeycomb from the co-op?” I asked as I walked into her little glassed-in office off the entry for the dojo.
“You didn’t,” she breathed, not moving. Mae has few vices, but sugar is one of them.
I handed over the chocolate-covered honeycomb. She lost no time in unwrapping it and taking a bite.
“What happened to your face?” she asked, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes as if she were trying to find some way to fully savor the treat.
“A bunch of ninjas attacked me over by McClatchy.”
She brought her chair down with a thump and opened her eyes. “Ninjas? Have you been watching those turtle movies again?”
“Okay. Maybe not ninjas, but some ninjalike guys.”
“And they got the best of you?” She was actually surprised enough that she set the honeycomb down. I smiled. It’s nice when your teacher has that much faith in you.
Too bad her faith was misplaced. I hung my head. “In a matter of seconds.”
“They have throwing stars or something?” Mae picked up the honeycomb again. “Nunchakus?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Just their nasty old bare hands.”
“How many?” Her eyebrows went up.
“Seven.” I was pretty sure that was right. It’s always tempting to exaggerate any account of a fight, whether you’re on the losing end or the winning one. I wasn’t looking for credit or sympathy at this point, though. Just information.
Mae shrugged. “Respectable. At least you didn’t go down under, like, only two or three.”
There was that. It didn’t make my lip any less puffy, but it did take some of the sting from my pride. “Thing is, I didn’t recognize their moves.”
Mae’s eyes opened wide again. “Not at all?”
“Well, maybe a little, but it wasn’t something I’ve ever used.”
“Live and learn,” Mae said.
“With any luck,” I said. In my book, the alternative doesn’t look so great. At least, not yet.
Mae finished the chocolate and brushed the crumbs off her hands. “Any idea why they attacked you?”
“They seemed to want the envelope I was delivering.” At least, they had hightailed it out of there as soon as they got their hands on it.
“What was in it?”
I shrugged. “I don’t have a clue. Alexander Bledsoe gave it to me for Aldo.”
“Alex sent something to Aldo? Maybe some kind of poison-pen letter?” Mae snorted. Everyone knew that Alex and Aldo didn’t get along.
“I guess I’ll try to find out Sunday night. He should be working then, too.”
Mae frowned. “I think you might want to contact him before then. He should know you didn’t make the delivery.”
“Do I have to?” Oops. That had come out a little whinier than I’d meant it to. I plopped down in the chair across from her.
“No, but you probably should. What’s the big deal?”
I inspected my fingernails and tried to come up with words for how Alex made me feel. “He makes me uncomfortable.”
“He’s a vampire. He makes everybody uncomfortable.” Mae shook her head. “Whether they know he’s a vampire or not.”
That wasn’t entirely true. Either that or my uncomfortable was other women’s horny. Come to think of it, that could be another reason I never went on any dates. “How about I try to find out who might have taken it so I have something to actually tell him? Maybe we could start with figuring out what the hell kind of martial art the guys who took the envelope from me were using?”
“Good enough.” Mae said. “Show me some of their moves. I’ll see if I can recognize them.”
We went out on the mat. I stood in front of her, closed my eyes and tried to focus. I probably looked about like Mae did when she took that first bite of honeycomb. That made me smile. I brushed that thought away and focused on the ninjas. I remembered the first one dropping in front of me into a crouch, stepping sideways and then whirling his arms so I’d gotten an elbow right in the solar plexus. I tried the movement out for Mae in slow motion.
“Are you sure about that?” she asked.
Was I sure? I was sure-ish rather than completely sure. “No. It happened pretty fast.”
“Anything else?”
I shut my eyes and thought again. The one who had slammed me on the point of my chin had stepped backward, pulled his elbows back and slammed forward with his hands raised. I did that and then opened my eyes.
Mae was shaking her head. “That looks like Rising White Crane. The first one looked like Repelling the Monkeys.”
“Tai chi?” No way. Nobody used tai chi for self-defense anymore, or in this case, for attacking someone. Old people did tai chi. Grandma Rosie’s friends at the Sunshine Assisted Living Facility did tai chi to improve their balance so they didn’t fall and break their hips. Ninja guys didn’t do tai chi after dropping out of trees to attack young women who were going about their business delivering envelopes to loser vampires who didn’t even have the sense to move some place dark and foggy.
“I’m pretty sure.” Mae crossed her arms over her chest. “So what are you going to do about it?”
That was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, now wasn’t it? What was I going to do about it? I didn’t relish the thought of telling Alex I hadn’t delivered his envelope. Nor did I particularly relish finding out what the more karmic repercussions of that failure might be. Maybe I could find out who had taken the envelope and get it back by myself. It seemed worth a try. If I didn’t have it back by Sunday night, I’d confess all to Alex and take my lumps, hopefully not literally. I rubbed my neck absently. “I think I better figure out who might be using tai chi as an actual martial art,” I told Mae.
“Where are you going to start?” she asked.
Another excellent question. I thought for a moment. “I think I might go visit my grandmother and find out who teaches the tai chi classes at her assisted living facility. Maybe she’ll know something helpful.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Mae said. “Keep me posted. Let me know if I can help.”
The door opened and the first of our Little Dragons bounced in. “Ready for the really tough stuff?” Mae asked.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied.
Within five minutes, my students were all assembled. I went and took my place at the front of the dojo. “Who wants to practice their worm crawl?” I yelled out.
Seven Little Dragons screamed, “I do, Sensei!”
My head throbbed a little.
I AM NOT SURE A HUMAN BEING CAN EMIT A MORE PIERCING sound than that of a six-year-old girl screaming her lungs out to release her chi while attacking a hanging bag. I’m sure there are people who will argue with me. They might bring up roller coaster screams or haunted house squeals or even American Girl party trills. I beg to differ with them all. Maybe it wasn’t really Ashley’s chi. Maybe it was that my head still throbbed from my ninja beat down. All I knew was that if Ashley went after that hanging bag one more time, my eardrums were going to split.
“Excellent job, Little Dragons!” I yelled.
“Thank you, Sensei!” they yelled back.
My left eyelid twitched, but the Little Dragons skipped off the mat to their waiting parents. Everyone clapped. Hugs were exchanged. No one was bleeding unless there was a trickle coming out of my ear that I’d missed. Mission accomplished.
