The Ballad of Aramei

  “Maybe she’ll be hot,” Nathan says on the other side of me.

  I roll my eyes and smile looking over at him.

  Isaac says, “Sure, bro, and since you’re the only one of us who’s single you can be the one to show her how hot you are for her so she’ll give us what we need.”

  The house draws closer. I can see it out ahead perched on the corner with one big tree in the front casting a swath of shade across the grass and sidewalk concrete.

  Nathan spats a laugh. “Yeah, if she’s hot,” he says, “otherwise hell no.”

  “No, you’ve been officially nominated,” I say smiling hugely. “What, can you not…perform?”

  Nathan’s mouth falls open and Isaac laughs beside me under his breath.

  “Babe,” Nathan says, “that’s not an area I have any problem with.”

  I laugh out loud. “Well, we’re not trying to pimp you out or anything, but let’s just hope you’re her type and that this plan doesn’t fall through.”

  “Yeah,” Isaac says, pulling me closer, “let’s hope because it’s the only plan we’ve got.”

  When we make it to the house, we stop on the sidewalk and just stare at it for a moment until Isaac pulls me along and we ascend the short steps onto the porch. Nathan stays below on the walkway and as I look back to get a quick glimpse of him, I notice he’s not Mr. Smiles anymore. He looks really tense. I would normally get a laugh out of Nathan’s torture, but right now as Isaac knocks on the glass window on the front door, I can do anything but laugh.

  I hear movement inside and this time decide to let my keen sense of hearing open up fully so I can listen further. I hear a television playing. It’s TV Land and the first thing I hear when the intro commercial fades and the programming resumes is: Shirrrl! and a lot of old-timey sitcom laughter. A few seconds later: Laverrrn! Whatever it is, it’s obnoxious. I hear footsteps padding down the carpeted stairs and heavy, raspy breathing followed by intense coughing that makes me wince and my stomach curl.

  “She’s definitely not hot,” I whisper harshly to Isaac.

  Nathan hears my comment and says, “Oh man, it sounds like there’s an old hag in there. Shit, bro, I’m really not likin’ this.”

  Isaac raises his fist to knock once more but then stops as a shadow moves across the octagonal window to our right, covered by a sheer burgundy-colored curtain.

  There’s a click as the door is unlocked from the inside and then the slinking sound of a chain being slid between two pieces of metal. And then another bolder click as the deadbolt is turned. And then the slithering sound of a slide-lock being pulled away from its tiny metal chamber.

  This woman must get ‘dangerous’ visitors like us often.

  Finally, the door cracks open and the stench of cigarette smoke funnels outside and practically suffocates me. I reach up quickly and pinch my nose with my fingertips. Having a superhuman sense of smell is definitely the worst of all the senses.

  “What do you want?” a hoarse voice says with her face obscured by the darkness.

  “We need your…expertise,” Isaac says carefully and slips his hand around my hip.

  The door slams shut, rattling the large piece of glass embedded in the wood and then the series of locks all quickly go in reverse. “Get off my porch!” she says through the door.

  Odd thing is that she doesn’t sound to be very afraid, but instead, annoyed by our presence.

  Isaac pounds on the glass again. “Look, we came a long way and if you won’t let us in to at least talk about why we’re here, then we’ll let ourselves in.”

  My eyes widen and I move away from Isaac and take two steps down the porch. “Are you crazy?” I whisper harshly.

  Nathan hasn’t budged from his spot on the walkway and I’m starting to consider joining him.

  “I’m not helping any of you freaks!” she shouts. “I’m not the Witch of Wayland, you hear me? I’m sick of all you mutants pounding on my door for love spells and all the like! I told you, I don’t do that backwoods modern-day, wannabe Wiccafuck stuff! You hear me?”

  “Ma’am,” Isaac says with a raised voice so she can actually hear him over herself, “we’re not here for any love spells. This is something far more…well, for you, I’d say interesting.”

  I see the white curtain covering the glass on the door move as though she is pressing up against it now. Silence ensues for a few seconds while Nathan and I keep looking back at one another, wide eyed.

  “Interesting as in how?” Minna says with her face closer to the glass.

  “Praverian interesting,” Isaac says in a softer voice than before.

  The white curtain lifts away from the glass and there is a long silent moment before the locks start to make noise again.

  The door opens slowly and much wider than before. Minna stands in the doorway in all of her leathery suntanned, smoked-four-packs-of-cigarettes-a-day glory, dressed in a dingy white nightgown and bath robe. A pair of worn-out pink house-shoes dress her feet; open-toed, which displays her gross, thick toenails painted hot pink but which can’t distract from the other ‘crustier’ features.

  I want to look behind me at Nathan, just to see the mortified look on his face that I know is there, but I can’t turn away from this woman who I’m totally wary of.

  Minna cocks her head to one side, propping her hand on the doorjamb just a little above her average height. Her gown lifts a couple of inches with her arm, revealing her thin, bony ankles streaked by varicose veins.

  “Please come in,” she says somberly and moves to the side, gesturing us in with her other hand palm up.

  Strange how her attitude flip-flopped from crazy, screaming hag to calm, methodical woman.

  Isaac waits for me to step back up behind him before we head inside. Nathan follows but still can’t bring himself to say anything, probably hoping it might steer Minna’s interest to one of us, but something tells me Nathan is going to have a very uncomfortable, prison-shower sort of day.

  The house stinks of more than cigarettes; there’s a strong waft of something like powdered sugar and cooking oil coming from the kitchen. And coffee; no doubt black is the only way she drinks it. I also smell something cheap and fruity, like some kind of potpourri, maybe. The walls, although covered by hideous tapestry wallpaper, are yellowish-brown from all of the smoke over the years she must’ve lived here.

  Minna walks us past the kitchen and into the living room and all along the way I see tons of clutter strewn about everywhere. Magazines. Newspapers. Unopened boxes of crap obviously bought off TV for the ‘low price of just $19.95!” and off to the side, in the far corner of the living room, there’s a giant glass curio cabinet full of hundreds of little elephant figurines.

  Actually, now that I’m paying more attention to detail as opposed to my need to get out of this place in one piece, I see that Minna really loves elephants. A giant elephant painting hovers over the back of her couch. Elephants sit on every available bit of furniture space there is in various different forms from glass to brass and porcelain and plastic. The blanket folded long-ways and draped over the back of the recliner has an elephant on it. I think if she could fit an actual elephant inside this house, she would no doubt have one for a pet.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I hear Nathan mumble from behind.

  Minna closes her robe with one hand and turns to us, “Have a seat.”

  I covertly glace over at Isaac and grasp his hand, but none of us sits down quickly. We don’t want to actually sit on her furniture. There’s no telling what we might catch. Lice. A smell that will never wash off. Elephant fever.

  When Minna starts to walk toward us, all three of us decide to take a seat just in case she’s intending to help us in some way. We sit on the very edge of the couch cushions, side by side, with our hands placed in our laps like some scared, unruly children about to be handed down the worst punishment ever.

  “Make yourselves comfortable,” she says, her voice crackling. “I’ll get you
all some coffee.”

  I want to say no thanks, but quite frankly I’m more inclined to accept her hospitality rather than risk offending her.

  The second she slips around the corner and out of the room, Nathan comes alive.

  “There’s no fucking way, bro,” he says, the words whistling through his teeth. “I can’t even pretend be okay with looking at her, much less flirt with her.”

  I can’t force myself to make fun of Nathan this time…not as much as normal anyway.

  “Just go with the flow,” Isaac whispers back at him on the other side of me. “It might not even come down to anything like that. Just calm down.”

  “I don’t care what it comes down to,” Nathan says, shaking his head, “like I said—”

  “Here we are,” Minna says coming back around the corner carrying a wooden tray. She places it on the coffee table in front of us, moving aside an elephant statue. Three mugs of black coffee sit around a plate of homemade fried donuts covered in powdered sugar.

  Not one of us wants to go first, so we remain still and quiet with our hands between our knees and hope she doesn’t notice.

  Minna slinks her way into the recliner next to us in front of a window covered by another burgundy-colored curtain.

  “Well,” she says, gesturing towards the coffee and donuts, “Eat up. Go on. Or are you too good for my food?”

  As if that was a challenge none of us wants to accept, all three of us reach for a mug, take a sip and then start to nibble the end of a messy, powdered donut. I only pretend to actually drink the coffee, of course, and Isaac and Nathan are likely pulling the same ruse.

  “First things first,” Minna says and then stops to hack a disgusting cough, her whole body rattling in the chair, “who sent you here?”

  “A Praverian named Genevieve,” Isaac answers and places the rest of his donut back on the plate.

  Minna gives Isaac a suspicious sidelong glance, the wrinkles in her leathery-brown face deepening around her eyes. She purses her dry, cracked lips in contemplation.

  “And where is she now?” Minna says.

  “We don’t know,” Isaac says, retaining his confident composure and keeping his answers simple.

  “Is that so?” she says, still suspicious. “You want me to believe that she just told you where to find me and then disappeared?” She whirls her bony hand in a circular motion above her.

  Isaac nods. “Yes,” he says. “Whether you believe it or not, that’s exactly what happened.”

  Minna snarls and leans her back into the recliner, crossing her legs. “Well dear boy,” she says with a sneer, “you’re going to have to elaborate a little more or we can end this discussion here and now so that I can get back to my shows—you know, they don’t make shows like they used to. No they don’t.” She shakes her head very matter-of-factly.

  I glance over at Isaac, seeing in his eyes that he knows he’s going to have to take it up a notch or risk her not helping us. But to her, his face remains standard, revealing no difference.

  I’ve never known Nathan to be so utterly silent. I laugh inside just thinking about what’s going on in his head right now.

  “Genevieve came to our town,” Isaac begins, “because of her Charge, but then she found out that there’s a Dark Praverian among my family and thought we should know. So, she told us all about it and said that he or she is dangerous. So now we’re here because apparently you’re one of few who know how to trap it.”

  Minna reaches out and takes her own mug of coffee by the handle and brings it slowly to her lips. Her dark eyes never leave us as she takes a careful sip. They peer at us over the white rim of the mug; cold, distrusting eyes scanning over every inch of Isaac as if searching for something to use against him.

  “I find that hard to believe,” she says after pulling the mug away, leaving a bright hot pink lipstick stain in a half-moon on the edge. She sets it gently back on the glass-top coffee table. “Since when do Praverians care about the lives of anyone other than their Charges?”

  When Isaac doesn’t answer as quickly as he had been all along, I start to get nervous that he doesn’t have one.

  So I speak up instinctively. “Genna did seem more worried about her Charge,” I say, “which is why she told us about the Dark Praverian. I think she was worried that since she didn’t know who it was herself, that her Charge was in more danger, so she was using us to find it.”

  Minna narrows one eye and takes another casual sip of her coffee; a little swirl of steam rises above the rim and fades around her nostrils.

  Suddenly, I feel my mind get heavier and Isaac nudges my leg with his.

  I let him in.

  “You shouldn’t have said that,” he says to me telepathically, but never taking his eyes off Minna. “But it’s okay, just let me do the rest of the talking.”

  “What did I say?”

  “She’s going to think we know who Genna’s Charge is,” he says, “And—”

  “And just who is this Praverian’s Charge?” Minna says.

  “We don’t know,” Isaac says. “She wouldn’t tell us.”

  She pauses, both eyes narrowing now.

  “Has anyone you know gone missing since this ‘Genna’ disappeared?” Minna’s face has become much more confident now and this is making me immensely nervous. I know that one wrong word, one slip-up, might leave us and our entire story caught in her snare.

  “Several people have moved out,” Isaac says and Minna’s confident expression melts into one of disappointment.

  I breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

  Isaac goes on: “But no one has actually disappeared. Why?”

  Damn, Isaac’s good. He knows exactly why she asked that particular question: If he would’ve said no one, she would know he was lying because a Praverian wouldn’t leave without their Charge unless the Charge was also a Praverian, like Harry turned out to be (and according to Harry, that’s rare). If he would’ve hesitated even a fraction, Minna would detect that he was only trying to figure out what name of what missing person to use, which would also indicate a lie.

  Minna loses eye contact and says, “I’m just testing you.”

  “We have no reason to lie,” Isaac says. “We just really need your help.”

  I notice Minna’s gaze skirt Nathan, but for now she doesn’t hold it on him. It felt awkward though, as if she’s sizing him up, or maybe picturing him doing really nasty things to her.

  I think I just made myself sick….

  “Well…,” Minna says with a new sort of confident look on her face, “you should really be careful trusting this Praverian, this Genevieve, as you call her. They aren’t what they appear to be.”

  Harry warned us of this.

  “Of course they’re not,” I say, going on the defense for Harry, “they seem to appear in many forms.”

  Minna’s nose crinkles at my sarcasm and I feel Isaac and Nathan on both sides of me begin to shift almost invisibly on their cushions. Maybe I should just keep quiet, but as I’ve proven in the past, sometimes that’s not such an easy thing for me to do.

  Minna chews gently on the inside of her bottom lip making her cheek twist inward and then she says, “Maybe so, but if you befriend one you’re sure to regret it later. They are double-crossing bastards, believe me.” She smiles crookedly and takes one more sip of coffee. “And if you’re a Charge, don’t ever think for a second that they really have that pretty little head of yours in their best interests.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, though not believing her con for a second. And it felt like Isaac was about to say something to me in my mind for a moment, but then he stopped abruptly, maybe curious about Minna’s answer, too.

  “Their Charges are their most important duty, yes,” she says with a deep smirk on her face, “but that duty could easily be that they need to make sure you die as much as they need to protect your life.”

  I roll my eyes obviously and shake my head. “Really?” I say with a distas
teful shear in my voice, “and why would they do that?” Maybe a small part of me believes her. And maybe that was exactly her plan, whether what she’s saying is true or not.

  “Baby, please stop now….”

  Minna’s vindictive smile just gets wider and wider and then I realize I may have just made this easier for her.

  “For someone who isn’t friends with this Genevieve,” Minna says, “you sure seem to take offense to me telling you the truth about her.”

  I swallow hard and my acerbic expression falls.

  Well, at least if Minna is onto me like I’m starting to believe, she doesn’t know anything about Harry. She can look for Genna all she wants, but she’ll be sent on a wild goose chase if she relies on any information from us to find her.

  We have no idea where Genna is.

  “So, can you help us trap it, or not?” Isaac says, trying to shift Minna’s focus before I say something I’ll regret. He fits his fingers around the handle of his mug and brings it to his lips. I think he took a real drink, too. Wow, he’s really playing his part, that’s for sure.

  “Maybe,” Minna says and crosses her other leg. “Where did you say you came from?”

  “We didn’t say,” Isaac answers, “but we’re from Boston, if you’d like to know.”

  “About where at’s in Boston?”

  “Back Bay,” Isaac answers just as quickly, as though all of these lies have been filed away neatly inside of his head ready for this special occasion.

  I just wish he would’ve shared the details with Nathan and me on the ride here. Then again, it could be too that he really is making this stuff up along the way.

  Minna leans over and takes a donut from the plate. She takes a big bite, leaving white powder dusting her sloppy pink lips. Her jaw works the food vigorously around in her mouth and all three of us start to look at anything but her because it’s not pleasant to watch her eat. She swallows and then licks the tips of her fingers clean of powdered sugar, “It’s not easy to trap one of those bastards,” she says.

  “With all due respect,” Isaac says, “we didn’t expect that it would be.”