"Sure, sure. Talk to you later," I replied. I hung up and leaned forward towards the priest. "You don't happen to have any other hidden skills besides boxing, do you?"
"I know how to knit," he admitted.
"I'm talking more of the paranormal kind," I replied.
He raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid I don't follow."
I held up the phone. "That was my coworker telling me the diner that I work at is still possessed by dead devil fish."
He blinked at me. "You have shown me a great many things that have stretched my knowledge and belief in the supernatural world, but I must admit my belief can't stretch that far."
"Then get ready for another stretch because these fish things are real, and they're going to ruin my boss' life if we don't do something about them," I told him.
"Is your employer a godly man?" he wondered.
"No, but he signs my paychecks, and in my book that makes him just a step below God," I quipped. "Anyway, it'll ruin my day if I have to start looking for another job. That's why I need your help."
"But how can I help?" he asked me.
"I want you to exorcise the fish, and I'm not talking about taking them for a walk," I revealed.
"I'm afraid my skills don't extend to that area," he admitted.
I nodded at the box that sat in his lap. "If you can tame that savage beast you can try to save some possessed soles."
A smile slipped onto his face. "I suppose there's no harm in trying." He paused and furrowed his brow. "Is there?"
I shrugged. "You do have to dodge the pots and pans, and the place smells really bad, but the fish aren't really dangerous."
Father Malone stood and carefully slipped the soul box into my bag. "Then what are we waiting for?"
Father Malone was still without a car, so I drove him to the diner. The parking lot was deserted, a depressing view at the noon hour, and the blinds in the windows were shut. I parked in the back and led the father up the stairs to the rear door. I'd forgotten to return Roland's skeleton key, so we had easy access to the kitchen.
"Hang on to your collar," I warned him as I swung open the door.
The door opened to reveal the chaotic scene from the night before, but with a fresh dose of nasty-smelling air. The stench was a mix of dead skunk, a sewer treatment plant, and the guy's locker room after a particularly muddy football game. The smell wafted over us like an unwanted ex at a frat party. I clapped my hand over my nose and even the good father cringed.
"Lord give me strength. . ." I heard him mutter.
"And a lot of dumb luck," I added as I boldly stepped inside first.
Father Malone followed and we stood shoulder to shoulder beside each other. We both tilted our heads back and looked at the ceiling. The school of fish floated in a lazy circle near the stained tiles. Their crates sat on the floor beneath them covered in rotten food and broken pots and pans.
"So what do you think?" I asked him without moving my head.
"I believe I will refrain from fish this Lent," he commented.
"I meant about the problem," I rephrased.
"There is certainly otherworldly forces at work here," he told me.
"Think you can use that prayer of yours and see if you can exorcise it?" I asked him.
"I can certainly attempt it," he offered.
Father Malone handed me the bag with the soul box and moved to the middle of the room. The fish took notice of his presence by floating lower so they spiraled just above his head. He clasped his hands together and bowed his head.
"Our Father who-" He'd hardly hit the 'who' part when one of the fish sailed down and used its tail to smack him on the cheek.
Father Malone stumbled back only to be attacked by another fish. His turned cheek was slapped. The other hundred floated down and readied their tails. The process would have been repeated ad infinitum if he hadn't ducked the next block and hurried back to my side near the door.
"You think they might prefer the Latin version?" I suggested.
He rubbed his cheek and frowned. "I will try."
The father stepped forward and clasped his hands again. That was as far as he got before the fish, evidently atheistic, flew at him. He ducked and dodged, but they got in a couple of good slaps that rang through the kitchen. Father Malone picked up a large frying pan and used it as a guard. He tried to get back to me, but they barred his path.
"Maybe another prayer?" I suggested. I winced when one came up behind him and knocked him on the back of his head.
He spun around and knocked the fish away. It tumbled for a few feet before it righted itself and flew back at him. At the same time another half dozen got in a few more whacks. In a few seconds he was covered in splattered dead fish goo and moldy food from the refrigerator.
One of the fish slammed into his face and knocked him back towards the swinging doors. Father Malone straightened and glared at the offending fish.
"Lord forgive me, but to hell with these foul creatures," he snapped.
Father Malone tossed down the frying pan and threw a punch. It landed square against the flat side of a nearby sole fish. The fish stiffened and fell to the floor where it lay there like a frozen tuna. The other soles scattered, but the good father had good aim and he knocked them down one at a time until there were known standing. Er, floating. They lay in stiff piles with their backs twisted, and their mouths and eyes wide open in surprise.
Father Malone stood in triumph over the lost soles. He gasped for breath and slime dripped from his red knuckles.
"I guess they needed the prayer beaten into them," I quipped.
Father Malone stood straight and coughed. "Perhaps, but what are we to do now?"
I nodded at the crates. "They came in those, so let's hope for a miracle and see if they fit back in their packaging. Then we can get them in my car."
"And then?" he wondered.
"Then we wait for Roland to wake up and tell us what to do next," I replied.
A few minutes and a lot of dead fish tossing later the crates were full and their lids were nailed down. We stepped back and admired our work of the twelve crates piled in the trunk and back seat of my car. The car was backed up to the rear door.
"Are your days generally this exciting?" Father Malone asked me.
I shook my head. "No, the days are my break. The nights are when things get fun, like that one phantom lady."
"How did that end?" he wondered as he looked me over with a teasing smile on his face. "I hope you weren't turned into a phantom."
I grinned and patted my stomach. "I could use the weight loss, but Roland and I kind of made her explode."
He raised an eyebrow. "That's possible?"
"Yeah. She got so mad at seeing her husband married to their servant that she blew up," I explained.
He chuckled. "A pity the church doesn't know of such a trick."
"Yeah, well, I wish I knew a trick to get rid of these fish," I commented as I sat down on the rear door steps.
Father Malone joined me. "You haven't any idea who sent the fish?"
"Well, there's some sort of a connection between the fish and a guy we both know," I told him.
"Do we?" he wondered.
"Yeah. Let's just say it's not the guy you work for," I explained.
Both his eyebrows shot up. "You mean-?"
"Yeah. Red tail and all," I confirmed.
He pursed his lips. "You certainly have a formidable foe."
I snorted. "You're telling me. I just wish I had his address so I could drop these fish back on him."
"Surely he has some location or representative that is used as his base of operations, as it were," Father Malone mused.
My eyes widened and I snapped my fingers. "That's it!" I leaned over and gave the father a hug. "You're a life saver!"
Father Malone chuckled as I released him. "A priest can receive no higher praise."
I had a plan. Now all I needed was an undead partner to put it into action.
CHAP
TER 6
I returned Father Malone to his church. He stepped out and leaned down to look at me through the open door.
"Are you sure you won't have me keep the soul box for a while longer?" he offered.
I shook my head. "I'm hoping we can kill two demons with one stone on this one, but thanks for the exorcism."
He smiled and bowed his head. "It was my pleasure, but perhaps next time I will wear gloves."
We made our goodbyes and I returned to my apartment to wait out the day. My mind streamed with a lot of hopes, dreams, fears, dancing sugar plums, and doubts. The day slipped away and just after sunset the lid on my coffee table rose. Roland sat up and found me on the couch with the soul box beside me. The same time he woke up was when the soul box started its blue-mist smokestack impersonation.
Roland looked ghastly pale, even for an undead. His assessment of a few weeks looked as optimistic as he looked awful.
"Ready for some adventure?" I asked him.
He raised an eyebrow. "That would depend on the company," he teased.
I gestured to the box and me. "We're the company."
"And the adventure."
"The adventure is visiting Alston to find out what he knows about your box, and return some expired fish," I told him.
A smile slid onto his lips. "That's sounds like an intriguing challenge," he commented as he stepped from his coffin. "How do you propose to approach him?"
"We walk through the door and ask him about the fish, and maybe he'll slip up on the box," I suggested.
Roland furrowed his brow. "It would be best if we didn't mention the lid of the box being as it is."
I stood and smiled. "My thoughts exactly. We're there on the fish mission."
I fetched the card with the address Alston had given me the first time I met him, and we drove to that part of town. It was on one of the older commercial streets. The buildings were one-floor with deep basements, and there were a lot of bars over the windows. Guys with tattoos stood on a few of the corners and watched us drive by, and even the dogs gave us funny looks.
Most of the buildings were dark or had on some small night light, but not Alston's office. His was lit up for business, and his door was even open. The tough thugs in the neighborhood either were too afraid to steal from the place, or they worked for the place. I parked my car on the curb and looked the building over. It was brick with a pair of large windows on either side of the tall door. An alley on the left revealed some windows at ground level. The building had a basement.
I glanced over my shoulder at the boxes of fish. "I guess we can leave these things in here. Anybody who steals them will deserve what they get."
"The smell will keep them at bay," Roland quipped.
I glared at him. "I'm supposed to be the comic relief, remember?"
He grinned. "We can share the duties."
"Thief. . ." I muttered as we got out.
Roland and I went inside together and found a comfortable office with plush waiting chairs and a wall that divided the office work from the prying eyes of the customers. There was a window with a ledge and desk behind it, and a bell sat on ledge. I walked up and rang it.
"Room service! Room service!" I called.
In a moment Alston stepped out of a room on the right hand wall beyond the space divider. His face lit up when he saw me, and he walked over.
"What a pleasant surprise," he commented. His smile slipped when he noticed Roland behind me. "A good evening to you both. You look ill, Mr. Roland. Perhaps we should get you a seat."
"This isn't a pleasure visit," I warned him. "We've got some business with you and your boss."
He smiled. "He is a client, yes, and as such you must understand I can't be completely frank with you about any of his dealings."
"That's okay, we're not Frank," I quipped.
He smiled. "Have I ever told you your sense of humor is extraordinary?"
"And have I ever told you I'm not available?" I snapped back.
One of his eyebrows raised just a notch. "I see. Well, as I was saying, let me sit you down so we can speak in comfort."
He opened the divider door and led us into the back. There was a large table with a half dozen chairs in the rear. Roland and I took one long side, and Alston took a chair on the other.
"Now what business exactly is this discerning?" he wondered.
"I've got a car full of freshly-caught possessed fish, and I'd like to know how they got into the diner," I told him.
Alston leaned back and smiled. "I can be somewhat informative considering this is an investigation. A prospective client came to us wishing to press damages against your employer for a brutal attack on him late last year. I advised the man that it was a clear sign of self-defense, and we could do nothing for him in that regard."
"In what regard could you help him?" Roland questioned him.
Alston leaned back in his chair and his smile widened. "Another of my clients had a recent shipment of fish come in to harbor. The fish was found to be-well, not very tasty, and I asked him to sell the load to someone who would buy such cheap fish. Naturally, he jumped at the opportunity to assist me."
"Naturally," I quipped.
"The deal was sealed-"
"In blood, probably," I interrupted.
"-and the man went away with his shipment. I wasn't sure what he would do with it, but you being here has confirmed the results," Alston finished.
I stood and leaned over the desk. "If you cursed the fish then you need to take them back," I demanded.
He shook his head. "The matter is out of our hands. The contract has been signed, and responsibility for any damages, or returns, rests solely on the individual who sold your employer the fish."
"And who was this client of yours?" Roland wondered.
Alston smirked. "As I said, I'm still bound by some of the rules of the attorney-client privilege. That includes the name of the prospective client."
"So let me get this straight. We get to know what they did, but not who they are and why they did it?" I guessed.
He gave a nod. "Exactly."
"You're a real asshole, you know that?"
"I have been called that several times, yes."
I narrowed my eyes and frowned. "Well, I'm going to call you a bunch of different things if you don't-"
Alston's smirk slid off his face and he stood from his seat. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"Not until we-" A hand fell on my shoulder. I looked back to find it belonged to Roland. He shook his head. "You seriously want to leave when we can get all the answers out of this devil worm?"
"This is a battle we can't win," Roland warned me.
"He's right, you know," Alston spoke up.
I whipped my head to him. "What I know is-" My eyes widened and I started back.
Alston's shadow loomed on the wall behind him like a massive security guard. The outline was distorted, but I could clearly make out a pair of brimstone-red eyes in the dark face. They flickered and glared back at me like a bully ready to pounce. I stumbled back into Roland's arms and Alston's smirk returned.
"You forget that I have a very important client, and he's been kind enough to give me some protection," Alston informed us.
"You wouldn't pass such volatile merchandise to a prospective client without his permission," Roland commented. "Why did the Devil allow the purchase?"
Alston resumed his seat and the shadow receded into the darkness against the back of his chair. "My important client is quite interested in you pair, but he believes your development is too slow."
"Whatever happened to your client's infinite patience?" I asked him.
He chuckled. "My client has infinite patience, but he can't stand inaction. That's why he's contrived this new challenge for you both."
"So he knew we'd know he's behind this?" I guessed.
"There was that chance, but my client doesn't always work in the shadows," he replied.
"We should go," Rol
and spoke up.
Alston raised an eyebrow and I looked at Roland as though, after several centuries, senility had finally caught up with him.
"But we-" Roland stood and pulled me out of my chair.
"We have learned what we could," he insisted. I saw a flicker of something in his blue eyes. It was a wink. I think.
I frowned and glared at Alston. "Don't think this isn't done. I'll send you the car cleaning bill if I can't get that smell out."
He smiled and bowed his head. "Good evening to you both."
I grudgingly allowed Roland to drag me out of the attorney's office and onto the street where he released me. His eyes roamed the old building while I folded my arms across my chest.
"Mind telling me what that was about?" I asked him.
"We weren't going to learn anything further from him, nor could we force the information from him," he pointed out.
I tilted my head to one side and studied him. "So what's your plan?"
He turned to me and smiled. "You wish for the fish to be gone from your car?"
"Um, yeah. They smell worse than Ralph's cooking."
Roland nodded at the left-side of the building. "Alston may provide us with room in which to deposit the crates."
I followed his gaze and my eyes fell on the windows to the basement. A grin slid onto my lips.
"I like the way you think, friend."
CHAPTER 7
There were multiple and complicated parts to this plan. Actually, not really. I drove my car to the back of Alston's building and helped Roland unload the eleven crates by the nearest basement window. The building had an empty concrete basement and with a set of stairs at the opposite end that led to the interior door. The window was easily pried open. After all, nobody was stupid enough to mess with the Devil's advocate.
Nobody but us, that is.
Roland slipped inside and I handed him the crates. He piled them in the middle of the room. Some of them jumped in our hands and informed us the dead fish were very much undead once more. The sneaking took about ten minutes. Roland knelt beside the crate closest to the window and wedged his fingers under the lid.
"Ready?" he asked me.
I slipped to the side of the window and held it open for him. "Ready," I replied.
Roland flipped the lid open and flew for the window. He slipped outside and I shut the window behind him. The fish flew out of their crate and circled the room. They knocked over the other crates as they'd done before and loosed their brethren on the basement. Several of them bonked against the windows and the door. Roland and I secured the window and watched as the basement door blew open.