Dead Man and the Lustful Spirit Page 2

  "And puke," Denton added.

  The other patrons kept staring at the wall in front of them without sharing their thoughts on the matter.

  When Bran zipped up, Denton let go of the robe, and headed toward the sinks but couldn't help taking a quick glance through the open door of the handicapped stall. He saw Lumpy Spiderman hugging the porcelain bowl like a long lost lover. No surprises there, Denton thought. He was about to walk away when Spiderman turned and looked him straight in the eyes.

  "Help me," the man whispered. He'd taken off his mask and Denton got a good view of his pleading expression. It lasted only for a moment, before something shifted, and while the features of the man remained the same, they were also strangely different. He whirled back to the toilet and spewed into it.

  Denton trailed after Bran deep in troubled recollections. The strange thing about Spiderman's face reminded him of another encounter. That time the person turned out to be possessed by the spirit of a woman long dead. "Do you remember Jess Porter?" he asked Bran.

  Bran wiped his hands. "Sure. Why?"

  "I think we have a similar situation here."

  A frown gathered on Bran's face. "You mean…"

  "Yeah. Take a look." Denton motioned toward the stall.

  When they stepped inside Spiderman was still kneeling on the floor and leaning over the bowl.

  "Oh great," Bran said taking in the costume, but he stepped closer. His frown deepened as he observed the man. Denton knew Bran couldn't see spirits of the dead but he could sense them. Bran squinted. "No, it's not—" His brows knotted in concentration and he brushed two fingers to the naked skin between the line of hair and the neck of the Spiderman costume. He murmured words in Spanish as he did. Squiggly lines in red—like scratches—appeared on the skin, but faded away a moment later. Denton opened his mouth, but Bran shook his head and gestured toward the exit.

  No words were said till they were out in the hallway. "Is it a possession?" Denton asked when they stopped.

  Bran rubbed his chin with a gesture of consternation. "Yes, but by a different kind of spirit—demonic."

  "You mean Spiderman in there is possessed by a demon?" Denton whispered, but then he realized nobody was paying them any attention, and even if they did, it wouldn't matter. Two people talking funny at a costume party wouldn't even raise eyebrows.

  Bran shook his head. "No, not a demon. Something demonic in nature."

  "I don't get it," Denton said. Bran knew far more about demons than he did.

  "You know how a chimpanzee is very similar to a human but it isn't?"

  "You're telling me the guy's been taken over by a demon monkey?"

  Bran's face got the solemn, yet weary expression he often wore when trying to explain occult stuff to Denton. "Not really, but I don't have a better analogy off the top of my head. I believe we're dealing with a naasi, a demonic spirit characterized by lustfulness, exuberance, and gluttony. I've read about them. This particular one probably doesn't mean harm but can be very dangerous because the naasi aren't aware or care about physical fragility of humans. It could seriously hurt or even kill the host by accident—eating spoiled food or jumping off a bridge for fun. The possibilities are endless." Bran was a bit of a pedant when it came to these matters.

  "Could I banish it, like I do ghosts?"

  Bran shook his head. "That could go very wrong. Demonic spirits are not the same as spirits of the dead. However, I know how to send this one back where it came from. I'll need my tools, though. We have to take him back to our place."

  "Oh. That shouldn't be too hard."

  ***

  It wasn't. Spiderman agreed to leave the party with two complete strangers with giddy recklessness. The hardest part turned out to be reclaiming all their coats, but then Spiderman remembered having tucked his ticket into his shoes and they were set. Inside the pocket of his jacket they found a wallet with a driver's license and on it a name: Leonard Fenster.

  Luckily, they managed to find a taxi cab right in front of the hotel, and ten minutes later they were at home.

  "C'mon Lenny, just a few more steps," Denton prodded as they got out of the elevator back home in their own building.

  "Call me Lenny."

  "I was." Denton grumbled as he and Bran dragged their guest down the hallway. He and Bran were next door neighbors—that's how they'd met—but these days Denton scarcely spent any time at his own place. Taking Lenny to Bran's apartment made the most sense.

  Once inside, Bran whispered into Denton's ear, "Give me a moment," and rushed off.

  A minute later shuffling noises came from the other room. Meanwhile, Denton did his best to peel Lenny out of his coat, but had little success between Lenny alternately trying to cop a feel and falling asleep. They were still at it when Bran returned and swiftly sorted them out. They maneuvered Lenny into the living room.

  Bran had taken off his jacket and robe, and now only a form-fitting cotton shirt covered his chest. Denton spied the outline of nipples through the fabric.

  Lenny took notice too. "A menage-a-thing. I always wanted one of those," he announced but then his head lolled to the side.

  "Right, right," Bran said a neutral tone. "Why don't you just sit down for a minute?" They deposited Lenny into one of the living room chairs.

  That particular piece of furniture had been moved from its original spot and now sat on top of a piece of fabric Bran had made for magical purposes. Denton remembered Bran drawing the pentagram and the array of symbols onto the king size blue bed sheet, using bleach and a brush. The circle was big enough for Lenny and the chair to fit inside with room to spare. With only one desk lamp illuminating the room, the pentagram inside of the circle was easy enough to miss. Especially if you were as drunk as Lenny. During the proceedings Murry, Bran's portly black cat, slinked into the room, planted his butt at the sidelines and watched the unfolding scene with intent green eyes.

  Almost as soon as they put him down, Lenny began to snore. Bran placed black candles at each point of the pentagram and lit them. He was chanting in Spanish under his breath. As he'd once explained to Denton, it wasn't the words themselves that mattered but the belief behind them, and chanting helped him focus. Spanish was the language passed down to him from his ancestors who practiced brujería.

  "This should hold him," Bran said. "Murmur, keep an eye on him." He directed the last part to the cat.

  Murry twitched the tip of his tail. "Meowr."

  Denton nipped into the bathroom to remove his contacts and wash the makeup off his face. When he was done he found Bran in the kitchen staring into the open fridge.

  "What next?" Denton couldn't quite keep the sense of excitement out of his voice. He'd never witnessed a demonic possession before.

  Bran, on the other hand, was all business. "We need to open a portal and entice the demonic spirit to leave through it."

  "How do you do that?"

  "Mirrors make excellent portals and we should use things it desires for enticement." Bran pulled a Tupperware container from the fridge. "Oh, and might as well make some coffee. Lots of it. We'll need it."

  ***

  While Denton put the coffee on, Bran scooped cookie dough from the plastic tub and rolled it into balls before placing them on top of the parchment paper lining the baking sheet. He kept talking as he went. "A full demon could move about freely, but a demonic spirit needs a host. Which means it is now trapped inside Lenny. I'll put a spell of torpidity on Lenny to make his body useless to the spirit. Also to protect him."

  "Torpe-what?"

  "Torpefy is the same as paralyze," Bran said. "The grimoires I learned from were rather old."

  "Okay, so could the demon-monkey thing have jumped into someone else earlier?" There was so much Denton didn't know about these things, but he was eager to learn. Hell, before he'd met Bran he hadn't even been able to control his own talent.

  "Luckily, it's not so simple. The naasi are lesser spirits, not particularly powerful. Something unusual ha
d to happen to make the possession possible in the first place. Someone opened a portal and summoned the spirit. They don't jump through realms of their own accord."

  Denton loved Bran's sexy professor voice. "You know a lot about this stuff," he said.

  "Well, it's mostly academic knowledge I acquired from books and the occasional lessons by my father." Bran washed his hands and slid the baking sheet into the oven. He set the timer.

  "Why are you baking cookies?" Denton asked. He was in favor of cookies, especially Bran's home-made, Nutella and chocolate chip cookies, but it seemed an odd thing to do.

  "They'll be done fast and smell good. We need to appeal to as many senses as we can to lure the spirit out. Is the coffee done yet?"

  "Just about." Denton fixed up a strong cup of joe with cream, sugar, and caramel sauce. Then he made one for Lenny too. He figured the naasi probably had a sweet tooth.

  Bran took the cup Denton wasn't drinking from and walked back into the living room. Denton put his coffee down and followed. Bran stepped up next to the chair, careful to move between the candles. He patted Lenny's cheeks and held the cup under the dozing man's nose.

  Lenny jerked his head up and sniffed. "Mmm…" He greedily grabbed the cup and slurped its contents down.

  While Lenny was preoccupied, Bran pulled a small jar out of the front pocket of his jeans, dipped his index finger into it, and used it to draw a symbol on Lenny's forehead. Bran's lips moved with a silent incantation.

  Lenny dropped his hand and the empty cup cluttered to the ground. Bran stepped out of the circle and stood at its edge, facing Lenny. Lenny's eyelids dropped down and when they opened a few moments later they revealed eyes the color of rust with vertical slits for irises. They stared at Bran and Denton with unconcealed curiosity. The feeling was mutual—at least from Denton's part.

  "What's your name, spirit?" Bran asked.

  Lenny's lips opened and an otherworldly gurgling-whistling sound came out.

  Bran nodded.

  "What did he say?" Denton asked.

  "Edmond," Bran replied, keeping his eyes on the figure in the chair.

  "It didn't sound like Edmond to me," Denton grumbled.

  "I translated. But if you prefer it in demonic—"

  Denton shook his head. "Edmond will do."

  Bran kept up the questioning. "Why are you here?"

  A hiss turned into words. "So much fun in this world. Soft, squishy bodies. Flavors so yummm... Nice, very nice." The words unfurled in a wheezy babble. Very different than Lenny's voice before.

  "How did you make it through?" Bran asked next.

  "Sssslipping through the gash…Salientia. It calls."

  None of this made much sense to Denton but Bran frowned as if the spirit's words jabbed him in a funny spot—and not funny ha-ha. The timer dinged and Bran marched back to the kitchen. Denton hurried after him.

  "What are we gonna do next?" Denton asked in whispered tones as Bran opened the oven door.

  Bran put the metal tray on top of the stove and with the help of a spatula transferred the sweet-smelling lumps of goodness onto a plate. "I'll present the portal for the spirit to leave through. Once the spirit separates from Lenny's body it won't be able to resist the pull of the portal. The difficult part is convincing it to vacate the body. If all else fails, I can compel it to come out, but doing so will make it hostile and resistant. Nobody likes being ordered around. No telling how long the process will take either, since I've never done it before."

  "I'm sure you'll do fine." Denton had boundless faith in Bran's abilities.

  "Well, I hope this enticement will work. The naasi are supposed to be rather dull-witted and easy to manipulate."

  Back in the living room Bran put the food inside the circle, then took a small, round mirror from the coffee table and placed it next to the sweets. "Oh mighty spirit, please accept our offerings," he said in a deferential tone and drew back.

  They waited. Lenny's fingers twitched as if trying to move and tiny tremors shook his body, but the paralyzing spell held. A frustrated growl escaped from his throat and his body went completely limp. For minutes nothing happened, although Bran kept repeating the invitation.

  With nothing better to do, Denton plopped onto the floor outside of the circle and off to the side. From his new vantage point he spotted something red on the ground, right behind Lenny's foot. Without thinking, he leaned forward and picked it up.

  "Denton! No!" Bran shouted but it was too late. The paper flower squeezed its petals together and blew a puff of golden dust straight into Denton's face and immediately disappeared into thin air.

  An emphatic uh-oh played in Denton's head. Because exploding origami was not likely to be a good thing, anyone could see that. Yet he wasn't worried. He felt wonderfully woozy and incapable of negative thoughts. "It's a wonderful night, isn't it?" he asked no one in particular. "Look, a wonderful Spiderman with a wonderful little demon inside."

  "Oh boy," said Bran and took hold of Denton by the elbow. "Why don't you come and lie down for a moment?" He pulled Denton toward the bedroom. It sounded like a wonderful idea.

  "Don't worry," said Bran in a soothing tone. "It's just a harmless charm. It'll pass. You'll be fine." He helped Denton onto the bed.

  Denton wasn't worried and couldn't fathom why Bran seemed to think he should be. "Mmm…have I told you how sexy you are?" He tried to pull Bran down with him, but Bran resisted.

  "I don't want to leave Lenny under the spell longer than necessary," Bran explained, gently, but firmly disentangling himself from Denton's limbs. "Stay put," he said before leaving.

  Mapping the cool surface of the sheets and blankets kept Denton occupied for a while but not long. Everything around him shimmered in an unearthly beauty. He could practically feel the texture of wood and fabric of the furniture around him, just by looking at them. He could smell the lightbulb burning in the lamp on the night table. It smelled yellow. He wanted to see more, so he pushed himself off the bed and tottered to the door.

  Only Lenny and Murry were in the living room when Denton entered. He considered the red and blue lump in the chair for a second, but the jungle of herbs Bran kept in and around the windows demanded his attention. It bathed in a bright aura of green and bird songs, and the plants cheerfully waved their leaves at him. Denton waved back. "Hi guys. Looking good there."

  He thought he'd give them a closer inspection and proceeded in their direction, giving Lenny a wide berth. Something in his head told him not to disturb the circle. He almost made it but in the last minute he got distracted by the couch—he had to touch it. Under his fingers the leather felt sensuously soft. Denton flopped face-forward onto the cushions and rubbed his whole body against the leather. He stretched out and hummed his pleasure.

  "Damn it," Denton heard Bran groan across the room. Denton sat up and directed his wobbly gaze in the direction. He saw his lover standing by the bookshelves. Love, lover, what lovely words, Denton's thoughts wandered as he pushed himself up. He had a strong feeling Bran would be even nicer to the touch than the couch. Unsteadily, he made his way through the snarl of furniture standing between them.

  Murry sat on the backrest of an armchair and stared at Denton with huge, neon-sign-eyes. Black sparkles danced in his luscious black fur. Denton wanted to dig his fingers into their soft depths.

  "Ooh, kitty," he said, stretching his hand out, but Murry hissed, leapt from the chair, and darted out of the room. "Bad kitty," said Denton without reproach and moved to follow but a succulent mass of a man now standing between him and the cat short-circuited his attention. He reached out to touch but Bran grabbed his wrists and held them firm.

  Firm like his voice. "This is really not a good time. Could you please cool it in the other room till I'm done here?"

  Denton didn't think he could. Not while he and Bran occupied the same apartment. Or even the same zip code. A brilliant idea sprouted in his mind. Or maybe the herbs whispered it to him. Didn't matter. "I can help," he de
clared with a happy smile.

  "No, I don't think—"

  "Shh. Enticement is my specialty. Just stand over there." He waved toward the bookshelves.

  Reluctantly Bran stepped back but didn't go far.

  Denton unbuckled his kaftan and let it drop onto the floor. He knelt right outside of the circle, snatched a cookie from the plate, and bit into it. As he chewed flavors of sweet and nutty exploded on his tongue. He hardly had to amplify his reaction. "Mmm… This is sooo good…mmm…" He munched loudly, with his mouth open. As he ate, he lifted his free hand to his chest and raked his fingers across his own skin. It felt divine. The only thing better he could imagine was Bran touching him. The thought made him whimper with desire. He dropped his hand to his crotch and rubbed his cock, through the fabric.

  A gurgling sound came from the direction of Lenny, and Denton took it as a sign of his ploy working. He licked his lips. "Here spirit, spirit, come to papa," he cooed.

  The thing emerging through Lenny's open mouth was…different. Denton wouldn't have called the creature either solid or transparent. It sort of was there and but not really. Denton found this absolutely amazing. "Oh, you clever thing," he said.

  With its tubular and plated body and thin, hard legs, Edmond reminded Denton of a crustacean, or an alien. Or alien crustacean. He tried to count the legs but kept messing it up. There were at least a dozen.

  As the thing crawled over the plate, the food on them didn't visibly change, yet to Denton the cookies ceased to be appetizing. Additionally their delicious smell vanished from the air as if an invisible vacuum had sucked it up. The spirit made no sound at all, but as its legs touched the porcelain, click-clacks echoed deep inside Denton's skull.

  Denton tried to pet the spirit, but as he reached out something akin to static electricity zinged his fingers. "You probably shouldn't," he heard Bran say, and pulled his hand back.

  Finally, the spirit-crustacean moved toward Denton, several pairs of appendages raised, inquisitively testing the air. They waved around, and Denton got an impression the spirit was trying to communicate with him, but sadly he didn't speak Demonic sign language.