The End of the World As I Know It (The Ghosts & Demons Series Book 2) (13 page)

“How long will I be gone?” I asked.

At the door, Victor turned. “That will depend on a number of factors. One more thing: I’ll send Chumele with you.”

I hadn’t spent much time with the Magicals and didn’t relish having a grandma around for a mission if it was dangerous. “I thought Chumele preferred to stay below ground.”

“I’d prefer to be on a beach in Spain sipping wine each night in a restaurant with a magnificent view of Madrid,” Victor said. “We all must make sacrifices. Take her with you, Iowa.”

“Yes, sir. But you haven’t told me exactly what you want me to do.”

“Mr. Chang knows what to do when the time comes. He’ll conduct this mission.”

“Oh. Yes, sir. I won’t let you down, sir.”

When Victor was gone, I sagged in my chair. I’d thought I was going to be in charge. Medicament was my home town. However, Kevin Chang, my hapkido instructor, was a founding member of the Choir Invisible. When he wasn’t training singers in the art of combat in a secret fortress in Brooklyn, my little town was his home, too.

Lesson 129: No underling is as important or indispensable as they think they are, especially to the boss. I had yet to learn that, as a friend, I wasn’t as essential as I thought, either.

“Dr. Moosejaw?”

“Yes?”

“Do you regret ever your choice of name?”

He chuckled. “Nope. When I was born, I chose my parents and my place of birth very carefully.”

I should have done that.

Chapter 23

I’d never flown in a helicopter and my stomach seemed to stay on the ground as we lifted off abruptly.

Trick sat by my side but the rotors were so loud we could hardly carry on much of a conversation. That was for the best, anyway. Mr. Chang sat across from me. He’d known my first boyfriend so I felt self-conscious. Under my hapkido master’s silent scrutiny, I put on my warrior-ready-for-battle face.

Wilmington wasn’t fooled. She grinned at me, her eyes shifting back and forth from me to Trick.

I glared at Wil and she smiled wider.

“Are you all ready for battle?” Mr. Chang asked through our headsets.

We all gave him the warrior’s sign: an open palm covering a closed fist (though Trick did it backwards.)

I was worried about flying high above New York in an aircraft without wings. If a plane’s engine fails, at least gliding to a safe landing is a possibility.

I wasn’t worried about being ready for battle. Our seers predicted that D-Day would come to the Keep first. They had been wrong about a few things, though. Victor had expected to die when the demons came to the Keep. Others were taken in his stead.

Despite the heat of Trick’s knee against mine in the cramped helo’s cabin, I pretended to focus my attention on Chumele. I almost had to yell into the microphone on my headset. “Chumele! How accurate would you say your seers’ predictions are?”

“Seers are never wrong,” the old woman said.

“I know that’s not true.”

“Not true
here
,” she yelled back. “True on some other timeline in some other dimension. It’s more complicated than you imagine.”

That’s Magical logic for you: a prediction might be true somewhere, somewhen. Therefore, they’re never wrong but seldom useful and never dependable.

Fortunately, the helo ride didn’t last long. We set down next to a private jet at the Newark Airport. As the rotor wash pushed and pulled at us, I was glad we’d dressed for an Iowa winter. The temperature had dropped and we all wore armor beneath bulky parkas.

The best part of working for a paramilitary organization under the direction of a secret defense contractor was the ease of air travel. We didn’t have to deal with the TSA. In fact, I saw no one on the tarmac besides one misty wistful who had been burned horribly.

I try not to stare at misty wistfuls so they won’t follow me around. However, it was difficult not to look. I decided the ghost might have been a woman once. She stood in the middle of a runway, staring at the sky.

Mr. Chang stepped beside me. “She watches the planes. She is always looking up.”

“That’s a phrase that would otherwise sound cheery.”

“I suspect she’s from the crash of a Dash-8 in 2009. I noticed her after that plane crashed, not far from here.”

“How long have you been running back and forth from New York and Medicament?” I asked.

“Frequently,” Mr. Chang said. “I had to run a business, train you and keep watch over you.”

“If I didn’t know you,” I said, “that would be creepy.”

“You never really knew me, so it
is
creepy,” he said. “Your father left you and your mother to try to keep you out of the war. The seers saw your destiny.”

“That sounds kind of
Lord of the Rings
.”

Mr. Chang smiled. “I read the books.”

“I saw the movies,” I said.

“Any good?”

“Too long and the last one of the trilogy had like, five endings. All those years of training me, why didn’t you just tell me what the deal was?”

“You wouldn’t have believed me until you were ready.”

“Did you ever think I might take a left turn at Albuquerque and have a nice little life with my high school sweetheart? No demons, no war, no dead friends?”

Mr. Chang shook his head. “Brad was a nice boy. His loss was tragic. However, because of who your father was, you would see ghosts eventually. After that, it was all inevitable.”

“I thought nothing was inevitable. That’s why we fight when reason and the odds say don’t bother.”

Mr. Chang sighed. “In my experience, people who deny their destiny always hold the pain and shame of the gap between what they are and what they were meant to be. You are who you are, Iowa.”

“I’ll put that in the next training manual,” I said.

So, Lesson 130: people who deny their destiny always hold the pain and shame of the gap between what they are and what they were meant to be.

Ticked that one off the to-do list. I wish every lesson came that easily instead of having to do things and go through pain.

We transferred our gear to the plane. We each carried a backpack and a cane sword. Mr. Chang wheeled what appeared to be a golf bag full of golf clubs. It was a ruse, of course. Each protective sock looked like it covered the head of a golf club but five katanas were in there.

We also hauled a heavy steamer trunk I assumed was filled with more gear we probably wouldn’t need. Despite my broken wing, I took up a trunk handle with my good arm and helped until we got to the plane.

“Good thing no one is around,” Trick said.

“Yeah, I hate going through airport security,” I said.

He smiled. “No, I mean we look ridiculous. None of us is limping and we’re all carrying canes. At least with that cast in a sling, you look the part. We’d be less conspicuous if we all walked around with canes and top hats and tails.”

Trick wasn’t wrong. When Manhattan and Wil and I wandered the city, we at least carried our umbrella swords with us. Several times, New Yorkers gawked at us. Then they’d point to the clear blue sky. “Doesn’t look like rain, ladies.”

Manny was the one who looked like a runway model. We left it to her to slide her glasses to the tip of her nose and say in an arch British accent, “My dear, don’t be a peasant. The decorative brolly is
all
the rage in Milan!”

When Manny broke out the British accent, Wilmington would giggle uncontrollably.

It was always left to me to apologize to the peasant in question. “I’m sorry, ma’am. My friend is insane and we’re just humoring her until we can find her a good Jungian analyst.”

When Wil asked me what a Jungian analyst did, I shrugged and told her it was something I had picked up during my stay at an insane asylum.

“I think they call them mental hospitals now,” Wilmington said.

“The one I was in had an O.G. insane asylum vibe.”

Once we took our seats on the jet, Mr. Chang addressed us. “As far as the world knows, we’re just visiting Medicament. We may be blending in for some time. I heard what you said about the canes, Mr. Aonghus. We shall not congregate in a group unless I call you to do so. Stick with sword umbrellas or other concealed weapons unless I order otherwise.”

Chang paused and I caught his glance at the cast on my arm. “Iowa, you may keep your sword cane. If you forget to limp, tell anyone who asks that you only limp when you are tired. On second thought, find a small rock and put it in one shoe.”

I nodded. I knew better than to roll my eyes in Mr. Chang’s presence, but I wanted to. “Shall I tell the Normies my arm was broken in a life and death struggle with an antlered demon from another dimension bred to kill the human race?”

Mr. Chang didn’t smile. “I’d keep that low key. Say you fell down a flight of stairs. Any other questions?”

Wilmington raised her hand. “For this mission, call me Willow instead of Wilmington.”

“Is that your real name?” Trick asked. “It’s lovely.”

“No,” she said. “I’m a
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
fan. Without that TV show, I wouldn’t be here, living it in real life.”

“Call me Tam.” I looked at Trick. “That’s my real name and how everyone in Medicament knows me.”

“Keep calling me Trick,” he said.

“Trick,” I said.

He looked at me with eyes so blue I thought of Siberian huskies. “I like how you say it, Tam.”

Ooh. Shivers.

“I had another name once,” Chumele said. “Back in the Philippines, when I was little, they called me Bing.”

“That’s cute,” I said.

“Bing means
fat
!” Chumele said. “Don’t call me Bing.”

We laughed until Trick asked Mr. Chang how we should address him.
 

“You may call me, ‘sir.’”

“Like in the movie?
To Sir, With Love
?”

“Like in The Choir, Mr. Aonghus. We might not have much to do at first, but this is not a pleasure trip. In your free time, I expect you all to train and to improve yourselves.” He fixed me with an icy glare. “And
heal
, Iowa. We’re going to need you.”

Chumele put her hands to her forehead and gave a little squeal. Her body shook.

“What’s wrong, Chumele?” I asked.

“We don’t have much time. They’re coming.”

“D-Day?” Mr. Chang asked. “Now?”

“Not quite…
sure
. Yes and no. Not now. Not this now.
A
now, but not
this
now. Not quite yet. It’s already happened on another plane.”

Lesson 131: There will be times when a Magical will make you want to strangle them. That’s their way and they rarely seem to be capable of doing better. However, don’t strangle a Magical. They’re annoying, but they might save your life, too.

Chapter 24

Half an hour into the flight, Trick dropped into the seat next to me. “Medicament sounds like predicament.”

“I wouldn’t worry. We’ll be fine. Mr. Chang takes everything seriously. I saw him make an eleven-year-old do a hundred pushups because he swore.”

“Harsh.”

“Well, he was swearing at Mr. Chang at the time. The kid wasn’t that smart and he wasn’t that strong. It took him a good part of the evening to knock out that hundred.”

“Did the kid come back?”

“Yeah, but it was because his parents made him. The kids who were made to come never stay on for very long, no matter how strict their parents are. He stayed long enough that he could do his hundred pushup punishment within a few minutes, though.”

“Did you have to do any punishment pushups?”

“A few times, but Mr. Chang’s training is hard enough, it’s hard to tell what’s punishment and what’s a normal weeknight.”

Trick put his head back and closed his eyes. I missed looking into the clear blue, but with his eyes closed I felt less self-conscious. I could stare, memorizing the lines of his cheekbones and jaw.

“I picture his martial arts school with a big sign out front that reads: Chang’s Change Academy,” Trick said. “Come to me when you’re ready for a Chang Change.”

I giggled — realized I was giggling too hard and stopped. “Dude! You sound like a guy trolling for a round of life-changing pushups at 30,000 feet.”

“Pushups? I can handle those. It’s the sword I appear to have a hard time mastering.”

“Mastery is a high bar. That takes years. But you can get better.”

“Good enough not to be killed by the first swordsman who comes along?”

“Probably not.”

“Great. Maybe I should spend more time on the gun range.”

“Maybe. Mama says the mistake a lot of people make is majoring in their minor. We insist that all kids be decent at math, for instance. However, that doesn’t make sense. The kid who is lousy at math can never be a theoretical physicist, but so what? If he’s lousy at math, the last thing in the world that kid
wants
to be is a theoretical physicist.”

Trick opened his eyes and stared at me. “I like that. I’ve been feeling pretty bad about being bad at swordplay. I’ve been especially embarrassed since you’re so good at it.”

“I do okay.”

“You’re a legend.”

“Not so much.”

“False modesty is a lie,” Trick said. “You are Iowa, Castrator of Demons. Manhattan says you did the deed before you were really a member of the Choir. Then everybody saw how you handled them on the day of the incursion.”

I looked away. “A lot of people died that day. If you heard that from singers who were there, I think what you’re hearing is people who are trying to make something good out of something terrible. I’m the lipstick on the pig.”

Trick laughed. It was a nice sound and I wanted to hear a little more of that.

“I like your lipstick.”

“I don’t — oh,” I said eloquently.

He smiled. “Tell me about Medicament.’

“Small town just like any other. No Starbucks. They say we’ll get a McDonald’s soon, but they’ve been saying that for years. It was my whole world until I came to New York.”

“Big change. Did you have culture shock, small town hick in the big city?”

“I was never a hick.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t say okay like you don’t believe me.”

“Okay.”

“You still haven’t got that right.”

“Okay.”