Thoroughly Kissed (12 page)

“‘Stoop to glue'?”

“Yes, stoop. Glue is something mortals use because they lack the talent to bind things themselves. It's primitive, pernicious, and slightly gross, actually.”

Michael shook his head. He couldn't believe this conversation. “I'm going to get myself a beer. You want one?”

“I can't drink on the job, and you shouldn't either,” Casper said.

“I'm not working.” Michael started for the kitchen, but as he stepped forward, the bedroom door slammed shut.

“Can't let you do that,” Casper said. “You might blame all of this on alcohol.”

“What am I supposed to blame it on, a bit of bad beef?”

“You know,” Casper said, “for a history professor, you know your literature.”

“It's kind of hard to miss considering some big-voiced, middle-aged actor has to play Scrooge in some TV movie every Christmas.”

“You have something against Scrooge?”

“No, but you'd think—”

“See? I knew you had a lot in common.”

Michael caught his breath. “I wasn't saying that.”

“You said you have nothing against Scrooge. Anyone sane has something against Scrooge.”

“I
meant
A
Christmas
Carol
. I have nothing against
A
Christmas
Carol
, but just once I'd like to see
Great
Expectations
revived every summer, or
Oliver
Twist
whenever there's a cold snap or how about a
Tale
of
Two
Cities
?”

“What, you couldn't find a weather connection for that one?” Casper asked.

Michael walked back to bed and sat down. Maybe if he put his head on the pillows and closed his eyes, this whole nightmare would go away.

“And you know,” the little man said, “they redid
Great
Expectations
a few years ago. Modernized it, with Anne Bancroft and Gwyneth Paltrow. Stunk. And I'm sure that the musical
Oliver!
is being revived somewhere as we speak—”

“All right!” Michael said. “If a man can drown in words, I'm going down fast. What is it that you want?”

“Actually,” the little man said, sitting down next to him, “I wanted to meet you.”

“Why?” Michael asked.

“Because you resisted Emma. You know, you're one of the few men on the planet who could. The other one's married, rather happily, and had always been slightly miscast as Prince Charming.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” Casper said.

“I thought you were going to show me the future.”

“Only a small portion of it.” Casper lay back on the bed and tucked his hands under his head. He kicked the bed frame with his sneakers. The rhythm was irregular, and even more irritating because of it. “The part you created when you said no to Emma today.”

“I said no to Emma today because I have a job, and besides, she's really not—”

“You said no to Emma because you're scared.” The little man propped himself up on one elbow.

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are. Beautiful women scare you. You wonder if you can even see their personalities or figure out if they have minds. That's why you've dated dogs all these years.”

“I haven't dated a single dog.”

“All right,” the little man said. “Mice.”

“They're not mousy. They were all brilliant, funny women—”

“Who never really interested you. Stimulated you, yes. You loved talking to them, but bedding them was a real chore, wasn't it?”

Michael pushed himself off the bed. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?”

“Well, you didn't like Casper and you didn't like the Ghost of Christmas Present, so how about I say that I'm your guardian angel.”

“You don't look like an angel.”

“I'm not, really. I'm more of a yenta.”

“You don't look like a yenta either.”

“I don't look like the Ghost of Christmas Present, I don't look like an angel, I don't look like a yenta.” The little man put his hands on his hips. “Who, then, do I look like?”

Michael swallowed. “Well,” he said, wishing he hadn't been asked this question, “you look a little like Grumpy.”

“Grumpy. Grumpy? Who's Grumpy?”

“Me, actually. I would like some sleep.”

“No, you compared me to someone named Grumpy…” The little man's voice trailed off. “You mean from the Disney cartoon. That awful
Snow
White
? ‘Whistle While You Work' and all that?”

“Yes,” Michael said.

“I don't look like Grumpy.”

“Well, you certainly don't look like Sneezy.”

“Thank heaven for small miracles,” the little man said.

“So, you better get on with this haunting before I say you look like Dopey.”

“You'd be lying.”

Michael shrugged. “If that's what it takes to get you out of my bedroom, yes, I'd be lying.”

Casper shot him a nasty glare, then clapped his hands together.

Suddenly the air got unbearably hot and dry. Michael felt sweat break out all over his body. Sunlight so brilliant that it hurt his eyes reflected off sand and desert plants that he couldn't identify. There were heat devils dancing off the pavement around him. Something wailed in the distance.

“What the—?”

Casper put a finger over Michael's mouth, silencing him. Then, with his other hand, Casper pointed.

Michael let his gaze follow the point. Down the road, he saw a silver BMW, its tires flat, its hood open. The windows were open as well, and a black cat leaned its head out of the driver's side. The cat was yowling at the top of its lungs, a mournful, horrible sound.

Michael took a step closer. The tires weren't flat. They had melted. Bits of rubber stuck to the pavement. Tires didn't melt—at least, not at regular temperatures, and as hot as this desert was, the temperature was regular for the desert. There was a faint acrid odor of burnt rubber.

Smoke wisped out of the open hood. The cat's yowls seemed to get louder. Casper put his hand on Michael's arm and pointed again.

Michael looked down. He saw feet sticking out into the middle of the road. Small feet wearing delicate female shoes. He held his breath and approached the car.

The cat saw him and began to scream at him in cat-language, as if he were somehow responsible. He'd never heard such fury from an animal before. As he passed in front of the creature, it actually hissed at him, and that made him think twice about rescuing it.

Then he forgot all about it as he reached the front of the car.

Emma lay on her back, her eyes closed, her skin so sunburned it looked as if she had been tossed in an oven and crisped. Her palms were facing skyward, her mouth open, her lips cracked.

He knelt beside her. “Emma?” he said, reaching for her.

Casper yanked him back. “Don't touch.”

“But she needs help.”

“She's beyond help.”

Michael looked up at the little man. “She's dead?”

“She will be soon,” he said.

“Then we should do something.”

“You forget,” the little man said. “This is your future. Her future.”

The cat yowled.

“And his future.”

“He'll die here, too.”

“Of course he will,” Casper said. “No one will come along for hours. By then it'll be too late. For both of them.”

Michael's hands hovered over her. “What happened?”

“Obviously, she worried about the heat. And that triggered the wrong kind of magic in her mind. It either made things even hotter, or melted her tires, or hurt her in some way. All that really matters is that there was no one else here to help her.”

The cat spit and growled.

“At least,” Casper said, “not in any meaningful way.”

The cat's growl got lower.

“If you can speak,” Casper said, pointed at the cat, “then you made a serious mistake.”

The cat disappeared into the car.

Casper shook his head. “She shouldn't have trusted a cat. Cats generally don't consider all the consequences before taking action. Or failing to take action, as the case may be.”

“It's not my fault,” said a small deep voice.

The hair rose on the back of Michael's neck. That wasn't the cat was it? “Come on,” he said to Casper. “You can help her. Wave your hands or something. Bring her back.”

“I am helping her, you idiot.” Casper shook his head. “Do I have to write it in smoke? If you'd been traveling with her like she asked, she'd be fine now.”

“So you travel with her.”

“I can't. No one magical can.”

“That's a stupid rule,” Michael said.

“Well, so are blue laws, but a number of your communities still have those.”

“So break the law,” Michael said. “Challenge it, just like we would do with a blue law.”

“You think that's so easy. Here you'd get fined or arrested. In my world, loss of magical powers, banishment, imprisonment for centuries. Doing stupid little tasks for other people so that you can learn a lesson. It's not worth the hassle, believe me.”

“Even at the cost of Emma's life?”

The little man's face was getting red. Sweat dripped down one cheek. “I'm not costing Emma's life. I'm trying to save it.”

“You want me to travel with her?”

“The light dawns,” Casper said sarcastically.

“Why can't one of her other friends?”

“They have jobs,” Casper said.

“That's not any different from my excuse.”

“Excuse?” Casper asked.

Michael grimaced. He was feeling hot too. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don't,” Casper said. “She came to you, and you turned her down.”

“It sounds like a lot of other people did too.”

“But you weren't supposed to!”

Michael froze. “Says who?”

Casper hit his forehead with the heel of one hand. “Forget I mentioned it.”

“No,” Michael said. “Who says I wasn't supposed to say no?”

“The prophecies,” Casper muttered.

“Prophecies?”

“That's all you're getting out of me,” Casper said.

“What prophecies?”

“We all have prophecies,” Casper said. “At least us magical beings.”

“I see. And what are they about?”

“You know,” Casper said. “The important stuff.”

“Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness?”

“Not really.”

“Then what?”

The little man looked at Michael as if he were crazy. “If I have to tell you, you're even denser than I thought.”

“Consider me dense.”

“Love, you mortal moron.” He yanked Michael upwards. “Now come on, we have to get out of here before I ruin this T-shirt.”

“What about me?” a small voice asked. The cat peeked his head out of the car. “Take me with you?”

“Sorry, Darnell. Against the rules.”

“I'll die,” he said plaintively.

“Should have thought of that when you decided not to say the reverse spell.”

“How was I supposed to know how bad it would get?”

“How indeed,” Casper said.

“How about a little common sense,” Michael said.

The cat glared at him. “You I don't need, pal.”

“I don't think you're in a position to be choosy,” Michael said.

“I coulda said the reverse spell,” the cat said. “In fact, I did say the reverse spell. It didn't work.”

“You have to say it within the first five minutes,” Casper said.

The cat raised its chin. “I was testing to see if that was correct.”

“Well, now you know,” Casper said.

“What good is knowledge if there's no tuna, no milk, no way out of this place?”

“Your only way out,” Casper said, “is to be nice to this man.”

“Him?” the cat said. “He's too interested in my Emma.”

“I think the problem is that he's not interested at all.”

The cat's golden eyes narrowed. “Then you don't see real well, do you, old friend.”

“We were never friends, Darnell.”

“Still.”

Casper tugged Michael away from the car. “Let's go before I kill that cat myself,” he said in a loud whisper.

“I heard that!” the cat said.

Casper raised his arms.

“Hey!” the cat said. “You can't leave me here!”

“You're not really here,” Casper said. “At least, not yet.”

Then he brought his arms down, and Michael found himself back in his bedroom, Casper beside him. The room smelled of candle wax, and was infinitely cooler than that desert had been. The candlelight looked dark in comparison to the bright desert sunlight.

Michael sank onto his bed. “Now I'm really confused.”

“No, you're not.” Then Casper peered into Michael's face. “Oh, don't tell me. You are confused.”

“That's what I said.” Michael pulled off the nightcap. It was made of flannel. No wonder he had gotten hot. Who ever heard of wearing a nightcap in a desert? Whoever heard of wearing a nightcap, period?

“How can you be confused? You said you watch
A
Christmas
Carol
every year.”

“Yeah.”

“So you think Scrooge died broken and alone on the same night as he saw the spirits? I mean, really. The man was redeemed.”

Michael's head was starting to ache. “I'm getting that beer.”

“I told you,” Casper said. “No beer. You gotta trust this.”

“I haven't had a beer, and I still don't trust it,” Michael said. “Maybe we should try it my way.”