E.Godz

Chapter Ten

Always one to make sure his bridges were in good repair behind him, Dov made it a point to call Reverend Everything from a coffee shop in L.A. International Airport. It was a very cordial conversation. The Reverend was all kindness and understanding, and he quite agreed that it would be for the best if the two of them were to continue and conclude their business meeting another time, via teleconference. He assured Dov that he would have his entire congregation pray for Edwina's recovery or peaceful passing, depending on what the universe had in mind for her. This little chat left Dov with a warm and cozy feeling, although that might have had less to do with the Reverend Everything and more to do with the fact that he had accidentally slopped a little of his coffee down the front of his pants.

Dov was still blotting at his fly with a wad of paper napkins when Ammi set up a frightful row from inside his shirt.

"Now what?" Dov demanded after pulling the obstreperous trinket out into the light.

"Oh, nothing much," Ammi drawled. "I was just wondering how much of your mind you lost, running out on the Reverend Everything the way you just did. You think that guy didn't see right through you and your little 'Mercy me to gracious, I simply must run, I left the cat on the stove!' ploy? You think he's a man who enjoys being dumped just because you got all schoolmarmy and—dare I say it?—ethical all of a sudden?"

"Dumped? For pity's sake, Ammi, you're exaggerating. He and I are just business associates, not lovers! Do you have to describe it like I broke off our engagement?"

"You did leave him waiting at the altar," the little ornament replied. "Besides, this is L.A.: Business is love, and love is business, at least in the media industries. When you left right in the middle of the Reverend Everything's lifescore spectacular, it was a slap in the face. Worse, it was a kick to the ego. You know how any performer feels about audience members who walk out while they're on stage? You hurt his feelings, except he's too much of a pro to show it."

"Come on, he was perfectly okay with my leaving. I told him it was an emergency."

"Why didn't you just tell him you had to wash your hair, or that you hoped the two of you could still be friends? Oh! Did you tell him 'It's not you, it's me?' Very important to say that. It's not an official breakup otherwise." Ammi batted his lashless eyelids and, in a bad imitation of Dov's voice, added: "Darling, it's not fair to keep you tied down like this. I think we should both see other religions."

"Hey, I don't care what you have to say, I don't think I alienated him at all. And so what if I did? I don't even know if I want his support."

"You'll want it plenty once your sister grabs it out from under you," Ammi said sagely. "Pecunia non olet, baby: Money does not stink, and neither does power, no matter how they're generated. I'll bet Peez doesn't even hold her nose while she's signing the Reverend Everything onto her side. That's when you'll be sorry, but by then it'll be too late and too bad."

Dov snorted. "Peez? Please! Even if she were going to try grabbing the Reverend Everything for herself, which I doubt she'd have the chops to do, one look at his set-up and she'd run shrieking for the hills. She takes faith seriously, my sister does. Any trace of showmanship makes her break out in a case of acute disapproval. Once when we were kids Mom took us to a wedding in an Episcopal church and Peez couldn't stop complaining about how they were swinging the censers much too wildly, in a frivolous manner. If you think my ethics are holding me back, you ought to get a load of hers. The girl's still a virgin!"

"Not any more, she's not," said Ammi.

"Says you."

"No, says her."

"What?" Dov's logical mind insisted that the amulet had to be lying. Ammi was annoyed with him for having failed to bag the Reverend Everything and this was payback. It had to be ... didn't it? "When? To your face?"

Ammi smirked. "Where else? It's not like I've got a back for her to talk behind. Or a behind, for that matter."

"What I mean is, if it's true—and I don't believe that for an instant—then how did you find out?"

"Hey, who's the communications device here?" Ammi was enjoying this. "Information is my life."

"This is not the sort of thing that gets posted on the Internet. Wait. Let me rephrase that. This is not the sort of thing that my sister Peez would post on the Internet. Even if it were, you haven't had Internet access, or access to anything but my pocket lint, since we left Miami."

"And chest hair," Ammi prompted. "I've also had access to your chest hair, don't forget that. God knows, I never will."

"Will you leave my chest hair out of this and just answer the question?"

The amulet chuckled. "Elementary, my dear Dov. I was created to monitor communications. I sift hard information from idle chitchat, real news from spam. Do that long enough and it makes you sensitive to nuances, not just in information, but in people. No surprise: What are people besides information dumps with legs? Change is a nuance, and losing your virginity is one significant change. For a device of my sensitivity, your sister's altered sexual status came in loud and clear, like she'd walked up to you and hollered it in your ear."

"It must've been one hell of a first time if you could sense the change in her at this distance. She must be at least a couple of thousand miles away," Dov remarked.

"A couple of thousand miles? That's a laugh! Try feet, a couple of dozen at most." The amulet grinned. "Unless that isn't who I know it is. See there, over at that newsstand? Checking out the latest copy of Cosmopolitan?"

Dov whipped his head around to peer at the airport shop just across the way from the table where he'd been enjoying the unspilled portion of his cup of coffee. That is, he'd been enjoying it up until that very moment when he saw that Ammi was not joking: There was Peez, as big as life and twice as condescending.

She stood by one of the many magazine racks in the newsstand and was, as advertised, scanning an issue of Cosmopolitan. Dov realized that he'd caught a glimpse of her over there earlier, but that he had failed to recognize her at the time. There were a number of good reasons for this, the copy of Cosmo being number one. Five minutes ago, Dov would have bet his life that Peez would rather be caught in the middle of Fifth Avenue during New York City's Easter Parade, naked except for a pair of pink plush bunny ears, sooner than touch any magazine that tossed the word orgasm hither and yon like handfuls of confetti.

Another reason Dov had noted but not seen Peez was more basic: She'd changed her looks. Gone was the severe, serviceable hairstyle. Somewhere along the line she'd gotten a stylish cut and was wearing her hair loose, lightly curled and— Were those highlights?

"Son of a seamstress," he muttered. "She's actually got a figure!" It was true. The same impulse that had made Peez set her hair loose had also caused her to wear clothing that was shorter, tighter, and a lot more colorful. She didn't look like one of the Reverend Everything's Temple Maidens by any means, but her ample curves were more welcoming and less intimidating than those California-perfect bodies.

"Well? Aren't you going to go over there and say hi to your beloved sister?" Ammi teased.

"In a pig's eye," Dov said through tightly gritted teeth. "Damn it, she is here to bag the Reverend Everything. And looking like that, she just might do it!"

"Told you so, told you so," Ammi chanted in an obnoxious singsong. "Unless you're right—as if!—and she's still got too many scruples to deal with the First Church of Perpetual Gimmickry."

"You think there's a chance of that?" Dov sounded pathetic.

"How should I know? You're the one who thinks you can bank on your personal charms forever. The Reverend Everything's going to wait for you to call because you've got such a winning smile; is that how you see it? Ha! I'll bet you even have a whole wardrobe of smiles, one suitable for every occasion!"

Dov pressed his lips together and said nothing. Bad enough that Ammi was right; he didn't need to let the amulet know it had hit the mark.

Ammi didn't much care about scoring points off Dov. The little amulet would have made a very unsatisfactory member of the Reverend Everything's Serene Temple of Unfailing Lifescores. "You think you're the only one with charisma? All it means is a fancy Greek way of saying you believe in your own abilities. Show a little of that self- confidence to the world and before you know it, you've got a crowd clamoring for your company, hoping that if they stick close, some of that magic's going to rub off on them. The Reverend Everything knows all about charisma: He'd bottle it, if he could! Well, guess what? Now your sister's in on the secret, too."

"How? Just because she finally got la—?"

"No vulgarity, please." Ammi could sound like a Puritan when it suited. "The change in Peez's, ah, status, was only the catalyst. Deep down inside, she always knew she had what it took to get ahead in life. She just needed a little push."

"Now who's being vulgar?" Dov smirked.

"That would be you," the amulet replied. "Some people have the ability to think outside the box and out of the gutter. Obviously you are not one of those people. If I had shoulders, I'd shrug them, and if I had hands, I'd wash them of you. You're only being snide about Peez because now she's a real threat to you getting the company. You big baby. You brought this on yourself, you know."

"If I wanted a lecture, I'd go back to school," Dov growled. He dunked Ammi in his coffee cup for emphasis. A galaxy of tiny bubbles rose to the surface, bursting into sparkling pinpoints of magical power. The amulet couldn't drown, but it didn't care for being treated like a teabag. The bubbles were a warning to Dov: Get me out of here before I send up a freakin' flare of magic! Or do you want your sister to know you're here?

Dov did not want that at all. In fact, he was plotting on how best to use this unexpected, clandestine Peez-sighting to his advantage. Accordingly he jerked Ammi out of the coffee and dried the amulet off on a paper napkin. "Oops. My bad," he said, using a very disarming smile.

The amulet wasn't buying. "News flash, slick: Butter will not only melt in your mouth, it'll vaporize."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Now let's get out of here before she notices us."

"Hey, don't waste time selling me on an escape plan. You're the one with the legs."

As quietly and unobtrusively as possible, Dov tucked Ammi back inside his shirtfront, gathered up his carry-on bag, and headed for the gate area to catch his next flight. The untrained eye would have seen nothing odd or disquieting about a well- dressed single traveler walking nonchalantly through L.A. International Airport, but the eye trained in the detection of magic and all of its attendant effluvia would have noticed a pale, minty mist floating off Dov's shoulders and drifting away in his wake like a foggy cape.

It was a spell that caused the victim thereof to become a human magnet for every bore on the planet. Total strangers would glance at the spell's target and feel the irrational compulsion to unburden themselves of the full details of their gall bladder operation, or their four children's latest achievements, or the absolutely darling trick that their cat Fluffy always did when he wanted to be fed. The spell's power to attract tedious, rambling, unstoppable chitchat was quadrupled when it detected that its victim was in an escape-proof situation, such as a moving vehicle of any kind. Silent but deadly, it wafted through the terminal corridor, blew into the newsstand, and settled itself lightly over Peez.

As for Peez ...

"Is he gone yet?" Without looking up from her copy of Cosmopolitan, Peez nudged her own carry-on bag gently with the tip of one shoe.

"Yeah, he's outa here." Teddy Tumtum stuck his muzzle out of the bag. The little bear was just as unaware of Dov's parting "gift" to his sister as she was. "Him and that dumb amulet of his. What kind of a person talks to a communications device?"

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that." Peez closed the magazine and took it over to the cashier. As she pocketed her change, she rubbed one of the quarters in a very particular way. It was one of those commemorative issue States quarters, specifically the Massachusetts coin. Its "heads" side still showed George Washington's profile, but "tails" was no longer the American eagle. Instead, in honor of one of that great state's most memorable historic events, it gleamed with a miniature representation of Paul Revere making his famous midnight ride.

Or so it did until Peez got her hands on it. Rubbing her thumb counterclockwise over the slightly raised design and muttering a few well-chosen words of power had the desired effect: A ghostly horse and rider rose up from the surface of the coin, leaving only smooth metal behind, and set off at a gallop after Dov. Peez chuckled.

"Just wait until they catch up to him, Teddy Tumtum," she said. "As soon as that horse rides right up his pants leg, he'll be hexed good and proper." She turned her back on the departing spell and headed for Baggage Claim.

"The Lost Luggage spell, I presume?" Teddy Tumtum sighed wearily as he swung along in her carryon. "That is so juvenile. So ineffective, too. Sure, he'll be annoyed the first time it happens, but he'll get over it. And by the second time, he'll catch on to the fact that someone jinxed him. Then he'll just invoke a counterspell. In the meanwhile, he's got credit cards and he's not afraid to use them. There's nothing in his check-in bag that can't be replaced by a quick shopping trip."

"A shopping trip that will steal precious time from his interviews with potential allies," Peez pointed out. She smiled.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Teddy Tumtum asked, looking suspicious. "I've never seen you smile that way. It's almost ... Machiavellian. You're up to something more than a simple Lost Luggage spell. What is it?"

"Oh, nothing much." Peez said airily. "Just a two-for-the-price-of-one deal for my darling baby brother. Not only will his check-in bag go wandering through the cosmos, but every time he comes up against any kind of security checkpoint in his travels, he's going to set it off like Krakatoa on a bad day."

"Why, you sly dog, you!" The bear was impressed. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"And he won't just set off mechanical screening devices," Peez went on, relishing Teddy Tumtum's admiration. "It works on humans, too. When he tells the person at the check-in counter that he packed his bags himself, they won't believe him. When he's asked to step out of the boarding line for a spot search of his carry-on bag, they'll examine it so closely they'll split the seams. Strip-search will become his middle name, and by the end of his trip he'll be announcing his engagement to a pair of latex gloves!" She cackled wildly.

"Oh, Peez." Teddy Tumtum sighed in bliss. "My little girl is growing up. You were never this ruthless when you were a virgin."

Peez blushed. "That has nothing to do with it," she said.

"Maybe yes, maybe no. Could be that you always had the capacity for sheer, cold- blooded skullduggery, but you've never really exploited your talent to the fullest until now." The bear wiped away a nonexistent tear. "I'm so very proud of you."

It was the strangest thing: While waiting for her suitcase to appear, Peez was accosted by a kindly little old man who decided that she looked just like his late sister, Beruria Jane, who had done missionary work in China and came back home to Ohio with the most fascinating collection of hand-carved ivory snuff bottles. There was one that looked like a dragon. Was she aware that the Chinese used an entirely different zodiac system than we did? They still had a dozen different signs, but instead of your fate depending on which month you were born, it all relied on a rotating twelve-year cycle. Each of the years was ruled by an animal, including the dragon, the horse, the ox, the rat, the monkey, the tiger, the snake, the dog, the rooster, the rabbit, the pig, and what was the twelfth one again?

She smiled and tried to be polite about it—he was such a dear, grandfatherly type— but he kept droning on and on and on about that elusive twelfth animal. Then he let her know that he had been born in the Year of the Rabbit, while Beruria Jane had been born in the Year of the Dragon. Naturally this led him to explain the characteristics of people born under those two signs, and which signs were compatible, and that his late wife had been born in the Year of the Horse. He had forgotten whether that made the two of them compatible or incompatible, but since she had been run over by a combine harvester on their fifth anniversary they really had not had much opportunity to discover whether or not they were compatible in the long run.

"And have you ever seen a combine harvester in action, my dear? Fascinating things, really. Even in spite of their tendency to run over a person's wife now and then, they are quite ingenious machines. It makes me proud to be an American, just thinking about them. Even if the Industrial Revolution didn't get started over here, we Yankees sure as shootin' knew how to make the most of it, I'll say. Although a body could come to believe that the Industrial Revolution has generated more problems than solutions, especially if you listen to the way Beruria Jane's boy, Kelvin, tells it. Not to speak ill of one's own nephew, but if that boy wasn't a born Bolshevik, then God didn't make little green apples, and I know for a fact that He did. Mighty tasty things, too, with enough sugar sprinkled on 'em. There's not enough sugar in this world to take away the taste of that Kelvin's sour attitude, though. Still, he's my dear, late sister Beruria Jane's only child, and children are a blessing. Too bad my darling Lucy Kathleen and I were never so blessed—did I tell you the peculiar way she died? It's not the sort of thing you hear tell of every day—but it was the Lord's will, and what's more—"

The man was still bemoaning the fact that he and his prematurely harvested wife had not had any children of their own—not even a Bolshevik to bless themselves with—when Peez croaked out a desperate, " 'Scuse me, please, but I really have to go to the bathroom right now," and fled for her life.

Alone in the stall, she leaned her throbbing head against the cool metal wall and mumbled, "What did I do to deserve that?"

Meanwhile, Dov had just been asked to step into a side room and disrobe. He heard the snap of a latex glove being donned and shuddered. What did I do to deserve this? he wondered.

He was not alone. The spells that the warring siblings had unleashed upon each other were fired off in haste, impulsively, and without filing an Environmental Impact Statement beforehand. Innocent bystanders and passers-by in the general vicinity when the spells were launched found themselves enduring weaker versions of the same ordeals assailing Dov and Peez. Never had so many suitcases taken off for parts unknown, never had so many bores and buttonholers decided that the total stranger who just happened to be seated next to them on the plane needed to know their life stories.

As for that part of Peez's spell causing security systems to go berserk, the less said, the better. Things were bad enough without vindictive magic mucking them up even further.

Fortunately for the continued smooth running of L.A. International, the fallout effect of the Godz siblings' spells had a very short half-life. Though the magic would continue to dog its original targets until they realized they'd been hexed and wiped it away with a counterspell, it did not continue to plague the truly innocent indefinitely. By the time Dov's Seattle-bound flight was airborne, most of it had dissipated, and by the time Peez arrived at the Serene Temple of Unfailing Lifescores, it had all vanished.