Tears of Blood (21 page)
Authors: Simone Beaudelaire
By Edwin Stark
The
Karaoke Duo vs. the Karaoke Zombies
CHAPTER ONE: FERMATA GIRL
A single, brilliant beam of light
shattered the stillness of the night, and Sheila Freemont was abruptly awakened
by its reflection on her wall mirror, which cast a shard of its radiance
directly on her features. She tried to bury her face under a set of three goose
pillows, but to no avail; the beam still managed to find a way to play its
entire intensity all over her eyes. She sighed and tossed the pillows away.
"Okay, okay… I’m
awake… so skip it," she mumbled under her breath.
She slid from underneath her
crumpled bedspreads, jumping out of her warm bed. Cursing the cold mahogany
floor, she walked to the mirror, grabbed it with both hands and pivoted the
darned thing around so its reflective surface was facing the wall. In the
process, Sheila had twisted so badly the single wire from which the mirror
hung, that it had nearly snapped in half. Disgruntled, she noticed that the
mirror still shed some reflected light over her bed. Heavens, she had even
tried to bury the &%$@$!! object three feet under ground in her small
backyard garden, and it still managed to wake her up with the reflected light
of the Karaoke Duo signal, a harp snapped in half which looked as if it had
been drawn by a hedgehog on methadone.
She had a small guilt trip; here she
was grumbling about the Duo’s call sign, and it was only doing what it
was supposed to do: waking her up. For Sheila Freemont, a brilliant
twenty-something law student, was only the real-life-counterbalancing part of
her crime-fighting secret identity: she was Fermata Girl, the only female
member of the Karaoke Duo, the crime-fighting team that was now the rage all
over the small town of Nosfort, Massachusetts.
Which meant that her crime-fighting
partner was just a male, indeed, doh!
His name was Edward Strongbox, a
very creepy-looking dude of about forty-five she had met a few months ago at
the Cranberry Club on Main Street, during one of its Wednesday Special Karaoke
nights. He was a very odd guy, who was mildly successful writing pornographic
novels under the pen name of Miss Pinklesworth. Sheila never felt comfortable
around him; she had the distinct impression that he was writing a very spicy
novel behind her back, surely with her as the main naked character.
She walked toward her dresser and
opened the top drawer, revealing her crime-fighting costume, a Kevlar-lined
Spandex tight that left nothing to the imagination. She undressed, getting out
of her Ninja Gorilla nightgown, and donned her armored costume.
After a few months of deliberation
about the proper place to hide her outfit—after all, she was still living
in her parents’ house—she decided it was for the best to keep it in
plain view. Fermata Girl was becoming the very next hit for the coming
Halloween, selling like wildfire in the local Toys’R Here, so that became
a very good excuse when Sheila’s mom suddenly stumbled upon it while
cleaning her room.
"It’s my Halloween
disguise, Mom," Sheila managed to stutter, while her mom stared at her in
a very crass, wry way. Of course, it didn’t help much that the costume
was sitting next to a pack of prophylactics, which undoubtedly painted a very
damning picture—at least in Sheila’s mom’s mind—about
the manner in which Sheila expected to spend her next Halloween party.
There’s a downside to the ‘Be prepared’ motto, you know.
Finally dressed in her bulletproof
disguise and stiletto-heeled boots, Sheila tiptoed out of her parents’
house, hoping she wouldn’t wake them. However, she was dismayed to
discover her dad in the kitchen. She held her breath until she realized that he
was sleepwalking again, and he was only frying some pickled cucumbers in his
sleep. Sheila watched silently while her dad added some banana slices and mayo
to the fried pickles sandwich he was making. He switched everything off and
sleepwalked back to the main bedroom, mumbling something about greasing
something under his breath.
Sheila walked silently across the
living room, and was in for a very nasty surprise when she opened the front
door. It was late September, and the night air temperature outside was a strong
reminder that it definitely wasn’t the right season to fight evil only
dressed in a skimpy leotard, mask and boots.
She went outside, anyway, holding
the keys of her little Honda in the right hand, and walked in the direction of
the garage. It was only when she opened the automated door that she recalled
that her second-hand car was at the shop for repairs. Well, so much for the
idea of entering the vehicle and setting its calefaction to full blast so she
could warm to its heat.
Sheila was so busy rubbing herself
for warmth that she forgot all about slapping herself in the forehead. She was
only a law student, and she was constantly struggling to make do with her
monthly budget, so she didn’t own an alternate means of transportation.
She was having a hard time of it, having to supplement her income yelling
‘
Do you want some fries with that
?’ into the takeout mike of
the local
Pollo Pronto
, a fried chicken outlet located on Main and Elm.
And taking her parents’ car was out of the question; they’d raise
the roof in one heck of an altercation if they ever found out: her mom had tied
a thin nylon fishing line between the bumper of the family car and her right
big toe; any attempt to tamper and/or sever that tale-telling connection and
use the vehicle would be noticed immediately.
Now, Sheila’s recollection of
her side job at the
Pollo Pronto
gave her the glimpse of an idea. The
store manager, a graying fifty-year old man with a lecherous smile (well, it
was always a lecherous grin whenever he was addressing her in conversation),
had found out that her car was on the fritz, and had allowed her to take one of
the outlet’s delivery motorbikes, an aging Vespa painted in the
company’s official colors, a blindingly bright yellow with the words
‘
Pollo Pronto
’ etched on the side in some angry red
lettering.
Okay, so she may make it after all,
but the thought of traversing Nosfort’s freezing streets at one
o’clock in the morning only dressed in a flimsy—albeit
armored—leotard made her shiver a bit more.
She glanced up at the sky, looking
at the Karaoke Duo call signal, completely at a loss about what to do next.
Suddenly, she remembered that the delivery box of the Vespa bike contained one
of the
Pollo Pronto
uniforms. That may fix the cold issue a bit.
So, five minutes later Sheila Freemont, a.k.a. Fermata
Girl, was speeding along Nosfort’s cold and dark streets on a puttering
old motorcycle. She had overcome the more pressing issues at hand, but she was
greatly discomfited with the way these problems had been solved. Somehow, she
felt that going to fight crime on a rickety Vespa and dressed up in a giant,
feathery chicken costume was more than a bit undignified.
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Wendy didn't like her life, and she doesn't particularly like her after-life
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the aches and pains of her advancing years though, so perhaps it is time...
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For Elearah and her secret companion Pearl, time is
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By Lisa
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Hidden in clear sight are
creatures of myth and legend. Some are monsters but some walk the City
protecting those children that slip between the cracks.
Some call Zephyr an angel, but in reality she's a different creature
altogether. Though she's lost her wings, her people, and her dignity, she's
never lost her desire to help others. Her mission: to protect the little ones
of the city from dangers lurking in the dark. And she never thinks of herself.
Not until a sexy creature of the night offers her an evening of pleasure that
just might lead to her reclaiming all she thought she'd lost.