Some Enchanted Girlfriend by Donna Lamb 16. Reach Over The dessicated corpse-like thing on the bed nodded and turned stiffly to hand me the phone. It moved its mouth, too, making a noise like the wind rattling the top leaves of a palm tree. Now I know what the heebie jeebies sound like.

I took the phone and wiped it off carefully with my hand in case the creature had breathed on it or whatever mummies do when they stop breathing. Then I opened it and pushed the answer button.

About the time I raised it to my face, the condor-thing on the balcony outside hit the window again with a sonic-sounding boom that would have done the space shuttle proud. The curtains keeping me from seeing Rodan actually moved a little.

“Eep!” I said very clearly into the mouthpiece.

“Kate?” a liquidy voice asked. “I’m downstairs and your intercom still isn’t working. I need to be buzzed into the building?”

“I don’t know?” I said. “Uh, who is this?” The thing on the bed leaned toward me as if trying to hear. Naturally, I leaned away. Up close it smelled like deep-fried road kill. It even had a crispy, crackly coating that I realized might be the remains of clothes–or skin.

“Who’s this? Are you okay? Kate?”

I turned away from Mr. Styx to keep from blowing chunksout of what I’d eaten last week. I had to swallow hard several times before speaking.

“Well, I’m not actually okay. I’m afraid I’m not feeling like myself today. I mean...” I trailed off and covered the phone. Kate? She called me Kate? “I thought my name was Connie?” I said to the cat, feeling like a complete and utter fool.

I looked down avoiding even a glance at the apparition beside me. Muffins didn’t seem to be bothered by deep-fried, freeze-dried, warmed-over death at all. Maybe the animated corpse counted as a new statement in home decorating. “Is that Harlette?” the kitten asked, ignoring my question.

“Harlot?” I said.

“Harlette. She’s your acolyte.”

“My what?”

The phone made noises and I put it back to my ear. “Harlette?” I said.

“Yeah?” she answered. “Kate, if you buzz me in, I can come upstairs and give you a hand at whatever.” A note of tired and routine exasperation crept into her voice, not quite snarky.

The balcony monster made another booming attack on the window and I flinched. “Yeah, okay,” I said. I couldn’t imagine what another person, even an acolyte might be able to do but live human company would be nice.

Mr. Styx scooted closer to me on the bed, his head slowly twisting sideways as if it were about to topple off his skinny neck. He made that noise with his mouth again, creeping me out. He? I took another look. Jeez, yeah, he–with what looked like the stump of a broken twig in the groin area–why the fuck am I looking that close?

It suddenly occurred to me that I had a cellphone; I could be taking this call from anywhere. Like away from monsters. I’d been leaning against the bed to save my aching feet and calves but I quickly moved away, heading for the kitchen and the doorway to the outside hall. I thought I’d seen a plate with an intercom grill and some buttons on the wall next to the door.

“Did you buzz yet?” the voice on the phone asked. “It’s not opening. Oh, wait, someone is coming out, I can get in.”

“Sorry it took so long,” I said. “I’m a little tied up in something right now.”

Harlette, assuming that’s who it was, giggled into the phone. “Aren’t you always?” Noises like a heavy exterior door being opened and someone with a deep voice murmuring something. Harlette continued. “Oh, thank you. Wow, big guy, I mean, huge. Oh, I’ve got the truck if you want to take your little go-kart thingie to the shop today.”

Huge guy? Tim? Take the go-kart to the shop? It was broken? No, the intercom is broken. The window boomed. Mr. Styx said, “Gah?” a clear question that probably meant something like, “Where did the live one go?”

I forged ahead, toward the kitchen. Muffins followed me ahead of me. “The red button is the buzzer, the green is to talk but it’s broken,” she said.

“Aren’t cats colorblind?” I asked.

“I dunno,” said Harlette. “Ask Ogen.”

Ogen was Muffins real name, I remembered. Muffins didn’t bother to answer the question, what a change, she just rolled her baby blue eyes at me. If she weren’t so cute I’d have been tempted to punt her against the wall.

I found the intercom panel by the door and hit the buzzer button to release the lock downstairs.

“Oh, thanks,” said Harlette. “But I’m already in, waiting for the elevator.”

“Oh, oh, yeah? Um, the big guy, opened the door for you? He have black hair and magic muscles?” I blushed, I don’t know why.

She giggled. “Well, yes, on the black hair. I didn’t think to rell him for magic? But muscles out the yin-yang. You know the guy?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” I admitted, still blushing. Where was Tim going? Maybe I should send Harlette after him. I could use a super-villain if he was on my side, for sure.

Harlette giggled again. “I’m going to hang-up now, I’ll be up there in just a minute or two. You need help getting ready for work?”

“Okay?” I said and closed my phone when she closed hers. Work? On a Sunday? What kind of work? I looked down at the kitten. “She knows you? I mean, that you’re a magical cat that talks?”

“Hell’s Noisemakers! Yes, she knows me and I’m a bound spirit, not a magical talking cat!” Muffins looked most adorably cute when she was most annoyed by me. And most annoying.

“Yeah, well,” I said. I glanced up and saw the thing on the bed again. I sort of dodged without moving much, looking at it–him, Mr. Styx–was very hard on the nerves. He had lain down again, this time with his head near the edge of the bed, his lipless mouth open and the holes where his eyes should be–the fuck!–he did have eyes sunk in those awful holes in his face! He’s got no eyelids and he’s looking at me!

I turned my face to the wall and swallowed hard several times. “I’ve got a ton of questions,” I said. But right then, I had trouble thinking of what to ask first.

Muffins yawned and washed a foot.

The monster at the window gave a half-hearted attempt to break in again, like Vinnie Barbarino shrugging into his jacket before a threat–a matter of form, not substance. Mr. Styx made a soft noise that I realized might be what a mummy sounds like when it wants to get your attention. A sort of “Erf?”

I looked down at myself, except for the necklace I was still naked. It seemed almost normal by now. Well, except for the tits. Compared to everything else, even the girl-cow look counted as normal. “Should I get dressed?” I asked.

“It’ll be easier if Harlette helps,” said Muffins. “That’s what she usually comes over for.”

It is? She does? Every question answered caused another couple of questions that needed asking. The cumulative unreality of the morning approached the screaming and foaming at the mouth point but luckily I felt disconnected from everything. I didn’t need to make noise or bang my head on the wall. Maybe I’m going into shock, I thought. Oh, good, if I faint I won’t have to find out what happens next.

“I’ve got a ton of questions,” I said again. Mr. Styx made a new noise, a garbled mutter that sounded like a cactus trying to talk.

Outside, down the hall, I heard the elevator arrive. A pressure I hadn’t been aware of suddenly went away and I turned and stared at the curtained windows.

“Hell’s Charm School Debutante-style Wart Remover!” Muffin yelped. “The creature outside has relled Harlette! Open the door so she can get in before it finds her!”

I reached the door in one step and tried the knob. “It’s locked!” I squeaked. I struggled with the lever I had used for locking it without the key. It wouldn’t budge, I couldn’t move it at all.

Outside the door, somebody screamed. Harlette, my acolyte, whatever an acolyte was, the monster had her. I couldn’t move the lever to unlock the door and–I’m ashamed to say it occurred to me–maybe that was a good thing.

Harlette screamed again and this time I joined her.

I felt a dry breath on my shoulder. I started to turn around, not knowing what to expect. An apparition of stick-like bones and rope-like flesh loomed over me.

It’s a good thing I’m short. Mr. Styx had no trouble reaching over my shoulder to flick the lever and unlock the door. His fingers looked as if they would snap off but had a gnarly strength to them and he worked the lock with ease.

I fainted anyway. Someone caught me and I prefer to believe it was the kitten.