Heaven Scent — Part 3

The Devil’s Food Crate

Matt pulled his coat tight around himself as he stumbled through the snowstorm — Goddamn wechuge. He tried to ignore the scent that was so strong now — it burned into his skull, and he thought he could smell it on his clothes. He paused outside The Devil’s Food Crate to peer at the “specials” board in the window, wrinkling his nose at “Long Pig Stew,” just as Lykke growled his appreciation. A feeling of being watched had him turning to look over at the forest, his eyes sweeping the trees once more.

But he saw nothing, so he turned, pushed open the door, and stepped inside the bustling diner.

***

Rose waited in the trees, watching the lawyer make his way from his office to the lunch venue. She saw him hesitate at the door and then turn towards her. How is it possible he senses me? she thought as she ducked back into the foliage. But it had piqued her interest in the part-vampire, part-werewolf human.

***

Matt strode over to the bar and slid into an empty barstool at the counter next to an inebriated wizard who looked like he’d been taking advantage of the alcoholic beverages for some hours. “Afternoon, Johnny. How’re you doing?”

“Matt!” Johnny P Midnight exclaimed with exuberant excitement. “How’s it going? Let me get you a drink, buddy!”

“Thanks, JP, but I’m here to meet someone.”

Johnny wiggled his eyebrows. Or would have if they’d been working, the “wiggle” message not quite getting from brain to brow — surprising given their close proximity to each other — unsurprising given how much whiskey he’d consumed. “Someone?” he slurred salaciously.

Ignoring him, Matt looked around for Bub, the diner owner, who was nowhere in sight. “Do you know where Beelzebub is?” Johnny shook his head with a grunt and so Matt leaned against the bar, his elbows on the counter, hands clasped together. “How’s business, JP?” Matt asked.

Johnny earned a living bringing people back from the dead. Just for a few hours — but the othersiders liked that sort of thing. They’d pay a premium for those last few hours with a loved one. “Best year yet,” Johnny said. “But the commute is a pain.” He laughed.

But there’s a sadness to Johnny, and Matt knows the truth of it. “And how’s Marybeth?” he asked softly, and Johnny’s smile faded.

He drained the last of his scotch before answering. “I can’t fix her, Matt,” he breathed with a quivering lip.

Bub, the Devil owner — skin scorched red from the fires of Hell…(ahem)…the stove, wearing a fetching emerald ballgown under a crisp, white maid’s apron — appeared at that moment, drying his hands on a cotton tea-towel, and saving Johnny from having to elaborate further (and Matt from having to listen to the same story for the hundredth time). “Hello, Mr. Sanguine. Your guest” — he drew out the word, like the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland, and raised one eyebrow making Matt cringe at his nosiness — “is already seated.” He motioned towards a pretty lady with stunning white hair who was sat at one of the tables laid for two, and Matt made his way over.

“Good afternoon, Mizz…Kitsune?” he said, holding out a hand which Button stood to shake.

Earlier, Button had glanced up from her glass of wine, and noticed the lawyer looking in the window. He’s here, the Inari had whispered in her head, Rose’s voice a soft tickle in her brain. He’s handsome, Button had thought before she could stop herself, and hoped the Inari hadn’t heard. But it seemed Rose hadn’t got the message back because she didn’t respond, and Button relaxed.

Her eyes had followed the lawyer as he’d walked across the diner and took in the brief exchange with the drunken man at the bar. They seemed to be acquainted, and when the waiter returned, they’d all look round at her, making her feel so uncomfortable, she’d lowered her eyes back to her drink.

When she stood to take the offered hand, she noticed how strong his grip was. “Mr. Sanguine,” she’d said with a curt nod before sitting again.

“Can I get you a refill?” Matt asked, picking up the drinks menu and peering at it, even though he was already aware of all the diner had to offer.

“No, thank you.” Button wanted to get straight down to business, she found his charming demeanour perturbing and off-putting.

“Something to eat, perhaps? I, for one, could inhale the whole menu!” Matt chuckled to himself.

“Just a chicken salad would be lovely.” Button smiled.

He turned back to the bar to summon Bub with a wave of his hand.

Bub sashayed over, tiara twinkling in the diner’s few lights, pulling his notepad and pen out of his apron pocket. “What can I get you, Matt?”

Long Pig Stew, whispered Lykke.

“Ms. Kitsune will have the chicken salad, and I’d like the steak dinner, please. And I’ll take a beer with that.”

“How would you like your steak cooked?”

Raw, pleaded Lykke. “Rare,” Matt confirmed.

“One chicken salad. One steak dinner, rare. One beer,” the Devil repeated. “Coming right up.”

“So, what can I do for you, Ms Kitsune?”

“Please call me Button, Mr Sanguine.”

“Button… What can I do for you?”

“It’s a delicate matter, I hope I can talk to you in confidence?”

“Of course. Anything discussed will remain between us, unless I need to bring someone else in. But I will, of course, discuss that with you beforehand.”

“Lestat Falls…is built on the land of my people…”

Matt raised an eyebrow sceptically. “Go on,” he encouraged.

“Our sacred burial ground, in fact.”

“But there was no one here when the land was purchased and built upon.”

“My people had to move up the mountain when the floods came. They never returned.”

“But that was hundreds of years ago.”

“Time doesn’t change the law, Mr Sanguine.”

“That’s not quite true, my dear. The law evolves, like all things. Statute is made by governments; it changes all the time. Common law is made by judges, perhaps that’s what you mean?”

Yes, whispered Rose. The law of the land.

“Yes, Mr Sanguine,” Button agreed.

“Matt. Please call me Matt…as it seems we’re on first-name terms now.”

Button nodded. “Yes, common law…Matt. The law that gave the land to our ancestors in the first place. We’re sitting on the final resting place of our people. Teachers…people of god…mothers, grandfathers…children. We’ve a right to celebrate their lives.”

Bub arrived at the table with a tray, interrupting them.

“Chicken salad for the lady.” He placed a plate in front of Button. “Steak and fries for you, sir.” He put down a glass and plate in front of Matt. “Bon appétit.” The Devil teetered hurriedly away again on perfectly-matched emerald stilettos to serve at another table.

“To celebrate their lives?”

“Yes, in the manner traditional to our people. We have a shrine out in the forest, a few miles from here. But the burial ground is where our gods get their powers. We need worshippers, frankly. What good is a god without worshipers? No good at all. Our gods will fade away.” Button shook her head earnestly.

Matt speared a piece of steak on his fork and waved it as he spoke. “I don’t understand where I come in,” he said, picking up his glass and taking a sip.

“We want you to get the land transferred to us.”

Matt spluttered, almost spitting his beer across the table. “You want me to what?”

“Negotiate and arrange for the land…our land…to transfer back to us. After all, we are the true owners…”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible!”

Why? Whispered Rose.

“Why?” Button asked.

“Because this town is home to hundreds of people. They purchased the land in good faith, built homes and businesses. Invested. And you want me to ask them all to leave? Because of a few dead people who died hundreds of years ago?”

“It’s not a matter of long-dead people, Mister Sanguine. I think you’re missing my point. This is our land. All the people who live here — who have businesses here — are trespassers! We have a right to use what’s ours as we see fit.”

Matt placed his knife and fork on his plate, next to his unfinished steak. “I’m sorry, Button, but I can’t help you. You see, I also have a home and business here. Where do you expect me to go? I don’t see what could possibly motivate me to do what you’re asking.”

“You’ll be well compensated.”

“For losing my home and business? I don’t think there’s enough money in the world for that. Look around you at the thriving community that’s been built here. No, I’m sorry, but we’re done here.” Matt stood, dropped his napkin on his plate, and called Beelzebub over again.

“Was everything OK with your meals?” the Devil asked worriedly, eyeing the still-full plates.

“Yes, thank you, but we’ve concluded our meeting. Can you please add this” — Matt waved at the table — “to my account?”

As Bub scuttled off, Matt turned back to Button. “You’ll do well to keep your plans to yourself, my dear. You won’t make any friends here with talk of evicting the townsfolk.” And with that, he left the diner.

What a pompous twit! whispered Rose.