“This is no good,” she mumbled, swallowing bitter-tasting fear. “Next thing you know, Nosferatu will be knocking on my door at one in the afternoon.”
3
Rono/That Which Bites
The silent film had pounded serious fear into her spine a few years back. Just the memory of the strange demonic face of Max Schreck made her nose and upper lip bead with sweat.
Back in the bunker, Julia shoved a seven-inch stake in her coat pocket along with small glass vials and an empty plastic gallon. She took along for safety measures a sharp kitchen knife endorsed by Iron Chef Morimoto himself. It was a mean nine inches in length.
“The mummy can’t hit what the mummy can’t see,” she recited, quoting Muhammad Ali, one of the three people she’d have liked as bunker mates, with Bruce Lee and Gandhi rounding off the list.
After double-knotting her shoelaces, she headed down to St. Vibiana’s, the old cathedral that was replaced by a gargantuan edifice on Temple and Hill.
Built in 1880, the original church was two blocks away. It had been gutted and turned into an art center and loft housing for the hip and moneyed. The bug-eyed statues, grotto, and fountain were kept intact for more exotic appeal. The courtyard fountain spouted water considered holy. At least that was what she was told as a child.
“Get outta my way, dogs!” she hissed. Haggard dogs gave her wide berth as she brandished a daunting walking stick taller than herself. With nervous eyes and shaking hands, she walked briskly to the former church. She normally only slinked out like a coward for food. This was her first attempt at vigilantism.
For strength and luck she wore her matching long johns, Adidas shoes, and beanie – all black – that coordinated with her dark hair and eyes. She figured there was no harm in looking like Bruce Lee in Enter the Dragon when he stealthily infiltrated Han’s opium lab.
4
Rono/That Which Bites
“Please no halfdeads or regular vampires until I get some holy water,” she said under her breath and looked at her watch. She still had a couple of hours until sunset. “Mom, I hope you’re watching over me right now, ’cause I don’t feel so good. I plan on killing vampires with holy water. If I don’t, might as well give up and join you. It’s no fun being alone.”
The church spire loomed ahead with its moldy, antiquated bell. A compulsion to ring the bell to alert any remaining humans in the city took hold of her. “I won’t do it, Dad. I’m not that stupid.”
Human-size statues of the Virgin and St.
Bernadette welcomed her inside. Their painted eyes followed her every step. When Julia looked closely at their faces, she could see actual eyelashes fanning out of the plaster like fly legs. Creeped out wouldn’t have been accurate enough to describe the goosebumps that speckled her skin. Her teeth chattered noisily when cowardice begged her to go home.
It was dark inside the vestibule which she had to cross to get to the fountain in the back garden. Of course, she had forgotten to pack a flashlight. She didn’t waste time in the dark and ran to the garden in triple time.
“Eeesh!” came out of her mouth. “Goopy and green!”
The three-tiered fountain bubbled to life on occasion like the tar pits of La Brea, emitting raw gaseous smells. The water had the consistency of NyQuil, and baby aquatic mosquitoes swam around like royal sea monkeys.
There was nothing for it. Julia submerged her hands and began filling the small bottles and a dented gallon. Chipped stone angels fit for decaying cemeteries surrounded her. She focused her eyes on St.
Francis in a cassock followed by his animal entourage.
5
Rono/That Which Bites
She didn’t mind him at all. Without much notice a familiar voice in her head told her to buck up. It was then that she sensed them.
Eyes were boring down. She could feel them. The hairs darting straight up on the back of her neck proved it. Slowly she eased the plastic milk gallon from out of the water and waited. She remained still for what seemed like centuries. A small frog jumped from one lily pod to another, believing the still girl to be part of its world. Julia nearly screamed.
“Just a frog,” she said in a low voice instead.
“Nothing to worry about.”
Before she could draw another safe breath,
“Fudge!” escaped her lips. From behind her, a gigantic raven swooped down and captured the little frog in its