A New Suit

6

New Suit

    Conny knew exactly where he was the instant he opened his eyes. Well, not exactly. He had a general idea, a good hypothesis, a reasonable conjecture. He knew where he was within a 30 mile radius, probably. He didn’t know how he got there, and he couldn’t explain why it was just before midday, and obviously, no longer late April. He remembered Kiki seeking him out, agreeing to help, preparing to feast the spirits, Rian’s beautiful singing, the sudden gale, and the glass hip flask bottle of MacNaughton which whaled into his temple. The fact that some spirit had assaulted his temple was a trickster’s pun that was not lost on Conny. Even demons and devils were easier to deal with than a trickster. It didn’t matter if they were trying to help or hinder, tricksters always exacted so high a price that in the end, one never knew what outcome they had been aiming for.

    From where he sat, within a hollow in a giant red cedar he could see mighty Tahoma rising three miles high in the distance. The volcano was easily the most iconic sight of his youth, and its ice-covered peak was like a salve. It centered him, and calmed him, and set him in a proper mood to disentangle the remaining mysteries of his current circumstance.

    Conny could also see a thicket of wild blackberry. His seventh grade science teacher Sister Thorne had taught him the latin name was Rubus ursinus which meant “bear’s bush.” The berries were smaller, and more bitter than the invasive cousin which had taken over most of the state long before his childhood explorations. Even before the great paving of the suburbs locals never sought out wild blackberry. Even in those days they were largely left to the bears and the birds. This thicket before him seemed quite large and well established. The harmless little thorns of the wild blackberry canes looked almost comical compared to the vicious, unforgiving needles of the invasive Himalayan blackberry, which punished any fool brave enough to fight them. Like a sadistic phlebotomist, the sweeter blackberries exacted a high price for their treasures.

    He knew it must be late June or early July, a time of year that was called “Blackberry Moon” by the Puget Sound people. It was a time of berries, and of fat, heavy, adult king salmon that old timers still called the Summer Hogs. Still in  Conny's youth those river kings might tip the scales at 50 pounds or more. Conny was no fisherman. The long silences interrupted by furious action was not for him. He liked his long silences uninterrupted, and he felt the same way about his furious action. Pick one or the other. Conny had no time for indecisive levels of activity. But he did like to barter his own dollar store spirituality for a few filets of smoked Chinook.

    So, it was coming on noon, endwise of June, and he was close enough to home he could walk it if necessary. Like anyone who knew the mountains and the sound, he oriented by peak and shore. The face of Tahoma looming in the distance was definitely the northwest slope. It was a familiar sight that let him know he wasn’t too far south, or the dry side of the mountains, or, gods forbid, the wrong side of the Columbia. By all reckoning he was near Leschi, or Pritchard Island, those wealthy enclaves of the Lumber Barons and their heirs. Even so, he could see neither home nor highway.

    “The park,” he muttered to himself. “I must be in Seward park.” It seemed he was too high on a hill to be in that great old waterfront park, but it was large enough, and old enough that if you didn’t know you were in the city, well, you would never know you were in the city.

    He scrambled up, and thought with a bit of shame, “This might be the last time I can get up off the ground.” Conny wasn’t old, but he had not been young in more than a decade, and serving bahn mi to lost souls didn’t allow for a lot of aerobic exercise.

    As he started to head away from the old cedar, he turned and found Kiki weeping in a crumpled pile.

    “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out,” Conny reassured her.

    Kiki started. She looked up, and her eyes were all wild and white. The abject terror that registered across her face when she focused on Conny left him dumbstruck. Connacht Cavan Doon had never been a menacing figure. Even as an adolescent when the idea of being a tough guy was attractive, he had been more Pooh Bear than grizzly bear. He had been the kid who was exactly as menacing as a pug puppy. As threatening as a key lime pie, no one had ever looked at Conny in terror. It took the wind out of him, and his knees betrayed him. Conny dropped like a bag of flour.    

“STAY BACK!” Kiki screached. The pain in her voice cut Conny like a jagged, rusty rasp. “YOU CAN’T TAKE ME BACK. I’LL DIE BEFORE I GO WITH YOU!”

    What followed was a five minute long stream of the most inventive and hurtful cursing Conny had ever heard. Feel free to count out 335 heartbeats, and try to stuff in three unique swears, insults, jibes, and slurs per beat. Every one a work of venomous poetry.


❖    ❖    ❖


    Kiki’s experience had been quite different from Conny’s. She remembered every instant that he had forgotten, and from her perspective it had been a long, long time.

    The wind howled, Rian sang, Conny did whatever it was he was doing. From Kiki’s perspective, Conny had done little more than oversee Rian who seemed to be doing all the real work of a spiritual summoning. When things went haywire, Rian seemed to disappear in the maelstrom, but Conny remained. His eyes had turned from a coffee brown to an avaricious gold. Not only that, but his demeanor and his expression changed drastically.

    “Qiqi, it is so nice to see you again,” he said. The menace in his voice was palpable. His face curled into a sneer, and Kiki knew instantly who it was behind Conny’s eyes. It had been a grave mistake to involve the skid road sorcerer. Now it was too late to escape.

    "I’ve been looking for you for quite some time, Qiqi. You shouldn’t run away from your family like that.”

    “You’re not my family!” Kiki screeched. “You are nothing but a beast! You are a hateful beast who cares nothing at all about anything but your own hunger!”

    “That is no way to talk to your husband,” said Stiqayu. His hair seemed to rise like hackles which reinforced his menacing posture. “I have looked for you far and wide, and you have left me alone for so very long, but you promised yourself to me so long ago. Have I not done everything you have asked of me? And yet, you could not keep even the simple promise of becoming my wife and partner. You said you would join me hunting, and we would live together free from the judgment of weaker beings. Your place is by my side. Stop running like prey, and start stalking like a hunter.”

    The change in attitude was so complete that Kiki could no longer see Conny as he was when they had met. He had fully become Stiqayu in every way, excepting that he seemed to be wearing Conny’s body like a onesie. She recoiled at his words, but she also felt each word like a knife, piercing her heart with guilt and regret. Everything he said was true. She was young, and foolish and had made a deal with a creature beyond her understanding. In retrospect she had asked for far too little, and agreed far too easily. It put so many things into perspective for her. She came to understand exactly what regrets that others in her family had from the pacts they had made. She wondered how one family could have had so many curses for so many members.

    “Now that I have found you, I will not be letting you go again,” Stiqayu growled. “I’ll stay by your side until you honor your promise, or until we both die of old age.”