F³ The Fix

             After the ovation, Nikki and I bowed out to let the kids dance, though I noticed Cassie wasn’t one of them. I expected her to be canoodling in some corner, but instead she and Rick stood talking to a group of other students near the buffet table. Most of them did that thing where they had in-person conversations while simultaneously checking and writing things on their phones, a skill I could never master.

            “Something troubles you, Matthew?” Nikki asked. “You’ve got that crinkle around your eyes when you are engaged in a mystery.”

            “They didn’t sneak off,” I said, “which means it’s something else.”

            “Ah, yes, I’m sure it must be off-putting to you that your niece did not sneak away to enjoy in forbidden fleshly—”

            “Please don’t finish that sentence,” I broke in.

            “I thought you were comfortable with her exploring her sexuality, especially in a controlled, trusting way.”

            “Comfortable is not the word I’d really use, more like accept it as a necessity, kind of like my dating a vampire.”

            “Oh, and I never want you to feel comfortable, at least not in that way. It’s too much fun keeping you off-balance.”

            “Mm-hmm.”

            Cassie’s had trouble making friends since moving here, but she’s got a knot of people around her, now. Hmm.

            “Oh, Matthew, I will make you regret so tame a response. I—are you actually looking at your phone?”

            I was too focused on scrolling into the social media app to tell if her shock was genuine, and I knew I’d regret it later, but I had to make sense of this. And that’s when I saw the pics and videos on Cassie’s page. More than that were all the comments and praise to her for having such a cool uncle.

            I loved that, but I had a concern, too. “Is this going to cause problems for you?” I showed Nikki.

            As a vampire, photos and videos showed up blurry, usually a dead giveaway of her supernatural presence.

            She smiled at the media, scrolling through, then she bent close to my ear so others wouldn’t overhear. “Not at all. I’m very impressed by the technology, today, which makes corrections to the focus. Our fluid dance can explain any blur, especially as some of it has affected you. Do not worry. But you do seem to have solved the mystery.”

            “Yeah, my niece used us to elevate her social status. Clever.”

            “Do you plan to reprimand her?”

            “Nah. She might have to live with us showing up to all her dances from now on, though. I don’t think she thought that part through.”

            “Indeed, I look forward to more of these.”

F³ Fever

             Those dancing competition shows, the ones with the celebrities and their perfectly choreographed routines had nothing on me and Nikki. We’ve been dancing for years, so a routine didn’t matter. We didn’t need it. We created it on the dance floor. With a look or a touch, we indicated our next moves. Here a slide to the left, there a twirl. Spin out then back in, lean down as far as my back would let me—vampires have dense muscles and pack on the pounds! A dip, then spin her around behind me. She whirled me around, then we danced back, her hand pushing me, then a high kick and her ankle on my shoulder. My fingers got a trace of fishnet along her calf before her leg came back down and she’s pulling me forward by the tie before I pull her spinning into me again. Her arms went around my neck and her leg lid up my hip. My hand caressed and held her thigh as the song ends.

            And like that, awareness of the rest of the floor finally snaps home. The floor was empty, aside from us, a solid throng of people ringing all sides, and they’re all clapping and cheering, Cassie going at it the loudest.

            But I’m still wrapped up with Nikki, her breathing quick. Seeing as she didn’t need to breathe, that meant she was excited. I was, too, and sweating and panting with the effort.

            “Dress made of flames for a devil, but also for a burning fever. You in on this?”

            “Not this time, Matthew. I suspect we are both pawns in your niece’s scheme, though I am willing.”

F³ The Move

             “Boo,” Cassie hissed at me on the dance floor.

            Rick gave tiny shakes of his head with big eyes darting to Cassie. Clearly, this wasn’t his idea.

            “What?” I shrugged.

            “You two are better than this. Come on, enjoy yourselves.”

            “It’s your dance, not ours. Why don’t you work on cutting a rug?”

            “We’re trying, but we haven’t put in the time that you two have.”

            “Git gud, scrub.” Cassie had told me that often enough whenever we played games as she trounced me. It felt good to send it back to her.

            Her glare tried to fire a rocket at me. But then it turned into an evil smirk. “Fine.” Taking Rick by the hand, they marched off the floor.

            I shrugged as the song trailed off. I began walking Nikki back towards the punch bowl when the familiar strum of a bass began.

            “Clever girl,” Nikki said.

            “Too clever,” I answered, spying Cassie walking back from the DJ.

            I felt Nikki’s irresistible tug on my arm, pulling me back to the dance floor as “Fever” played.

            Nikki will never not dance to this, and I like it, too. Question is, how did Cassie find out?

F³ Devilishness

             Despite my initial hesitance over Nikki joining me in chaperone duty, it worked out really well. Instead of being a solo killjoy wandering around acting as the fun police, I got to do so with Nikki’s help. However, she wasn’t as interested in violations of school policy as much as the classlessness by which they went about it.

            “That will be enough of that,” she chastised a group of girls dressed as witches and vampires who tried to hike their skirts up past what the school allowed. “You will ruin the look of your dresses, and lower yourself to the level of a common trull. Show some sophistication, ladies. Sexuality is not about how much skin you show, but how your presence commands attention. You’re dressed the part, now act it. Take the boys to the dance floor and show them who you are.”

            She has a point, at least tonight.

            Nikki demonstrated by taking my arm and marching us back onto the dance floor. We kept it tame, not wanting to show up the students who seemed to only know how to sway back and forth to the music. Well, except for Cassie and Rick. They didn’t do any grand waltzes, but they at least stepped and showed off some other moves during the slow songs.

            Nikki wrinkled her nose and sniffed in my ear quite loudly.

            “That’s not my cologne,” I whispered. “I’m guessing it’s not the food, either. Let me guess, drugs or booze.”

            “Very astute, Matthew. The four boys in the corner I believe are hiding a bottle or a flask. A very low-quality whiskey, I believe.”

            We circled that way, and I left her to confront the guys in the corner. Of course, their lookout spotted me, and I couldn’t see which one of them pocketed the flask, and I wasn’t about to search them.

            “Gents, liquid courage is overrated, especially when you have gals waiting for you to come ask ‘em to the dance floor.”

            “We don’t have—” one dressed as Tony Stark said.

            “Shut up, man!” Hawkeye cut in.

            “We’re gonna get busted,” Spider-man said.

            “Relax, I’m not a teacher, and I’m not interested in busting you. I want to make sure everyone has fun, tonight. Now, everyone’s in costume, so you don’t have to worry so much. Let go, have fun, be the costume. If you pass your flask over, I’ll point out a group of gals just waiting for you to get them on the dance floor.”

            Surreptitiously, Hawkeye passed over the flask, which I pocketed. Then I pointed out the witches and vampires to them. “Tell them the Devil sent you their way.”

F³ Tradition Denied

             I did the Spock eyebrow and squinted at Cassie.

            “What?”

            “There’s definitely more to this. And you know I’ll figure it out.”

            “Of course,” she admitted, “but will you figure it out in time?”

            “Cassandra,” Nikki grinned, “you have already made my night. I shall delight at keeping your uncle deliciously off-balance so he doesn’t deduce your secret.”

            “Well played,” I said. “But I’m not licked yet.”

            “Emphasis on yet,” Nikki said.

            My head whipped towards her.

            “Distraction achieved,” Cassie said, triumphantly.

            Dang, need to work on that.

            “As much as I want to continue the distractions, I believe your date has arrived.” Nikki stepped to the side to show Rick Hale walking up the sidewalk.

He was dressed as a more generic buccaneer, while Cassie sported the captain’s tricorn hat. Rick’s mom waved from the car.

I gave a tentative wave back as Cassie brushed past me. She immediately got in close, putting their faces side-by-side as she took a selfie of the two of them.

“Rick,” Cassie began a rapid-fire delivery, “this is my uncle’s friend Nikki, and this is my Uncle Matt.”

Nikki inclined her head, politely.

I reached out a hand.

Before Rick could take my hand, Cassie continued. “Uncle Matt is a private investigator. He really wants to intimidate you by telling you, that he owns a gun and he can track you down, but that’s not necessary because I will keelhaul you myself. We’re all good, right?”

Rick and I shook, both of our hands kind of limp. Him no doubt because of the intimidation, mine because Cassie had stolen the winds from my sails.

“Okay, we’ll see you there!” She turned Rick around, took his arm, and walked out to Rick’s mom for their ride to the dance.

“Oh, Matthew, you look so deflated. You were truly looking forward to dragging out the intimidation of that young man, weren’t you?”

“No, not really. I mean, it’s a tradition, right? And how often do I get to intimidate someone?”

“Never, dumpling. You’re too adorable.”

F³ Dealing with Devils

             “Cassie, you almost ready? Your date’s going to be here any time,” I yelled down the hall.

            “Almost, Uncle Matt,” came her answering yell.

            I was about to retort when the doorbell rang.

            “He’s here! Come on, shake a leg. You don’t want to give me too much time to torment him, do y---” the word died on my lips as opened the door to see Nikki in a dress made of strips of cloth cut to look like individual flames. An appropriately infernal dress given the two horns on top of her head and the plastic pitchfork she wielded.

            “Tormenting is my job, Matthew.”

            “What are you doing here?”

            “It’s Halloween, Dumpling, where else would I be? We must go dancing.”

            “I can’t. I’m a chaperone for Cassie’s school dance.”

            “Oh, I know. I am your co-chaperone.”

            “Wait, what?”

            “I invited her, Uncle Matt,” Cassie said from behind me

            I turned to see her dressed as a pirate, a far more conservative version than what Nikki had worn a couple of years ago.

            “I didn’t want you to be bored talking to teachers and other parents,” Cassie smiled

            “Somehow I think it’s not that simple,” I rubbed my chin.

            “Deals with the devil seldom are,” Nikki grinned.

F³ Breaking and Entering

            I took measured steps towards the student dorm building at DeGradi University. I modified my pace to reach the building door at the same time one of the residents opened the door. I tried to look semi-officious with a short-sleeve button shirt and plain tie.

I also carried the most magical prop in all bureaucracy, a clipboard. I even slapped a DeGradi U sticker on the back to make it look more official. Better than that, the ID badge around my neck screamed official. It was really easy to pull images off the internet and photoshop them into something believable, and thanks to social media like Instagram, everyone posted pictures of everything. It just took some creative web searching and some time. Though the badge looked official, it wasn’t. It didn’t possess the NFC or RFID chips to get me in. Even if it did, have the chips, it had no encoding, and I didn’t have the expertise to do any of that stuff.

“Hold the door!” I shouted ahead, quickening my pace up the short steps.

The young man glanced back, then held out a hand to keep the door open as I approached.

“Thanks,” I smiled, stepping past the badge reader.

F³ After Effects

             Two hours later, we were all miserable. Not because of a hangover, but because the bartender had had enough of us and kicked us out, and our metabolisms had taken care of what buzz we had. Storm riders burned through calories like two year-olds burned through candy.

            And after all of that drinking, we still had nothing.

“Bored!” Jack said.

We were all sitting on the low, stone wall of a nearby fountain. Kate stared at the water while Jack occasionally belted out curses like he had Tourette’s Syndrome. For that matter, Kate did, too when she yelled for Jack to “Keep your labia closed!”

I created a tiny spark between two fingers. The centimeter long white arc was as long as I could manage, and even it gave off little white pops.

Nat turned from looking at the fountain to stare at my miniscule lightning with glazed eyes.

“You’re a mean drunk, aren’t you?” Jack said.

Kate slapped Jack upside the head. “Yes.”

I started touching each finger to my thumb, transferring the lightning to each new finger in sequence. Each time it switched, there were initially more pops, but they quickly dissipated.

“Hey! No hitting without prior consent and a firm commitment to honor safewords and wear high heels.”

“Stop switching fingers,” Nat said.

I immediately stopped, holding the arc between thumb and ring finger.

“I promise to honor safewords and make you wear high heels,” Kate said.

“Switch again,” Nat said.

“Har har,” Jack said. “So, are we negotiating?”

I moved the lightning to my pinky. Big pops, followed by a steady stream and tiny pops as I held the arc.

“Think you better talk to Anna Maria, first. I don’t like poaching,” Kate said.

“Switch again,” Nat repeated.

I moved the arc to my index finger.

“We’re not exclusive,” Jack said. “She’s currently hooked up with this couple from Sweden.”

“Isn’t that a little out of her area? Thought she was covering Spain.”

“We swapped. I got tired of beer and brats. Wanted something more Mediterranean.”

“Is it hot?” Nat asked.

“The arc?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

I thought about it, concentrating on the sensation near my fingers. The Reilly Tingle—Shit! now I’m calling it that—was there, but I didn’t notice any real heat.

“No.”

“Why is it white?”

 

F³ Mebatolism

             The girls left us. Not so quickly that we couldn’t follow, but it was very much two groups as they surfed down to the nearest town underneath the thunderstorm. We didn’t even know the name of the place, or even what state. We just wanted to go to the bar and get hammered. And for that, we had Jack to thank. He bought.

            “I love you guys,” he slurred.

            “I hate you, too,” I said, and laughed.

            Kate belched her reply, “Fuck you both.” That was a thoroughly impressive feat.

            Nat held her head like she was nursing a hangover, but she was a lightweight, mostly tapping out after her first bottle of Jack Daniels. “Maybe you three should slow down.”

            “Nonsense!” Jack yelled at the top of his lungs, “I have the mebatolism of a thing with a high mebatolism.

            “You’re wasted,” I laughed. “It’s not mebatolism, it’s mebatolism.”

            “What I said!”

            “No, not mebatolism, metalobism. No, wait. That’s not right.”

            “Melobotomism,” Kate said.

            “Yeah!” I pointed, spilling half my bourbon. “No!”

            “I’m telling you it’s mebatolism,” Jack insisted.

            “No, it’s meta. It’s very meta,” I said.

            “You’re meta!” Jack punched me in the arm. “Anyway, my mebatolism won’t let me get drunk. ‘Cept, I might have to go puke.”

            “Rum, please.” Nat said.

            “We’re out of rum,” the bartender said.

            “Why is the rum gone!” we all yelled.

           

 

F³ Making Things Worse

             We all recovered fairly quickly. I had a cloudboard under me before I had reached the apex of where the explosion threw me. Nat and Kat had done the same. Jack didn’t recover so much as bounce off the cloud about fifty feet away. Where he had exploded was now a spherical divot in the cloud, like someone had taken an ice cream scoop to it.

            “What the fuck was that?” Jack asked as soon as he righted himself. “Why do I sound funny?”

            “You sound fine to us,” Nat said.

            “Why are you talking like that? How are you talking like that? Step off the reverb switch.”

            “Fucking Christ!” Kate swore. “He’s hearing double, just like Reilly did.”

            Nat and Kate turned their attention to me, and by attention, it was twin gazes of contempt and hatred.

            “I have no idea what I did,” I said in defense.

            An explosion sounded as Jack tried to fire off lightning in my direction.

            “Two of them, now.” Nat sighed.

            “I say we leave their asses and get hammered,” Kate said.

            “Really tempting, right now, but they’ll probably kill each other.”

            “Having trouble figuring out why that’s bad. Not like they’re any good to us like this.”

            Another, albeit lesser, explosion sounded.

            “Oops,” I said.