Disclaimer: I and my writing accociates own the characters, but not the world. That belongs to the owners of Angel and Highlander. Neither do I own Furby (although I do own A Furby!).
The gift that keeps on giving
1
As you grow older, a birthday is not as special as it once was. What was cause for sleepless nights and pounding hearts when you turn 7, becomes tedious by the time you reach 30, and when you reach higher ages, a birthday can even be a cause of depression, signaling that you are one year closer to the grave.
Jim Corrigan, who by now had reached the age of 106 (although he liked to brag he had lived since the dawn of time, he was actually born at the birth of the 20th century) did not particularly care for his birthday. In fact, he had not celebrated it for a long time. It seemed pointless to go on counting, when there was no limit to how high the count could get. Jim always got sad around his birthday, and tended to stay in his office, brooding over his old books.
Jim's partners in the Tempus agency, however, were determined to end this. Andrew, Herbert, Mercedes, Feline and Murph had put their heads together and thought long and hard over, how they could make the day special for their immortal friend.
Mercedes had been making a big banner at her desk for several days, and concealed it well from Jim's inquiring eyes. It said "HAPPY BIRTHDAY JIM" in bright red letters, and on the morning of the birthday she got up very early to put the banner across the kitchen.
Herbert was setting the breakfast table, and set out a fresh pot of coffee. Father Christopher had promised to bring the pastries, Feline folded napkins in a decorative way and Murph helped the best way he possibly could – he stayed in bed.
Andrew, who had known Jim the longest, had been charged with the important task of finding a present. Since Jim was literally 'the man who owns everything' – he had a substantial stock portfolio and could buy whatever he wanted – it was a task Andrew had found slightly daunting. But he thought he had found the right thing, and as he placed a large square gift-wrapped box by Jim's seat, he smiled.
"What did you get him?" Mercedes asked with a curious glance at the box.
"You have to wait and see. Is everything ready?"
"I think so. Herbert, is the bacon ready?"
"The bacon is ready, the eggs are ready to be fried and the ham is warmed up. All ready for a great English breakfast, except I could not find any of those little fish the British eat."
"Fish?" Andrew looked at him wonderingly.
"You mean kippers, honey" Mercedes said, "but Jim doesn't like those. He told me once. So it's okay. Let's just wake him and Murph up. You stay here and get ready with the eggs – I'll go up and wake him up."
Andrew held her back.
"Maybe you should stay here, and I should go and wake him. If you do it, he might get suspicious …and besides, you never know when he sleeps with clothes on or not."
Mercedes snapped her fingers.
"Good point!"
Andrew headed upstairs, and Mercedes poured coffee in all the cups, and looked at Feline's folded napkins, which had the shape of little swords.
"I like kippers" Feline mumbled.
Jim opened the door looking sleepy, his hair a wild tangle.
"Why are you up so early?"
"Come on down to the kitchen, Jim. Mercedes bought some good bacon, and it's on the stove right now."
"Bacon? But Mercedes doesn't eat pork."
"Oh…right…well, she…got a good deal on it, and Herbert loves bacon, you know…"
Jim's eyes became narrow.
"Picardt, if this is some kind of birthday stunt…"
Andrew blushed.
"Would I do such a thing to you?"
"Yes. In a heartbeat."
"Well, why don't you come down to the kitchen and find out, Jim…come on…there's eggs too…"
Jim reached behind the door and pulled out his bathrobe.
"Fine. I'll come. But this is way too early for a birthday breakfast!"
Andrew led the way, and as they entered the kitchen, Mercedes, Feline and Herbert exclaimed: "SURPRISE!"
Jim smiled a thin-lipped smile.
"Thanks. Didn't Andrew tell you guys, that I don't like birthdays?"
"He did" Herbert said "But we decided that everyone deserves to be spoiled a bit on that one day of the year."
"Quinn is coming over for dinner tonight" Mercedes said, "He's in town. And Father Christopher will be here shortly with doughnuts!"
"All the elements of a nutritious breakfast" Andrew smiled. "Come on, Jim. Sit down and have some bacon. At least, give us the pleasure of one smile."
Jim looked like he was about to say something, but then he closed his mouth and patted Andrew on the shoulder.
"All right. I guess…you guys really bought the good stuff, huh? It smells good."
"That's the spirit!" Herbert said and reached for the frying pan, but before he could lift it there was a knock on the door.
"I hear a birthday boy lives in this house!" Father Christopher's voice came from outside the door.
"Come on in, Father!" Herbert called. Christopher stepped through the door and took of his jacket. He was in civilian clothes today, as a courtesy to Jim.
"Sit down, Father, and have some eggs", Herbert said, and gestured to an empty chair.
"Mmm, I smell bacon, eggs and fried tomatoes, and ham…what, no kippers?" he asked in mock disbelief.
Herbert made a face at Mercedes. "I told you we needed kippers."
"Actually, I was joking, and I don't even care much for kippers" Christopher said.
The team gathered around the table – Murph was drawn down from his room by the combination of noise and smell of food – and began to eat. Jim bit into the bacon heartily and it was clear from his face that he enjoyed it. Mercedes, who only had toast, tomatoes and eggs, smiled at him and she felt her stomach tingle. If they had made him happy with this breakfast, maybe Jim could learn to love his birthday after all.
When the last bite had been consumed, Murph gestured to the gift - wrapped box. "Aren't you going to open your present, Jim?"
"I was hoping I didn't have to."
"Oh, cut it out, Jim" Mercedes said, "we are all dying to find out what you are getting."
"You don't know?" Jim asked.
The rest of the team shook their heads, except Andrew.
"You bought this?" Jim asked him.
"Yep. And I think you'll love it. Go on, open it."
Jim sighed, then took a knife from the table and cut the ribbon. The paper fell off easily enough, and a blue cardboard box was revealed. One side was plastic, but it turned away from Jim, so the first inclination he got of his present was the exclamation from Mercedes:
"How CUTE!"
Jim turned the box around and saw the creature that looked out through the clear plastic. It was brown and white, and looked like a cross between a koala bear and Gizmo from 'Gremlins'. Printed in yellow letters on the box was the word "FURBY".
"What the hell is a Furby?" Jim asked. "Is it alive?"
Andrew leaned forward and explained.
"It's not alive, Jim. It's a new kind of toy, very high tech. It can speak English and sing, dance and tell jokes and stories. It's like a pet, only you don't have to walk it."
Jim looked confused. "And…you bought me this because…?"
"My cousins kid got one of these for Christmas and apparently it's been all they cared about ever since. It makes people happy. And I thought you could use something that made you happy, Jim."
Jim looked through the plastic at the small creature. Its eyes were large and blue, and seemed to have a curious expression.
"Well…thanks…I guess it is kind of cute. Thanks, everybody."
"You're welcome, Jim. Happy birthday."
"Well, take it out!" Mercedes said, "I want to see how it works!"
Jim opened the box, and pulled the Furby out. He flicked the switch on the bottom, and the Furby blinked.
"Good morning!" it said in a small sweet voice.
"Good morning to you!" Jim answered, but the Furby just blinked.
"You've got to talk to it in a special way", Andrew said. He leaned forward and spoke to the Furby:
"Hey Furby – how do you feel?"
The Furby's ears moved up in a way that reminded Jim of Yoda from Star Wars, and smiled.
"I feel happy. How do you feel."
"Oooh…." Mercedes said, smiling and made a face that showed that she thought the little fuzzy creature was the cutest thing she had seen in a long time. Herbert smiled, and thought that he now knew what to get her for her birthday.
Jim had picked up a small manual, and now skimmed it. "So…it can dance and tell stories…and sing?"
"Yeah. Hey Furby – sing a song" Andrew said.
The Furby rocked back and forth, and began singing 'Twinkle, twinkle, little star". They all laughed out loud, and Christopher clapped.
"I say, Jim, you really have a fun new friend there. I hope you have a lot of fun with him."
"So…" Murph asked, "how do we feed it?"
2
"Is Jim still in his office?" Herbert asked Andrew.
"I guess so. I haven't heard him since he went in after breakfast."
"I thought the whole idea of this birthday was to get him out of the office and be less brooding."
"Well, I had work to do. Besides, he IS our boss. If wants to go into his office, who are we to tell him not to?"
"Should we check on him?"
"Well – maybe. Besides, the mail came just now – I saw the mailman leave. I'm sure he wants to read the letters."
Herbert went out into the reception, where Mercedes was behind her desk, using a nail file on her left hand.
"Working hard, I see?" Herbert asked with a grin.
"Nothing to do right now. We need a good case soon – it's been kind of slow."
"My little excitement addict!"
"That's me!"
He bent over her desk and gave her a quick kiss. Her mouth was smooth and warm against his, and he breathed deeply of her scent.
"Did you get the mail?"
"Yeah, it's right there. Mostly bills, and a couple of letters without return addresses. And Andrew's subscription to Law Enforcement quarterly."
Herbert picked them up. Two envelopes, one white, one slightly green. The green one held a touch of perfume, and he assumed it was from a woman. One look at the handwriting confirmed his suspicion, but it wasn't a hand he was familiar with.
"I'll take them in to Jim."
"Sure. OK."
He picked up the bundle of letters and went to the door to Jim's office. He knocked, and waited for a moment. Then, Jim's voice said "yeah?"
Herbert opened the door, and had to stifle a giggle.
Jim was in the couch by the window, holding the Furby on his lap. He was stroking its back slowly, and the Furby made small cheerful noises. Jim's face was lit by a bright, big smile – something that Herbert only rarely saw.
"Um…am I disturbing?" Herbert asked.
"No…it's ok. He likes to be petted.
"He?"
"Yeah, it says that they have no gender, but he looks like a boy, so…he."
"Are you two bonding?"
"Yeah…he's strangely endearing. I mean, at first I thought he was a little silly, but…" Jim shrugged. "But when I started petting him, he got all happy, and told me that he loved me. And then…"
"Then you just melted?"
Jim grinned. "Pretty much."
"Well, I'll leave you two alone, shall I. I just brought you the mail."
"Thanks. I think he needs to sleep soon anyway."
As on cue, the Furby said: "Me tired. Sleep now?"
"Yes" Jim said.
"OK. Good night."
The Furby closed i's eyes and began snoring lightly for a few seconds. Then it fell silent, and Jim put it down on the couch gently.
"Thanks" He said.
"No problem."
Herbert left with a smile on his face, glad that their gift had brought some joy into Jim's day.
Jim went to the desk and picked up the letters. He looked at the green and the white envelope for a while, and then opened the green letter first.
The writing was achingly familiar:
Dear Jim,
Happy birthday. I think about you, as I always do around this time of the year.
I hope that the day finds you well, and that you – and your compadres do not get yourself into trouble.
I still live, and still wait, Jim.
Yours,
Gabriella
He sighed, and put the envelope down. Gabriella, the immortal, who had found him after he had died and been reborn. Gabriella, who had trained him in the ways of the immortals, taught him how to fight and how to get along in society. Gabriella, who he had loved with an intense passion, which would have been their undoing if they had stayed together. On the surface, their love had seemed perfect – a mate that would never grow old and die like any normal mortal would – but there was a catch to it. One of the curses about the immortals was that they were driven to fight each other, until only one remained. And Jim knew that if it came down to only Gabriella and himself, none of them could kill the other. They had to live apart, hoping that it would never come down to just them.
But every year, she sent him a letter, letting him know that she still waited for him to seek her out, to maybe try to cheat the cruel destiny that had made them. And every year it felt like she had written the letter on the surface of his heart with a scalpel.
He put down the letter, still with a faint smell of her perfume in his nose – she perfumed her letters like a schoolgirl, even though she was over 700 years old, he thought vaguely – and opened the white envelope.
With Gabriella's letter, he had known what to expect. But when he opened the white envelope, he was all together unprepared for what he read.
Dear Jim,
I know today is your birthday. Wish I was there.
Rhea
His heart skipped a beat. Rhea – the mysterious art thief and Psionic that he had met in the Vatican had been circling his life for a while now, both in the flesh and in his mind. She was a most extraordinary woman, and every time he spoke to her, he felt as nervous as a schoolboy. And now this…
"Wish I was there…" he said out loud.
"You are here" a voice came from the couch, and for a second he was startled, until he remembered the Furby.
"You startled me, little guy" he said with a smile.
"Furby no scare. Furby love you."
"I know. I just…"Jim broke off. What the hell was he doing? Talking to a toy? It would not understand him anyway.
"What?" the Furby asked.
Jim stared in amazement. Could this thing even be more advanced than he had thought?
"You no finish. What?" the Furby said.
"I…didn't think you could understand me."
"Me understand much. Me learn."
"That's great. Are you tired, Furby?"
"Yes. Furby sleep now."
The toy closed its eyes and began snoring slightly.
Jim walked on tiptoes out of the office and went to find Andrew.
"It's only supposed to know the words in the manual. But it sounded intelligent. I mean, it said that I didn't finish the sentence."
"Did it really?" Andrew looked at the manual for the Furby. "Did it actually use the word 'sentence'?"
"Well…no. It said 'you no finish'."
"That explains it. See?" Andrew pointed to the small list of words in the manual. "It makes sentences with the words it knows, sometimes in different order. It probably just responded to the fact that you made an abrupt stop in your speech. It's a toy, Jim."
"I know. It just…well, it wierded me out fro a moment."
Andrew patted Jim on the back. "Birthday jitters, man. Just relax. Play with it – it's all in good fun."
3
As Quinn Moore, the Tempus team's reporter friend walked into the reception, he was greeted by Feline, who filled in for Mercedes at the reception desk on occasion.
Feline smiled and let her finger caress her jeweled choker.
"Hello, and welcome to Tempus investigations, where we help everyone who comes to us. Do you have any problems that you want to pay us to solve?"
Quinn grinned, although slightly surprised at the girl's attitude.
"Top o' the morning to you. I'm Quinn Moore – I think they're all expecting me."
"Are you a paying customer, or are you just here to wish Jim happy birthday?"
"I'm afraid it's the latter."
"Oh." Feline looked slightly disappointed. "In that case, you can go right in. I think they're all in there somewhere."
Quinn walked through the door to the back of the house, and found Herbert and Mercedes in the kitchen over a cup of coffee. He knocked the doorframe.
"Is this a private serving, or can everybody join?"
"Hey Quinn!" Herbert said and gestured, "Come on in! Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?"
"Tea would be nice, yes. So, who is that girl in the reception?"
"That's Feline. Jim hired her a few weeks ago. She's a pretty cool cat." Mercedes sipped her coffee.
"You mean she is a cool person?"
"No, I mean she is an actual cat. Well…were-cat, I suppose the term is."
Quinn nodded. "This agency has the strangest employees."
The door behind him opened, and Jim walked out, holding the Furby in the hook of his arm.
"Happy birthday, Jim", Quinn said, turning around to shake Jim's hand and looking at the fuzzy thing under his arm.
"Hey Quinn. Good to see you. Glad you could make it. I hope you like Chinese."
"What do you mean?" Herbert asked. "I thought we were having corned beef hash!" He looked at Mercedes, who nodded.
"Yeah, Jim, I've been cutting potatoes all afternoon."
"Sorry, Mercedes. But Furby wants Chinese, so I thought we should call out for something Chinese."
Herbert looked puzzled. "Did you just say that the…Furby…wants to eat Chinese?"
"Yes. I did."
"Jim…are you sure you're feeling all right?" Herbert asked concerned.
"I'm fine. Where's the menu?"
"Um…why don't I just get Andrew and the others before we order, huh?" Herbert said and got up from the table, "Why don't you…and Furby…sit down here and relax for a while, okay?"
"Sure, okay."
"Okay" the Furby said in its small voice, and Herbert jumped. The Furby blinked twice and seemed to look at him.
"Right…"
Herbert went out of the kitchen, and straight to Andrew's office door. He burst in, and Andrew looked up from his computer with a surprised look on his face.
"Don't you usually knock?"
"Yes, but this is far to important. I think Jim is loosing it."
"Loosing what?"
"It! His marbles, his sanity, whatever you say in English. Now he wants that toy thing to decide where we eat, and…"
Herbert's voice trailed off, and Andrew got up from his chair.
"What?"
"…and I think…it spoke to me."
"The Furby? Jim said the same thing this morning…it's a computer, Herbert. It's programmed to act like it thinks, but it doesn't. I doubt I bought the new Furby prototype with an Artificial Intelligence chip in it."
"There's a prototype?"
"No, that was just a figure of speech. Look, maybe Jim just needs to relax. He did work really hard last week on that case with the weird guy from Boston…maybe it's a stress reaction or something."
"Or maybe it's a nervous breakdown."
"Well…yeah, maybe it is. But I doubt immortal guys usually get that sort of thing."
"How do you know? How many did you have in psychiatric care?"
"Good point. We don't know. But let's observe Jim closely, and see what he does. If he continues to be…umm…irrational, I'll just tell him to take it easy for a while. It's not like I can go out and get him a dose of antidepressants – his body eliminates any poison or medicine."
"Okay, so…we watch him. Quinn is here, too – maybe he can provide us with a fresh perspective. Being a normal guy and all."
As they headed back to the kitchen, they could hear Quinn laughing, and the small voice of the Furby. When they reached the door, they saw Jim and Quinn at the table, both looking at the toy as it danced a small dance on the table and sang "Twinkle, twinkle, little star". Mercedes stood with her back turned at the sink, holding her forehead and shaking her head.
"It's great!" Quinn exclaimed when the Furby finished the song and smiled at him. "You're a lucky man, Jim. I might give my girls one of those if I can find them."
Jim stroked the Furby, and it made a cooing sound, closing its eyes in enjoyment.
"Okay – did anyone want to order food?" Andrew asked.
During the meal, the Furby sat on the table next to Jim. He had given it its own little plate, and put some chicken and sauce on it. The other members of the team exchanged glances, but said nothing, and tried to act normal.
When they were almost done eating, the Furby suddenly said "me hungry".
Herbert looked surprised at it, but Jim nodded.
"He's done that a few times before. You stick your finger in his mouth, and push a small button in there. Then he says a little sound and gets fed."
"Finger-food. Kind of cute" Feline remarked, putting another shrimp in her mouth.
"Me VERY hungry" the Furby said.
"Well, why don't you feed it, then?" Murph said and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
Jim lifted his hands, which were covered in soy sauce. "I'm a little indisposed. I don't want to make soy spots on his fur."
"VERY hungry!"
"Oh, its giving me a headache!", Mercedes said, and reached for the Furby. "Where did you say I should push?"
"At the bottom of his beak."
Mercedes put her finger into the Furbys mouth, and it made a small, sucking sound. "Mmmh – good!"
Mercedes smiled, and was about to push the button in the beak again, but a moment later she stiffened and yanked her finger out. "Ouch!"
"What?" Andrew asked.
"It bit me!"
Mercedes lifted her hand and showed them her finger, where a small hole was trickling drops of blood.
"How the hell can it bite?" Herbert asked, looking at Andrew, who shrugged. Murph kept eating like nothing had happened, but both Quinn and Jim had put down their chopsticks and looked with interest at the Furby.
The Furby blinked its eyes twice, and then seemed to turn its gaze around the table, looking at them all. It opened the beak, and a small amount of blood was visible on the inside.
"Blood. Me want more" it said.
Everybody except Murph pushed their chairs back at the same time, away from the table and the Furby.
"Saints preserve us!" Quinn said.
"You can say that again!" Herbert whispered.
"Madre de Dios!" Mercedes gasped, still holding her bleeding finger.
"Yikes!" Feline said.
"Interesting!" Andrew said.
"Jesus tittyfucking Christ!" Jim finished.
The Furby wobbled back and forth a few times, and then seemed to turn on its axis, looking at Mercedes.
"More blood" it said, and winked one eye.
4
"Where is Father Christopher when we need him?" Herbert asked.
"He had a meeting tonight" Andrew said, keeping close eyes on the Furby. "he was going to show up when it was over."
"Great. A demon invades Jim's birthday present, and the only guy with exorcism powers has a meeting."
Suddenly, the Furby moved forward, walking across the table towards Murph, who as the only person had kept eating, unperturbed.
He looked up at it, and swallowed a mouthful of Chow Mein. "Want some, little fellow?"
The Furby jumped.
Its little feet, which had no muscles behind it suddenly seemed to function as springs, propelling it forward and upward. It jumped at Murph's face, opening the beak as it did, and snapped at his nose.
"OW!" Murph howled as the mechanical ball of fur bit into the nose and hung from it like a tick. The small motors inside the toy buzzed as the beak bit harder and harder. Blood began trickling from Murph's nose, and he struck blindly at the Furby.
"Get it of me! Get it off me!"
Quinn, who stood the closest, grabbed the Furby and pulled hard, resulting in a shriek from Murph as the beak came loose. Quinn held the Furby in his hands, and felt it twisting and turning between his fingers.
"Um…what should I do with this, fellows?" he asked, but before he could even move, a bolt of electricity shot through his fingers, and he let go automatically.
The Furby, falling to the floor, hit the ground running. Its feet moved like drumsticks, and it sprinted across the kitchen towards the door to the corridor.
"Get it!" Herbert shouted, but even as he began moving, he could see they would not be fast enough. If felt like being in a nightmare where everybody else moves in normal speed, and the dreamer in slow motion. The Furby ran around the corner and into the corridor. There came a splintering sound – and when Andrew and Herbert reached the corridor, all they saw was the grate of the air duct on the floor. They could faintly hear little footsteps inside.
Andrew turned around and looked back into the kitchen.
"Guys, it's in the airdu…."
His voice trailed off when he looked at his friends. Both Mercedes and Murph stood like statues, their eyes glazed over and looking for all the world like they were on stage in a hypnosis show. Blood was still running from Mercedes' hand and Murph's nose, but they seemed to take no notice of it. Jim stood with a dreaming expression and rocked back and forth on his feet, not unlike the movement the Furby had performed when it danced.
Quinn and Feline, who seemed to be the only ones unaffected, looked at Herbert and Andrew.
"What IS it about you fellows?" Quinn asked. "Whenever I meet up with you, we're attacked by bloodsucking creatures."
"Oh, it's not just the bloodsucking kind" Feline corrected him, "there's also the slimy and the ones with wings."
"Whatever…look, we've got to get this creep out of the airducts, and…find out what the hell it did to Mercedes and Jim" Herbert said.
"What about Murph?"
"Well, he's like this sometimes, when he's been eating beans…" Andrew said.
"The master wants blood" Mercedes said suddenly, making them jump. Her voice was flat and lifeless.
"What, honey?" Herbert asked.
"The master…wants blood" she repeated, and her empty eyes seemed to stare right through him.
"Well…all right…I'm sure we can make some sort of arrangement!" Andrew said, walking closer to Mercedes, "Maybe, if the master let our friends go, we could go and get him some…"
"These mortals have been touched by my bite. They will be the first of my slaves. Get me more blood."
"Are any of you creeped out?" Feline asked, "or is it just me?"
"Not just you, love" Quinn said.
"So…how the hell is it keeping Jim under control?" Herbert asked, "He's always saying that mind control can't touch him."
"Maybe it just has him paralyzed instead of possessed. Look, his eyes aren't glazed over the same way…"
Andrew pointed, but Murph took a step forward and grabbed his arm. Looking like an extra from a zombie movie, he opened his mouth to bite down on Andrew's hand.
"I don't think so, Murph!" Feline said, and made a sweeping gesture with her hand. Claws sprung out and slashed Murph's hand, making him loose grip.
"What the hell are you doing?" Andrew asked angrily.
"Saving you….was that wrong?"
"It's still Murph, in case you forgot! And now he's going to have a seriously hurt hand when he wakes up."
"He will not wake up" Murph said in a monotone voice just like Mercedes'.
"Shut up. No matter what kind of bloodlust you got, you're still a toy, and I intend to get a full refund at KB toys in the morning." Andrew looked at his 3 friends. "Follow me!"
He walked quickly, watching out of the corner of his eyes to see if Mercedes or Murph moved, but none of them seemed to. As they stepped out of the kitchen, Andrew closed the door and locked it.
"Herbert, run around to the back and lock the kitchen door from the outside. That way, we've got them contained."
Herbert ran out through the front door, and Andrew led Quinn and Feline into Jim's office.
"Okay, we've got to find out what the hell is going on here" he said, pointing to the air ducts, "that thing could be anywhere."
"What is it? A demon or something?" Feline asked.
"As far as I know, it's a toy. But maybe the Furby I bought was possessed or something – in which case I intend to have some serious compensation from Hasbro. When you held it, Quinn – how did it feel? Alive or mechanical?"
"It felt mechanical, definitely. I could feel little motors whirring and it gave me an electric shock."
"Okay, so in that case it's still a toy physically speaking. And we know that when it gets some of your blood it can control you – so don't let it bite you."
Herbert came back in, putting his key back in his pocket. "I locked all the outer doors, but they're all just standing in the kitchen like they're zombies."
"All right" Andrew said, sitting down in Jim's chair without thinking about it, "we need to get into the air ducts and get that little sucker out. And the only one of us who can do that – is you!"
He looked at Feline, who looked behind her.
"Me?"
"You. In cat form, you can move around in there. It might be a tight fit, but it's far too small a duct for any of us."
"Well…alright, I suppose I can. But then what?"
"You need to be careful it doesn't draw blood from you, so you need to hit it hard and fast, using your claws. If you shred it, whatever demon inhabits it will have to leave it."
"And what will you guys do while I'm in the ducts?"
"We'll try to keep track of you from the outside, maybe help you if we can. Quinn, do you have any weapons?"
Quinn looked at him shaking his head.
"Just because I'm Irish doesn't mean I'm a part of the IRA, kid. Don't assume…"
"No, I meant: Have you got any weapons on you now? Or do you want to borrow a gun?"
"I flew into San Francisco airport yesterday. I did not bring a gun on the plane, no. Despite the dangers of being a reporter I have yet to see the airlines allowing us to bring a gun."
Andrew opened Jim's desk, and pulled out a gun. "Here. Try not to hit any of the decorations – Mercedes will lynch us all if we break any of her stuff."
Feline crept through the air duct in her natural form, a bobcat. Her body was flooded with adrenaline and she had all her senses on highest alert. The ducts were slightly dusty, and it tickled her snout as she crept along. She was above the corridor and could still not see anything, when she suddenly heard the faint sound of "twinkle, twinkle little star" from somewhere around the next bend.
She crept forward as silently as she could, keeping her claws retracted until the last possible moment. She slowly peaked around the corner and saw the Furby nestled in a small bend in the duct. It rocked back and forth on its feet, singing the song over and over again with a distinctly gleeful tone in its cute voice.
Feline extended her claws and turned the corner in a quick movement. She leaped forward towards the Furby, who widened the eyes at the sight of her.
"Nooooo!" it shrieked, as Feline swiped her claw from right to left. The razor sharp claws cut through the fuzzy surface of the Furby like butter. Small sparks sprung from the wrecked servo engines as the head came loose from the body and fell to the bottom of the duct.
Feline felt a cold breath of air rush past her and tried to back up. The wind blew past her and continued through the duct behind her.
From the kitchen, she heard two screams, and then the distinctive sound of a fist against a door.
Herbert, Andrew and Quinn had tried keeping up with Feline, moving down the corridor when they thought she moved. It was hard to hear her move, but then – if they could not hear her move, chances was the Furby wouldn't be able to, either.
Suddenly, a breath of cold air flew past them down the corridor. A moment later, Mercedes and Murph both screamed. It sounded like pain and rage in equal mix.
Then, a thud came from the door to the kitchen, as a fist hammered on it. The door creaked, but held.
"The Furby must be trying to control them!" Herbert said.
"What do we do? We can't just shoot them down" Quinn said, raising the gun nevertheless.
Another hit to the door – harder this time – and the lock cracked.
"I don't know. We'll have to subdue them. Herbert, how about a sleep spell?"
"I…don't know if I can knock them both out at the same time…"
The door flew open and Mercedes came into the corridor, holding a bread knife in her hand. Murph was behind her, holding a barbecue fork.
"I guess playtime is over!" Andrew said.
5
Murph and Mercedes moved towards them, their eyes empty and their weapons raised. Quinn backed up, aiming from one to the other. Herbert spoke the words of a sleep spell, feeling the buildup of magic, but also felt his concentration slipping when he looked at Mercedes' empty eyes as she walked towards him.
Suddenly, the sound of a key being put into the front door reached Andrew's ears. From the lobby, Father Christopher's voice came, sounding cheerful.
"Hello? I trust I'm not altogether too late for dinner?"
Mercedes and Murph turned their heads towards the sound of his voice, and Herbert shouted:
"Father! There's demons back here! We need you to cast them out!"
There was a sound of quick footsteps as Father Christopher crossed the lobby and ripped open the door to the corridor. He took one step in, saw Murph raising the fork and held up his crucifix.
"Be gone, demon! I command you in the name of God!"
Murph fell back as if Christopher had punched him. He hit the wall, ripping a picture down with him as he slid down into a sitting position. Mercedes turned to fight, her face suddenly contracted with fear.
"Leave this girl, foul demon. Go back to the hell you came from!"
Mercedes shook as if she got a shock, and took a struggling step towards Christopher. He reached the crucifix out and touched her, and she immediately became limb. Christopher managed to grab her before she hit the floor, and gently put her down.
"Is everyone all right?" he asked, looking at the three men.
"Yeah, we're fine" Andrew said. Herbert rushed to Mercedes' side, kneeling down and feeling her pulse. It was strong and regular.
There was a thump as Feline jumped from the air vent, and in a fluid motion got to her feet while changing into her human form. "Is everybody okay?"
"I just asked that. And it seems they are." Christopher let go of his crucifix and knelt down to examine Murph.
A sound from the kitchen made them all turn their heads, but it was only Jim coming into the corridor with a very bewildered look on his face.
"What the hell happened? Mercedes was feeding my Furby and then…what?"
"Well…Andrew bought you a demonized toy that possessed Murph and Mercedes and they tried to kill us and wanted blood. You were paralyzed." Feline smiled.
"Oh. I see."
"Well…I would say 'happy birthday' once again, but it seems you had anything but, Jim" Christopher said.
Jim rubbed his head and looked at Mercedes and Murph, who now both opened their eyes and sat up.
"Yeah…let me just once again stress how much I really, REALLY dislike birthdays."
Later, as the broken shards of the Furby had been burned in the pit in the garden, and both Mercedes and Murph had gone to bed, both none the worse for wear except for a massive headache, Jim sat in his office with a cup of coffee.
It was almost midnight, and he put the report of what he would forever think of as the "Toy Story" case in a folder. Tomorrow, he would put it in the file cabinet that contained all their records.
There was a knock at the door, and Quinn came in.
"I was just heading home, Jim. I just…wanted to say thanks you for an…interesting evening."
"Don't thank me, thank Andrew. It was his idea."
"Did he have any idea of how that…thing became possessed?"
"He said there might be some sort of demon summoning temple in the mall. I'm not surprised – I always thought that Bed, Bath & Beyond was a little creepy. We'll check it out."
"So nothing I can put in the paper?"
"Not unless you started working for Inside View."
Quinn shook his head.
"No, I think it is best to just not think about it."
"Glad you came by, Quinn."
"Glad to be here."
They shook hands and Quinn walked out. The door in the lobby slammed shut behind him, and Jim emptied his coffee mug.
"Happy birthday to me" he said in a sing-song voice and got up.
He was about to turn off the light, when he noticed a small package on the table by the couch. It had not been there before dinner.
He pulled off the paper, and looked at a silver cigarette case, slim and elegant. On one side was the Tempus logo – on the other the letters JC was engraved with gothic letters.
He opened the case, and a small white card fell out. He picked it up and read:
Happy birthday,
R
Jim smiled. Suddenly the day seemed a whole lot better.
He turned off the light and left the office, holding the cigarette case in his hand.