Maelstrom Madness

A Flash Fiction Collection

by Ann M. Pino
 This collection is based on previously web-published content
inspired by my debut novel:
Maelstrom
Stories have been selected and edited
for a print-based readership.

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2009 by Ann M. Pino
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording, or by any information
storage and retrieval system, without permission in
writing from the author.

http://www.maelstromrock.com

All prints in this book are the property of, or licensed to the author.

This book is a free distribution and not for sale.

ii - ii -
 CONTENTS

ABOUT THE STORIES.....................................................................V

ABOUT THE BAND........................................................................V
THE STORIES.............................................................................1
ALL NATURAL INGREDIENTS.............................................................1
ACROSS A CROWDED ROOM............................................................4
PILGRIMAGE OF THE LIVING DEAD......................................................6
ARTISTIC VISION.........................................................................8
ONCE LOST, TWICE FOUND..........................................................11
SLEEPLESS CREATURE OF THE NIGHT................................................13
TAKEN BY STORM.....................................................................15
DAMAGE CONTROL.....................................................................18
BY THE LAKE...........................................................................20
HEALING MAGIC........................................................................22
DRIVE-IN................................................................................24
SENSIBLE SHOES.......................................................................27
PANTS PROBLEMS......................................................................29
ONCE TO BUY A MATTRESS..........................................................31
COLD AUTUMN DAY...................................................................34

iii
iv - iv -
 About the Stories

Maelstrom is the story of struggling talent manager

Ricky Landon, who gets his big break managing a band of
paranormals determined to achieve human fame by human
means. For the band, it’s just another way to pass eternity,
but for Ricky, this could make his career, if it doesn’t get him
killed.
These short stories are not part of the novel and were
originally written as “extras” featured on Maelstrom’s
website: http://www.maelstromrock.com

About the Band

Kalila Yusra

Species: Djinn (genie)

Instrument: Lead Guitar
Likes: Guitars, sexy outfits, bossing humans around.
Dislikes: Sentimentality, ex-boyfriends, being treated as a
sex object
Special Talents: Shape-shifting, healing, conjuring

Although she's over two thousand years old, Kalila is

relatively new to Western ways, having arrived in Europe by
mistake when a seventeenth century trader absconded with
her lamp. She immigrated to America in the nineteenth
century and gradually became a fan of American music.
Kalila is the brains of Maelstrom, smug in her talent and
immortality.

Nevin Prantz

Species: Fairy
Instrument: Keyboards
Special Talents: Shape-shifting, potions, conjuring
Likes: Butteflies, birds, flowers, waterfalls, music.
v
Dislikes: Fighting, anger, dark and gloomy places

Nevin is a classically trained pianist who met Kalila at the

home of their music tutor, Maria Anna Mozart. Nevin is a
vegetarian and is into social causes, even when he’s
confused by them. He’s the band’s conscience and as such is
usually ignored.

Vic Drake

Species: Vampire
Instrument: Vocals and Rhythm Guitar
Special Talents: Seduction, blood-letting
Likes: Type O, human females, attention
Dislikes: Type AB-negative, daylight, being ignored

Although Maelstrom is Kalila’s band, Vic is the front man,

specializing in growled vocals. Like most of his kind, he’s not
interested in norms of human behavior, and any acts of
kindness are sure to have an ulterior motive.

Bo Valentino

Species: Incubus
Instrument: Bass Guitar
Likes: Sex
Dislikes: Anything that prevents him from getting laid
Special Talents: Seduction, manifesting in bedrooms

Bo has a blond, sexy appeal that works on just about any

sentient creature. His preference is human females, but he’ll
try anything if he’s hungry enough. He’s laid-back and
charming when he gets his way, sullen and conniving when
he doesn’t. A sleaze with a surfer boy’s good looks, he’s
happy to party his way through eternity, and playing in a
rock band is just another way to have a good time.

Lazaro Thantos

Species: Zombie

vi - vi -
Instrument: Drums
Likes: Drums, brains, makeup artists
Dislikes: Brains of stupid people, anything that keeps him
away from his drums
Special Talents: Hiding the bodies

Lazaro is a simple creature, obsessed with drums and food.

He admires intelligence and likes to raid colleges for his
meals, since smart brains taste better. For the most part,
though, he just wants to play his drums in peace.

vii
The Stories
 All Natural Ingredients

Vic shoved open the top of his travel coffin and sat up,
blinking and trying to remember where he was. Ugly carpet,
uglier bedspreads, and framed prints of ghastly Monet lilies
on the walls. A human hotel. That meant he was still on tour.
He got up and wandered into the front room of the
suite, where he found Nevin sitting on the sofa, eating
something white and gelatinous from a bowl. Vic did a
double-take. “Hey, fairy. You turning zombie on us or
something?”
Nevin examined his bowl. “This isn’t brains, it’s tofu.
And it’s organic.”
“So it has something to do with brains, right? Or by
‘organic’ do you mean some other organ? It’s the wrong color
for liver or kidneys.”
“Organic means it was made without pesticides,
antibiotics, or other contaminants. It means it’s a clean and
healthful product of nature.”
“Oh.” Vic went to the mini-fridge and opened the door.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Vic took out a plastic bag of blood. “A guy’s got to
eat.”
“But you have no idea where that blood came from.”
“Sure I do. It came from the blood bank I broke into in
Lowry. Don’t you remember how Ricky threw a fit?”
With exaggerated patience Nevin said, “But the donor
could’ve been taking anti-psychotics or have been exposed
to lead or dioxin. There might be artificial preservatives in
there, and there are certainly anti-coagulants.”
“I like anti-coagulants. They help it go down smooth
and they have an interesting aftertaste.”
 “And then there’s the plastic bag itself,” Nevin went
on. “It could be leaking phthalates into your food.” He shook
his head and bent back over his tofu. “You’re taking a terrible
risk with your health.”
Vic tossed the bag into the fridge. “Okay, Tinkerbell.
What’s your idea for where I should find a meal?”
“I have no idea,” Nevin said. “But it should be
someone who only eats clean organic foods. Like my tofu.”
“And where did you buy the tofu?”
“Compleatly Organic. It’s like a Whole Foods store.”
Vic pondered this, then grabbed his hat and leather
coat. He had to entice one of the roadies with an offer to buy
him a steak, but he found someone to drive him to
Compleatly Organic. After staring in dismay at the bright
lights and rows of fruits and vegetables, he grabbed a basket
and started walking the aisles.
It took him awhile to find what he was after. The long-
haired beauty browsing herbal tinctures reeked of patchouli,
and the blonde at the meat counter had the unmistakable
scent of AB negative. The women with children in tow were
out of the question because he didn’t want witnesses, and
the soulful-eyed young man foisting cheese samples on
passers-by seemed a little too eager to become friends.
Vic was about to give up and to hell with if his blood
bags contained trace amounts of mercury, when he saw her.
Dark and curvy, she was frowning at something on a high
shelf. She caught his eye and waved him over. “Can you
reach that for me?”
“What? The lemon soda?” Vic tried not to shudder.
“Yeah. I wish they wouldn’t put the glass bottles up
high like that. I can’t reach, and I won’t eat or drink anything
that’s been stored in plastic.”
Vic handed her the bottle and nodded wisely.
“Phthalates. They’ll mess you up.”
“Yes.” She set the bottle in her cart. “It’s hard to live
clean, isn’t it?”
Vic agreed and fell in beside her as she kept up an
amiable chatter about how she had cleansed her body of
plastics, preservatives, pesticides, and even prescription
2 -2-
drugs. “If I get sick, I take organic herbal supplements. But
I’m almost never sick. In fact, I’ve never been healthier in my
life.”
“And it’s all because of organics?” he asked, moving a
little closer so he could take a sniff. “You’re type A.”
“What gave me away? My groceries? You must follow
the blood type diet, too.”
“Couldn’t live any other way.” He got into the
checkout line with her. “So do you mind if I walk you to your
car?”
She hesitated, but then shrugged. “I guess not. But
where’s your groceries?”
Vic smiled and a hint of fang showed between his lips.
“I found what I was looking for.”

3
 Across a Crowded Room

From his spot at the bar, Ricky saw her moving

through the crowd. Resplendent in black leather and gold
jewelry, with her long red hair flowing down her back, Kalila
didn’t ask anyone to clear a path. If they didn’t do it out of
respect, she’d make them want to move. Djinns had their
ways.
Ricky had saved a spot and was already thinking what
he would say about the first set and what he would
recommend for the next, when a rangy, dark-haired man
jumped into Kalila’s path. Intense and eager, he shouted his
questions in an effort to be heard over the club music. A
flicker of annoyance crossed Kalila’s face, then vanished in a
friendly smile. She followed him to another part of the bar
and let him order her a drink.
Annoyed, Ricky reached for his beer and tried to
reassure himself. Kalila was good at giving impromptu
interviews. He wasn’t worried that she might mention old
friends from the eighteenth century or the crazy bet with
Thor that had led her to start a rock band. It was the other
behavior that unnerved him, the way she would lead a man
on, selling with her stunning looks a musical talent that
needed no additional endorsement. It was a game to her and
Ricky had seen it often enough not to be fooled. Still, he
squirmed as he watched her lean toward the reporter in just
the right way for him to get a good look down the front of her
leather bustier.
Ricky stood up. He should’ve told her to wait for him
backstage after the set. He should’ve waylaid the reporter,
since he could spot the parasitic bastards from a block away.
He should’ve learned by now to never, ever, let Kalila make
him jealous, because what could a human do about the
behavior of a djinn?
He shoved his way toward the door. Outside, the soft
spring air wrapped itself around him like a caress and he
leaned against the rough bricks of the building. He looked up

4 -4-
at the sky, hoping to find a star to focus his thoughts upon,
but found only the glare of sodium lights.
“Hey.”
He drew in his breath and willed himself not to look
around.
Kalila walked up to him. “What did you run out like
that for? I thought we were going to talk about the show.”
“It’s going fine.” He struggled to keep his voice
neutral. “Good job scoring an interview.”
She edged closer, the spicy scent of her skin
overpowering the parking lot smells of old oil and stale beer.
“You’re jealous.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
She kissed him, and her mouth was warm, her body
electric. All was right with the world again, and although he
could never have her for his own, he had this moment, and it
was enough.

5
 Pilgrimage of the Living Dead

Ricky went to the band’s suite and shoved his way

past the werewolf that opened the door. In the front room,
he found Nevin picking out notes on a keyboard while Kalila
flipped through a biography of Mozart, looking for
inaccuracies. Vic lay on the sofa, wrapped in his favorite
shroud, and from the back room, Ricky heard the sound of
squeaking bed springs. Ricky looked at his watch in
annoyance. “Why aren’t you guys ready? The venue
manager is expecting you at three so you can set up.”
Kalila looked up from her book. “I’m afraid we’re
going to have to cancel.”
“Is someone sick?” He looked around the room.
“Where’s Lazaro?”
“He had something urgent to take care of,” Nevin said.
“A pilgrimage of some sort.”
Ricky stared in disbelief. “Zombies don’t go on
pilgrimages.”
Kalila shrugged and set her book aside. “We’re near a
sacred spot, and since we’re heading out tomorrow…”
“What are you talking about? We’re not near Lourdes,
Mecca, Mount Fuji, or anything. There’s no sacred spots
anywhere around here, so what—?”
By now Vic had woken up and clawed the shroud away
from his face. “He went to the Evans City Cemetery, human.
We’re only about thirty miles away, you know.”
“Evans City…” Ricky searched his memory. “Night of
the Living Dead?”
“He wanted to visit his kin,” Kalila explained.
“But that was just a movie. Don’t tell me he thought it
was a documentary.”
“It doesn’t matter what he thought,” Vic pointed out.
“If we don’t have a drummer, we don’t have a show.”

6 -6-
 “This is ridiculous,” Ricky said. “You guys are not
canceling your show just so the drummer can spend the
night wandering around an old cemetery.” He headed
toward the door. “Go to the venue and set up. I’m going to
get Lazaro.”
It wasn’t hard to find the cemetery. Ricky went north
on the highway, cut over to Evans City, then went south on
Franklin Road. As he turned into the cemetery, he felt a
shiver of déjà-vu. He parked near a boarded-up building he
remembered from the movie, then went to look around.
The place was rather ordinary, with neatly trimmed
grass and plenty of open space between the headstones.
Everything was so tidy and well cared-for that Ricky felt
himself relax. This wasn’t the place of movie-inspired
nightmares. It was just an ordinary graveyard where people
with bigger problems than his own had found peace.
He suppressed a sigh. It was easy to get caught up in
the worries of the day, but eventually this was his
destination, just like it was everyone else’s. To the person
who would one day stand over his grave, Ricky’s troubles
were no more important than those of the people underneath
his feet right now. In fact, maybe—
Something heavy and howling slammed into him,
knocking him off his feet. He found himself struggling with a
powerful creature, twisting and grabbing, trying to pull his
attacker down. He narrowly escaped hitting his head on a
marker, and screamed as a gaping maw of yellowish teeth
closed in.
Then just as suddenly as he had been attacked, he
was let go.
“Oh, it’s you,” Lazaro said, backing away. “I thought it
was someone with brains.” He helped Ricky to his feet.
“Sorry about that.”
Ricky wasn’t sure whether to feel insulted or relieved,
and decided to let the matter go. “Just a misunderstanding,”
he assured him as he tried to catch his breath and straighten
his clothes. “Uh…look. It’s kind of a problem that you
skipped out like this.”
Lazaro shrugged and started walking across the
manicured lawn with Ricky tagging after him. “Thought I

7
should see this place. Thought I might…you know, make
some friends.”
Ricky looked around doubtfully. “Any luck with that?”
“No.” He stopped and frowned at the serene
landscape. “It’s not like the movie.”
“Most things aren’t.”
“Yeah.” Lazaro looked at his feet, almost as if he were
embarrassed. “Just an ordinary cemetery.”
“I’m sorry.” Ricky waited to see if Lazaro would say
anything else, and when he didn’t, he asked, “So you want a
ride back? You’ve got a gig tonight.”
“I know. Drums.”
“So come on, then. This place is just some Hollywood
director’s screwed up fantasy.” Ricky held out his hand.
“Let’s go make our own reality.”

Artistic Vision

Vic strode into the rehearsal room, then stopped and

looked around. Empty. He considered for a moment, then
checked the smaller rooms. There was no one in the first, but
in the second, he startled Nevin at an easel, sweeping blue
sky across textured paper with a sable brush. “What are you
doing, fairy?”
“I’ve been feeling tense lately and thought it would be
nice to take up watercolors again. It’s been a long time,
but…” he edged out of the way so Vic could see. “What do
you think?”
Vic stalked up to the painting as if it might be
dangerous. After examining it carefully, he pointed to a gray
stone building in the scene. “You should put bats here. And
make the sky darker.”
8 -8-
 “But I don’t want bats in my painting. And it’s
supposed to be daytime.”
“I guess that’s why it’s no good, then.” While Nevin
sulked, Vic tapped on Kalila’s lamp and waited while she
poured herself out in a cloud of blue smoke. “I thought we
were supposed rehearse tonight,” Vic reminded her. “And
look at what your useless fairy is doing.”
Kalila glanced at Nevin and shrugged. “If it makes him
happy, who cares?”
Before she could say anything else, Bo walked in with
Lazaro on his heels. Bo immediately noticed the painting and
went to look over Nevin’s shoulder. After staring in silence for
nearly a minute, he asked, “Why did you paint the humans
with clothes?”
“Humans always wear clothes in public,” Nevin
reminded him.
“And that’s one of the problems with them,” Bo said.
“So what are you trying to do, be real to life or show how it
can be better?”
“I don’t know that nudity would make my painting
better. It’s a sunny day and they would get sunburn.”
“I told you to make it night,” Vic pointed out.
“See?” Bo clapped a friendly hand on Nevin’s shoulder.
“We’re looking out for you, showing you how to be the best
you can be.”
“But I don’t know if darkness, bats, and naked humans
are a true expression of my artistic vision.”
Lazaro shoved his way in front of Vic and Bo and
stared at the painting. “Sucks,” he said. “It needs drums.”
Nevin threw down his brush in frustration. “Why are
you being this way? I’m painting what has meaning to me.”
“Since when did sunshine have meaning?” Vic
shuddered. “I never could understand you diurnal types.”
Kalila approached Nevin and held out her hand. “It’s
not the end of the world that they don’t appreciate your kind
of art,” she reminded him. “And they do like your music.
Music is art, too, so let’s go rehearse.”

9
 She coaxed him to his feet and led him out of the
room, with Bo and Lazaro trailing after. Vic remained behind,
considering the painting once more. He picked up a brush,
examined the tip, then selected a smaller one and dabbed it
in some of the paint on Nevin’s palette. Then, after a furtive
glance over his shoulder, he leaned in close and added a bat.
He stepped back and was admiring his work when Bo
poked his head in the room. “You coming, or what?”
“Huh? Oh, sure. I was just thinking maybe this wasn’t
such a bad painting after all.”

10 - 10 -
 Once Lost, Twice Found

Ricky fumbled in the dresser drawer, thinking how he

needed to do laundry since most of his clean socks were old,
the wrong color, or had holes. He found a pair that might do,
but when he pulled the balled socks apart, something fell
out.
It was a watch.
Not just any watch, but a stainless steel Omega with
gold markers and hands. It had a clean, futuristic design
common to when it was made in the 1950s. And Ricky knew
when it had been made because it had been his father’s
watch, and his grandfather’s.
That was a problem.
Ricky now remembered having wedged the watch into
a sock in his suitcase when they stayed at a questionable
hotel on tour nearly a year ago. He then promptly forgot
what he had done and tore the room apart, convinced that it
had been lost or stolen. Distraught and irritable, he moped
at concerts and snapped at the band until a week later, Kalila
casually handed him the watch, saying Nevin had found it on
the tour bus. How it got there, Ricky wasn’t sure, nor did he
care. He was so thrilled to have it back he didn’t question
her story, but now….
He set the watch on the bed and opened another
drawer. And yes, here was the watch again. He held it to the
light. Same steel case, same gold dial, even the same patina
on the back and wear on the leather strap.
He laid it next to the other and examined them side-
by-side. Even the nick in the crystal was the same.
This would never do.
He tugged on his socks, and found his shoes and
jacket. Then he shoved both watches in his pocket, grabbed
his keys, and headed out to the car. But as he slammed the
car door shut and reached for the seatbelt, a thought struck
him. Yes, the band had lied to him, and maybe they had
replaced his watch just so he would shut up about it, but
11
there was a sweetness to the gesture, too. There were other
ways they could’ve dealt with his moping than by conjuring
an exact replica so he could be happy again.
And it was an exact replica. He dug in his pocket and
pulled out the two watches, marveling all over again at how
alike they were. In fact, there was no way to tell which was
which.
No way at all.
For a long moment, he sat numbed by his own
stupidity. Then he picked one, wound it up, and held it to his
ear, charmed as he had been as a child, by its ticking.
Once lost, twice found, both times special.

12 - 12 -
 Sleepless Creature of the Night

At first Vic thought the problem might be his coffin. It

was old and the upholstery was getting threadbare. So he
bought a new one. It didn’t help. Then he thought maybe it
was the room he was sleeping in, so he broke into a
mausoleum and tried to take a nap there. The cold stone and
presence of other dead was comforting, but the problem
persisted.
Frustrated and in need of new ideas, he went to
Ricky’s apartment and knocked on the door. “What do
humans do when they can’t sleep?”
Ricky blinked. “Hello to you too, I guess. I didn’t know
vampires could get insomnia.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know, primate. Just answer the
question.”
Ricky motioned him inside. “Humans have a lot of
remedies, but I don’t know how much they'll help you.”
“Try me.”
“Warm milk.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Exercise until you’re tired.”
“Vampires don’t jog.”
“Meditation?”
“You mean sit around and say ‘Om’ over and over?”
Vic paced the room in agitation. “You’re right. You have no
good ideas at all.”
Ricky went to a bookcase and selected a heavy
paperback. “Reading this worked for me in college.”
Vic took the book and frowned. “The Republic?”
“I nearly failed Philosophy, that’s how boring it was.”
Vic tossed the book onto the sofa. “Forget it. I’m sorry
I came here.”

13
 “What did you expect? Humans usually just deal with
it. If it gets too bad, they go the doctor and get some pills.”
This was more like it. “What kind of pills?”
“I doubt they’d work for you.”
“Tell me what they're called, anyway.”
Vic listened while Ricky rattled off the names of a few
common sleep aids, then thanked him for his time and left.
Later that night he broke into a pharmacy, bypassed
the computer password, and got a list of addresses. Just
before dawn he peeked in the window of a peaceful suburban
ranch house. The young woman lay asleep, the bottle of
Ambien on the nightstand beside her.
Vic smiled with anticipation and shoved open the
window. What did humans know? A big, sleep-inducing meal
was all he really needed. He jumped into the room and stood
looking down at his salvation, savoring the moment. “Warm
milk and Plato’s Republic, my ass.”

14 - 14 -
 Taken By Storm

The wind howled and the rain beat in sheets against

the window. Ricky tried to see outside. “What do you mean
she’s on the scaffold?”
“She was hungry," Nevin said with a little shrug.
"Djinns feed on the wind. You know that.”
“But that thing looked ready to collapse.” He headed
for the door, no time to grab a jacket.
Nevin tagged after him. “It’s sweet of you to worry,
but you need to trust her. She’s much older than you, you
know.”
Ricky did know, but this was no time for logic. He
made for the elevator, then remembered it was slow and
sprinted for the stairwell instead. He took the stairs as fast
as he could, stumbling and holding onto the handrail.
Nevin kept pace easily. “This really isn’t necessary.
You’re going to get hurt.”
Ricky shoved open the heavy door and ran toward
where he had seen the workers earlier in the day. The rain
soaked his clothes and chilled his body but the only things
that mattered were the rickety structure ahead and Kalila,
barely visible in the pounding rain. He stopped at the base of
the trembling structure and shouted up at her. “Kalila!”
The scaffold swayed, whether from the wind or the
shift in Kalila’s weight as she made to climb down, Ricky
didn’t know. He waited, drenched and shivering, yearning
that she were just a little more normal, just a bit more like a
human girlfriend.
But then she was on the ground before him, her hair
streaming and her eyes alight. He no longer noticed the
needles of rain pelting his skin or the way his shirt and jeans
hung cold and sopping off his limbs. Kalila was fire in the
rain, heat in the cold, and even in a moment like this as the
scaffold gave a shudder and broke up behind her, Ricky
noticed nothing but the way her scraps of clothing clung to
her wet skin.
15
 “Did you want something?” she asked.
Ricky shivered and it wasn’t from the storm outside
but the one within. “Dinner is over,” he said. “How about
you come inside?”

16 - 16 -
17
 Damage Control

Ricky walked into the studio lounge and assessed. Vic

was slumped in a chair, Bo lay on the sofa, drowsily poring
over a sex toy catalog, and Lazaro had inexplicably brought
his bass drum to the meeting and sat dozing against it. Only
Nevin seemed to notice or care that Ricky had arrived, and
his perky smile was strained.
“Glad you all could make it,” Ricky said, pretending he
had everyone’s attention. “Where’s Kalila?”
Vic opened one eye and gestured at the lamp on the
coffee table.
Ricky picked it up and rubbed it with his cuff. “Wake
up. Meeting, remember?”
“You're being too nice,” Vic snarled. He grabbed the
lamp and shook it. “Get out of there, bitch, so we can have
this meeting and go to bed!”
Sparks and smoke erupted out of the lamp and Vic
dropped it to the table with a clatter.
“You blood-sucking bastard!” Kalila morphed out of
the smoke and advanced on Vic in a blaze of djinn fury. “One
of these days I’ll stake you and then you’ll be sorry.”
“You think I’m afraid of you? You’re just a freak who
eats air.”
“You should be scared, because—”
Ricky waved his hands. “Could you two save it until
after the meeting? I don’t want to be here either, so listen
up, because this is important.”
Kalila folded her arms and gave him a cool look while
Vic slinked back to his chair and feigned boredom.
“It’s about what happened at the show last night.”
Ricky wished he felt certain of everyone’s attention, but Bo
was perusing his catalog again, Lazaro was toying with a
drum stick, and Vic was pretending fascination with a ceiling
panel. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.
I don’t care whose meal you thought she was, but I’ve talked
18 - 18 -
to your lawyer and she suggested we pay the medical bills as
a goodwill gesture.”
Kalila shrugged. “So do it.”
“We have no use for money,” Vic added, “Other than
to buy off whiney humans. She didn’t even taste good.”
Bo frowned. “I thought she did. And money has other
uses, like for buying things out of this catalog. The ‘Deluxe
Dominator 3’ costs $29.95.”
“Shipping and handling?”
“Shipping is $4.95. I’ll do the handling.”
“Uh, guys,” Ricky said, “I think we’ve wandered off
topic. The reason I called this meeting was to remind you
how important it is to be careful with your fans. Between the
lawyer, the medical bills, the possible lawsuit—”
“And bribing the witnesses,” Vic added.
“I ate two of them,” Lazaro said.
Vic brightened. “There you go, Ricky. We’re saving
money already.”
Ricky bit his lip and considered. Was this conversation
worth pursuing? Could he ever hope to make them
understand?
As if reading his mind, Kalila said, “We get it, Ricky.
Really. But damage control is part of your job. It’s in your
contract.” When he didn’t answer, she flipped her hair over
her shoulder and smiled. “So other than the incident with
the girl, what did you think of the show? We rocked, didn’t
we?”
Ricky started to say something cutting, but caught
himself. What would be the point? “Yeah,” he admitted.
“You rock.”

19
 By the Lake

Gravel crunched under the wheels of the rented Jeep

as Ricky pulled into the driveway. “Well, here it is.”
Kalila cast a skeptical glance at the gray clapboard
cottage. “This isn’t what I expected.”
“Is anything?” he cut the engine and reached in the
back for his overnight bag. “I’ll show you the house, and
then we’ll go down to the lake. Uncle Robert said the canoe is
in good repair.”
Kalila followed Ricky inside, looking all around and
clutching her lamp to her chest. She let him lead her from
room to room, and finally selected a spot near an upstairs
window where she set her brass oil lamp on a table. “This is
where I’ll sleep.”
“I was planning on sleeping in the other room.”
“You can still do that.”
“Right.” He didn't ask whether she’d join him in bed
for awhile or just what her intentions were. Djinns didn't like
a lot of questions. “Wait here. I want to get something out
of my bag and then I’ll show you the lake.”
While she waited, Kalila examined the family photos
on the walls, and when Ricky emerged from the other room,
she followed him down the stairs.
Outside, a narrow path wound its way from the back
porch through the trees, to a dock that listed to one side.
“I’m sure it’s not dangerous,” Ricky said, but Kalila had
already drawn the same conclusion. She walked to the end
of the rickety dock and stood for a moment, looking out over
the dark water.
“I’d hardly call this a lake,” she finally said. “More like
a large pond.”
“I never said it was much.” He came to join her. “It
was the time I spent here with my dad that made it special.
It was nice of Uncle Robert to buy it from my mom. The

20 - 20 -
money came in handy. But I would’ve liked to have gotten
the place for myself.”
“Family.” Kalila nodded. “It means a lot to you
humans. I noticed the pictures on the walls.”
Ricky shoved his hands in his pockets and stared out
over the water for a few minutes. Finally he became restless
and said, “Want to take the boat out?”
“Not particularly.”
“But I…well, look.” he took a small box out of his
pocket and opened it. Inside was a small wooden fish, red
with a glitter tail and a hook sticking out of its belly. “One of
the lures my dad made,” he explained. “I’ve had it as a
keepsake all these years, but I think it belongs here.” He
pointed across the water. “Somewhere out in the middle of
the lake he loved to fish at.”
“So coming here is sort of meaningful.”
“Yeah. And it’s a chance to spend some time alone
with you, away from all the distractions that clutter up our
lives. That’s why people come to places like this, to focus on
the things that really matter.”
“I see.” Kalila looked out over the water again, her
eyes narrowed in thought. “So you wouldn’t have brought
just anyone.”
“No. This place is special.”
They stood together for several minutes, watching the
reflection of sun and cloud on the glassy surface of the lake.
A hawk flew overhead, the wind sighed in the pines, and
water lapped at the dock. Finally Kalila took the lure from
Ricky’s hands and examined it in the afternoon light.
“I think I understand now,” she said. “Let’s get that
boat.”

21
 Healing Magic

“Can’t you do something for her?”

Kalila looked at Ricky askance. “Call an ambulance. If
one gets here quick enough, she’ll live.”
Ricky looked at the prone and bleeding form on the
asphalt of the studio parking lot. Her clothes were torn, her
shoes were missing and a leg lay at an odd angle. “But you
can heal her now.”
The scattered contents of the woman’s purse lay at
Kalila’s feet and she prodded a lipstick with the toe of her
boot. “It takes a lot of energy to heal a human. It’s not worth
it unless the band did this, and we didn’t. She’s an ordinary
hit-and-run victim.”
“No one’s ever ordinary, Kalila. I don’t know this
woman either, but I’m sure she has friends and family. What
if something’s wrong that the doctors can’t fix?” Ricky saw
her hesitate. “Please?”
Kalila yanked off her bangles and shoved them into
Ricky’s hands. “Fine. Monitor the area. Make sure I’m not
disturbed.”
For several minutes Ricky paced the perimeter of the
parking lot, keeping an eye out for curious pedestrians. After
several minutes he saw a familiar figure, clothes clean and
mended, purse slung over her arm. He followed her with his
eyes as she crossed the street. Although she looked a little
disoriented, she seemed whole and healthy.
“I altered her memory,” said a voice behind him.
Ricky turned around and was struck by Kalila’s ashen
skin and pale lips. The healing had taken a lot out of her.
“She thinks she tripped and that I happened to be
nearby to make sure she was okay.”
Ricky wanted to thank her, but he knew how Kalila
hated to be caught doing good. He held out his arm. “Want
to go for a walk? There’s usually a breeze at the park.”

22 - 22 -
 She took his arm and they walked for several minutes
in silence. Finally she said, “It was more serious than it
looked.”
Ricky nodded but didn’t answer.
“She hit her head hard. Your human doctors probably
couldn’t have saved her.” When Ricky didn’t answer, she
stopped. “What? No ‘I told you so,’ no remarks about my
noble service to your wretched kind?”
“No.” Ricky dug something out of his pocket. “Want
these back?”
Kalila put the bracelets on and reluctantly took his arm
again. As they neared the park, the wind picked up and she
tipped her face toward the sky, sucking the air greedily,
feeding off the restorative breeze.
Ricky waited until the color returned to her cheeks and
her eyes had lost their listless cast. “Thank you.”
“I’m not Florence Nightingale.”
“I know.”
“I refuse to do that sort of thing every time you get a
sentimental human notion.”
“I know that, too. But don’t you feel just a little proud
that you did a good deed?”
Kalila looked away with a small jerk of her chin. “Don’t
be ridiculous. Djinns don’t do good deeds.”
“Of course they don’t.” Ricky waited, then asked, “So
I’m not to tell anyone?”
“Not even your own mother.” Then, with a faint smile,
she started to take his hand, but reconsidered and moved in
close so he could put his arm around her.

23
 Drive-In

The images on the multi-story screen flickered and

static crackled on the radio. Ricky paid no attention, warm
and sleepy with Kalila wedged against him, dozing on his
shoulder. With a little effort, he could almost convince
himself that she was a mortal girl and this was an ordinary
date at a nostalgic drive-in theater.
A buzz of static sawed through the movie dialogue
again.
“You mind fixing that?” said a voice from the back
seat.
Suppressing a sigh, Ricky reached to adjust the knob.
“That better?” He glanced at Nevin in the rearview mirror. “I
don’t know why you don’t fix it yourself, since you’re the one
with magic powers, and—” Ricky frowned and twisted around
in his seat, ignoring Kalila’s look of sleepy indignation.
“Where are the others?”
Nevin shrugged. “I think Bo got discouraged that no
one in the movie was taking their clothes off, and Vic and
Lazaro probably went for snacks.”
Cursing, Ricky fumbled for his jacket. “They promised
they would sit quietly and watch the movie.”
Kalila shoved her hair out of her eyes. “And you
believed them?”
“Don’t start. You could’ve warned me.” Ricky got out
of the Lexus and zipped his jacket against the cold. He
picked a starting point and began walking the rows of cars,
looking for foggy windows and signs of mayhem. Getting
only puzzled looks for his trouble, he decided to try the
concession stand instead.
The teenage clerk was leaning against the counter
watching the movie with a suspiciously dreamy expression
on her face. Nevertheless, when Ricky quizzed her about his
missing band members, she seemed candid in her assertion
that no one had been to the counter in the last half hour, and
her neck was free of bite marks.
24 - 24 -
 Baffled and increasingly concerned, Ricky started
toward the entrance kiosk, glancing around as he walked, as
if he might find his missing vampire, zombie, and incubus
hiding in the brush at the side of the road. When he got to
the booth, the cashier smiled politely and assured him she
had seen no one, but the concern in her eyes and the tiny
crease between her brows told Ricky she questioned his
sanity.
If only she knew! Ricky pulled his jacket tight around
his body as he made his way back to the Lexus. On the giant
screen, a car chase was in progress. Here he was at a run-
down drive-in theater in some dismal little town on tour, with
three missing demons to account for. No Hollywood chase
could match that for drama.
He pulled open the car door and leaned inside. “I can’t
find them, Kalila. Do you have any—?”
From the back seat, Lazaro, Vic and Bo grinned.
“It’s about time you came back,” Kalila said. “I was
beginning to think I’d have to go looking for you.”
“You’re missing a great movie,” Vic added.
“Where the hell have you been?” Ricky said.
Bo shrugged. “We needed to use the restroom.”
“Don’t lie. You guys don’t use the restroom. What
were you up to?”
Kalila reached across the seat and tugged his sleeve.
“They’re back now, so just come watch the movie.”
Ricky didn’t want to let the matter drop, but he was
cold, so he climbed in and shut the door. He turned around
in his seat. “Whatever you were doing, it was a big risk and I
don’t appreciate it. If any cops come nosing around the hotel
later tonight, I’m not taking up for you.”
“You worry too much,” Kalila said. “And we can hire
our own lawyers.” Gently, she nudged him back into the
proper position to see the movie. “Can’t you just relax and
enjoy what we came here for?”
Before Ricky could answer, she snuggled up against
him and laid her head on his shoulder. He hesitated, wanting
to be angry, but she was right. Whatever was done, was
done, and demons could look out for themselves.
25
 He adjusted the sound on the radio, and on the screen,
police cars gave chase, their strobes flashing red and white
into the night.

26 - 26 -
 Sensible Shoes

Kalila pushed open the shop door and stood for a

moment, watching the women trying on new shoes,
exclaiming over them as if each one were a prize. She
sniffed in irritation and made a beeline past spike-heeled
pumps, strappy sandals, and metallic gold flats.
“Can I help you?”
Kalila spun around. The clerk was young, weak-
chinned, and clearly eager to please. “I need new boots,”
she informed him. “I’m a musician, and I want something
that will look good on stage.”
The clerk quit staring at her breasts long enough to
glance at her feet, then led her to a wall display. “Something
like this, maybe?”
Kalila raised her eyebrows. “You think I’m crazy? I’d
break an ankle in those heels.”
“Maybe this?”
“I hate wedges.”
He motioned to a low table cluttered with ankle boots
in soft forest colors. “These have been popular this winter.”
“I’m not an elf, so why would I want boots like one?”
The clerk bit his lip and pondered, then redoubled his
efforts. He showed her fur and fleece cuffs, buckles, ties,
and straps. Short boots, tall boots, black, brown, leather and
suede, all were met with haughty djinn disdain. Kalila had
finally consented to try on a pair of leather riding boots and
was waiting while the clerk rummaged in the back room,
when something caught her eye.
Four-inch heels, patent leather, platforms, cuffs and
tassels…all the things she had spurned, but…she walked
over to the boot as if in a trance. This was perfection. This
was glory. This was—
“Ma’am?” The clerk was by her side, waiting with a
box.

27
 Kalila shoved the fancy boot at him. “This is what I
want. Three pair.” She fumbled in her purse for her credit
card.
“Don’t you want to try them on first?”
“Just ring them up, will you?”
While the clerk rummaged through the storeroom,
Kalila waited at the counter, nearly bursting with impatience.
In her mind she could already see the photo shoots and
videos with her feet in the wonderful, magical boots. She
barely gave the clerk a chance to put them into shopping
bags before she snatched them out of his hands and hurried
out the door.
In the parking lot, Ricky was sitting in his Lexus,
sending emails and text messages on his BlackBerry. Kalila
slid into the front seat and opened one of the boxes, ripping
the tissue paper in her excitement. She held up a boot for
his inspection. “What do you think?”
Ricky stared in unreadable silence. Finally he said, “I
thought you were going to get something practical.”
Men! Kalila slid back the seat and squirmed as she
took off her shoes and pulled on the glorious new boots.
When she was shod to her satisfaction, she set her feet
against the glove compartment, ignoring Ricky’s glare as her
heels nicked the leather.
“There’s something you need to understand, Ricky
Landon,” she said, as she rubbed an imaginary spot of dust
off one of the toes. “Sometimes the last thing a djinn should
have on her feet is a pair of sensible shoes.”

28 - 28 -
 Pants Problems

“But Kalila,” Ricky tried to get her to look at the credit

card statement. “Did you really need three pairs of the exact
same boots?”
“They phase out old styles all the time,” she said.
“This way when one pair wears out—”
Ricky rested his elbows on the table, willing himself to
remain calm. “You’re a djinn. You can fix them, or conjure
new ones, or—” he looked up as Bo emerged from the other
room, clad only in a black leather jockstrap. “What the hell?
Put some clothes on.”
“I’m trying, human.” Bo ambled over to the sofa and
began rummaging among some magazines and damp towels.
“It’s just that my favorite pants are missing.”
Kalila leaned back in her chair. “They probably
became someone’s souvenir. How many girls did you have
here last night?”
Bo was peering beneath a sofa cushion and didn’t look
up. “Including or excluding the tranny?”
“Oh, never mind.” Kalila stood and gave Ricky a stern
look. “I’m not discussing my shoes with you any more. Just
pay the bill and wake me up when we need to leave for the
show.”
Ricky watched her dissolve into blue smoke. By now
Bo was standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips,
looking around in exasperation. “Any chance you could put
something on?” Ricky asked him. “Even if it’s just a towel?”
“Why? Do I turn you on? I can look for my pants later
if you’d like to—”
“No, and I wish you’d quit asking.” Ricky made as if to
pick up the credit card bill again, but then reconsidered.
“Don’t you ever have misgivings about your behavior? Any
regrets?”

29
 Bo quit rifling through a satchel that usually held sheet
music and CDs, and couldn’t possibly contain his pants. “I’m
sorry, Ricky. What?”
“You know, don’t you ever wish you’d done things
different? You’ve gotten the band kicked out of several
venues, you’ve been beaten up by jealous boyfriends, shot at
by a pissed-off wife, kicked out of the band multiple times,
and banned from the zoo. Don’t you think that’s a little
excessive? And now you’ve lost an expensive pair of pants
because some girl wanted them as a memento.”
“Actually, I think it was the tranny,” Bo said
thoughtfully. “She was asking where I got them and what
they cost.”
“And doesn’t this tell you something about the need to
make a few changes?”
Bo considered. “We should make my pants an
ongoing line item in the budget, shouldn’t we? This seems to
be happening a lot lately.”
“Uh…right.” Ricky sighed and rubbed his forehead.
“How about you bring that up at the next band meeting?”
“Nah.” Bo waved a hand in disgust. “Everyone's okay
with it when it’s the djinn’s new boots on the bill, but no one
wants to pay for an incubus’ pants.” He went into the
bedroom, muttering that he would just have to wear his old
pants for the night’s show, and nobody better steal them, no
matter what their gender.
Ricky sat for a moment, pondering. Then he reached
for his BlackBerry and made a memo to himself to mention
both the boots and the pants at the next meeting. Either
everyone’s clothes went onto the budget or no one’s did, and
if Bo’s pants didn’t constitute a business expense, then
neither did Kalila’s shoes. It wasn’t going to be a fun
conversation, and if anyone had any regrets by the time it
was all over, Ricky had a feeling it was going to be him.

30 - 30 -
 Once to Buy a Mattress

Ricky sat at the computer, nodding over the keyboard.

Reviewing new contracts always made him sleepy and it
didn’t help that the band had been insane after last night’s
show, keeping him up until dawn.
He reached for his cup of coffee but knew it would take
more than caffeine to stop his eyes from crossing every time
he read the insurance clause. The part about “claims arising
from Artists’ willful misconduct or gross negligence” was
worrisome with a vampire and a zombie in the group.
He heard a sound in the bedroom and nearly dropped
his cup.
“Hey, Ricky. Come here.”
Ricky stood up. “Bo?”
“Yeah. Come here, would you?”
Cautiously, Ricky went to the bedroom, but paused in
the doorway. No way was he going to get caught alone with
an incubus, especially one stretched out on his bed. “I
would appreciate it if you wouldn’t materialize here.”
“I know you were hoping for the djinn,” he said. “But
you’re lucky it was me. This bed is no good and it’s no
wonder you always look tired. We’re going to fix that.”
“If I look tired it’s because I have to chase after you
guys all night. I don’t know what you have in mind, but—”
“Relax. Mattress Madness is having a sale and it made
me think of you.”
“But I don’t need a new mattress and I sure as hell
don’t want you thinking of me when mattress stores have
discounts. Now go away. I have work to do.”
Bo stood up, smiling in his lazy, seductive way. “I feel
like doing something nice for you today, human, since we
were kind of rough on you last night. But if there’s some
other way I can do you a favor…”
Ricky felt the pull of Bo’s sex appeal and shuddered.
“Stop that. You know I don’t swing that way.” He took a
31
step back. “If going to Mattress Madness will make you leave
me in peace, fine.”
While Bo waited impatiently by the front door, Ricky
shut down the computer, put on some shoes and found his
keys and wallet. Then they drove to the mattress store, with
Bo keeping up a steady chatter about the girls he had
seduced the night before, the new sex toys he had ordered
from a catalogue, and the strip club being built on the other
side of town. Ricky knew it would be useless to try and
change the subject, so he pretended to listen, adding
appropriately vague comments during the pauses in
conversation and hoping this errand wouldn’t take long.
At the store, they were greeted by a chubby, balding
man who offered to show Ricky the sale mattresses. Bo
tagged along at first, but sampling each bed took time and
soon it was just Ricky and the salesman, with no incubus in
sight. The salesman tried to explain the benefit of
individually wrapped coils, but Ricky was in no mood for his
spiel. He was tired, he had contracts to read, and he didn’t
even want a goddamn mattress. He looked around the store.
Where had Bo gone off to?
He thought he saw a glimpse of blond hair on the other
side of the room, so he made his excuses to the salesman
and hurried over just in time to see Bo pull a giggling
brunette off a Posturepedic. He gave Ricky a mischievous
smirk. “Delia here is going to show me the storeroom. You
can join us if you like. Otherwise, I’ll catch you later.”
“You were supposed to help me shop.”
“I’m sure you can figure it out. It’s really not that
complicated.” He took Delia by the elbow and led her away.
“So let's try out the California King with the dual-adjustable
air chamber design. Do you have it in pillow-top?”
Ricky was about to go after them, and to hell with if he
made a scene, when the salesman reappeared by his side.
“So do you want the Tempur-Pedic? I can make you a great
offer, with free same-day delivery.”
“No, thanks,” Ricky said, “But I appreciate your time.”
Then while the salesman looked on in dismay, he stomped
out of the store.

32 - 32 -
 On the drive home, Ricky ran into traffic on the
freeway and was detoured twice when he tried to take the
side streets. Since he was hungry, he stopped for takeout at
his favorite sandwich shop, only to find it closed. He arrived
home grumpy, out of sorts, and more exhausted than ever.
He heated some leftover pizza, but the crust was chewy and
the cheese tasted funny, so he threw it away. He booted up
the computer, but was in no condition for reading contracts
and spent half an hour on the sofa instead, flipping through
the channels before deciding the day was a wash and he
should go to bed.
After checking the room for signs of an incubus, he got
undressed and lay down. Then he sat up. He bounced on
the bed. It was firmer, and very comfortable. He pulled up a
corner of the bottom sheet and smiled for the first time all
day.
He lay back down, more relaxed than he had ever
thought possible. Bo had been right. A new mattress was
exactly what he needed. He rolled over, pulled the blanket
toward him, and drifted into pleasant dreams.

33
 Cold Autumn Day

Dry leaves crunched under Ricky’s feet and he pulled

his coat tightly around himself. The park was an unfamiliar
one, but it could’ve been any park, anywhere. It all ran
together on tour.
He stopped to look around and immediately wondered
why he bothered, since there was little to see but bleak skies
and jagged oaks whose dry leaves fluttered to the withered
grass below. In the distance, an empty swing set sat forlorn,
a reminder that summer was over.
It was just another depressing corner park in a
dejected, soul-warping town. What was it like to live in a
place like this? Were the people here content or did they
long for the city, the way Ricky yearned for bigger things he
couldn’t put a name to?
“I doubt the cattle of this place give much thought to
anything at all.”
Ricky started. “Must you appear out of nowhere like
that?”
Kalila turned up the collar of her cashmere coat. “I
came from somewhere. Just because it isn’t somewhere you
can see doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
“Please don’t get technical on me.” Ricky started
walking again.
Kalila followed, her hair splayed on the wind. “So what
are you doing out here? You should be at the hotel nagging
us about something.”
“I needed some fresh air.”
“I know how that is.” She took a deep breath and
sighed in satisfaction. “I can’t feed properly on still days.
Wind like this is a feast.” She glanced at him out of the
corner of her eye. “So why did you need air? You’re awfully
pensive.”
“I just wanted to get outside for a little while, see the
town.”
34 - 34 -
 Kalila glanced around skeptically.
“And I got to thinking about the turning leaves, winter
coming…”
“You’re getting metaphorical, aren’t you?”
Ricky shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “Time is
ruthless. Why shouldn’t I think about it sometimes?”
Kalila shuddered. “It’s unpleasant. You can’t do
anything about your mortality, so why worry?”
“That’s easy for you to say. You can take your life in a
new direction anytime you want, but if I screw up…”
“You’re not screwing up.”
“Three of your gigs have fallen through.”
“But the others haven’t. The shows we played have
gone well.”
“Except the one where Vic bit the girl who was
supposed to take the cover charges and Bo spent half the
first set playing bondage games with the bar manager.”
“Details.”
“Yeah.” Ricky sighed. “My life is full of those kinds of
details, and compared to yours, I’ve only got an eye blink in
which to achieve—”
“What, Ricky?” Kalila’s voice took on an edge.
“What’s so important that you think you’re not
accomplishing? Money? Fame? A wife, kids, and
McMansion? Tell me.”
Ricky stopped walking. “I’m not sure, okay? I just
know there’s something better out there. Something bigger
than what I’ve got now.”
“Oh.” Kalila nodded wisely. “You’re right about that.
There’s a lot you don’t understand. But your human brain
wasn’t made to understand it. You can feel it at what I guess
you’d call a spiritual level, but…” she frowned as she
searched for words to explain. “This world is like a puppet
show. You see things move and they look real enough, but
what matters are the things you can’t see beneath the
surface.”
“Now who’s talking in metaphors?” Ricky started
walking again.
35
 Kalila hesitated, then caught up to him, matching his
stride as they crunched through the dry autumn leaves.
They walked for a long time without the need of words,
and after awhile, Ricky reached for her hand and was
relieved when she didn’t pull away. It was comforting to
have her here, even though she wasn’t human and couldn’t
really understand. She had listened, and it helped. And
when they came to a giant sycamore tree and looked up to
see the clouds parting, Ricky felt her fumbling caress as she
twined her fingers through his.

36 - 36 -
 About the Author
Ann Pino lives in Houston, Texas, with her husband Dan, her
cat Pixel, and her rabbit, Cadbury. She works for the
University of Houston.

About the Book:

Maelstrom will be released by L&L Dreamspell in 2010. More
information about the release, as well as additional stories
and a sample chapter are available at
http://www.maelstromrock.com

37