"Why are we in the woods?" Rex asked.
I had no idea, and I told him that. Follow-up messages from Ron and Ivan this morning told us to wear all black and meet at the public park just outside of town. As far as black went, I didn't have a lot of options, but the little black dress was obviously out. Instead, I wore a black, long-sleeved T-shirt, black tactical pants, black socks, and black combat boots.
"You look like you're about to take out a terrorist cell," said my husband in a black polo shirt, black slacks, and dress shoes.
"You never know with Chechens," I mumbled.
I'd learned the hard way when I was undercover with Ron, Ivan, and their leader, Wally. I once showed up for a potluck with a pizza, only to find out potluck was their code for there's a traitor in our midst and we're going to torture him for intel. Fortunately it wasn't me, but let me tell you, it's impossible to get bloodstains out of khaki capri pants. On a positive note, everyone loved my Twinkie Cake.
I checked my cell phone again. "This is the right spot. I hope I'm not going to be tested." I started doing jumping jacks and lunges to limber up, just in case.
There was a loud thump, and Hilly, dressed exactly like me, jumped to the ground from a branch overhead.
"Hey! Looks like we thought the same thing!" Hilly said brightly, adding, "I slept in the tree last night."
"Seriously?" Rex's right eyebrow went up. "Guys, it's probably going to be like a baby shower or something."
The assassin and I ignored him as we sat holding hands and facing each other, pulling each other back and forth to stretch our legs.
A rustling nearby had Hilly and me on our feet, ready for anything as four hooded, gowned characters emerged from a spot that had no trail. As they got close to us, they threw back their hoods.
"You guys!" Stewie, the rotund, short redhead leader of the Cult of NicoDerm whined as he started scratching his ankle. "We were supposed to take the trail! I think that was poison ivy!"
"Poison ivy should be no match for a dred demi demon." Heather rolled her eyes.
"Besides, we can't see with those hoods over our faces like that," Kayla added.
"But it sure looks cool," Mike, the Mirthless Menace, said, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.
Rex excused himself and left us on the path that these guys should've taken.
"What are you guys doing here?" I put my hands on my hips.
The Cult of NicoDerm was a group of four extremely awkward teens who couldn't decide if they were druids, demons, or cult members. I'd always defined them more as druid wannabees. The kids had claimed me years ago as their Bird Goddess because they think I can commune with birds because I often break into the zoo at night to talk to the king vulture. Believe me, the communication is only one way, and he had demands that included Girl Scout cookies, so I didn't think that counted as actual, two-way conversation.
I had a soft spot for this harmless and hapless group. For years, they'd tried desperately to recruit others, with no luck. Hilly had made them rich by giving them the rights to the Beetle Dork comics, and they'd since bought the Chapel of Despair—or in other words, the old Lutheran church. They also had an old hearse they called the Doom Chariot.
Kayla cracked her gum loudly. "Those big guys who talk weird told us you were doing some sort of ceremony for prophets."
Heather examined her fingernails. "They said they needed other religious types to lend credibility to the event."
"Yeah," Mike squeaked.
"And no one is more qualified than us. We're professional. We evoke demon elegance!" Stewie was scratching so fast and hard that his eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth puckered up. I'd seen that look before on Philby, my cat, when I cleaned her ears.
Rex returned and handed Stewie a pink bottle. "Calamine lotion. I keep it in the car for outdoor cases."
"Thanks!" Stewie sat in the dirt and dumped half of it on his ankle, which had swollen to an alarming size.
"That's cool that the druids are here," Hilly said. "Chechen holy men love stuff like that."
Stewie stood up and stretched to the full height of five feet tall. "What do they want us to do? We can chant, cast spells, curse the event, or I can summon a demon!"
"Oooh!" Hilly clapped. "Do that!"
"I don't think you should summon anything," I started. "I think they just want you to observe."
The rest of the kids nodded, but Stewie looked disappointed. "Are you sure? Summoning a demon would be pretty dope!"
Hilly turned to me. "Dope means good."
I held up my hand to her. "Yeah, I know what dope means. And no, Stewie, I'm sure they just want your presence."
Why Ron and Ivan had called the teen druids was beyond me. But I was about to find out as I spotted the two men, with their babies in carriers, heading toward us on the trail.
"Oh good!" Ron said to Stewie. "Dred Demi Demon Odious and other weird kids are here!"
Stewie drew himself up to his full height and wiggled his fingers dramatically. It was a move he called Demon Fingers. It did not, as he'd implied, invoke demon elegance.
"Where's the Holy Mud Man?" I asked.
Wally's and Azlan's eyes popped open when I spoke and fixated on me.
"And your wives?" Rex's eyebrows went up.
"Wives are at home working on new thing." Ivan grimaced but did not explain. "Holy Mud Man Roger is on way."
A goat bleated in the distance. That could only mean one thing. The Holy Mud Man was going to use a goat to make his determination.
"The Holy Mud Man's name is Roger?" Rex asked.
Ivan nodded. "Is his American name."
"Is also Pablo in Spain," Ron added. "Seamus in Ireland, Thor in Scandinavian countries, and Lord Beckwith Tiddles III in England."
"Here he comes!" Ivan pointed at the trail.
An elderly looking man leading a goat headed our way. They stopped a few times for the man to catch his breath. The goat waited patiently for him to recover before walking a little farther. It took ten minutes for him to get to us. When he did, he pulled something out of the goat's pack that he set up as a stool. Then he sat down.
Roger the Holy Mud Man was rail thin. His skin was bronzed from years in the sun, and he had deep-sunken eyes and a long, silver beard. After panting for a few minutes, he straightened up as much as he could.
Stewie made a motion, and the druids got in a side-by-side formation, hands together, lost in their voluminous sleeves, heads bowed so that the hoods covered their faces.
Roger remained on his stool. His right eyebrow went up. "Who are the stiffs?" To my surprise, he had a perfect Midwestern accent.
"Druids from the Cult of NicoDerm," Ron replied solemnly.
Roger looked around him. "Why are we all the way out here? Couldn't we have done this at someone's house?"
My Chechen brothers-in-law looked disappointed.
"Is sacred ceremony!" Ron gasped. "It is to be done in wilderness!"
"Well yeah, sure, I guess." Roger rubbed his beard. "But we're not in Blasto Blasto, are we? Houses here are nice. They have central heating and streaming smart TVs."
We all stared at the man for a few moments before he put his hands on his knees and pushed up to stand. There were a lot of creaks and popping sounds.
"Let's get this done," Roger sighed.
"Guys," I sighed. "Why don't we just take it to our house? It'll be more comfortable for Roger there."
The Holy Mud Man brightened. "Do you have a streaming smart TV?"
Rex nodded. "We do. And I can order food."
Stewie threw his hood back. "What are we supposed to do? We were told this was a forest ceremony!" He scowled as he folded his arms across his chest. "The Dred Demi Demon Odious does not approve!"
He tried to look menacing but came off looking constipated instead.
Roger threw his thumb over his shoulder and looked at me. "What's up with these kids? Don't they like central heating?"
"It's fine, Stewie," I assured the kid. "But the Holy Mud Man is an elderly man. He should be treated with respect and comfort."
That felt like a really good speech. Hopefully I'd make a good impression.
Roger frowned. "Are you talking about me? I'm only forty-two. And why are you dressed like you're going on a mission?" He waved at the assassin next to me. "Hi Hilly!"
"Hey Roger." Hilly waved back.
"You two know each other?" I asked.
"Oh sure," Hilly said. "We met at a mud spa in Grozny a few years ago." She leaned in to whisper, "He looked much older then. This is an improvement."
"Well, I'm here now, and those kids look like they'll be disappointed if we don't do it here, so let's get this done," Roger said. "As long as you have a reception after? I'm very partial to ice cream."
"I know just the place, your Holiness." I smiled.
He held up his hands. "Please, it's just Roger. Only people back home have to call me Holiness. Besides, I'm not certified to be a Holy Mud Man in the US." He led the goat over to the two babies, sitting in their carriers, on the ground. Even with the attention from the beast, they never took their eyes off of me.
The goat began to sniff my nephews thoroughly. They still kept their eyes on me, as if the goat wasn't there. Roger followed their gaze to me.
"Hmmmm…yes…" he said. His spine popped as he straightened up then brought the goat over to me. The goat sniffed me in a manner I found a bit insulting.
Roger looked me over then tried to distract the babies from looking at me by taking several steps to the right and whistling, then took several steps to the left while mooing like a cow. Kids love cows, he mouthed at us.
We all stood there, in silence, for several minutes while this went on. Finally, Roger led the goat away and started whispering to him. The goat let out a mighty bellow, and the two returned to us.
"We have decided," Roger intoned, "that we need to spend more time on this." He looked at me. "You have a guest room?"
I looked to Rex. After all, this was his family. Oh sure, I had the connection to the Chechens in the first place, but I thought the family thing overruled that.
"How long do you think you'll need?" Rex asked.
Roger whistled. "It's going to take a while."
I pointed at Ron and Ivan. "Shouldn't you stay with them to witness their miracles or something?"
The Holy Mud Man grimaced. "Of course not! People would think I was biased by their hospitality."
I placed my hand on my chest. "Yes, but I may be the Great Pook Snork, so that might be biased too."
Hilly raised her hand. "Oooh! I know! You can stay with me at Merry's old house, across the street!"
Rex and I looked at each other. To me it seemed like a fair trade.
Roger seemed interested. "Can I bring Warren?"
Rex looked around as if someone else might appear. "Who's Warren?"
He pointed at the goat. "I would've thought that would be obvious."
"For a short time, I think that might be okay." I shrugged. "He'll have to stay outside though, and I'll have to check city ordinances."
The holy man whispered in Warren's ear. The goat responded with a nod. "Okay. But he wants ice cream too."
I turned to Kayla and gave her a meaningful look.
She looked blankly at me for a moment before realizing what I was asking.
She sighed and slouched at the same time. "I don't care. The owner's out of town for a month. Besides, it's Sunday and we aren't technically open, so I'll just say this is a private party, but I expect a big tip."
I helped the Holy Mud Man to his feet. "Roger, you're going to love this place."