Temporary Monsters by Craig Shaw Gardner Page A

mouth, but her eyes looked angry. Not scared. Sheila was never scared. But, as Lenny recalled, she could get angry.
    â€œYou don’t want to disappoint her now,” Foo added.
    Lenny stared at the image. He thought of Sheila’s disappearance, and the incomplete text message she had sent. How could he have known? Sheila leaving without another word? Sending messages he didn’t understand? It was no different than the last few months of their relationship.
    â€œThis is exactly the sort of thing that turns people into ghosts,” the nameless spirit remarked.
    â€œBut not into pookas!” Bob added enthusiastically. “That takes years of training!”
    â€œYou are not alone, are you?” Foo asked, smile still firmly in place. “Ghosts, perhaps? I can sense these things, although I cannot see them—yet.”
    So the overlord couldn’t see Lenny’s companions? Maybe Lenny could use that to his advantage. Still, how useful an insecure ghost and a pooka named Bob the horse would be was currently beyond him.
    â€œI have people for that sort of thing,” Foo continued. “Spectral resources. All a part of my management strategy.”
    â€œManagement strategy,” Lenny replied when it became apparent he should say something.
    â€œThe first phase of my team-building prognoses,” Foo agreed. “Yes, my team. I hope, soon, to add you to their ranks.” Foo’s grin had grown larger. “The day you appeared on my radar, Mr. Hodge, is the day your life changed forever. My conquests are legion. My logistics are unsurpassed. Foo will soon control all media!” He looked past Lenny. “But I get ahead of myself. Our bus has arrived.”
    A large, black bus with tinted windows pulled up beside them. Air hissed as the door opened.
    Lenny hesitated. This had to be a trap of some sort. But why were they letting him just climb onto the bus, rather than grabbing him, maybe sticking a bag over his head—all that kind of stuff?
    He glanced at Foo. “Weren’t you just trying to kill me?”
    â€œOur strategy might have been a bit shortsighted. I assure you, Mr. Hodge, we have revised our projections. Just say I’m big enough to change my mind. Now, after you?” Foo waved the cell phone in Lenny’s face. “Don’t forget. You’re on a mission.”
    Lenny glanced once more at the photo of his ex. Even though Sheila had dumped him, he had been surprised to realize he still had feelings for her. If he could do anything to help her, he would. Even if it meant going willingly with the legions of Foo.
    Lenny climbed onto the bus.
    â€œDon’t worry, boss,” a cheerful voice spoke right behind him. “Bob is with you every step of the way.”
    â€œDon’t forget me!” a somewhat more uncertain voice added. “We will haunt another day. Do you think any of these folks scare easily?”
    The bus door hissed closed behind them. It took Lenny a moment for his eyes to adjust to the indirect lighting. Foo guided him through a doorway just past the driver’s seat.
    Lenny stepped into a spacious lounge decorated with black couches, black tables, black curtains, and black throw pillows. Two people waited on the far couch.
    â€œWow!” the ghost said behind him. “After a few decades in a pit, this is what I call living!”
    â€œMay I introduce the rest of our company,” Foo said as he stepped next to Lenny. He waved to the man on the left, a slight figure wearing a turban. “Swami Phillip Bruce Flalgalfaltal; one of the great mystics of a long European tradition.”
    â€œFrom the Bavarian Flalgalfaltals?” Bob whispered close by. “Wow, Lenny! You really rate!” The pooka and the ghost floated to Lenny’s other side.
    The man with the turban stood and bowed. “You may call me Swami Phil.” He held up his hand. The gesture reminded Lenny of Lenore. “I