by Devon Monk
“If he agreed to the rules, signed the contract, and followed the rules, of course I’d let him into Ordinary.”
“Oh,” she said, as if she’d finally figured something out. “You don’t know his reputation.” She turned to Bathin. “She doesn’t know who he is, does she?”
“You’ve studied demons?” he asked.
“Generally.”
“Myra?” he said.
“Give me a minute,” Myra said. “He’s the…King’s Knight? Is that right?”
“It is,” Bathin said. “It means something different in the Underworld.”
“He rules over thirty-six legions of demons,” she added.
“Yes,” he said. “The hidden texts, those we demons don’t let slip our grasp, explain he is not only brother to my father, the King of the Underworld, but he is also the king’s right-hand man. A confidant. A guide and counselor.”
I watched Xtelle while he listed these demony secrets. She still appeared bored with the conversation.
“So what does that make him to you?” I asked her.
Her gaze flicked up, held mine for a moment. I saw something there. It wasn’t vulnerability. Demons weren’t made that way. Soft and vulnerable was something demons had to learn. But it seemed close to that, maybe the demon version of those things.
Her gaze drifted to Myra. But it was Bathin she was looking at when she answered. “He is not anything to me. Can not be anything.”
That last part was a big fat lie. Even though I hadn’t known her for long, I could hear it in her voice, along with doubt and longing.
“He is your confidant,” Bathin said, “as well as the king’s.”
“As if I would trust him with anything I didn’t want to reach the king’s ear.”
I didn’t know if it was because we were in the middle of a stone made for communication or wisdom or whatever, but there was something more she wasn’t saying. Something important.
Bathin frowned. “What plans have you made with him?”
She scoffed. Then too quickly for me to track, she had a knife in her hand. I had no idea where she’d stashed it when she was in unicorn form—
—the horn, my brain supplied—
—but it was long and slender and deadly as hell.
Bathin tensed, all muscles set to shut that shit down.
Myra stepped back—a prudent decision in the face of possible demon-on-demon violence. But Xtelle took a step backward and cut her own palm.
She turned her palm down, and her blood—blacker than it should be, and thicker, too—dripped to the ground, sending up puffs of pink smoke that smelled of strawberries and fire.
“I do not have anything planned with Avnas.” Drip. Drip. “I am not a part of his coming to Ordinary, nor the spell, nor whatever intent he has to bind Delaney.”
She tipped her hand back up, drew the blade across it again. Instead of cutting and bleeding, it burned, sealed, smoked. It looked like her flesh had never been broken.
Bathin dropped his hands which he had lifted, poised for something. Maybe more of that snapping he had done that had stopped Avnas cold.
He crowded Myra a bit, as if he needed to know she was near, she was safe, she was there.
Her hand caught his wrist for a moment, a tactile assurance, and then she shouldered him aside.
“Is that the truth?” she asked.
“It’s the truth,” Bathin said.
“All right,” I said. “He told me he wants to report a crime.”
They all turned to stare at me.
“What?”
“Why didn’t you mention that?” Myra asked.
“Hello, blood palms, magic stone, and horn stabbings,” I said. “I’ve been a bit distracted and just remembered it. He said the spell will do something so he can report the crime to me.”
“This is…” Myra glanced at Bathin. “Crazy, right? No one needs to cast a spell to report a crime. Why would he even think that was a thing?”
“Demon,” Xtelle and Bathin said at the same time.
“Leverage,” Bathin added. “Most conversations in the demonic world begin with a threat, then a fight of some sort, leverage is applied, and then the actual matter is discussed, which usually leads to a fight of some sort, leverage, threats, etcetera.”
“Super interesting,” I said, “But can we get back to what the spell will actually do to me? Will it kill me? If so, will it be immediate or eventual?”
“It might,” Bathin said. “Eventually. But there is no advantage to you being dead. None I can think of. Whatever he wants, he needs you alive for it. You are his leverage.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he kept going.
“He might say he wants your family, or your town, or maybe even the god powers, but really, it’s you. You are, in many ways, Ordinary’s heart. He knows that. And he intends to use it to his advantage.”
I shivered even though it wasn’t cold here.
“Does it hurt?” Myra asked.
I tipped my head to one shoulder and back, staring at the shifting blue and gold, taking stock.
“It’s not painful. I feel better, actually. Things have been drifting and fading lately, and that’s been driving me nuts. I think it was him.”
“It was,” Bathin said. “Subconscious attachment and manipulation distorts time and reality. Now that the spell has been worked, you should be clearer headed.”
“Good,” I said. “So let’s go find out what crime he’s so determined to report. Myra, I want you to start looking into spell breakers. Xtelle, I’m assuming you will go back to pony form?”
“Unicorn,” she said distractedly. “In disguise,” she added.
Which reminded me. “Why did you come by my house anyway? You’re supposed to be at Hogan’s.”
“I got bored,” she said to her nails.
“You got bored so decided to break into my house and gore me?”
“I needed attention,” she said with a little sniff.
“Well, you got it. So now you can return to Hogan’s and remain bored until Jean takes you out for whatever the two of you negotiate. This is you following the rules like you said you would, remember? This is you learning how the town works and fitting in, remember?”
“I don’t understand what the gods see in this place,” she blurted out. “There are so many other, better towns, better beaches, certainly better weather. Even the ocean is freezing cold here. And don’t get me started on the shopping options.”
“You can leave any time you want,” I said calmly. “That’s in the contract too.”
“No. There’s something to it. There’s something I’m not seeing. I’ll stay. And…be a good pony.” She showed her teeth in what was probably supposed to be a smile, but it came off a little too wild-eyed and crazy.
Bathin snorted. “You won’t find it.”
“Oh, I will.”
“No. You can’t even understand what you’re looking for.”
“If you can understand it, it won’t be difficult for me to understand.”
He spread those big hands of his. “If you say so.”
“I do. Now remove us from this miserable little stone and return us to Ordinary.”
“We’re not really outside of Ordin—”
Just like that, we were back in my house again.
Amy was nowhere to be seen.
“In the kitchen,” he called out. “Is everyone done making their plans and preparing for this little struggle we appear to be locked into?”
He came out of the kitchen carrying my cutting board in both hands. He’d put together coffee and tea, with sugar and dry creamer on the side.
“I am sorry for the rudimentary beverage service, but I didn’t want to go wandering the town while you were out. What might you think of me then?” He offered the cutting board. “My Queen? Tea?”
“You know I prefer coffee. And make it sweet.” Xtelle, once again in pony form, clomped over to the couch, eyed it for structure, then jumped up on it. It
groaned and creaked as she tucked her pony legs beneath her. “The temperature better be exactly one-hundred-ninety-eight degrees.”
“Yes, my Queen.” He dropped six sugars into a coffee mug and poured the thick black liquid. He didn’t mix it, didn’t offer her a spoon, just passed her the cup.
She took it with a hoof that should not work that way and sipped it delicately. “Adequate.” She turned her head away, making it clear she was ignoring him.
For half a second, I saw the look he gave her: the heat, the desire.
Maybe because we were bound by that spell, I also felt a quick twinge of sadness and longing.
“My Prince?”
“Bathin,” Bathin corrected. “I’m not here for tea. I’m here for answers. Why did you bind yourself to Delaney?”
Amy folded his hands in front of him. “I could fetch you snack crackers from the cupboard if you’re feeling peckish. They’re shaped like little animals. With sprinkles.”
They stared at each other, neither man blinking.
“Amy,” Bathin said, clenching and unclenching his hands. “You’re my uncle. You think you’re funny, but you’re not.”
“I am, though. A little. You’ve always thought so.”
“Maybe I’ve changed.”
“Yes,” Amy said, “I think you have.”
“Hello?” a voice called out from the front door. “Anybody home?” Panny trotted into the living room and paused, one hoof still in the air, his goat face ticking from Amy, to Xtelle, to me.
“Hello, Delaney,” he said, like everything was normal, like he visited me all the time, like no one else was in the room. “I wanted to drop by and talk to you about the event tomorrow.”
That was a big fat lie. He had never come by my house in all the years he’d been goating around Ordinary.
“Pan,” I said. “You need to go—”
“Oh, Xtelle,” he exclaimed as if just noticing she was in the room. “Are you all right, my sweet?” He sidled right on over to her, and smooth as butter, hopped up onto the couch next to her, his silky white hair flowing with the jump.
“You!” Amy said. “Away from the queen!”
Xtelle’s mouth fell open, and her coffee cup tipped dangerously in her loosened hoof. She glanced at Pan, then swiveled her head toward Amy. A calculating look tightened her eyes.
“Oh,” she said. “Oh, my goodness. Panny. There you are, darling.”
“Panny?” Amy said. Then louder: “Darling?”
“Yes, my dear,” Pan said. “Tell me, is that pompous blowhard bothering you?”
“And who are you?” Amy took a step forward, heat and power boiling behind his words.
Pan hopped off the couch and lowered his horns. “Why don’t you come at me and find out, you speck of a fool.”
“Ooooh,” Xtelle said. “Fighting over me? No,” she said weakly, “don’t.” She fanned her face with her free hoof.
“Right, then.” Amy rolled his wrist, and a huge scimitar dripping flame appeared in his hand. “It’s goat meat for dinner.”
“Yes,” Xtelle hissed.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Myra shouted, but I was faster.
I pushed my way between the demon warrior and the goat god. “Knock it off!
“You,” I pointed at Panny. “Get out of my house. You can flirt with Xtelle at the petting zoo.
“And you,” I pointed at Amy. “Put your weapon down. If you harm anyone under my care in Ordinary, I will end your existence.”
I squared off against the demon. I didn’t make any other move. I didn’t have to. He saw who I was, knew the power of Ordinary.
He rolled his wrist again, the sword winking out of sight. He took a step back, his gaze never leaving my face.
“Panny,” I said. “Out.”
“But—”
“Out. You’ll see her tomorrow.”
He huffed through his nose, then raised his head and gave me an imploring look.
“No.” I pointed at the door.
“Fine.” He twisted a bit, looking over his shoulder as he went. “Farewell, my sweet. Until tomorrow. We shall feed from the hands of dewy babes and bite lightly at their tender fingers.”
I snapped my fingers for him to hurry it up, and he finally clomped out of the house.
“Is it hot in here?” Xtelle asked breathily once he was gone. “It feels hot in here.”
Amy scowled at the door, his fists planted on his hips. “Him?” he said to Xtelle. “That…god is who you’ve been trotting around with?”
“Did you see the size of his horns?” she asked dreamily. “Magnificent.”
“They’re not that large.”
“But for his size?” she said.
I snapped my fingers again, this time at the unicorn. “No. We are not doing whatever you’re doing right now.
“Amy, your spell’s done,” I said. “I’m here. Talk. Why did you bind yourself to me?”
He inhaled, exhaled. He appeared so calm, I would have thought he was putting on the jealous act just for fun, but there was a hard fire kindling behind his gaze.
“I will tell you. But not in front of this audience.
“Try another answer, Uncle,” Bathin said.
“Bored now,” Xtelle announced.
“We’re not leaving you alone with her,” Myra said.
“No, it’s fine,” I said.
“Delaney.”
“It’s fine, Myra. You’ll be right outside the door. It’s not like he hasn’t been surfing my subconscious for however long. What he wanted to do, he’s done.”
“You shouldn’t be here alone,” Bathin said. “Trust me on this, Delaney.”
“Hold on. I got it.” I pulled out my phone and dialed.
“Jean Reed.”
“Hey, can you pick up something at Ryder’s place? I’m out at my house dealing with a demon.”
“Xtelle? Did that little minx get out of the house?”
“You had her in the house?”
“Dude. Have you tried to keep her out of someplace she wants to be? She tried to climb through the window. The second story window.”
I cut a look to Xtelle who was suddenly very interested in sipping her coffee, her ears rotated slightly toward me.
“Okay, but we’ve got another one.”
“Window?”
“Demon.”
“Well, shit. I’ll be right there.”
“Wait, I need you to stop by Ryder’s house and pick up the dragon pig.”
Myra shook her head, but at least her scowl wasn’t as bad.
“Is everyone okay? Are you okay?” I could hear a door slam and an engine start.
“We’re stable at the moment. Myra, Bathin, and Xtelle are here with me. Plus the new guy, Amy.”
“Amy.”
“Avnas. Bathin’s uncle.”
“Uncle? What is he doing? Why didn’t I get a doom twinge? Holy shit, how did I miss it? Are you sure you’re okay? Is he forcing you to call me?”
Yeah, my run-ins with demons had shaken both my sisters. Maybe more than I realized.
“Jean, listen. We got this. He cast a spell to do a binding. No one’s been harmed. We’re at that part of the movie where the bad guy tells the hero his super brilliant secret plan and makes demands that probably include a lot of unmarked bills and a helicopter. But he wants to keep it private, just between him and me, when he reveals his evil machinations.
“Since we Reeds are the heroes here,” I said, “we’re going to be smart. Myra’s going to keep an eye on the other two demon folk, and you’re going to bring me a dragon pig, because I want a dragon under my arm for back up. A hungry, demon-hunting dragon.”
“Jesus, Vishnu, Zool,” she breathed. “Okay. Okay. I’ll be there. Hang on.”
“Not going anywhere. Promise.” I disconnected the call.
Amy was sipping out of one of my cups, it had carousel horses on it, and a tiny chip in the handle. I didn’t like that he’d just stepped into my life so ea
sily. Didn’t like that he’d assumed I’d stand aside and do whatever he wanted.
“I got this,” I told Myra.
“Okay,” she said. “Xtelle, out. You wait outside.”
“I haven’t even finished my coffee. Delaney, tell your ugly sister she’s being rude. Why is your eye twitching like that? Are you unwell? I hope you’ve washed your hands recently. I don’t want to spend my first visit to Ordinary ailing for weeks on end.”
“Out,” Myra said. “Now.”
The pony glanced at me, and the calculations on her part were obvious. She held out the cup, right over the rug in front of the couch and poured the sticky sugary mess left in it onto the floor.
“Oops,” she said, letting the cup drop out of her hand. It landed with a clunk. The handle chipped off and skittered to a stop against the leg of a side chair.
Myra was there, right there between me and her, and that was good because I was about to get all up in a unicorn’s face.
“This isn’t like last time,” Myra said to her. “We can throw you out any time we want. Delaney can throw you out. You might want to make some smarter decisions.” While she was talking, she was also giving Xtelle the bum’s rush, one hand in her mane, one around her neck, pushing her out the door.
Xtelle was making little “Help! Help! I’m being mishandled!” noises, but she didn’t sound distressed. Not really. She sounded like she was choking back a laugh.
Myra let go of the unicorn enough to open the door, then shoved Xtelle out and slammed it closed.
“Rude!” Xtelle yelled, but it was ruined by the laugh she couldn’t quite cover.
Demons were annoying as hell.
“Okay, we’ll all wait here for the dragon pig,” Myra said.
“I don’t think a dragon is necessary,” Amy said.
“Oh, it is.” Bathin shut him down before Amy could even oil the conversational wheels. “You’ve seen it, I assume, while you’ve been stalking Delaney?”
“Observing is not the same as stalking, my Prince.”
“That shit doesn’t float here, Uncle. You know the Reeds are god chosen. Gods have never been your concern, but it’s hard not to see their connection to the Reeds, isn’t it?”
“Vacationing gods are powerless.”
“Oh, sure,” Myra said. “A god on vacation, who wants to get a little break from the demands of his or her power, is a walking, talking weakling.”