Dime a Demon

by Devon Monk

  “Okay, that’s not right,” Ryder said.

  The thrall of the vortex didn’t seem to be pulling on him anymore. I couldn’t smell the apple pie, either. I didn’t know if the lack of pie had broken the vortex’s pull, or if it was because small, oozy blobs with eyes were staring up at us from within the swirl of moonlight and shadow.

  “What is that?” Delaney asked.

  “Demon spawn,” Bathin said very quietly. “They’re explosive. Don’t spook them.”

  “They can be spooked?” Delaney asked just as I said, “Explosive?”

  “Yes,” he answered.

  Three explosive, nervous spawns loitered there on the edge of the vortex, like blobby monsters peering up out of a manhole. The goo-boys were blobs of lava: red oozy heat and crackly black skin. They had two eyes each, and all of them glowed yellow.

  Only one had popped its foot-like tentacle out of the swirl of light, but where it touched the ground, it left behind little lines of smoke and blue flames that quickly winked out.

  One of them “harrumphed,” another one gurgled, and then there were three tentacles barbequing the ground.

  “How do we shut the vortex?” Delaney asked.

  I had no time to reference the books.

  “Bathin?” I asked.

  “Oh, now you want my opinion?”

  “Don’t be an ass,” I said.

  “All right. You want the vortex closed, I want something in return.”

  Of course he did. He was a demon. It was all about devil’s bargains with him. Getting more than he gave. Typical male from Hell.

  “Name it,” I said.

  “Within reason,” Delaney added.

  “We shove the unicorn in the vortex and close it behind her.”

  The unicorn yelped in indignation, and all three of us—Delaney, Ryder, and I—chanted, “No.”

  Bathin’s gaze tracked the demon spawn, but his voice was light. “Well, then, I don’t think I can help you. Oh, look at that. Is that a nice mortal family coming to play at the park? I wonder how many seconds it will take the spawn to drag them to Hell. I bet five. Five seconds. Anyone want to throw in on this wager?”

  “You’re bluffing,” I said.

  He held up one finger just as the sound of an approaching engine reached me.

  Dammit.

  “Name something else you want,” I said.

  “Anything?” he asked.

  “No possession of souls,” I said. “No harming any person, creature, or god. Which, by the way, Xtelle now falls under the protection of Ordinary. So if you suggest that we do any harm to her, or if you try to do any harm to her, we will throw you out of Ordinary so fast, you’ll break the sound barrier.”

  “I want you to date me,” he said.

  “No.”

  The car engine cut off. A door opened, and another. I heard children laughing, the sound of a mother getting a baby out of a seat.

  Ooze One and Ooze Two seemed to have noticed the new arrivals too, which was kind of weird because the way the parking lot was situated, and how the vortex was level with the ground, made a clean sight line impossible. Maybe they smelled the humans.

  Yeah, that was even worse.

  Dammit.

  “One date,” I countered.

  Ooze One and Ooze Two hefted more tentacles up out of the hole, their lava goo stretching across the ground like pulled Slinkys. The smell of burned dirt and wood chips and, weirdly, burnt pie, filled the air.

  “One month,” he countered.

  Yeah, that wasn’t happening. But time was running out.

  The family was closing in and from the sounds of it, one of the kids was headed to the play equipment at a dead run.

  I turned to Bathin and took hold of his arm.

  A spark of something—not visible, but something real nonetheless—struck like a crack of lightning deep in my bones. It flipped my stomach, dried out my mouth, and suddenly all I could see was him.

  He was warm, warmer than he had any right to be here in the cool, September air. I indulged in a moment to wonder what it would be like to touch his skin, to search out that warmth, to have him touching me.

  Would his caress be gentle like the dream? Or would the fire in his eyes, the strength in his body overwhelm me, own me, swallow me whole?

  He tipped his head just slightly, as if he could almost, but not quite, hear me thinking. Or maybe it was just the beat of my heart thundering so loudly he couldn’t miss it.

  “Yes, Myra?” His voice was hot poured chocolate.

  The kid shouted at his mom to hurry up.

  “Three dates.” I had to clear my throat because that came out a little husky. “Tell me how to close the vortex to Hell, and you get three dates with me.”

  The unicorn scoffed. “Like he’d let you get away with such a shitty deal.”

  “Done.” He pressed his hand over mine. I was still touching him. His hand, warm and wide, cradling the back of my own was more intimate than a handshake.

  His unwavering gaze made it more intimate than a kiss.

  Blood rushed to warm my cheeks, my chest, but I cocked an eyebrow at him.

  He winked and pulled his hand away.

  “We’ll need a few things,” he said, all business now. “I don’t think we’ll find them before that family gets in range.”

  The blobs each had six tentacles out on the ground and were heaving the rest of their bulk up out of the vortex. They were larger than I expected, about the size of VW Bugs. They jiggled and cackled, a weird mutant language that I knew meant they were very pleased to have found a hole into our world, and were even more pleased dinner was running this way with a shovel and pail.

  “Hey, there,” Ryder called out from some distance behind me. “I’m Reserve Officer Ryder Bailey. Would you like to sit in a police car and try out the siren and lights? If that’s okay with your mom.”

  I’d been caught up in negotiating the date with the demon and hadn’t noticed Ryder going back to intercept the kid and mom.

  Good move. That would buy us some time.

  “What kind of things do we need?” Delaney asked Bathin.

  “A ring of candy, a lump of turnip, and a demon kiss.”

  Delaney grinned and held up the turnip and ring. “Get over here and pucker up, Bathin, and tell me how to make this work.”

  “I think Myra should do it. She’s the Reed who understands spellwork and arcane knowledge. You’re more of a…traffic light.”

  “Traffic light.” Delaney shook her head. “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “That Mother-May-I thing you make all the gods do before you allow them into the vacation town they created?” he said. “All the Red Light/Green Light you pull on the supernaturals, making them hide what they really are just to make your job easier?” He tsked. “If the traffic light fits…”

  Delaney scoffed. “You can’t make me feel bad about doing the job my family has been entrusted with for centuries. Nice try, though, buddy. Now get your lips over here. Let’s close this thing.”

  He frowned, glanced at me, glanced at the unicorn, then back at Delaney.

  “I really think Myra would be more suited.”

  “Why?”

  “The kiss?” He threw a look down to the parking lot where Ryder was busy pouring on the small town charm for the mom and kids.

  Delaney gave Bathin that stare that worked in the courtroom. “If you’re kissing anyone here, it’s me, not Myra.”

  He narrowed his eyes, and I had a fleeting moment of panic. When he’d first taken her soul, he’d robbed her of all emotion. I’d made it clear—hard and fast—that I would destroy him if he didn’t reverse that part of the contract. That was when he’d only been in the town a couple of days, but even then, he’d listened to me.

  I still didn’t know why.

  Delaney could feel, could laugh, could love. But sometimes, when she didn’t think I was watching, I saw her stare off in the middle distance and go blank
and still.

  Long-term soul possession could do terrible things to a mortal. We Reed sisters were god-chosen to protect Ordinary, so that gave us certain strengths, certain advantages regular mortals did not possess.

  Delaney was tough. But all the books I’d read pointed to the same thing. Go too long past a year of soul possession, and it permanently changed a person.

  Those changes were never for the better.

  Which meant I had a lot to do in a very little time to save her soul before permanent damage changed her.

  Bathin heaved a sigh. “Fine. I’ll kiss you, right here in front of your boyfriend, the unicorn, and your sister. Is that how you like it, Delaney? A little share-and-share-alike? I’m into that, if you swing that way. Is tongue on the table?”

  I punched him in the arm because I was closest. “You’ll kiss me.”

  “Ooooo,” the unicorn said out of the side of her mouth. “Jealousy?”

  “Myra,” Delaney said.

  “Nope. He’s not coming anywhere near you with his lips or his tongue. It’s off the table, by the way,” I said to him.

  Then I turned back to Delaney. “He already has your soul. I don’t think a kiss is going to make it any easier to get it back. Demon kisses leave marks.”

  “And kissing you won’t leave a mark?”

  I was going to argue, but one of the oozes plopped out of the hole and chortled in victory, all its tentacles waving around like an over-caffeinated Kermit the Frog.

  Then it wobbled to a halt. Yellow eyes surveyed the scene, the park, us standing there arguing. Delaney clutched the turnip and candy ring and glared at me, Bathin somehow lounged while standing, looking like he had all the time in the world to do all the nothing that crossed his mind.

  The demon spawn stretched and spread, becoming more solid and less lava-blobby.

  For a second, I thought it was going to take on a human shape, but no.

  It became a merry-go-round, one of those flat disk, playground kinds with metal pipe humps welded into the base so it could be pushed.

  It was pretty convincing too, except for the yellow eyes that peered hungrily from the center of the disk.

  “Fine,” Delaney said, considering our new problem. “I don’t want anything else coming out of that hole, and I don’t know how we’re gonna shove that thing back in. Myra gets the kiss. I’ll use the turnip and,” she handed me the ring, “you use that. Now, let’s get at it.”

  The three of us strode over to the vortex leaving the unicorn behind.

  “Don’t think this means anything,” I said to Bathin as we approached the vortex.

  The other two blobs were having a harder time getting out of the hole filled with light. There was background noise behind their chattering, something that sounded like a distant choir singing a beautiful lofting song. The smell of apple pie was back.

  “What’s the song?” Delaney asked.

  “The Underworld,” Bathin replied.

  “Hell?”

  “Hell’s a part of the Underworld, sure,” Bathin said.

  “And this is a vortex to Hell?”

  “This is. It’s also a crossroads of sorts. It’s loud, sparkly, and will drag anyone to their death given the chance. Just like a unicorn.”

  “Hey!” Xtelle shouted. “I heard you!”

  We stopped so close to the vortex, I could feel the heat off of the blob that was half way out of it. The blob spotted us. No, it spotted Bathin. And it froze, absolutely stone still.

  “Jib,” Bathin said, “Draz. You boys couldn’t find some other town to terrorize?”

  “You know these demons?” I asked.

  “They’re not demons. They’re demon spawn. Kind of like pets who enjoy devouring their owners.” He bared his teeth, not a smile—definitely not a smile—and the blob in the hole wobbled happily.

  “Draz here,” he waved at the one furthest out of the hole, “has a sweet tooth. You like the shiny ring, Draz?”

  I held up the ring. The blob focused on my movement.

  “Throw it to him,” Bathin said.

  It could be a trick. The candy might just pour gas on the flame, bring more blobs into town. I hesitated.

  “This would be a good time to trust me, Myra,” Bathin said pleasantly, without looking my way. His gaze was locked on Draz, and Draz stared right back like it was trapped and couldn’t look away.

  I could feel it, couldn’t I? If I focused on Bathin, if I focused on how he was standing, how his words were spoken, the air around him? There was a power to him that he didn’t usually reveal so casually.

  This was dangerous enough to warrant him stepping out of his billionaire-with-an-attitude-slumming-in-a-small-town act, to draw upon his power.

  Bathin was showing just a small, a tiny, part of his real self. But that was enough to convince me he was not messing around.

  I threw the ring at Draz.

  Draz’s eyes rolled upward, and Jib followed suit. Too many tentacles were flailing, stretching. Draz caught the ring out of mid-air like a hot rookie outfielder.

  And then Draz tipped backward and collided with Jib, like it had just lost its footing on a very narrow ledge.

  Draz tumbled over once, sending Jib down and down. Draz split in two, then oozed back together with an audible snap. For half a second, the candy ring glittered blue in the midst of the lava-red and black of the blobs and the white of the vortex.

  Then two yellow eyes widened in what looked like absolute joy as the ring was stuffed into a mouth hole.

  The vortex spun faster, shone brighter. Draz and Jib were gone.

  “And the turnip?” Delaney asked, splitting her attention between the empty vortex and the merry-go-round.

  “Should get Klex back in the hole,” Bathin said.

  “Klex is…” I asked.

  “Scary-go-round over there.”

  “Okay.” Delaney pulled her shoulders back. “Do I throw it?”

  “No, you make it dance.”

  “The turnip?”

  Bathin spread one hand in a “yes” motion.

  “You know what?” she said, “I have a dragon pig that likes to hunt demons. Maybe I’ll just go get him and have him shove this spawn thing back down that hole.”

  “You could try it.”

  “But?”

  “Demon spawn are sticky. I don’t think you’d like your dragon pig stuck to Klex for all of eternity.”

  They glared at each other for almost a minute before I got tired of it. “Give me the turnip.”

  She tossed it to me. I grabbed the tea in my bag.

  It was a token I’d picked up from one of our town witches, Jule. She traded in magic spells and infused her tea with a little kick of the supernatural kind, usually just gentle blends for good luck, happiness, health, and comfort, which was in keeping with Ordinary’s rules.

  The tea was little dried flower petals and leaves all wrapped up in a delicate silk bag. I’d ordered the Awake and Aware tea before. It always had one side effect for me.

  It made me want to dance.

  Hopefully, it would do the same for Klex over there. But just to be sure, I incanted a little spell activator.

  “Twinkle, twinkle, little spell,” I whisper-sang, “send this demon back to Hell, with this turnip and this tea, make a magic lock and key. Twinkle, twinkle, little spell, please be strong and do not fail.”

  I tore open the tea and rubbed it on the turnip.

  “Myra?” Delaney said. “Hurry.”

  There were more blobs in the vortex, dozens of them pushing and shoving to get up out of the hole.

  “Come to think of it,” Bathin mused as the pile of ooze fought to break into our world, “all demon spawn like candy.”

  “Delaney?” Ryder called out. “Could I see you, please? Now?”

  From the tone of his voice, the kid was done playing with the friendly police officer. Also, there was another car turning into the park. And a school bus.

  Time wasn’t runni
ng out. It was gone.

  Chapter 6

  The unicorn trotted up beside me and turned over her hoof like it was a hand. If she weren’t a magical creature, that motion would have been impossible. She bent it in a “gimme” gesture. “Turnip.”

  “I’m not giving you the turnip,” I said.

  “Delaney?” Ryder called again, trying to sound casual and friendly, but not quite covering the panic straining his voice.

  “Go,” I told Delaney. “I got this.”

  She didn’t even hesitate before jogging down the hill to the parking lot.

  The rattle of the bus engine turned off, and the chatter of kids, a lot of kids, filled the air.

  I heard Ryder raise his voice to tell them he was going to give them a quick rundown on the rules of the park.

  I had seconds to take care of this.

  “Give. It. To. Me,” the unicorn said again.

  “Don’t,” Bathin said. “You sang the spell, you used the tea. Just throw the turnip at Klex and let magic do the rest.”

  “Magic can’t do everything,” Xtelle argued.

  “No, but you aren’t compatible with the spell she cast.”

  “You know nothing about me.” She shook her mane and stuck her nose in the air.

  “Unicorn magic and demon magic don’t mix,” he ground out. “But go ahead. I’m happy to stand here and mock your efforts.”

  The unicorn stomped her foot. “You dare—”

  “Both of you shut up and move.”

  Bathin gave me a slow-burn smile, as if I’d just told him I loved him rather than ordering him to get the hell out of my way. That smile did things to my stomach. And my breathing.

  And my resolve.

  He bent a half bow, his arm sweeping out as I marched to the merry-go-round.

  “Look, Klex, is it?” I held up the turnip and drew my gun. “I have a turnip and a gun, and I’m not afraid to use them. So either you leave Ordinary peacefully, or I will destroy you, cut off your ties to the Underworld, and turn you into an actual piece of playground equipment for all eternity.”

  The yellow eyes narrowed and the merry-go-round spun lazily as if pushed by a gentle breeze. But it did not pack it up and blob back to the vortex.