“We don’t have time for this,” Vincent said. “Sir, we have … ”
“Shut up, kid,” Mr. Lunts said. “Chanteuse, what’ve you got to … ”
“Mr. Lunts,” Chanteuse said with an intensity that surprised her manager and Vincent, “there is no call to be rude.”
“Don’t you interrupt me,” Mr. Lunts said, poking a finger at her. “You’re in enough trouble.”
You don’t know the half of it, Vincent thought as he watched the demons approach.
“We have to go,” he said, taking Chanteuse’s hand.
“You can go, I don’t care,” Mr. Lunts replied, “but you, Chanteuse, are gonna help us clean up the place, then we’re gonna have us a talk in my office.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Lunts,” Chanteuse said, “but … ”
“Don’t be sorry, be busy,” Mr. Lunts said.
“We have to move!” Vincent said, tugging Chanteuse’s arm. “Forget this idiot.”
“Idiot?!?” Mr. Lunts barked. “Now look, you little dweeb … ”
“Mr. Lunts!” Chanteuse snapped.
“Watch that attitude, young lady,” Mr. Lunts said. “Or you’re gonna be in deep trouble.”
“Oh, shut up,” Nod said, exploding out of the root beer cup and landing a solid uppercut on Mr. Lunts’s chin. The store manager flew up and backward, right into two of the approaching demons.
“There you are!” roared the third demon. “Bix has you now, pixie!”
“Heck!” cried Nod, and fled.
The demon named Bix sped after the pixie, then stopped suddenly when Vincent grabbed hold of his legs.
“Get off!” he cried, jamming its claws into Vincent’s arms. Vincent yelped and let go, but Bix also yelped as magical pain jammed into him.
“I thought you said they couldn’t hurt you!” Chanteuse said, seeing the blood on Vincent’s arms.
“They’re not allowed to,” Vincent replied as he snatched a mop from a stunned employee. “That’s why he’s hurt, too.” Vincent swung the mop around in an arc and smacked the demon right between the wings. Down Bix went, bouncing like a rubber ball when he hit the floor and landing next to an abandoned shopping cart. Vincent quickly upturned the cart, covering the demon under a mountain of milk cartons and frozen meat and vegetables and cereal boxes and cupped puddings before caging the beast with the cart’s frame.
One down. But two still to go.
Those two demons crawled out from under the store manager, shook out their wings, and took to the air. Vincent charged them, swinging the mop like a pro, but the demons flew off too quickly.
“Rats!” Vincent said. “Chanteuse, we gotta … ”
But Chanteuse was nowhere to be seen. Vincent grumbled, then hurried off after the demons. He hoped Nod hadn’t fled the store yet, because he had another plan.
There was a loud commotion coming from several aisles away. Vincent ran, mop in hand, toward a large cloud of flour, baking soda, and pudding mix. When he arrived he saw one of the demons rubbing its eyes and flying blind. Clearly, Nod had set an effective trap. The other demon, and Nod, were gone.
“Batter up,” Vincent said as the demon came within range. He swung, and hit a home run right into the demon’s mouth. It chomped down even as the mop struck, biting off the end before sailing up over the aisles and away.
“Two down,” Vincent said, tossing the now-useless cleaning tool and running on.
A few aisles over, Vincent picked up a spray bottle of processed cheese. That would cover the first part of his plan. Then he grabbed a can of whipped cream and a squeeze bottle of ketchup. Perfect. Now all he had to do was find Nod.
As he thought that, Nod sped past him along the floor and disappeared under the next aisle. The demon punched its way through the aisle in front of Vincent, showering him with condiment containers even as it crashed through the next aisle, chasing Nod.
Vincent took off after them, holding his items under one arm and pressing the other against his bruised chest. The pain was intense, and he didn’t know how much longer he could go on.
As he passed the herbs and spices, he saw Chanteuse sitting on the floor in her meditative pose. She had taken off her work apron and had placed it on the floor in front of her, and had several tiny spice shakers all around her. As Vincent watched, she picked one up and sprinkled its contents on the apron. Vincent wanted to ask her what she was up to, but Nod needed him and so he ran on.
Man, he thought, this place is big! He was exhausting himself trying to keep up with Nod and the demon. They could fly really fast; he could not.
The store was almost devoid of people now. Many had stampeded for the exits when the demons had burst through the ceiling, and the others ran when Nod and the demon started tearing up the store. They’d made quite a mess, and the cleanup would take weeks.
Of course, they didn’t have weeks. With the end of the world imminent, this store was probably closed for good.
When he arrived in the produce section, he saw Nod speed toward a melon stand and duck under it at the last second. The demon crashed into the melons, then spun around trying to dislodge a melon from his horns.
Vincent saw his chance. He ran up to the creature just as he was tossing the melon away, and sprayed him with the cheese.
“Bleagh!” the demon cried, clutching its stinging eyes. Vincent squirted it again, this time in the mouth.
“Try and taste through that stuff,” Vincent said as he watched the demon gag.
That’s three, Vincent thought, and he turned to find Nod.
Vincent saw Nod flying toward the bakery department. The pixie flew very slowly, nowhere near the speed he’d been at a minute ago. As Vincent caught up to him, Nod dropped down onto a loaf of freshly baked bread.
“Can’t … go on,” the pixie panted, unmoving. “Leave me … save yourself.”
“No way,” Vincent said. “I’ve got an idea. Hold still.” He popped the top on his ketchup bottle, then pointed and squeezed.
“Hey! Mupgh … ” Nod said as he was covered in condiment.
“I said hold still,” Vincent said as he splattered. “This will mask your taste so they can’t find you.”
“Yuck,” Nod said, standing and shaking some of the goop off. “Icky, but a good idea, Vincent. Thanks. What now?”
“Now we eat you!” Bix said from above.
Vincent looked up just in time to see the demon lowering an upturned shopping cart onto him. Vincent was forced to his knees and pinned, but not harmed. Bix stood on top of the cart and held it down.
“Yikes!” Nod said, and he jumped into the air. He meant to fly, but the ketchup had mucked up his wings and they didn’t work the way he’d wanted. He hit the floor hard, then got to his feet and hobbled for all he was worth.
“Let me out!” Vincent cried, shaking his prison.
“I think not,” Bix replied with a smug smile.
“You can’t chase my friend while you’re up there,” Vincent told him.
“Maybe so,” the demon said, “but that won’t stop my friends.”
Vincent looked around and saw the other two demons fly in. One still had strands of mop in its mouth, and the other was licking everything and anything to get the processed cheese off his tongue. He’d thought (hoped) they were down for the count, but demons were clearly tougher than they looked.
And they looked tough.
“That way!” said Bix, pointing in the direction the pixie had gone.
“Get off!” Vincent said, shoving at the cart Bix had dropped on him. It was useless; the demon was too strong, and Vincent had no leverage for his arms.
“Cease your struggling,” Bix said. “Relax and watch as my friends devour yours.”
“They’ll never find him,” Vincent told the demon.
“I’ve masked his taste.”
“They don’t have to taste him,” the demon said. “They just have to follow the ketchup.”
It was true. Nod had left a trail of condiment drips an idiot could follow. Vincent shook uselessly at his metal prison, realizing not only that his friend was seconds away from being eaten but that he, Vincent, had gone and made him tastier.
The two demons followed the trail past the melon cart and around an aisle corner. Vincent stopped struggling and waited for the pixie’s scream.
It didn’t come. Minutes passed, and still it didn’t come. Finally, the two demons re-emerged from around the aisle, looking dumbfounded.
“You lost him?” Bix asked, incredulous.
“We’re sorry, Bix,” one of the returning demons said. “The trail ended, and he just wasn’t there. No residual taste, no nothing.”
“We looked all around,” the other one added. “He’s just plain gone.”
“Idiots!” shouted Bix. “I’ll find him.” He stuck out his tongue and waved it around, but after a moment or two he stopped.
“It’s the ketchup,” Vincent said triumphantly.
“It is not,” Bix replied. “Even masked, his taste would still linger in the air. No, he has transported himself away somehow. But he can’t hide forever, boy. And neither can you. You have made an enemy today, and in two days’ time it will cost you dearly.”
Vincent’s eyes went wide and his heart and stomach clenched. Two days? That was all the time the human race had left? He hardly noticed as the demons flew away, he was so stunned. He only became aware of his surroundings again when the shopping cart suddenly lifted up and off him.
“Were ya gonna stay there forever?” Nod’s voice said loud and clear, but when Vincent stood and looked around he couldn’t see the pixie. Or anyone else, for that matter.
“Over here, Vincent,” Chanteuse said, and then Vincent saw her holding the shopping cart. There was something funny about her. Vincent had the idea that if he took his eyes off her for a moment, she would disappear.
“It’s a cloaking spell,” she said. “I cast it on my apron, using herbs and spices available in the store.”
“Hi, Vincent,” Nod said, his hand waving from the apron’s pocket. “Your friend’s pretty amazing, huh?”
Vincent smiled widely. “She sure is,” he said.
They heard the sounds of sirens then, and moments later several police cruisers screeched to a halt in front of the store.
“Time to go,” Vincent said.
“We’ll use the loading area in the back,” Chanteuse said, taking his hand and leading him to the rear of the store.
• • •
An hour later, they were on a bus and halfway home. Vincent and Nod filled Chanteuse in on what was going on, and Vincent told them what the demon Bix had told him. They got some strange looks from the other passengers, but paid them no mind.
“Two days,” Chanteuse said, repeating what Vincent had just told her.
“Yikes,” said Nod from her apron pocket. “I knew it was coming soon, but … yikes. We’ve got to move fast.”
“What can we do?” Vincent said. “Our only lead is Alphega Corp., and we can’t get inside. They have security to keep people out, and demons to get rid of pixies.”
“That means whoever is running the company knows about us,” Nod said. “Wow, this is big. We’ve got to get in there and find out what’s going on.”
“We can’t,” Vincent said. “We’ll be seen. Or tasted. There’s just no way to sneak in.”
“There might be a way,” Chanteuse said.
“Really?” said Vincent. “What?”
“Have you ever heard,” Chanteuse asked, “of astral projection?”
Vincent hadn’t, so during the rest of the trip Chanteuse explained. Basically, as Vincent came to understand it, astral projection involved projecting one’s soul out of one’s body.
“It’s what happens when we die,” Chanteuse explained. “The only difference is, with astral projection you can return to your body again.”
Vincent understood all about the soul. His parents had taught him that his soul would survive death, but would then be judged by the Triumvirate. He’d stand before their three massive white thrones, waiting while they reviewed his every deed and deemed them worthy or sinful. If, when all the deeds were tallied, the worthy deeds outweighed the sins, the Triumvirate would open the Book of Heaven to see if his name was written there. If it was not, he would be cast into the Flames of Eternity, otherwise known as Hell.
And if his sins outweighed the worthy deeds, there would be no need to open the Book of Heaven at all.
His parents had never explained precisely how one got one’s name into the Book of Heaven. He’d asked Max about it once, and he’d said, “You just have to be Righteous enough.” Like that solved anything.
“Don’t worry, Vincent,” Chanteuse said. “There is no judgment in the astral.”
“How’d you know what I was thinking?” Vincent asked.
“I’ve met your parents, remember?” she replied.
“Right,” Vincent said. “So you’ve done it, then? Astral projection?”
“I’ve tried,” Chanteuse said.
“And?” Vincent prompted when Chanteuse didn’t elaborate. “Have you actually done it?”
“Yes, Vincent,” she said. “I have.”
“That’s great!” said Nod. “She can project and go to Alphega for us.”
“No, I can’t,” Chanteuse said.
“What d’you mean, you can’t?” Nod asked. “You said you could do it, so what’s the problem?”
“Nod, shut up,” Vincent said. Chanteuse’s usual cheerful smile had disappeared and her face had darkened. She hadn’t had that look since the day Vincent’s parents had fired her, and it broke Vincent’s heart to see it.
“What is it?” he asked gently, taking Chanteuse’s hand. It seemed the right thing to do, and she didn’t object.
“The last time I projected,” Chanteuse replied, “I met a spirit who gave me a warning. He told me the next time I projected, someone I love dearly would die.”
“What?” said Nod. “The jerk!”
“It wasn’t a threat,” Chanteuse said. “More a prediction of the future. The next time I project, something bad will happen, an accident perhaps. And I’m scared it will be my mother.”
“That settles it, then,” Vincent said. “You don’t have to do it.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly, and she gave him a smile. Wow, he thought. I’m holding Chanteuse’s hand. And she’s smiling at me!
“We don’t want anything to happen to your mom,” he told her. “Do we?” he stared hard at Nod, who shrank back into his pocket.
“Hey, ’course not,” Nod said. “But someone here has to project, and it can’t be me. Those demons can taste your soul as easily as they can taste your body.”
“Really?” Vincent asked.
“That’s what I heard,” Nod said. “I’m not about to chance it. Would you?”
Vincent, remembering the demons’ tooth-filled mouths, didn’t think he would.
“That leaves me,” Vincent said.
The bus arrived at Chanteuse’s stop, so she stood and rang the bell. They got off, ignoring the laughter and shouts of, “Freaks!” and hurried toward her house.
“Can you teach me?” Vincent asked Chanteuse as they walked. They were still holding hands, and his spirits were soaring.
“I will try,” she replied. “But it isn’t easy, Vincent. To be successful, you’ll have to focus, ignore all distractions … Vincent, are you listening?”
Vincent wasn’t listening. He stared straight ahead, and gulped.
“There you are,” said Max, hands on hips and frown full of m
enace. “You are in big trouble, little brother.”
“Mother and Father are furious,” Max said, stomping toward Vincent and Chanteuse. “And they don’t even know the full truth! I followed you this morning, Vincent. I saw the creature you consorted with. No doubt the same creature that attacked me in the Chapel last night!”
“Max,” Vincent said as calmly as he could, “this really isn’t a good time.”
“And now,” Max continued, “I find you hand-in-hand with the witch.”
Vincent fought the fear to let go of Chanteuse. He had every right to hold her hand, regardless of what his family thought. Besides, he really didn’t want to let go.
“Mother and Father waited an hour for you at the school,” Max went on. “The principal is furious. And Big Tom’s parents were mortified.”
A deluge of guilt choked Vincent. He’d forgotten about his forced fight with his best friend.
“Is he okay?” Vincent croaked.
“As if you’d care!” his brother snapped.
“Has something happened to Big Tom?” Chanteuse asked.
“Be silent, witch!” Max said, whipping out a pocket Text of the Triumvirate and holding it before him like a shield.
“Hey!” said Nod, poking his head out of the apron pocket. “You can’t talk to her like that.”
“Aagh!” Max cried, stepping back. “Another demon!”
“Nod, stay down,” Vincent said, pushing the pixie back in. “You don’t want the demons to find you.” He turned quickly back to his brother and said, “Calm down, Max. It’s not what you think. In fact, it’s worse.”
“You’ve got that right.”
Vincent groaned as he turned and saw Grimbowl standing by the side of Chanteuse’s home. This was all he needed.
“Stay back!” Max said, swiveling around and pointing his Text at the elf. “In the name of the Triumvirate, I command thee to … ”
“Shut up,” Grimbowl said. “Vincent, smack him.”
Vincent was only too happy to oblige. Max took a full step back, raised a hand to his cheek, and stared at his brother in astonished outrage.
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