by Devon Monk
“Demons are always up for a juicy backstabbing,” Bathin said.
“Yes, but it’s more. There is a growing rebellion. Change is coming to the kingdom. Brutal change.”
“Did you steal the weapons?” I asked.
Surprise crossed his face before it locked down into a sneer again.
“Did you box them up and send them to us?” I asked. “Did you mark them with the red circle and feather?”
“Answer her,” Bathin ordered.
I didn’t think he’d do it, but maybe he remembered the boot to the face.
“Of course I marked them with a red circle and feather. A simple glance at my Wikipedia page would have told you I carry men between kingdoms.”
“The feather,” Bathin said, “represents carrying the weapons between kingdoms. From god realm to here.”
Goap inclined his head once.
“And the circle?” Bathin asked.
“One of the three primes. You should know this,” Goap said.
“I do,” Bathin rumbled. “The circle represents salt, or the body. But you didn’t use your body to deliver the weapons, did you, brother? You used someone else.”
“Wasn’t that obvious?”
“Who carried the weapons for you?” Bathin asked.
“A friend.”
“A ghoul?”
Goap hesitated, and then pressed his lips together.
I was going to take that as a yes.
“Why didn’t we see the weapons in the trunk of the car?” I asked.
“My brother’s greatest trick is making people and things invisible,” Bathin said. “He must have made the god weapons invisible for a short time.”
“My greatest trick is breaking locks and stealing from powerful beings,” Goap said.
“With the torn page of the god spell book?” I asked.
That got his attention. He turned that glass-green gaze on me. “What do you know of the god spells?”
“I know you have it. I know you must have used it to break into the gods’ realms.”
“I don’t have the page,” he said. “I didn’t need it.”
“Then how did you get into their realms?”
Bathin kicked at his leg again.
“I have seen it. Once. I committed it to memory.”
I glanced over at Bathin to see if that was true. Bathin nodded. “He’s always had a quick mind. Makes terrible decisions—”
“My decisions are flawless.”
“—but I believe he could memorize a spell with one glance.”
“Okay,” I said. “Why bring the weapons to Ordinary?”
“Did you not hear me say there is a war coming to your border?”
“I heard. Why would you give us weapons? Why would you even risk sending the god weapons here?”
He paused. “It was a favor.” He glared up at Bathin. “You’re welcome.”
“I never asked you for a favor. Nor is it like you to give one, little brother.”
Again that pause. And I wondered, just briefly if Goap really was doing us a favor. If he was trying, maybe against his own nature, to help us against his father.
Demons had surprised me before. I didn’t see why Goap couldn’t have good intentions.
“Perhaps I am not as you remember either, big brother,” Goap said. “You have been gone for a very long time.”
“Did you send the weapons here because you are offering to join us?” I asked. “In the fight against your father?”
Both brothers wore identical looks of surprise.
Goap shook his head slightly. “Is she always this naive?”
“You’d be surprised at her soul,” Bathin said. I didn’t know if that was a compliment or an insult.
“Why else would you be here with a king killer ax?” I pressed. “It kills kings.”
“Bunny Kisses,” Goap corrected. His gaze was locked on Bathin, as if willing him to understand. “I brought Bunny Kisses.”
Bathin grunted, and bent to pick up the axe.
It was a short-handled battle ax with a wide, curved edge so bright, it looked like a scrap of the moon had been hammered from toe to heel. The rest of the metal was covered in intricate carvings, spells that tricked and misled the eye.
I could feel the power radiating from it. A heat. A promise. A hollowness that hungered.
“If you kill Father, the throne will be yours,” Goap said. Then, in a rush: “I would rather you seated there than him.”
Bathin shifted his grip on the ax. “I will never take that throne. This is my home.”
Goap nodded. “Then the throne will fall to me. Would you not rather I take up the kingdom than leave it in his hands? Think of all the—”
“Yes,” Bathin said simply.
That seemed to catch Goap off guard. “Yes?” he croaked.
Bathin shrugged. “Yes, brother. I’d rather see you on the throne.”
“You don’t…you wouldn’t fight me for it?”
“This is my home,” Bathin said again. “If you want the throne, you can fight for it.”
“I can’t.” Goap sighed. “You know I can’t kill him directly. I can’t. It must be you. The first spawned. Only the first spawned can kill him.”
“You’ve been reading the prophecies again. Prophecies very rarely come true.”
“Maybe so. But I don’t want to risk it. Only a fool would try to bring down the king of demons with a prophecy stating it is the first spawn alone who can take his head. I need…” he cleared his throat. “I need you to fight him.”
“You need me to kill him.”
“That too.”
“A suspicious demon might think you’re the one trying to start the war,” Bathin mused.
“You know me, brother.”
“I did. Once. Now?” Bathin shook his head. “A suspicious demon might pick up Feather Duster and take care of ever having a relative swing an ax at his head again.”
Goap rolled his eyes. “You don’t frighten me. We both know if we’d wanted each other dead, it would have happened years ago.”
“On the spawning grounds,” Bathin said.
“You wish. I could have taken you. Even then.”
Bathin’s mouth curled in a small smile. “Too bad you didn’t, because that was your last chance.” Bathin lifted his hand. Goap stood stiffly, as if he had been held down by a pile of bricks that were falling away one by one.
“I could kill you,” Bathin said.
“You won’t.”
“If you return to Ordinary uninvited, I will.” Those words were harder, colder. Deadly. This Bathin was the man who could kill a king. A man who could crush another demon under his heel. Goap didn’t seem bothered by the change.
“Give me your word you will not return uninvited,” Bathin ordered.
Goap opened his mouth, closed it, then nodded. “You have my word. If you fight him, if you kill him, you will have no trouble from me.”
Bathin grunted. It sounded like he believed him about as much as I did.
“What are you going to do with me?” Goap asked.
Bathin looked my way again. “Delaney?”
Goap’s eyebrows went up, but he covered his shock with a frown. “A mortal. A Reed? You’re allowing a Reed to decide my fate?”
“I could arrest you,” I said. “That way I wouldn’t have to wonder when you’re going to show up and try to kill someone in my town again.”
“No cell will hold me.”
“Oh, our cells would. But the last thing I need is a demon who doesn’t like my town pacing in my jail. I want you gone, just like Bathin said. I don’t think you’d keep a promise to me, but your word means something to him, and his means something to you.”
“You are so wise,” he said with a half bow, and wise sounded more like foolish.
Yeah, whatever. Impressing demons wasn’t ever gonna be on my to-do list. I wanted him out of here. I wanted my town unfrozen. And I never wanted to see him again.
But there was one more thing I needed.
“Give me the page of god spells.”
His head jerked up, his jaw tight. “I’ve told you I don’t have it.”
“I think you know who does. And that,” I said, with a nod toward Bathin, “is worth me locking you up, no matter the consequences.
“The gods are angry, Goap,” I said. “They don’t like their houses broken into. They don’t like their belongings stolen. I’m sure they’ll want to discuss the matter with you.”
He straightened from that half bow, and folded his hands in front of him. “I don’t have the page,” he said. “I don’t know who has it.” He kicked, catching the sword, which had been left on the floor.
It flipped up into the air, helicoptering toward me, fast.
I knew, even as I was moving, that I should hold still. It was nothing but instinct, a knee-jerk reaction driving my actions. I threw up my hands to catch the sword before it hit me in the face, but the pain from my bad shoulder twisted and shortened my reach.
I yelled.
All this happened in the same second Bathin shouted, “No!”
Before I could change course of action, or duck the sword, Bathin’s huge hand was there, impossibly grabbing the hilt. He snatched the sword out of the air and away from my head.
“You can’t touch this,” he panted. “No mortal can.”
The world snapped back into motion, the yelling, the pounding footsteps, the swooping Valkyrie all moving again, coming at us fast.
Fire blasted up into the sky in a fountain of sparks, and beyond the pain juddering through me, I registered Goap had disappeared.
“Ow, ow, ow,” I said as Ryder collided with me, his arms wrapping me, his breath hot and fast against my cheek. He jerked back, holding me by just his fingertips.
“The ax, the ax,” he huffed. “You threw yourself. You threw yourself at the ax. Where are you… How bad…. Are you bleeding?”
“I’m fine, my shoulder. Dislocated, but I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.”
He shifted his grip to my uninjured side, sliding into me gently. I felt his heart beating and beating, shaking his muscles, shaking his bones.
“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?” Bathin called out, raising both weapons above his head. “Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! He chortled in his joy.”
I had to give him huge points for continuing with the poem like the whole thing had been a part of the act.
Then Bertie’s calm voice washed out over the crowd. “And that dramatic bit of stage magic will be fine-tuned for tomorrow’s show.
“We would have warned you that something exciting was about to happen, but didn’t want to rob you of the delightful moment when you realized the boring poetry reading was actually something more. Let us give a hand to our performers.”
She clapped, and yes, it took a few seconds before people in the crowd joined in. Those who joined first, from what I could see smushed up against Ryder, were our supernaturals, who knew something had happened in that split second between Goap appearing and taking a swing to Bathin’s head, and then disappearing in a gout of flame, the axe and sword now in Bathin’s hands.
“Vivian,” I said, pushing at Ryder’s chest. “Babe.” He loosened his arm and I stepped back. “Vivian.”
He caught on quick, and pushed me out at arm’s length. “Never agree to be part of an act without telling me there are going to be weapons and fireworks involved,” he scolded, just loud enough, I knew Vivian would hear him.
“Surprise?” I said with a wide grin. Bathin behind me was taking big, dramatic bows, and the crowd went back to showing their appreciation via armpit farts.
We turned together to face Vivian, who had been smart enough to stow her gun.
“You have a concealed carry permit?” I asked, as we rambled over to her. I thought we were pulling off the ha-ha it-was-all-smoke-and-mirrors pretty well, though my shoulder was killing me and my head throbbed.
Vivian’s mouth went hard at the edges, but it was distaste, not suspicion. “Of course I have a permit.”
“And you carry because?” I asked.
“I’m a woman traveling alone writing stories about remote areas. A gun was the first thing I purchased.”
It was a good cover story. Better than saying she was a monster hunter. I had a feeling those bullets had silver in them.
“You could have gotten a dog,” I said. “Protection and someone to snuggle with all in one.”
She smiled, and it was the fake everything-is-so-cute smile again. “I am absolutely, miserably allergic to dogs.” She pouted.
“Speaking of dogs,” Ryder said. “I need to let Spud out. Think you can drop us off, Babe?”
I didn’t want her back in my home, didn’t want her there with Ryder. Plus, I needed to get to the station to talk to a ghoul, and hey, there were two demon weapons we needed to do something about.
Also, my shoulder wasn’t feeling so great, and it was possible I had a concussion. Maybe he should drive me home. Or to the ER.
“Sure,” I said. We made it three steps before Bertie called my name.
I winced. “Yes, Bertie?”
“You were late on your cue. I expect you to work that out with your partner before tomorrow night’s performance.”
She was good. Adding a little extra cover on the fake act might be enough to clear away the rest of Vivian’s doubts.
“I’ll try. And hey—nice special effects. I thought you were going to cheap out like last year.”
“Delaney Reed, I will not tolerate that kind of talk. The special effects in last year’s Show Off were adequately spectacular. Even the local website said so.” She sounded stern, but there was a twinkle in her eye.
“Thank you for showing up,” Bertie said. “Now please leave.” She spun on her kitten heels and shouted out orders for the next performer to step up to the mike.
“She’s kind of a hard ass, isn’t she?” Vivian said.
“Never insult the stage manager,” I said, as I started toward the stairs again.
I wasn’t at all surprised to see Myra walking our way. Her gaze flicked to Vivian, then Ryder, then the shoulder I was favoring.
“Chief,” she said, “you’re late for your own departmental meeting.”
“Crap,” I said, going with Myra’s lie. “That was this afternoon, wasn’t it? I’ve got to get Ryder home to let Spud out.”
“I can take the Jeep,” he said. “You ride with Myra.”
“I’d love to sit in on the meeting,” Vivian said.
And before I could tell her that wasn’t happening, her phone pinged. “Hold on.”
I gave Ryder the keys, and mouthed thank you, while Vivian frowned down at her phone.
“Problem?” I asked.
“No.” She palmed her phone back into her pocket. “Just a spam message.” She put on a smile to cover her lie.
“We can take Spud for a walk on the beach,” Ryder said. “Nice weather for counting barnacles.”
“Sounds great,” I said, following Myra as quickly as my aching shoulder would allow. “You two have fun.”
“Dislocated?” Myra asked.
“Yep. Also, Goap stopped by to say hi. With an ax.”
“I saw. Let’s get out of here before Vivian finds an excuse to dump Ryder. Think you can go any faster?”
To get away from Vivian? I discovered I could.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A short game of rock, paper, scissors won me my sister shining a flashlight in my eyes (which dilated correctly) instead of going into the Emergency Room. Myra also reset my shoulder and followed that up with a painkiller and a brown bag with a peanut butter, strawberry jam sandwich, and some humus and celery.
Even better, was the huge travel mug of coffee she had made just the way I liked.
So by the time we got to the station, and I had filled her in on our on-going demon problem and her boyfriend’s place in it, I had plowe
d through the sandwich, half the coffee, and was feeling a lot steadier.
Jean was manning the front desk, her hair up in one high pony. “Hey. You okay?”
“Word gets around fast. I’m fine.”
She nodded. “Bathin too?”
“He’s built like a tank,” Myra said. “He’s fine.” Her voice was strong, but I could hear the small doubt behind the words.
“Not a scratch on him,” I said. “I promise.”
She nodded and dropped the empty, extra-large duffle she was carrying onto the floor by her desk. “How do we want to do this?”
“We need to find out how Tish is mixed up in everything. Goap admitted he was behind the lock picking. But he wouldn’t say a ghoul helped him get the weapons out of the realms and into Ordinary.”
“You think he’s telling the truth?” Jean asked, bringing her strawberry milkshake with her as she sat on the edge of my desk.
“I don’t know why he’d need to lie about it. He wants Bathin to fight the King of the Underworld for him. He thought arming the gods would give us an advantage when the king decides to go after Ordinary.”
“Huh.”
“And the god spells?” Myra asked. “Does he have the missing page?”
“He says he doesn’t.”
“Helpful,” she said. “So how do you want to handle our ghoul?”
“Have they said anything?”
“Not a peep,” Jean said. “Also, it’s super weird to see you sitting in there.”
“Yeah, okay, so that’s a thing we need to figure out. Myra, do you know what ghouls eat for sustenance?”
“I did some asking around. Anything but meat. I packed an extra lunch.”
Of course she had.
“Get that. Let’s bring them out here so they don’t feel as constrained behind bars. Right now the only thing we can hold them on is trespassing, and frankly, that yard they were in is a vacation rental. No one has been there for months.”
“I’ll get them,” Myra said.
She sauntered back to the small jail cell behind the doors at the far end of the station. Jean slurped her milkshake.
“What about the monster hunter?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I’m taking it one disaster at a time.”