Demons in My Driveway

by R. L. Naquin

  I turned to hug Daniel, then stopped, my eyebrows raised. I pointed to the mound of brown, unmoving fur in his arms. “What’s this? No. Who’s this?”

  Daniel smiled and shifted the weight he held. “This is Howard.”

  A very serious, sober bunny face twitched its nose at me, then, having decided I was neither a threat nor of any particular interest, looked away.

  Daniel squatted and placed Howard in the grass. The large rabbit took a single hop forward, then settled himself in to nibble, ignoring everyone around him. Milo noticed and bolted for his friend, leaped over Howard, then turned and leaped again, as if the two were in the circus.

  Howard twitched his nose at Milo, then resumed eating.

  “Not exactly a lively playmate for Milo to blow off steam.” I grinned, already in love with the grumpy rabbit.

  Daniel chuckled. “He tolerates Milo, but Milo adores him.”

  I put my arm around Daniel’s waist and hugged him. “I’m glad Milo’s got a brother.” I kissed his cheek. “Come sit down. I hear more tequila is on its way.”

  Once I understood the meaning behind this spontaneous, rather elaborate get-together, I relaxed. Maybe knowing my friends had gathered for one last hurrah before everything collapsed should have alarmed me. It didn’t. It reminded me why I wanted to protect the world I was living in. Why I wanted to keep everyone safe.

  Riley and Darius returned, bearing copious amounts of alcohol, multiple bags of ice, and a brotherly affection I’d never noticed before. They used to detest each other. Now they appeared to have been childhood best friends, working together to unload the car, gathering more chairs from the other campsites farther out in the yard, and cracking jokes with each other.

  I tapped Kam on the arm and lifted my chin toward Riley and Darius. “What’s up with that?”

  She followed my gaze and her lips quirked in a half smile. “Your mom tore them a new one. That’s a saying, right? Anyway, she lectured them on putting away their differences for the common good. Yada yada.” She waved her hand and gulped her drink. “It’s making my life a hell of a lot easier.”

  The two men dragged a tarp full of firewood across the grass. Riley’s muscles flexed with every tug, and the wind blew his dark blond hair over one eye. I wanted to hurry over to him and brush it out of the way. I knew how soft his hair was, how it would slide through my fingers like silk. His cheeks were pink with exertion and cold, and stubble grew along his jawline. I knew what that stubble would feel like against my palm.

  I shook my head and stopped watching, instead, concentrating on a rock by my foot. We weren’t together anymore. Riley wasn’t mine to touch. It didn’t do either of us any good for me to sit there spying on him like a brooding teenager.

  Another time. Another place. Maybe someday things could work out between us. But, as long as the threat of one of us getting killed hovered over our heads, and as long as I was responsible for the safety of so many others, having a boyfriend—even one in the know—was an exercise in self-delusion. The world took too much of me. I didn’t have enough left for him.

  As evening fell, more of our friends showed up, ate a little, talked, laughed and moved on. This also explained why Maurice had provided so much food. Tashi drifted around the edges of the firelight. She wouldn’t touch the offered spareribs, chicken legs or burgers, but she ate a salad that filled my punch bowl. Apparently yetis were vegetarians—or at least mine was.

  Having crawled out from under one of the beds in my house, Stacy stepped out of the house, dressed in a chartreuse tutu, tights covered in cartoon kittens, purple high tops, and a ruffled top. Maurice, oblivious to the way she mooned over him when his back was turned, treated her no differently than any other guest. She danced alone around the fire, sipping her drink and telling any who would listen stories her father used to tell her when she was a little girl of brave under-the-bed monsters.

  From time to time, Maurice took a break from hosting and sat beside Sara. He kept his large yellow eyes fixed on Sara’s face as she assured him she was alright. No, she didn’t need her drink freshened. Yes, she’d had enough to eat. No she wasn’t cold.

  My heart hurt for Stacy. Maurice’s attention was so fixed on Sara, he never heard the squeaky tremor in Stacy’s voice as she tried to distract herself with the story of Horatio Cobbswacker, the heroic attic monster who conquered the legion of devil dogs from beyond the Great Badoonga Tree. I saw the sadness in her eyes and the defeat that lay across her shoulders.

  Sara saw it too, and Stacy’s sadness reflected in Sara’s eyes. No matter what my friend felt for Maurice, she never wanted Stacy to get hurt.

  The brightly dressed under-the-bed monster swallowed hard, lifted her chin and turned away to continue her story for the half-listening group near her.

  I gave Sara a small, reassuring smile across the fire. One more thing for us to sort out when everything was over.

  Molly the brownie brought her family and stayed for a while. The older kids played with Milo, and even Howard tolerated being ridden around the yard like a chubby stallion. He did a good job of looking stern and grumpy, but I was pretty sure he enjoyed playing with the kids. He took long, loping hops in the grass with his ears folded back around the kids, as if he were keeping them safe from falling off his back. From time to time he stopped, wiggled his nose and gave a bunny scowl, then took off at a faster pace than before, causing little Abby to squeal with delight from atop her noble mount.

  Howard was a pushover.

  Bruce, the pigmy dragon, showed up around eleven. The fire had died down some, and, with a single hot breath, he fed the flames to near bonfire proportions.

  “Bruce!” Maurice hurried to his side. “It’s great to see you, buddy. Sit, sit, sit! Are you hungry?”

  Bruce snorted and growled, and smoke rings puffed from his nostrils. He plopped down next to my feet, leaning against my left leg, much the same as Milo was positioned, sleeping against my right leg. I was penned in. Unlike earlier in the kitchen, I found comfort in the closeness. This was where I belonged.

  I scratched the crest at the top of his dark green head, and a low humming erupted from his throat. “Hey, Bruce.” I patted his side and felt the warmth of his belly furnace against my palm. “How’s every little thing?”

  Bruce gave me an affectionate look, grunted, then dropped his head to his front legs. Molly was the only one in our continually growing family who spoke dragon. She’d left to put the kids to bed an hour ago. But Bruce and I understood each other enough to get by—the same way Tashi and I did.

  Love was common language enough.

  Okay, that was kind of a lie. I would have much preferred a real common language—one with nouns, verbs and adjectives, instead of clicks, grunts and chuffs.

  When Maurice reappeared, he had a large silver mixing bowl filled with raw meat marinated in...something. He placed it in front of Bruce and patted him on the shoulder. “There you go, buddy. We’ve all been gorging ourselves. No reason you shouldn’t too.”

  Bruce sniffed the contents of the bowl, then sent a snaky, forked tongue across the meat. His eyes widened and he snorted.

  Maurice nodded. “Yep. Brimstone. I’ve been marinating the meat in it for three days. Enjoy!” Without another word, he grabbed my empty glass and took off with it.

  I sat in my folding metal chair in front of the fire, a pygmy dragon and a fennec fox at my feet, a blanket around my shoulders, soft music playing somewhere nearby, and low voices murmuring around me. Contentment settled over me and made me drowsy.

  Mom and Darius finally went inside sometime after midnight. Mom stopped and kissed me on the forehead, much like she used to do when I was little. Trailing her hand over my curls, she left without a word.

  The entire damn night was so weird, I didn’t know what to think. It had the feel of a gathering of forces for a final confrontation, but there was nothing to fight. Not yet anyway.

  And most of the people showed up, stayed a little while,
then departed. If they’d left gifts in their wake, I might’ve worried that it was a last goodbye.

  But even the goodbyes were understated. No long, lingering looks or desperate embraces. They wandered in, had a drink or two and a bite to eat, then went back home.

  Or, in the case of Andrew and Daniel, picked one of the huge tents we always had set up and went to bed for the night. Kam grabbed another tent and gave up her room to Sara.

  No one offered an explanation, and I didn’t ask. As much as I’d wanted to be alone and have some peace earlier in the day, I was content to have my friends around me, not asking for a thing, simply spending time with me and with each other.

  And whatever was coming, I was refreshed and ready for it.

  In the end, Maurice and Riley and I were the only ones left around the fire. They spoke in low voices so they wouldn’t wake anyone. I could only make out a few of the words, but they didn’t sound important. Pancakes. Cinnamon. Juice. Spatula.

  My eyes grew heavy and I dozed, lulled by their voices. No one woke me to put me to bed. For once, Maurice let me take care of myself.

  I didn’t dream. Hell, I didn’t move. Several margaritas, a warm fire, a cozy blanket and exhaustion outweighed the discomfort of sleeping sitting up in a folding chair.

  When I opened my eyes, the sun was creeping into the sky behind me. Riley slept in a chair across from me, apparently never having left.

  Of course not.

  Even with people sleeping in tents around me and a fire-breathing pigmy dragon at my feet, Riley kept me safe.

  I stretched, wincing at the aches in my back and neck. And bladder. I had drunk a lot and hadn’t moved since about ten o’clock the previous night.

  It was early, and everyone slept. I didn’t see Maurice in the house. He could’ve been anywhere, since he could move through a network of closets to other locations. He was probably gathering things to make breakfast.

  Closet monsters rarely slept.

  I cleaned myself up while I was in the bathroom. The only thing I could do with my hair was to pile it on top of my head and call it a loss. I washed the charcoal smudges from my face and swapped out my smoky shirt for a fresh one.

  Always thoughtful, Maurice had made a fresh pot of coffee before he left for wherever. I poured myself a cup, then wandered through the living room to step out on my front porch and watched what was left of the sunrise.

  I nearly dropped my coffee cup.

  A fanged face peered out at me from a fresh portal shimmering in my driveway.

  “About time somebody showed up. I’m running out of dark, here, baby. Would you grab me an umbrella or something? I’m sort of allergic to the sun, if you get what I’m saying.”

  Chapter Eight

  The floating face wasn’t an aswang. At least, I didn’t think it was. It didn’t snarl, gnash its teeth or threaten me. In fact, it sounded more like a young Frank Sinatra than anything supernatural. If it weren’t for the fangs and aversion to sunlight, I’d have thought he might be human.

  Fangs. Aversion to sunlight.

  “Ah, shit.” I set my cup on the railing and eyed the disembodied face.

  “A little help? A guy could fry in seconds.” He grinned, emphasizing his fangs.

  I turned on my heel and went inside without answering.

  The first thing I did was grab my multi-dimensional cell phone from Talia and send her a quick test.

  New portal open. Not yours. Vamps?

  I hit send, then banged on my mother’s bedroom door. “Darius.” I banged harder. “We’ve got another portal. Up and at ’em.”

  Sara opened her door first and blinked at me through bleary eyes. “Demons are back?”

  I shook my head. “I think he might be a vampire.”

  She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “What the hell kind of life am I leading that vampires are a relief?”

  I turned toward the kitchen and smacked into Maurice. He grabbed my elbows to steady me. “Vamps?”

  “I think so.” I stepped around him. “I’ll get Kam and Riley. Keep everyone away from the portal.”

  Darius stepped out of my mother’s room, a shirtless mountain of dark muscle. “I’ll keep an eye on the portal.”

  “Good. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  His jaw flexed as if he were about to say something, then stopped himself. It occurred to me what it must cost him to treat me differently than he did my mother. He was accustomed to taking charge. This truce we’d come to had to be a huge challenge.

  I was grateful to him for making the effort.

  Out back, I stood over Riley, hunched up in the camp chair and snoring softly. He only snored like that when he had hay fever or a cold. Maybe the smoke from the campfire had clogged his sinuses. I reached toward his hair to move it out of his face, then stopped. My heart gave a hard squeeze, and I placed my hand on his shoulder.

  “Riley.” I nudged him. “It’s show time. We’ve got another problem.”

  He sucked in a long breath, then opened his eyes and stretched. “Problem?”

  “Portal. Darius is already out there. I’ll get Kam.”

  Our gazes locked for a long moment, each buried in the past. The expression of longing on his face clawed at my heart and made me think of all the times I’d answered that same expression with passionate kisses and intimate touches. My face grew hot and I looked away. Shaking the memories loose, I stepped away toward Kam’s tent without looking back.

  “Good gobbledy gook, you two need to sort your shit,” Kam said when I stuck my head into her tent.

  “If we live through the end of the world, I’ll put you in charge of my love life.”

  Kam ran a fingertip over a gem in her bare wrist, her expression calm and focused. As if she were Cinderella getting ready for the ball, everything on her—hair, clothing, shoes—changed. Her loose hair tucked itself into a tight bun at the base of her skull, and a dark green cap unfolded out of nowhere onto her head. Camouflage pants and jacket grew like vines over her arms, legs and torso. Clunky black boots laced themselves along her shins.

  I preferred Cinderella’s dress, but this was still impressive.

  “Army fatigues?” I quirked an eyebrow.

  “In case I need to do battle. Way better than wrestling that aswang in my poodle skirt.”

  I yawned. “How the aswang got in my poodle skirt, I’ll never know.”

  She cocked her head at me, forehead wrinkled. “What?”

  “Never mind.” I sighed. Riley would have understood the old Marx brothers reference.

  We left Andrew and Daniel to sleep, since neither of them possessed any supernatural strength. Andrew could read auras. As helpful as that sometimes was, it wasn’t much of either an offensive or defensive skill. Andrew owned an herbal shop and Daniel was a nurse’s aid.

  Always keep your healers out of harm’s way if there’s a battle.

  I’d learned that playing online roleplaying games with Maurice.

  On the way through the house, we passed my mother. She stood with her arms folded, pacing and looking out the front window.

  “What are they doing out there? Zoey, you’re not going outside? At least stay on the porch.”

  I paused and hugged her. I may not have agreed with her methods, but I could respect her fear. “I’ll be fine, Mom.” I hooked my pinky through hers.

  She gave me the stink-eye. “Do you lizard swear?”

  I sighed and drew the traditional pattern over my chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye, and may a lizard eat my gizzard.” I winked. “Happy?”

  She looked unconvinced, but didn’t say anything else to try to stop me.

  By the time Kam and I made it out the front door, Talia had arrived through a second portal. She held my ladybug umbrella in front of the vamp portal and waited for the disembodied head to come through as a complete person, now that he was protected against the face-melting rays of the sun.

  He was dressed ent
irely in black, I’ll give him that. But there ended my vampire expectations.

  Expensive-looking leather shoes stepped through the portal, followed by dress pants and a dress shirt, unbuttoned farther than was generally accepted as tasteful. Gold chains—including a large, diamond-encrusted cross—draped from his neck and shifted against his skin. I feared for the thick patch of hair, lest it get caught in all that bling.

  For someone with an aversion to the sun, his tan was impressive—if a little on the orange side.

  “Let’s get you in the shade, darling.” Talia’s dark lips twitched on one side. “Talking to you won’t be easy if you’re a pile of ash.”

  She led him up the steps toward me. Fairies didn’t attack as he passed into the invisible mushroom circle, so at least we knew his intentions were good.

  Once he was in the safety of the porch overhang, Talia closed the umbrella.

  The man was about my height, muscular, and had thick, dark hair slicked back from his face with shiny goop. He stuck his hand out. “Papa Dino. You must be that Aegis everyone’s been yapping about.”

  Did I call him “Papa,” “Dino” or both? “How is my name ending up in another world, exactly?” I shook his hand and opted for not calling him anything until someone else did.

  He shook a little longer than the social norm, making it awkward. Sweat had beaded along his slicked-back hairline, and his fangs protruded more than I’d thought a moment ago. “Word passes between the skins of the world.” He swallowed hard and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. It’s been decades since I crossed into the human world. I’m not used to the smell of all of you.”

  Talia took his arm and led him to one of my rocking chairs. “Everybody needs to step back a little, please.” She murmured in his ear and dabbed her flimsy skirt material against his temple. “He just needs a minute.”

  Riley and I stepped away, since we were the only humans outside. “Do we stink?” I asked him.

  Riley shook his head. “I don’t think that’s it. I think we probably smell delicious.”

  I cringed and lowered my voice to a whisper. “Maybe he needs to be outside the circle. If we’re going to make him hungry, we’re not safe.”