Angel Trouble: A grim reaper horror comedy (24/7 Demon Mart Book 3)

by D. M. Guay

  “Mmmph.” He swallowed hard and thumped his chest to make sure the cookie lump went all the way down. “I was there. I saw it with my own two eyes.”

  “No. I closed the gate. I killed a demon!”

  “I didn't see any demons or scouts, just you, standing by the control panel flopping around, waving your arms. You were all over that thing. Then, boom. Eel. Look. Even if it was an accident, kid, you still did it.”

  I couldn't believe Kevin sold me out.

  “And the two souls who died?” Faust asked.

  “That was Zack!” My voice shook. I could not believe I was being blamed for this. “Totally not my fault.”

  “The kid literally brought death to the gym as his plus one.”

  “He followed me!”

  “You could have portalled him back to the store!”

  “Boys. Please don't argue. We'll get to the bottom of this.”

  Faust raised an eyebrow, and I went stiff.

  Uh oh. He's doing that magic thing. The one that makes me share all my deep, dark secrets? Shoot. Zip it about the masturbating, Lloyd. PLEASE! Although, in my defense, I had significantly cut down. Not on purpose. Jobs just tend to eat up a lot of porn hours.

  My lips flubbed, and I told him everything that happened at Bubba's, even the embarrassing parts. I ended with a crescendo of, “I killed the demon scout with a Thigh Cruncher!”

  Faust said, “Do keep working on those squats. It sounds as though you are ripe for improvement.”

  Then Faust eyeballed Kevin. His ghost went stiff, and he sat there, silent, as if in a trance. “Interesting. You're both telling the truth.”

  He snapped his manicured fingers, and Zack materialized out of nowhere.

  “Ooo. Cookies!” Zack clapped his bone hands and dug right through Kevin into those Peanut Butter Patties. It took him a minute to notice we were all staring at him. “Oh. Hey guys. DeeDee just showed me how to make microwave mac and cheese. Mind blown. How do they get those noodles to cook in that little cup? The living world. It's so amazing!”

  “We're having a bit of a disagreement and would like your input. What transpired at Bubba's this evening?” Faust leaned back, stared down Zack and and waved his hand. “Tell me everything.”

  Ha! Vindication, here I come.

  But Zack? He didn't go stiff. He didn't speak as if compelled. He said, “It was great! Only two people died. How awesome is that? Mmm. These cookies are amazing. I'm more of a Skinny Mint guy myself. You know, I once had to reap a whole Cookie Scout troop. Well, almost whole. One survivor. Anyway, a car plowed into their stand outside a WallDrugs. They let me keep the cookies. Nice girls.”

  “Anything else?” Faust raised an eyebrow.

  “Nope. This was the best night of my life. To be honest, though, it was kind of a blur. So much excitement. People actually surviving is a new experience for me.”

  My heart hit my shoe. That hypno thing didn't work! And Zack was clearly not very observant.

  Faust clapped his hands, and Zack dematerialized. Gone in an instant. His mouth puckered like he'd just smelled rotten eggs. “That is the most optimistic, good-natured reaper I have ever encountered. His mind is filled with love and light. Disturbing. Such strange creatures. Well, then. It seems I have little choice.”

  His eyes rolled back into his head, and his mouth moved, spewing chants like that taser thing in the weapons safe. His chair sparked like it was electrified. A bright white light flashed, and something fell out of a white portal in the ceiling and thunk. It hit the desk. It was Angel eight ball.

  His triangle said, “Ow. Wait. Where am I? Shit!”

  He tried to wobble away, but Faust put a hand on him. “Let go! I can't be seen with you, I'll lose my wings! I need this job!”

  “Yes. I know this is an unusual collaboration, but these are desperate times. Can you shed light on this evening's events? The fate of your ward is on the line.”

  Phew! This is all good. If anyone has my back, it's my guardian angel.

  His triangle turned. It said. “Evening hazy.”

  Fuck me. Really? Some angel.

  His triangle turned again. “I couldn't see anything in there. It's like Bubba's was in a fog bank. Now get your cloven hoof off me, devil.”

  “Very well, then.” Faust let him wobble right off the desk and crack onto the rug. “We seem to have quite a mystery on our hands. Oh. Just a moment.”

  Faust sunk his hand into his blazer and pulled out a file. “We may have our answer. My, my. Mr. Beale is running late today.”

  I never thought I'd be so happy to see one of those creepy magic envelopes. Surely, my vindication lay inside.

  Faust opened it and settled in to read. “Hmm. Interesting. This is most unusual.”

  “You're telling me. The kid's a klutz, but I never saw this coming. Shame. I liked him, too.” Kevin shook his head. “I'm really gonna miss that MILF of his.”

  “We cannot be too hasty. As the senior employee, and as management, you do know we have a protocol for this. We do not pass judgment until a thorough investigation has been completed. And, for now. It's not. Beale needs more time.”

  “No way. That scumbag soul sucker knows everything in the snap of a finger! It shouldn't have taken him this long!”

  “Yes. However,” Faust took a single sheet of paper out of the folder and showed it to us. It said.

  Investigation inconclusive. Evidence clouded.

  Possible magical interference. Case still pending.

  Well, shit.

  “That's settled, then. Rules are rules.” Faust looked at me. I could swear he smiled, ever so slightly. “Lloyd stays until we can complete the investigation, and until such time as his culpability can be proven beyond a shadow of doubt.”

  Uh, did you catch that? Awful lot of big words.

  “It means you're not fired, kid. Not yet. You're on probation.” Kevin snapped his little roach fingers at me. “That means mind your P's and Q's. No mistakes, got it? Not a single one. Now wash the eel spit off of you and get back to work.”

  Chapter 8

  Wow. What a terrible night! But things were finally looking up. A warm, soapy, soothing, amazeballs shower awaited me in the magic healing bathroom. I was totally amped. That shower was the best thing about this place!

  I stepped out of Faust's office, and my nose landed right in Zack's butt hole. Well, where his butt hole should be. He was bent over, eight feet of completely buck naked skeleton, scratching his ankle. His pelvis bone waved right in my face.

  “What are you doing?” I pushed him away. Seriously. “Gah! Put some clothes on!”

  “Sorry. I didn't know you were in here. I had to get these robes off. This eel slime is really gross. I can't wait to wash it off.” Then he floated, right through the green door, into the shower.

  Into my magic shower.

  Shit. Seriously? I looked to the sky. “God? What did I do to deserve this?”

  God didn't answer. The only voice was Zack, calling to me through the door. “Have you seen this shower? Deluxe! You should try it sometime.”

  The water kicked on.

  Sigh. Rub it in, Zack. Rub. It. In.

  Well, then. Guess I have a hot date with the utility sink. Yay.

  Zack left a trail of dirty robes on the floor, in a line, all the way down the hallway. One of the cleaning crew started to drag a robe into their cardboard box, to use as bedding or something, but took one whiff and pushed it back out.

  Good call. Eel slime? It was thick like tar, stunk like molting walrus, and was nearly impossible to wash off. Trust me, I tried. Although, antibacterial soap straight from the wall hanging industrial soap dispenser probably wasn't the best tool for the job, but it was all I had. I was halfway through my third face full of stinky faux-lemon scented suds when a tiny voice said, “Here's the deal, kid. Since we're under some sort of magic cloud and you're on probation, I gotta write down everything you do wrong in this book. Lucky me. More paperwork. Anyway, it all go
es in your file, so don't mess up. It ain't easy holding a pen when you've got no body!”

  I cracked my eyes. Kevin floated on the wire rack of cleaning supplies, next to a pink gel pen and matching glitter notebook.

  “Wouldn't it be easier to write in a ghost book?”

  “Oh, look who's the funny guy now.”

  I actually wasn't joking. I mean, it might be a thing? I didn't get to say that out loud, because a big blob of antiseptic soap lather slid straight into my eyes. “Aaaaaah! It burns!”

  “Do us both a favor and stay in line. I don't want to write a novel in here, you feel me?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I get it, okay?” I buried my face in a towel and tried to wipe the sting out of my eyes. “Leave me alone.”

  “Why are you so salty? I'm trying to help you.”

  “Are you? You weren't exactly falling over yourself to stick up for me back there. You threw me under the bus. It's like you want me to get fired!”

  “You gotta be kidding. We can't lie to Faust. You know that. I told him exactly what I saw.” He poked my arm with one of his tiny legs. Or tried to. It went right through. “I'm the last guy who wants you fired. I hate training new employees! Besides, I almost got you broken in. Almost.”

  “Whatever. You don't get it.”

  “Oh, I get it. You don't get it. Your problem is you, kid. Stop fumbling through your life and take control of it already. Confucius and Kevin say: wherever you go, go with all your heart. Or all your ass. Huh. Don't remember. Point is, be a full ass like I been telling you. The world doesn't need more half asses.”

  I looked at Kevin. Kevin looked at me.

  Huh. That was actually pretty deep for a roach.

  “Hey. I can be deep. I got feelings, you know. I read. Look, I'll lay it out straight. I want you to stay. But Dee and I need to be able to count on you. Especially now, given my delicate condition. We got no room for half ass. Besides, if you actually got good at your job, graveyard shift might finally beat Junebug for employee of the month. We were so close. Twice!”

  He pointed to the wall around the employee lounge door. It had thousands of employee of the month plaques, floor to ceiling, so many, so tiny, that all this time, I thought they were wallpaper. Because it was a repeating pattern, every plaque exactly the same: Junebug's big blonde hair, frosty pink lipstick smile and giant cleavage staring back at us.

  “Wait. We didn't get one? But we saved the world. TWICE!”

  “Kid, we'd have to stop the biblical apocalypse to beat Junebug. Don't let the big hair fool you. She's one tough cookie. See?”

  He pointed at the November and December pictures. A gold star sticker in the corner read, Honorable mention: The Graveyard Shift. Lloyd Lamb Wallace, DeeDee B. Woznowski, and Kevin Lee Roach.

  “What the hell does Junebug do on dayshift?”

  “What doesn't she do on day shift? Just pull yourself together, kid. We only gotta win once to get in the raffle for a trip to Jamaica. Look at me. I need a tan! Every damn year, Junebug comes home lubed head to toe in coconut oil, tanned so brown she looks like an espresso bean. It's my turn! I need a pina colada. Need.”

  I squinted at our tiny gold star. “DeeDee's last name is Woznowski? Eek. What's the B stand for?”

  “Don't ask. Hot chicks always get the ugly names. It's how the universe keeps shit fair. Anyway, watch yourself, kid. Study up on the rules because everything you do wrong goes in your file. Everything, no matter how small. So straighten up. I hate new hires. And finish up here, because I need you out on the floor. Apparently, we gotta teach the cleaning crew how to clean. Thanks a lot, Steve.” He flipped four middle fingers to the sky. “Bring a fresh mop bucket out with you. I'm paying you to scrub the floor, not your face.”

  I hurried, but it took a good ten minutes to get most of the eel and Cookie Scout off. No matter how much I scrubbed, I still felt dirty. Slimy. And smelled vaguely of molting walrus.

  When I pushed the mop bucket past the shower, I could hear Zack in there singing to himself. Still. Taking his sweet old time. Yep. Thanks, Zack. Thanks for thinking of me while I washed my body in the same sink where we wrung out mops soaked in demon guts. It's fine. Totally fine. I'm sure it's sanitary.

  I wheeled the mop through the stockroom door, and DeeDee grabbed me the second I stepped out. She pulled me behind the pyramid of Cherikee Red pop two-liters, and whispered. “Listen. You aren't getting fired on my watch. We've been through too much.”

  Her grey eyes met mine. Her black liner a flawless cat eye over a sparkling black shadow. Her blood red lipstick totally amazeballs. “Here's the plan. Kevin is required to track every mistake, right? So don't make any mistakes. Easy peasy.”

  “Great plan.” Yeah. Uh huh. “I'm screwed.”

  “I'll help you, silly. I won't let you go. Not like this. You can't get fired. Not after all we've done. It'd break my heart. Plus, we'll never get a shot at Jamaica this year if we have to train a new guy.”

  She winked and smiled. It was the sweetest thing I had ever seen in my whole life. My body felt light, like I had sprouted wings and swooped, flying high. She was like a hot goth angel, arriving in my hour of need. Which was more than I can say for my real guardian angel. That jerk.

  “Before I forget, keep your eye on Kevin,” she said. “Let me know if you see anything strange.”

  “He's a dead talking cockroach. Everything about that is already strange.”

  “You know what I mean. Oh, and keep him away from bright lights, okay?”

  “What?”

  “Just a hunch. Better safe than sorry.” She tensed up.

  Ding.

  Uh oh. The door.

  I turned around. Slowly. And nearly ruined a perfectly good pair of underpants. Because a werewolf stood on the welcome mat. A giant one. Fluffy, teeth bared, growling. I tried to run, but I didn't make it one step before a giant paw landed right on my shoulder.

  “YOU!”

  Woah boy. Room spinning. “Are you here to kill me?”

  His eyes narrowed. He dropped a charred, slime covered black thing on the floor. “You left your bag at Bubba's. I found it in the rubble. This drop off is only a courtesy, so you didn't come looking for it. Maybe now you will heed my warning: Death is a fickle friend. Beware. It always comes oooooo. Oooo. Oooh. Ack! Dammit!”

  Uh, weird warning, but okay.

  He dropped back on his giant haunches, lifted a paw and scratched behind his ear. Again. “Dammit. Friday can't come fast enough. You got any flea collars?”

  “Aisle five.” DeeDee pointed. “On the house.”

  Fluffy loped off on all fours over to the pet supplies. He ruffled around for a minute, and jumped back to the door, straightening something on his neck. “Thanks, Dee. I owe you one. See you in spin class next week? Gym should reopen by then. Gotta run. Still waiting for the reapers to come for Gunther and Hunter.”

  Then he was out the door, across the lot. And as I watched him go, I wondered what it must be like to work in the nice part of town. You know, the part where a giant werewolf running down the street might actually raise an eyebrow?

  I reached for my gym bag, but hesitated. I'd just washed off all the eel goop, and my bag was absolutely drenched in it. I definitely didn't want to get more on me.

  DeeDee got it. She said, “There's a box of rubber gloves by the sink.”

  The bag rattled. I jumped back, arms out to protect her.

  “What is that?” She stared down over my shoulder.

  We watched the bag writhe and wrinkle and buck. An icy blue string rose from the zipper. It poured up out of that bag like a waterfall in reverse, pooling into a glowing blue puddle. A puddle in the shape of a man. A man with rippling abs and tousled hair?

  Aw, man.

  A ghastly blue face turned to me and said, “Hi, Champ. Wow. That was a rough first night, huh? Don't be discouraged. If you're willing to work hard, I'm confident we can get that bod ready for swimsuit season. Nice place you've got here. If we mov
e the pop bottles aside, there's plenty of space for push-ups, squats and curls. Everything we need.”

  Holy shit. It was Hunter. A ghost Hunter. He floated out of the bag, chipper as ever. He looped the 2-liter pyramid and stroked his chin, totally unruffled by the fact that he was dead and not in a physical body. There was no trace of anger or suspicion or distrust in his face. He seemed so happy, I swear, if he had a tail, it'd be wagging. Maybe I'd be happy too, if I'd brought my eight pack abs into the afterlife.

  “You wish,” Angel eight ball hit my foot. Yep. Always an opinion. “Now that is what a man should look like.”

  Uh. I hope Angel didn't expect me to look like this. A workout is one thing, a miracle is another.

  DeeDee tugged on my sleeve. Because another ethereal blue form rose out of the bag. We watched blue gas pour up and out, much more this time, so much so that it looked like someone had turned the dial to the Niagara Falls setting.

  She said, “This isn't good.”

  Well, that's reassuring.

  The smoke formed into a wide, thick figure. It stepped out of the bag. With hooves. And horns. Yep. The blue cloud formed into Gunther. Big, buff, and from his pout and furrowed brow, none too happy to be here and dead.

  Kevin ghastly blue head rose from behind the counter. “If my dickhead roommate finds out I'm dead, do not let him touch my records, you hear me? He isn't in my will. He gets nothing.” Then he saw the ghosts. “Well, shit.”

  He floated over to that little pink book and tried really hard to pick up that pink glitter gel pen.

  “Put that pen down. I didn't do anything!”

  “Uh huh. You brought a reaper to the gym, and now we've got ghosts. I don't want to work with ghosts, do you? Ghosts suck! All they do is float around like they own the place, pretending they're still alive!”

  I looked at Kevin. Kevin looked at me. Clearly, the irony was lost on him.

  Gunther and Hunter floated around the store, whispering about treadmills and weight racks. “Okay. I see your point.”

  “Yeah, you do,” he huffed. “Now put that bag in your locker. Jesus. It smells like a hundred cows with diarrhea had a convention in there.”