Dime a Demon

by Devon Monk

  I waited a few beats and then Xtelle rounded the vortex and prance-hopped double time, doo-dahing for all she was worth.

  “Please be strong and do not fail,” I sang.

  “Night all sleep, gonna!” Xtelle warbled, “Day all sleep, gonna!”

  “Twinkle, twinkle little spell!”

  She came up between Bathin and me and finished her last, first line: “Song this sing, ladies Camptown!”

  She tipped her horn, hooked the string in my hand, looped the string in Bathin’s, and whispered, “By the binding of their hearts, let the fated never part.”

  “Wait!” Bathin shouted.

  But it was too late.

  I could feel magic zinging through the string, cut by Death’s blade, wrapped in a unicorn’s horn, released from a toilet (okay, that part probably didn’t matter), looped between a Reed and a demon.

  And I could feel Ordinary shift, as if the sand under my feet moved one Mother May I? Yes, You May, scissor-step to the left all at once.

  The world snapped.

  Thunder cracked the sky.

  A blinding blast of light sliced the air and caught fire to the vortex.

  I turned my back to the vortex, guarding the girl with my body, holding her head against my chest so she wouldn’t look into that blaze.

  A scream went up, and it was not from the people who had suddenly stopped their zombie march. That scream came from inside the vortex, the hole. It was an angry roar that was nothing like the demon spawn we had dealt with before.

  I craned around to see if the vortex was actually closing or if we’d just unicorned ourselves into an even bigger mess.

  A single pair of eyes stared back at me.

  No, not at me. At Bathin. Yellow with hatred, shining with fire. There wasn’t a drop of humanity in them, there was only fury.

  “I. See. You.” A voice roared from that portal to Hell.

  Then the thin, simple string—super-charged with magic, with song—became a cleaver, a blade of lightning, that shattered the vortex into shards burning, burning into smoke and ash.

  The vortex was gone.

  I was breathing hard. Too hard. All the muscles in my back and legs were cramping. I groaned, unbent myself from shielding the girl, and loosened my hold on her. I felt like I’d run a marathon. I felt like I’d withstood a nuclear blast.

  I was exhausted, but I still had a little piece of the string in my hand. I tucked it into my front pocket.

  Whatever we had done to close that vortex, it hadn’t been just magic. The taste of it in my mouth was red wine and honey.

  “Daddy?” The girl in my arms looked up at me. “Where’s my dad?”

  “He’s right here.” Bathin hauled the man up and patted his shoulder, keeping one hand on the dad’s arm while he spit sand and shook his head.

  I let go of the girl and she rushed right over to her father, hugging him around his middle.

  “Hey,” he said. “It’s okay. Are you okay?”

  She nodded into his jacket and the man gazed blurrily around. “I thought…what happened?”

  “What do you remember?” I asked.

  “We came down here to look at the rocks. And then…I don’t know.” He brushed absently at his daughter’s sandy back. “Did we get hit by a wave?”

  “Micro burst,” I said. “Sometimes the wind just picks a random spot and hits with almost tornado force. It knocked you and your daughter out. We were in the area and saw you go down. How are you feeling?”

  “Oh, um. Good? Yeah, good. I don’t think…do you think we hit our heads? I don’t remember getting hit. Don’t remember waking up either. Did someone lose a pony?”

  I glanced over. Than was standing there, with what was left of the toilet mouth—really, mostly just the floppy tongue—looped over Xtelle’s neck.

  She did not look pleased about it.

  Bathin coughed into his fist, and I could tell he was trying to keep from chortling over her predicament.

  She held statue still, except for her tail that swished and her ears that swiveled back to lay almost flat against her head.

  “No,” Than said.

  “Oh,” the man answered. “I just thought. Okay.”

  “It’s a miniature horse,” I added, not sure quite where to go with this, still reeling from the I see you thing with yellow eyes in the vortex.

  “My daughter likes horses, don’t you, honey?” the dad said.

  His daughter shook her head and clung to him even more tightly. I was beginning to worry that she might have some memories of what had happened.

  “Can I ask your daughter a question?”

  “Sure. Hailey, the officer wants to ask you something.” He rubbed reassuring circles on her back and, after a second or two, she turned her head so her ear rested against his stomach. Her wide brown eyes fastened on me.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Do you remember falling?”

  She shook her head.

  “Do you remember anything else? Anything scary?”

  “No.” Soft, but getting stronger.

  “Nothing noisy or bright?”

  “No.”

  I searched her eyes. The fear was leaving, and she was already sneaking peeks at the pony. I think waking up with a police officer holding her and not knowing where her dad was, had been all that had scared her.

  Which meant we didn’t have to come up with a better cover story or do any actual memory manipulation. Every once in a while, we had to change someone’s memory, and I never liked doing it. I was glad we wouldn’t have to do that now.

  “All right. If you and your dad want to get some ice cream, you can tell the parlor that Myra Reed said the treat’s on her. You’ll both get a single scoop for free.”

  “Oh, no, I really couldn’t,” he said.

  “You’d be doing me a favor,” I said, patting my stomach. “Peggy over at the shop has a different special flavor every day, and she’s always looking for people to try it.”

  “Well, then, thank you. Thanks, Officers.” The guy nodded toward all of us, though he sort of avoided eye contact with Death and his pony.

  Smart.

  They started across the wet sand to the drier sand. The crowd was already disbanding, all of them coming to some personal conclusion as to why they were here on the sand.

  Thank goodness for the human ability to ignore what was right in front of our eyes.

  “Could have been worse,” Jean said strolling up to me. She was covered in wet sand from head to toe, and the shirt she’d tied into a knot squirmed and croaked.

  “They’re still frogs?” I asked.

  “Yep. Why did the vortex turn them into frogs?”

  “I have no idea. Did you get them all?”

  “Yes.” She frowned. “I think.”

  We both scanned the sand. Nothing croaked or jumped.

  “We’re going to have to figure out how to turn them back into people,” I said. “Not here, though.”

  “Maybe the frog thing will wear off?” Jean suggested hopefully.

  I looked over at Bathin. He shook his head and stared at me as if he were absolutely fascinated. There was a slight crease between his eyebrows that hinted at a deep confusion. “Frogs were a side effect. Opening a vortex correctly isn’t as easy as it looks.”

  “You know how to change them back?” I asked. And wasn’t there something in his look? Something warm and inviting. Something that made me want to take a step just to be nearer him?

  “No.” He looked away from me and stared at Xtelle.

  She snorted.

  His eyes narrowed. “You.” He inhaled, exhaled. “I’ll take Xtelle back to your place and then meet you at the station, or wherever you’re taking the frogs. We can compare notes.”

  “I don’t think—” I said.

  “Good talk.” He patted my shoulder like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough and stormed toward the unicorn who was back to looking like a sm
all brown horse again.

  “I’ll take this,” Bathin plucked the bottom lip and tongue from Than, wrapped it around Xtelle in a makeshift bridle.

  I stared at his hands for a little longer than I should.

  “Soft but firm. I likey,” Jean said.

  I sniffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “No? You didn’t totally drool over tall dark hunka-hunka whipping together some rather nice rope work on the spot?”

  “Frogs,” I said. “I noticed frogs.”

  She was grinning at me. With her face covered in sand, her hair all over the place, and the wet rucksack of a shirt over her shoulder, she looked so much like she did when we were kids, I couldn’t help but grin back.

  “You heard from Delaney yet?” I asked.

  “No, but she should be back by now.”

  “Let’s track her down and get her input on this. Where’s Kelby?” I trudged across the sand, sinking almost to my ankle with each step. It was hard going. Funny how adrenaline and life and death made running through sand seem like an easy task.

  “Bertie needed some heavy lifting for the parade float, and Kelby volunteered to stay and help get it done.”

  “She’s supposed to be doing on-the-job training.”

  “Dealing with the only Valkyrie in town is on-the-job training.”

  “It’s also you getting out of helping Bertie.”

  “Me?” She lifted her soggy shirt. “You may notice I am carrying around a wet slimy sack of wet slimy frogs?”

  “And?”

  “And do you really think I would choose this over working with Bertie?”

  I took three more steps side by side with her before answering. “Yes.”

  She laughed and knocked her shoulder into mine. “It’s good to have sisters.”

  I smiled, because I couldn’t agree more.

  Chapter 16

  The frogs were a conundrum. We’d taken them back to the station and quickly realized there wasn’t room for them there. We didn’t want to take them to Ryder and Delaney’s place, both because of Ryder’s dog and because of Delaney’s dragon pig.

  Jean’s place was too tiny for all of us, and Hatter and Shoe declared “frogged-up people were a step above their pay grade.”

  So I offered my house.

  The unicorn and demon were not there when we arrived. I knew I should go find them, but they would have to wait until after we un-frogged the good citizens of Ordinary.

  Jean immediately headed back to the main bathroom with the frogs.

  “Make yourself at home,” I said, waving everyone toward the living room. “I’ll put on coffee.”

  “Make it strong,” Ryder said as he steered Delaney toward the comfortable couch.

  I put on the kettle, started a pot of coffee—extra strong—and arranged the last batch of cookies I’d made a couple days ago on a platter. To the side, I added meat and cheeses and a bowl of grapes. I grabbed a box of crackers, tucked it under my arm, and carried out the food.

  “You okay?” I asked Delaney.

  She was tucked next to Ryder, his arm thrown over her shoulders to hold her there. They looked good together.

  Ryder’s eyes slid sideways and down, and I followed his line of sight. Delaney appeared to have checked out, an eerily blank expression smoothing her face.

  He rubbed his palm on the outside of her shoulder, up and down, up and down. “Delaney,” he said.

  She blinked and seemed to surface and become aware of her surroundings again. “What?”

  “How are you doing?” I asked. “I know you felt the first vortex, did you feel the second?”

  I pushed a stack of paperbacks out of the way with the edge of the platter, making room for the food. I poured crackers into a bowl and waved at the snacks. “Eat. You look half asleep.”

  She rubbed her thumb over the bridge of her nose. “I’m not that tired, just thinking. And yeah, I felt the second vortex open.”

  “Painful?” The kettle whistled and I walked that way. “Keep talking,” I threw over my shoulder. “I’m listening.”

  “We were on the way back from the casino.” Delaney pitched her voice so I could hear her. We’d been doing that since we were kids.

  “Did it hurt like last time?” I asked.

  “Pretty much.”

  “No,” Ryder said, pitching his voice too. “It was worse.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” Delaney said, loudly for me.

  “I don’t think you were in any state to compare how bad it was.”

  “Well, since it was happening to me, I think I am the only one who could say how bad it was.”

  It was funny how they were carrying on the argument loud enough for me to hear them.

  “You were convulsing,” Ryder said.

  I had placed the coffee pot, all the fixings, a tea selection, hot water and mugs on a serving tray. But hearing that made me stop cold.

  I inhaled, exhaled, pushing away the knot of frustration and fear. Something had to change. Before she could be hurt again. And I was going to have to be the one who changed things.

  I calmly walked into the room.

  “I’m okay, Mymy,” Delaney said.

  I placed the tray on the table. “Okay.”

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “I believe you.”

  “She just believes me more this time.” Ryder planted a kiss on her temple, and she smacked his stomach. “Hey.”

  “Don’t forget I have a dragon on my side.”

  “Trust me. I can’t forget that thing.”

  “Tea,” I said, dropping down into the chair across from them, “coffee. Oh, and…” I dug in my bag which I’d left on the floor by the coffee table. “Whiskey.” I thunked it on the table next to the cookies. “Because I think we’re going to need it by the end of the night.”

  “I love your family gift.” Ryder bent forward, picked up a mug and the whiskey, and poured himself a finger or two.

  “Why are we drinking?” Jean had changed out of her wet sandy clothes and had helped herself to a pair of my fuzzy pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt.

  She’d also taken a quick shower to get the sand out of her hair.

  “We drink because we live in Ordinary.” Ryder lifted his mug and took a swallow. He passed it to Delaney and she did the same.

  “Looks like you two are off duty for the night,” Jean said as she eyed them.

  “I’m not drinking any more than that one swallow,” Delaney said. “I don’t know about Officer Lush here.”

  “Officer Lush is keeping his options open. All right, Reeds. What are we going to do about the frogs?”

  Jean plopped down onto my loveseat and draped the towel across the back of it so she could rest her wet, colorful head on it without staining the furniture. She stretched her legs straight out in front of her. “I put them in a nice shallow bath of cool water, closed the toilet seat and shut the bathroom door.”

  “Are they all okay?” Delaney asked.

  “Hard to know, but since they all look like healthy frogs, I’m gonna say we’re still in the clear.”

  “Any idea why they didn’t turn back into humans when the vortex closed?” Ryder asked. “You said the thrall was broken as soon as it shut. The whole crowd shook it off and went about their day. And that dad and daughter…”

  “The Carlbergs,” I supplied.

  “Right. They snapped out of it as soon as it shut, correct?”

  “Yep,” Jean said.

  “So why not the frogs?”

  “Good question,” I said. “The only thing different is the frogs were people who touched the vortex. Right, Jean?”

  “That’s what I think happened.”

  “Think?” Delaney asked.

  She nodded. “I was getting ice cream across the street when I saw the vortex form. I called Myra as soon as it started. By the time she got there, and she got there quick, every human who was in eyesight had taken off at a r
un toward it. I tried to stop people, call them back, but they wouldn’t listen.”

  “Then what?” Delaney leaned forward, picked up a couple crackers and some grapes, then sat back and split them with Ryder.

  “The vortex was black,” Jean tipped her face toward the ceiling and closed her eyes. I knew she was trying to dredge up any detail that might make a difference. “There was movement inside it, like smoke, but thicker. More solid. And I saw eyes.”

  “Yellow?” I asked.

  “Yeah, yellow. And those eyes weren’t anything I’ve seen before. It felt evil, old school evil.” She shrugged her shoulders and opened her eyes. “Those people threw themselves into that thing like…you know how koi go crazy at feeding time?”

  We all nodded.

  “Like that. It was a frenzy. They would have torn each other apart to get to the vortex.” She rubbed her hands up and down the fuzzy pj pants on her thighs. “They ran at it and hit it. Hard. Like smacking into a brick wall. It sounded like that too. Soft flesh and bone crunching. Totally gross.”

  Ryder passed her the mug of whiskey. She drained what was left before passing it back to him.

  “I ran down there, but instead of finding a bunch of concussed idiots bleeding on the sand, there were all these frogs jumping around.”

  “Did you actually see people turn into frogs?” I asked.

  “I saw people jumping into the vortex, hitting it, and bouncing back as frogs.”

  “Is there a chance those frogs in the bathroom aren’t the people? That maybe the frogs broke through the vortex at the same time people disappeared?”

  “What are the odds on that?” she asked. “More likely those Kermits in the bathroom are people.”

  “We need to know for sure,” Ryder said. “Who do we call?”

  “Than?” I suggested. “He was there.”

  “Yeah.” Delaney reached for the coffee. “He’s one of those people who wouldn’t bring something important to our attention because he’d just assume we already know it. Call him. Find out if he thinks the frogs are people. We don’t have much time before their friends and family realize their loved ones are missing.”

  I pulled out my cell.