by Kate Moseman
Joyce leaned in and patted Erin’s knee. “Neither was Mark,” she said.
13
The night that she was supposed to visit Raya’s house, Erin couldn’t stop putting her nervous energy into straightening the couch cushions and other pointless activities.
Nancy Drew, who had followed her hopefully around the kitchen as she wiped down the counters a second time, finally gave up and sat down on the tile nearest the treat jar just in case.
Erin packed up all the items on Raya’s list and sat down at the kitchen table to watch the clock. When it was reasonably close to the appointed time—she’d only be 15 minutes early—Erin sprang up, ran out the door, and jumped in the car.
She managed to drive only ten miles per hour over the speed limit on her way there.
Upon arriving at Raya’s normal-looking house—except for the jaunty “Trespassers Will Be Cursed” sign—Erin knocked on the door. She’d picked up her mother’s habit of knocking to the rhythm of the “Ride of the Valkyries.”
The door opened.
“Well, hello there,” said Raya, wearing her typical jeans and t-shirt combo. Tonight’s t-shirt read “Something Wicked This Way Comes.”
“Hi,” said Erin, feeling a bit shy. She’d never been to Raya’s house before.
Raya threw the door open wide. “Come on in. Pardon the mess!”
Erin had one foot over the threshold when a large black dog with a white spot on its chest gallumphed over and headbutted her leg.
“Sorry about the dog,” said Raya. To the dog, she said, “Blaze! Get off, you dumb dog.”
The dog ignored her and leaned harder against Erin, nearly bowling her over.
“Well, hello there to you, too,” said Erin, attempting to pat the dog while also pushing it back into an upright position.
“All right, you.” Raya coaxed the muscular animal down a hallway and behind a flimsy-looking dog gate.
“Will that hold him?”
“Her. Blaze is a she.”
“She looks like she could eat that gate for breakfast.”
“Probably. She’s a real sweetheart, but she doesn’t know her own strength.”
Erin had no idea whether to nod politely or laugh. Instead, she watched Blaze chase her own tail in circles behind the gate.
“Anyway, come on through. We’re all set up in the kitchen.”
“Set up?”
“Yeah. For the spell?”
“Oh! Right.”
“I can’t wait to actually meet this demon,” said Raya. “He sounds like a real character.”
In the kitchen, Erin looked around for a place to set her bag of supplies, but every square inch was full.
Raya swept her arm through the jumble of candles, rocks, papers, small glass jars half full of unknown powders, and plant clippings in varying states of freshness. “Just put it up there.”
Erin complied. “How does it work? The spell, that is,” said Erin.
“It’s like a recipe, really. Not all that different from what you’d see in a cookbook. Except instead of ending up with a pan of brownies, you get a demon.” She pulled Erin’s purchases out of the bag, inspecting each one before setting it aside.
“I guess I expected it to be more complicated somehow.”
Raya shrugged. “Oh, complications happen. Just like with recipes. You can’t always predict the result. There’s an element of luck on top of the element of skill.” She seized the container of salt and ripped it open. “Back up a second.”
Erin backed up.
Raya drizzled a stream of salt in a swooping pattern on the linoleum floor, then layered sweet-smelling items over the salt and set aside the more pungent items, like licorice and garlic.
“What are those for?” Erin peered over Raya’s shoulder.
“Sweet stuff to draw him in. Not-so-sweet stuff in case we need to get rid of something less— shall we say—friendly.”
“Less friendly?” Erin’s mouth went dry and she swallowed involuntarily.
“You never know,” said Raya.
“Are you sure this is safe?”
Raya laughed. “Of course it’s not ‘safe.’ Nothing’s ‘safe.’ What, you want to live forever?” She shot Erin a crooked grin.
“Maybe not forever, but a normal lifespan would be nice.”
“You want this demon back, or not?”
Erin squared her shoulders. “I want him back.”
“Then let’s do this.” She kneeled and returned to the intricate work of decorating the salt design with rose petals at precise intervals.
Erin looked out the window. The harsh light of the sun softened as it slid closer to the horizon. “Shouldn’t we be doing this at midnight or something?”
“Nah,” said Raya. “Sunrise and sunset are in-between times. Good for reaching out to things that are neither here nor there.” She stood up and dusted off her hands. “And that’s where we find your guy.”
“He’s not my—”
“Whatever. You ready?”
Erin nodded.
From down the hallway, Blaze barked.
Raya lit candles and placed them around the design on the floor.
“Should I turn out the lights?” said Erin.
Raya nodded.
Erin flipped the switches and stood next to Raya.
Raya closed her eyes and murmured words that Erin couldn’t quite catch. She tugged her wand free from her hair and held it over the design, then spoke clearly. “We summon the demon known as Andromalius.”
Nothing happened.
Raya opened her eyes. “Hold my hand.”
Erin obediently placed her hand in Raya’s free hand.
“Say his name with me on the count of three. One, two, three.”
“Andromalius!”
There was a banging sound from down the hall.
Something like faint smoke rose from the salt.
Erin and Raya backpedaled away from the design as a shadowy form coalesced in the center.
A silhouette of feathered wings bloomed from within the confines—except these wings weren’t gray. They were the precise deep crimson shade of red velvet cake.
“Andy?” Erin squinted into the shadows.
The red-winged figure pivoted to face them. His three piece suit shone softly in the light of the candles, and he clutched a bottle of champagne in one hand, and two flutes in the other.
“What do you lot want?” he asked, his English accent dripping annoyance from every vowel and consonant.
“Where’s Andromalius?” said Erin.
His lips twisted. “How the Hell should I know?”
Raya stepped closer, wand extended. “Listen, demon, we’re looking for one of your friends. Andromalius. Goes by Andy. Ever heard of him?”
He rolled his eyes. “Listen, sweetheart, I don’t have time for your little witch games. I was in the middle of a very nice party when I was rudely interrupted by—”
“Little witch games? I’ll blast your stupid demon face straight to—”
Erin placed a restraining hand on Raya’s arm. “What my friend here was trying to say was that we really need to find Andromalius. Can you please help us?”
The red-winged demon leaned closer to Erin. “What’s in it for me, then?”
“I—I don’t know,” stammered Erin.
“Oh, just let me blast him,” said Raya.
“No! Wait. Listen, demon. I’m not trying to scare you, but I’ve seen this woman”—she indicated Raya—“with my very own eyes, blast a demon right out of this world.”
He eyed Raya with one eyebrow raised. “Really.”
Erin nodded vigorously. “Poof. Gone. And I’d really hate for that to happen to you.”
Phoenix looked back and forth between them. “What is
this, some kind of good witch, bad witch routine?”
“Not at all,” said Erin. “I just think we can work this out to everyone’s mutual benefit.”
“Really? Well, let me tell you something,” he said. “I don’t appreciate being threatened by jumped-up mortal witches who want me to be their errand boy.”
Raya narrowed her eyes. “He’s bluffing. If he could’ve freed himself from the summoning, he would have left already. He’s just trying to scare us.”
“Why did he even show up in the first place? We summoned Andy, not this demon.”
Raya shrugged. “This isn’t exactly precision stuff.”
“Excuse me? I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” He waggled the flutes at them.
Erin glared at him. “Shut up.”
The demon’s eyebrows shot up and his wings dropped a few inches.
“I’m not a witch. I’m Erin. I want my friend Andy back, and you’re going to promise to help find him, or she’s going to blast you. Are we clear?”
His bluster faded. “All right, you don’t have to be such a pill about it.”
She didn’t dare take her eyes off him. “Raya? What do we do now? Can you make him sign some kind of binding something-or-other?” Phoenix pressed the back of his hand against his forehead and closed his eyes. “For the love of all that’s unholy. A binding something-or-other? Really? Is that what I’ve come to?”
“Again—demon, shut up,” said Raya. She addressed Erin. “He has to be bound in some way. Otherwise he’ll just take off at the first chance.”
“You wound me,” said Phoenix, pressing the champagne bottle over his chest, where his heart would be, if he had one.
Blaze barked joyfully and surged into the kitchen.
“Blaze, no!” said Raya.
Erin realized as she lunged for the dog that the banging sound hadn’t been from the spell—it had been the sound of Blaze ramming the dog gate.
The dog barrelled past her and slid into the salt ring like a baseball player sliding home.
A snapping sound cracked across the kitchen, accompanied by a shower of sparks.
The demon in the circle grinned triumphantly.
“He’s escaping!” said Erin.
The dog barked wildly as the candles extinguished themselves, leaving the kitchen in darkness.
14
Erin made her way to the light switch and flipped on the lights.
The demon lay sprawled in the middle of the kitchen floor with Blaze draped across his chest.
Raya stood over them with her wand raised. “Hold still, demon!”
“Get this beast off me, witch!”
Blaze licked his face with a large and very slobbery tongue.
“Oh, gross!” he said, using his fingers to wipe away the drool. “I give up. I’ll do whatever you want. Just get this thing off me.”
“Good dog,” said Raya, patting the hefty dog’s back.
Erin picked her way through the detritus of salt, rose petals, and other assorted ingredients to stand beside Raya. “What happened?”
“He tried to escape, and Blaze stopped him.” She tugged at Blaze’s collar. “Come on, old girl.”
The dog clambered up and skidded on the mess on the floor, none the worse for wear.
The demon maneuvered himself to sit up against the oven. “That’s not playing fair, you know. Siccing hellhounds on innocent demons.”
“No one asked your opinion,” said Raya.
Erin eyed the demon. “So who is this guy, anyway?”
“Are you going to talk about me like I’m not here? Rude.”
“Fine. I’m Raya, this is Erin, and you are?”
The demon tugged at his cuffs and ran his hands over his hair before replying. “Phoenix. Great Marquis of Hell. Poet, scholar, life of the party, and demon-about-town.” He stood up, stretched his red wings to their full length, then snapped them away. “So you want to find Andy, do you?”
Erin felt hope bloom within her. “You know him, then?”
Phoenix waved his hand through the air dismissively. “Sure I do. Andromalius. Chap with the red bow tie and too much time on his hands. How did you manage to lose him in the first place?”
“She blasted him.”
Phoenix laughed. “Brilliant.”
“Can’t you just call him up?”
“Call him up? It doesn’t work that way, as any witch worth her salt could have told you.” He eyed Raya meaningfully.
The tips of Raya’s ears turned pink and she opened her mouth to speak.
Erin cut her off. “Why don’t we all adjourn to the living room and figure this out? The sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll all be done.”
“Anyone seen my champagne?” Phoenix clapped his hands together and looked around the kitchen. He spotted the bottle where it had rolled under the cabinets. He retrieved the bottle and set about opening it.
“Are you … drinking? Now?” said Erin.
“Is there a better time for drinking?” He popped the cork and put the bottle to his lips, then drank deeply and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “I’m sorry. Did you want some?” He held the bottle out to Erin.
Erin shook her head.
“What about you, Witchiepoo?” He offered it to Raya.
“Go to Hell,” said Raya.
“Oh, say it like you mean it, darling,” said Phoenix, and knocked back another swig.
Erin shooed the demon and the witch out of the kitchen before Raya had a chance to take a swing at Phoenix.
Blaze followed them, her large paws thumping on the floor.
Phoenix sprawled on the couch, wine bottle in hand.
Erin sat on the other end of the couch, primly avoiding his outstretched legs. “Can he actually get drunk?”
Raya sat cross-legged on a rag rug. “If he wants to.”
“You bet I want to,” said Phoenix.
Erin stood up and paced the room. As she passed Phoenix, she grabbed the wine bottle. “That’s enough of that. Sit up.”
Phoenix cast her an aggrieved look. “Oh, come on, give a chap a break.”
“Do what she says,” said Raya.
“Outnumbered,” said Phoenix. He followed it with a deep sigh and sat up. “Conjured, kidnapped, and outnumbered, and they won’t even let me have a little bubbly to take the edge off.”
“Also, shut up,” said Raya.
Phoenix lapsed into a silence that projected maximum self-pity.
“What’s the best way to do this?” asked Erin. “How do we find Andromalius?”
Phoenix laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back. “What your trigger-happy witch friend accomplished was the equivalent of knocking someone out. He’s not in Hell, or somewhere else on planet Earth. He’s gone right out of conscious existence.”
“How do I wake him up, then?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea. He’ll show up. Or he won’t. Can I have the bottle back, now?”
“No,” said Erin. “So this was a waste of time?”
“You got to meet me, didn’t you? How many mortals can say they’ve met Phoenix, a Great Marquis of Hell?”
Raya stood up and joined Phoenix on the couch. “You’re right.” She snaked an arm around the demon, who looked distinctly uncomfortable. “We are so lucky to have met you.”
“Quite right,” said Phoenix, fidgeting under her touch.
“In fact, now that I know you can’t help with finding her demon, I’m beginning to think of all the ways you could make up for your unfulfilled promise to help,” said Raya, squeezing his shoulder.
“Steady on,” said Phoenix.
“My lawn could use some work,” said Raya. “And, come to think of it, the gutters haven’t been cleaned in ages.”
“Lawn work?” said Phoenix, near
ly choking on the words. “You can’t be serious. You don’t summon a Marquis of Hell to do your lawn work.”
“If he’s not useful for anything else … ” Raya examined her nails.
“Hang on a second,” said Phoenix. “Let’s not be hasty. I’m sure I can help you call Andy up.”
“You can?” said Erin. “I thought you said there wasn’t anything you could do.”
“He just needed some motivation. Isn’t that right, pet?” Raya gave Phoenix a little shake.
Phoenix swallowed. “Right,” he croaked.
Erin looked back and forth between the witch and the demon.
Surely they could help.
At least, they couldn’t possibly make anything worse.
15
Erin sat in her car in the church parking lot and wondered why she’d bothered to come. It might keep her mother off her back temporarily, but was it worth it?
Why was she here?
Going to church just to annoy Mark didn’t feel as satisfying as it had before.
She watched the parishioners trickle in from the parking lot. It was almost time for the service to begin. Her mother was most likely already inside the church. Erin hadn’t even spotted Mark and Genevieve, and in the place of morbid curiosity, she found a tentative but growing feeling of indifference.
Erin dragged her purse out of the front passenger seat and into her lap. She removed the keys from the ignition, and put them in her purse. She put her hand on the door handle.
She didn’t open it.
Instead, she sat, frozen with indecision, until a memory of Mark’s pantsing flitted across her mind. She cackled aloud and her hand dropped from the door handle. Nothing could ever top that. She could go to church services every Sunday for the rest of her life, but they would always be a disappointment compared to the day that Andy showed up.
Erin pulled her keys out of her purse and tossed the purse back onto the passenger’s seat. She started the car and drove out of the parking lot, headed for the highway onramp just a few blocks away.
She drove through many miles of pine forest. Eventually, the forest thinned to reveal thick grass and tangled shrub bordering the edges of a swamp-like river that glimmered beneath the highway bridge.
