by Keith Keffer
"What happens then? Do you get paroled?"
"Something like that. According to the rules every being has the chance at redemption."
"And you want to be redeemed?"
"Of course. Wouldn't you? I've been looking for a way to get out of there for years. Helping you is the best chance I'm likely to ever have." The demon paused, staring at her with his black eyes like he could see into her soul. "You are trying to help him, right?"
Morgan stared right back into his eyes without blinking. "Of course," she said. "He's family."
The demon grinned with a mouthful of crooked teeth. "Then I'm in. Now show me the book so I can see what sort of spell we are working with here."
"Why do you need to know that?"
The demon sighed. "Because I'm not going to be able to find anyone trapped inside of a three-foot circle. There has to be some way for me to move about without getting zapped on the nose every time I take a step."
Morgan clutched the book to her chest. "There is," she said. "Pick up the ring of hair at your feet. Put it on, and you'll be bound to me until I tell you to remove it."
The demon took a step back and snatched up the ring of hair. "Done," he said as he slipped the bracelet over his hand. The ring seemed to stretch and shrink to fit perfectly on his wrist. It lingered there for a second, and then it faded into his skin. "I am yours to command, ol' Mistress of the Dark Arts. You may call me Bob."
"Bob? Your name is really Bob? I can't believe I summoned Bob the demon."
Bob shrugged. "I told you, I'm not a summoning demon. They get the dark and mysterious names. The rest of us aren't that special. Now what shall I call you, or do you prefer that I stick with Mistress of the Dark Arts?"
"Oh no. I'm not giving you my name. I watch movies. I know there is power in names. If I tell you my name, then you'll have some way to influence me?"
"Really?" said Bob mimicking Morgan's tone. "You summon a demon, then fall back to stuff you saw in a movie? Well, for your information I watch movies too. Just don't feed me after midnight or get me wet and we'll be fine."
"Are you serious?"
"No. I completely made that up." Bob stepped out of the circle. It flashed a faint blue, then faded away as he passed through the barrier. "Come on," he said. "I promised to help you find your cousin. Let's get started."
CH 4 - A Demon Thing
"Alright," said Morgan. "Where do we start?"
"Clothing. There is no way I'm going out in public all naked. You might be comfortable gallivanting around in just a t-shirt, but I'd like some pants."
Morgan looked down at the shirt she was wearing. It was a long shirt. Besides, it was comfy. "I wasn't gallivanting. It's just that... Well, I sort of thought this was going to work more like a phone call."
"What you really mean is that you didn't think it would work at all, so you weren't worried if someone saw your flowery undies. Not that I'm complaining. You have great legs, and the view alone is worth the price of being summoned. Still, I can't be running around with everything hanging out." Sticking out his little chest, he added, "It would be unseemly."
Morgan tried not to stare at the demon. He was as anatomically correct as a little boy's action figure. He had one head, two arms and two legs, but any extra appendages were missing. From the waist down, it was just wrinkly skin. Morgan spun around before Bob noticed her gaze and ran to her closet.
Nope. Nope. Nope, she had to have something in there he could wear. She sure as heck wasn't going to be the one who pointed out that he didn't have anything to hide.
As it turned out, she didn't need to.
"Holy Hells, woman. It's gone. What did you do me." Bob, the demon, plopped his bare butt on the floor and began to wail. "You mutilated me."
Morgan popped out of the closet wielding a teddy bear dressed in a pair of shorts and a lifeguard t-shirt. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened. There was nothing in the book about..." She waved the bear toward his lap. "That."
Bob grinned, showing off his crooked teeth, and jumped to his feet. "Nah. Just messing with you. I saw how you were staring at me. Spells tend to shape whatever is summoned to the needs of the caster. You needed help not a companion."
"Eww. You're kidding right."
"Nope, afraid not. Happens a lot more often than you would expect. It's safe. We're disease free and can't produce offspring, at least not in the way you would do it."
"Just stop. Please. I'm going to have to bleach my brain later to get that image out of my head."
"Yeah, that won't work. Wait until the next time you summon a demon. He'll be hung like a horse because no matter why you decide to do it, this conversation will be replaying itself in the back of your head."
"Well, then I have nothing to worry about," said Morgan while she stripped the clothes off the stuffed animal. "I don't plan on making a habit of this."
"A one demon witch. I like that." Bob reached up and took the clothes from Morgan. He pulled on the shirt and it hung down to his knees. The shorts were no better. Bob clung to them with both hands to keep them from falling off.
Morgan went over to her dresser and started rummaging in the top drawer. "Don't worry. I have some pins around here. We can fix that."
"No need," said Bob. The shorts and t-shirt had shrunk and now fitted him like they had been tailored to his exact measurements. There was even a little hole in the back for his tail to hang out. It twitched back and forth as he adjusted the waistband. "I do have some magic of my own."
Morgan looked at the demon now dressed for a day at the beach and shuddered. She slumped down onto the floor, curling her knees up to her chest.
Bob ran an oversized hand down the front of his shirt. "It is sort of tacky, isn't it?"
"This is nothing like I expected," said Morgan. "This can't be real. Magic's not real. Demons aren't real. I've completely lost it."
"About that," said Bob. "Technically, I'm not a demon. I guess I'm what you would call a lost soul. And, to be honest, you are nothing like I expected either. There's no way you should be doing this on your own. If your spell hadn't somehow managed to grab me, who knows what sort of trouble you'd be in by now with one of the other ones. They get bonus points for corrupting souls. That's the fast track to going up the ranks."
Morgan stared at the demon trying to figure out what to do or even to say. All she could think of was how this had been a really bad idea. She was going to end up dead or worse if she wasn't careful.
"Don't worry," said Bob. "Claiming souls would make me more powerful, but it would also screw over any chance I had of redeeming myself. I'm not that far gone, and I don't want to be. Ever. I've already done enough stupid things to fill two lifetimes. If you give me this chance, I promise to do everything that I can to find your cousin and keep both of you safe."
Bob sat on the floor next to Morgan with his legs stretched out in front. He wiggled his toes with a smile, then looked up at her.
"I know this is weird, and it'll probably get weirder before we are done, but you aren't crazy. Magic is real. There are demons and angels, but we can't interact directly with the mortal world. I'm only here because you summoned me. Without you, I'm pretty much powerless, but with you. Well, together I think we can find your cousin if you let me help."
Morgan swallowed, then said, "The Devil has the sweetest words. Or something like that. Isn't that what they say?"
Bob shrugged. "I don't know about The Devil, but I do know a few lesser ones. They are all assholes who can't string two coherent sentences together. I'm not like them. I'm not like Him either. And you aren't like other witches."
He lifted his arm, and the bracelet she had made from her own hair faded into existence. It was still wrapped around his wrist. "You are the boss. You brought me here for a reason. Let's go do that."
"I don't trust you," said Morgan. "But, I do need you. What do we do next?"
"Well," said Bob, "That's probably smart." He pulled on his lip for a second before continu
ing. "I think we should first determine if your cousin is still alive."
"He's alive," snapped Morgan, then she too paused before continuing. "He feels alive. I think I would know if he wasn't."
"Trust your senses," said Bob. "They will serve you well."
"Did you just quote Yoda?"
"Maybe," he said. "Doesn't mean it's not true. More true for you than others seeing as how you have the gift. We need something that belongs to the boy."
Morgan stood up and went to the chair where she had dropped Henry's jacket. "Will this do?"
"As long as he wore it, it should work. Now have a seat on the floor. You're giving me a stiff neck having to look up at you. We are going to need to do this together."
The little demon waited until Morgan sat down, then walked over to her and held out his hand. The knuckles looked swollen and twisted. Morgan hesitated before gently taking Bob's hand in her own. Was the shape of his hands caused by her spell? Was he suffering because of her? She held his hand like it was a baby's, careful not to squeeze too hard.
Bob didn't share the same worries.
"Don't be afraid," he said as he grabbed two of her fingers and squeezed tightly. His grip was like a vice. He might be small, but he was surprisingly strong. "Focus on Henry."
Morgan gasped. A bluish cloud began to form in the air in front of them. "Are you seeing this?" she asked.
"Of course, I'm seeing it," answered Bob. "We're connected. Now hush. Try to picture Henry. Remember what he looked like when he wore this jacket. Remember his laughter, his smile. Focus."
Images began to appear in the cloud as Morgan concentrated. They were blurry and out of focus, flickering in and out too fast for her to make out any details except for one thing. Each of the images was of Henry.
Excited, she squeezed Bob's hand.
"Good," said Bob. "You are doing great. Now, you need to relax. Don't try to shape the images. Let them lead you to him."
Relax? She was doing friggin' magic, and it was working. Really working. She was going to find Henry. How could anyone relax now?
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She repeated it again and again. Morgan's hand grew warm from Bob's grip on her.
The cloud changed once more. It was still hazy, but this time the image was much clearer than the previous ones. A dark-haired boy lay curled in the fetal position.
Morgan stopped breathing. The image was so blurry, she couldn't read the words on his t-shirt, but she still recognized it. The Batman logo was on the front, and on the back it said, "Be the hero they need." She and Henry both had gotten the matching shirts when they took part in a 5K run for cancer earlier this year.
As she watched, the boy rolled over, and she could clearly see his face.
"Henry," she gasped.
In that instance the boy's eyes snapped open, and the cloud burst. The image was gone.
"What happened?" said Morgan. "Where did it go? Let's bring it back. He's alive. That's what that means isn't it? He's alive."
Bob smiled with his crooked teeth. "Yes. It means he is alive."
"I knew it," said Morgan jumping to her feet. She grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled them on while hopping on one leg. "Let's go get him."
"Whoa," said Bob. "We know he is alive, but we still need to determine where he is."
"Yeah. Let's do that," said Morgan as she pulled on a pair of sneakers. "We can work some magic and figure that out."
Now that she was dressed, Morgan sat back on the floor next to Bob and grabbed his hand. "I'm ready," she said. "What do I focus on now?"
"Now?" Bob rubbed the back of his head with his free hand. "Nothing. I think we need to try to trace Henry's movement the last day that anyone saw him. We really should have gotten a clearer image of where he was in your vision. It's weird that we didn't see anything but him."
Bob freed his hand from hers and stood up. "Do you know the path he was following that day? Can you take me there?"
"Sure. Follow me." Morgan was halfway down the hallway before she realized that Bob wasn't with her. He was leaning against the door to her bedrooms, arms crossed, watching her.
"What?" she asked.
Bob lifted his right leg and wiggled his toes at her. "This form isn't really built for speed. You need to either slow down or you're going to have to carry me."
Morgan ran back and plucked him off the ground, which got a surprised yelp from Bob as she swung him up into her arms.
"This is humiliating," mumbled Bob. "You're carrying me like a baby."
Looking down at his big head with a bulbous nose, crooked teeth and pointy ears she couldn't help but grin. "If anyone asks, you take after your father."
"Hey," said Bob. "It was your spell that created this form. Your thoughts shaped it. So, if I take after anyone, it's you. Apparently under that cute, girly exterior lurks a dark and twisted mind."
At the front door, Morgan pulled on a sweat jacket and grabbed an empty backpack from the closet. There were three hanging up, and she decided to skip over the ones with superheroes on them and went for a dark blue one with no design on it. Then, without warning, she grabbed Bob and dropped him inside.
"What the hell are you doing?" complained Bob.
"You know we can't let people see you," she said. "This won't look too suspicious if we run into anyone, and we'll still be able to talk as we look around."
"I don't like it," said Bob. "It's dark and hot in here. Can't I ride on your shoulders or something? I mean this really sucks."
"And what would we say to the first person to see you?"
"Yeah," he said. "I know. It still sucks."
"I'm sorry," said Morgan. She grabbed her cell phone and handed it to Bob. It looked massive in his hands. "You can turn that on. It should give off enough light, and there are some music apps if you want to listen to anything. We'll leave the zipper open too, that way you'll get fresh air."
"Wow," said Bob. "Just like a car ride to grandma's."
Morgan smiled. "Exactly."
"I always threw up on those trips."
She cringed but didn't argue with him. She used to get sick on those trips too, back when her family used to make those trips. Bob was poking around with the buttons on the phone. Not an easy task with his fingers, but hopefully it would be enough of a distraction.
Stepping outside, she was glad that she grabbed her jacket, then she remembered that Bob was just wearing shorts and a t-shirt. He must be freezing.
"Let me grab you a blanket or something. You'll freeze out here."
Bob had his head hanging out of the pack with a huge grin on his face. "Are you kidding. This feels wonderful. I had forgotten what a cool night after a storm felt like. If it's alright with you, I'm going to sit on the edge of the bag and if we see anyone, I'll slip inside so quietly that no one will even know I'm here."
He looked up at her with those big, black eyes and Morgan nodded "Alright, but at the first sign of anyone you have to scoot."
"You're the boss, Moda." He shifted around in the pack and a moment later the theme from the A-Team started playing from it. Bob had apparently discovered a music app. "Now, we're ready to go."
"That's not very inconspicuous," said Morgan.
"Come on," said Bob. "It's my first time out in forever. Let me have a little fun with it. Besides, it's just a wee bit past three in the morning. Only the crazies are out at this time of night. We'll fit right in."
With Bob running their personal soundtrack, Morgan followed the path that Henry would have taken to the library. The little demon hung out of the pack, looking at everything, sniffing the air and mumbling a good bit to himself. They had just come into view of the library when the sound of running footsteps echoed behind them.
Bob ducked into the pack, as Morgan spun around to see who was coming. She clenched the bag in her right hand, ready to swing it like a club if she needed to. Bob would complain about it later, but it was the closest thing she had to a weapon.
Mr
. McCalister came jogging up in a bright orange tracksuit covered in reflective tape along the arms and legs. He literally sparkled with each step as the streetlights reflected off of him.
"Morgan," he said. "Is that you?" He slowed down and started to jog in place as he got closer. His bald head had a sheen of sweat over it, but he wasn't even breathing hard. "Can't sleep either? I always find a brisk jog in the early hours of the morning is a great way to clear the mind and prepare for the day. Glad to see you are giving it a try."
"Well, it's more of a walk than a jog," she said.
"Everyone begins with a walk. You just stick with it and there is no telling how far you'll go. Might want to get some different clothes if you are going to be out at this time of night. I didn't notice you until I was almost right on top of you. Some reflective tape will go a long way to keeping you safe."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Excellent. You can never be too safe," he said. "Now, I must be off if I want to be done on time."
Mr. McCalister waved, then jogged off. He was right. The reflective tape really did make him stand out.
"Who was that?" asked Bob, popping his head out of the pack.
"One of those crazies you mentioned earlier."
"That's not good."
"Tell me about it. I hope he doesn't come over tomorrow morning looking for a running partner."
"Not him," said Bob hopping out of the pack and dropping on the ground with a thunk. "Look over here."
"Don't do that. Someone might see you. Besides, there's nothing over there."
"Oh. Sorry. I forgot. Here, take my hand."
Morgan took his hand and considered stuffing him back in the backpack, but they were alone. The sound of Mr McCalister jogging had faded away. The only noise came from the hum of the street lights.
And Bob. He was talking as he pulled Morgan forward, which wasn't easy considering their height difference. She was basically duck walking to keep up with him while staying low enough that she could maintain her grip on his hand. The tight jeans didn't make it any easier. The next time she goes wandering off with a demon in the middle of the night, she would wear sweats.
