by Devon Monk
My sister’s panties, not mine.
His shoulders were too wide for the narrow doorway. He tipped them down slightly and angled his body toward us.
“Can we come in?”
“No.” He tucked his phone into the front pocket of his short-sleeved, forest green button-down shirt. The color made his eyes pop, and the short sleeves showed off his huge forearms and the swell of his biceps.
“I’m fostering a couple cats, and they aren’t comfortable with people yet.”
“We aren’t really people,” Crow said.
“Neither am I, Crow. What do you need, Delaney? Everything all right? It’s my mother isn’t it? She told you?”
“Told me what?”
Little kitten meows called out from deeper in the house. He stepped out, letting the screen door close behind him.
“Sounds like a lot of cats,” Crow observed.
“It’s eight. It’s not a lot until you have over a dozen.”
Crow made a show of counting while pointing at the half dozen cats in the yard. “Sorry to break it to ya, buddy…”
“Mother received a message from the courts.”
“What court?” I asked.
“Hell. The kingdom she once ruled.”
“Okay, what was the message, and how was it delivered?”
“It was left on her doorstep.”
“Let me guess,” Crow said. “In a box. With nothing but a circle and a red feather stamped on it.”
It was a subtle shift. A hardening of Bathin’s stance, his muscles, and then it was gone, washed away like water over stone. In place of that sudden dangerousness, was an affable smile. As if he and Crow had been buddy-buddy for years.
“That’s right,” Bathin said. “In a box, just like you guessed, with a feather, just like you guessed. You want to tell me how you know that, Trickster god, when she hasn’t told anyone but me?”
“She doesn’t have a front door,” I said. “She’s a pony. She’s supposed to be in Hogan’s yard eating grass.”
“She took over the spare room.”
Of course she had. “It was left at his front door?”
He shook his head. One of the kittens decided to Mission Impossible the screen door, and made a jump for it. The kitten stuck on the screen like a furry dart that slowly inched downward.
“She was very specific about it being in front of her door, not Hogan’s front door,” Bathin said. “Hogan has assured me there are boundaries he was more than capable of enforcing. He mentioned his gnome army.”
I huffed a laugh. “Yeah, he sort of has an in with them. Do you know what the message was?”
“It was a ring.”
“How is that a message?”
“It was the ring she wore when she led the hoards into the Bothersome Battle against Sticksquim the Screamed.”
I frowned.
“You never read about that battle? Well, she also wore the ring into the Conflict of Consequence with Boraka the Bad.”
“Who names your wars?” Crow asked. “You need to fire them.”
“Is the ring a weapon?” I asked.
“Why?”
“We’re following up on two other packages that have been left at people’s doorsteps. Both reported this morning. Did Xtelle receive her package this morning?”
“According to the call I got from her screaming about it? Yes.”
“She has a phone?”
He cast his eyes heavenward, which was pretty funny considering he was a demon and even less likely to receive relief from those quarters. “She has a phone.”
A second kitten attacked the screen, this one finding less purchase. It burped out little mews all the way back down to the ground.
“What kind of weapons have been delivered?” Bathin asked. “I’m assuming none of them are as mundane as guns or switchblades.”
“You assume correctly,” I said. “What does your mother’s ring do?”
“It makes her invincible. Might stop time.”
“For real?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “That’s what she’s always said. I was there with her in the Skippy Skirmish against Thatbottom the Thick. Some of the things she did there, I still can’t explain.”
“Really,” Crow said. “Fire your marketing department. They’re making all your fights sound like they took place on a kindergarten playground.”
“Is the ring famous?” I asked. “She’s well known to use it in battle?”
“Among her enemies, she is.”
“And her allies?”
“Not sure she has those anymore. But yes, demons know of it. I’d guess other beings do too. Or at least those who occasionally crack open a book and read up on this stuff.”
“Hey, I read.”
He gave me a small smile. “Not according to your sister you don’t. You just ask her about the important stuff.”
“That’s because she’s the keeper of the library. It’s her job. You can stop grinning at me now. Did she tell you to try and get a rise out of me about this?” I knew I was starting to blush, could feel the prickly heat on my cheeks.
I’d been slacking a little on keeping up on my ancient lore refreshers. Myra had inherited the library instead of me. I was so glad it was in her capable hands, I’d stepped away from the studies we’d all been doing pretty much since we could read.
Dad had never forced it on us, but books were important, and all three of us Reed sisters were voracious readers at heart.
“You are so easy sometimes, Delaney,” Bathin said. I was reminded that he had been in possession of my soul for a long time. Long enough to know how to push my buttons. “Feeling a little guilty your studies have slacked off now that you’ve gotten yourself a fiancé?”
“Good-bye, Bathin. I’m going to go talk to your mother now.” I turned.
“Spending too much time in the bedroom instead of the classroom?” he called out.
“Call me if you hear of any other weapons being delivered.”
“Checking him out instead of checking books out?”
I was at the Jeep, one hand on the door. “Save it for the talent show,” I yelled back.
I got in the Jeep and Crow swung into the passenger side. Bathin gave us a wave before very carefully opening the screen door, dislodging kittens who fell like fat, fuzzy snowballs.
He bent and gently gathered them into his arms, cradling four of them close to his chest before stepping into the house and closing the door.
“He’s good with them,” Crow noted.
“The kittens?”
“Insults.” Crow threw me a look. “Yes, the kittens. I didn’t know.”
“You? One of the snoopiest gods in town, didn’t know Bathin had a thing for cats?”
“I’m not snoopy, I’m attentive. I’ve seen him at the clinic and the adoption place, but in those spaces there is an expectation for him to behave a certain way. There isn’t that same expectation here.”
“Is it hard to believe he likes cats?”
“Been around demons for a long time, remember?”
“Yep. You remind me daily. Even twice daily.”
“Demons don’t like kittens.”
“Agreed. But Bathin had Dad’s soul for a long time. Then mine. He’s not just a demon anymore. Or, maybe he is just a demon, but one who has continued to learn and grow. One who has learned there are more important things than torturing humans.
“Plus,” I said, “he’s in love. There’s a chance he might screw it up with Myra. But that’s how it goes, right? Life? You just jump in and give it your best shot with the people you love, and make the most of it you can.”
He wasn’t smiling, not really, but there was a softness to his face as he glanced over at me.
“You might want to apply that to a certain reluctant bride I know.”
“Every word. I regret every word I just said.”
“Might want to tell her she can just jump in and it’s going to all work out. Messy, maybe
, but weddings and marriages and life,” he said with a little extra emphasis, “tend to work out.”
“I’m officially declaring this,” I waved a hand between us, “a relationship advice free zone. Good?”
He mimed zipping his lips and throwing the key away.
For a very short minute, he was silent. Then he started humming Going to the Chapel by the Dixie Cups.
I drove faster.
Chapter Nine
“Delaney, Crow! What brings you by?” Hogan’s smile contrasted beautifully with his dark skin and startlingly blue eyes. If he weren’t half Jinn I’d think his magical power was always being in a good mood.
He’d pulled back his beaded braids, and wore a black apron over jeans and T-shirt.
The smell of butter, baked bread, and dill wafted out of his house.
Or maybe I’d think his baking was his magic power. He was the owner of the Puffin Muffin, an amazing bakery that was just starting to catch full-time customers from towns on either side of us. Hogan had bought a delivery van and hired a delivery driver named Bob. So far, Bob was busy fulfilling orders every day of the week.
“Is Jean okay?” he asked, his smile dimming.
“She’s good,” I assured him quickly. “We’re here to talk to Xtelle. I didn’t see her in the side yard.”
“Sure,” he said. “Come on in. Hey, Crow. You still up for a game this weekend?” He held the door open while we walked past him.
“Hell, yes,” he said. “But Rossi might be hosting. I’ll let you know.”
“Sure. Yeah. All good, man.”
The living room furniture was mismatched and homey. A pair of Jean’s favorite Cthulhu slippers were on the floor, and her Venture Bros. lap blanket swagged the couch. A few other items that belonged to her: the eye of Sauron mug, a pair of wadded General Servius socks were scattered here and there.
I knew if I went to her little apartment, I’d find Hogan’s stuff mixed in with hers too.
“She’s in the back. Can I get you anything? Coffee? I have a couple experimental rolls if you’re up for it.”
“Experimental as in...” Crow mimed smoking a joint.
Hogan laughed. “No, man. I’m trying some new flavors of bread.”
“What are you going for?” Crow followed him into the kitchen.
“Dill, bacon, but also peanut butter, and maple. Think breakfast, but with pickles on the plate…”
I left them to it and walked down the hallway, past a half bath, a spare room that had been turned into a computer and gaming room, a linen closet and then, to the guest room.
The door was decorated with sparkly red tulle, creating a stage framing a photo of Xtelle in pony form. She was standing on the beach in a very regal pose, one hoof raised, her head tipped down, her short pony neck curved as her ridiculously long, silvery mane blew in the wind behind her.
Just below the picture was a little shelf and a tip jar.
There were two dollars in it. I figured she’d put them in there herself.
I knocked on the door.
“I told you I hate maple syrup,” Xtelle said.
“It’s Delaney. Can I come in?”
There was a thump and then a lot of scrabbling behind the door. I thought I heard a window open and then more scrabbling—moving books? Furniture? Finally hooves clacked across hardwood to the door.
She opened it, and there was a chain on her side. She stuck her eye in the crack and blinked at me. “What do you want?”
I smelled chocolate on her breath and a faint hint of cigarette smoke.
“I heard about the delivery you got today,” I said. “I need to ask you a few questions.”
The eye narrowed, then she shut the door. The chain slid and clicked against the wall.
I waited for the door to open. Nothing.
“Xtelle?”
“Come in,” she sang out.
I opened the door.
Hogan was a nice guy who obviously wanted Xtelle to make herself comfortable in the guest room. The demon queen had done exactly that.
The queen-size bed was shoved to one side of the room, mirrors covered three of the four walls. Everything in the room was red, pink, or sparkling silver. It was positively funhouse chic.
I felt like I’d fallen into a cheap punch bowl spiked with bootleg gin.
“Delaney. Why are you bothering me? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
She rested in the middle of her red fur quilt, a pile of satin and velvet pillows stacked behind her so she could lounge with all four legs tucked up under her.
She was in unicorn form, and the clash between the pink of her body and the diamond bright horn in the room gave me an instant headache.
The mirrors weren’t helping with that.
Which was absolutely her intention. She might look like a cute little unicorn, but she was a demon queen through and through.
“You had a package left at your door this morning.”
She reached over to the box of chocolates on the night stand and popped one into her mouth. Horse hooves, well, unicorn hooves shouldn’t work like that but Xtelle was a demon. She could make her hooves do whatever she wanted.
“Did you see who brought it in?” I asked.
“No.”
“Did someone knock?”
“No.”
“How did you know it was delivered?”
“I could feel it. Don’t make that face. I felt it. I felt what was in the box.”
“This is my normal face. I’m not making any faces.”
“You poor thing.”
“What was in the box?”
She squinted at me. “Bathin told you already, didn’t he?”
“I spoke with him. I want to hear it from you.”
“This isn’t my fault,” she groused.
“Okay.”
“I’m following all the stupid rules of stupid Ordinary stupid Oregon.”
“Okay.”
“It’s not even supposed to be here. I didn’t bring it here.”
“You’re going to drive the long way around to the answer, aren’t you?”
“I know I’m supposed to bow to your authority and toe the line. Well, hoof the line. I know I have to be a good pony.”
“You’re not a pony.”
“Thank you!” she said. “I am a beautiful, sweet unicorn.” She tossed her mane and a thousand Xtelles in the mirrors did the same. “Isn’t beautiful more important than good? Isn’t sweet better than well-behaved?”
“Succinct is better than dramatic. Straightforward is more important than looks. Direct will work.”
“Sweet and beautiful and carefree and…and innocent!” She lowered her head and coyly fluttered her eyelashes. “Such a pretty unicorn deserves a present.”
“I will present you with a jail cell.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“I would. No mirrors allowed.”
She gasped. “Monster.”
“The box. The delivery. The contents.” I made a keep it rolling motion with my finger.
“It’s a trinket. Just some old junk.”
“Show me.”
“The box?”
“Everything. The trinket, the box, everything.”
“I burned it.”
“Then show me the ashes.”
She rolled her big horsey eyes. “Fine. Fine! I’ve done everything you’ve asked and still, not a single thank you. I don’t know why you haven’t been replaced with a much nicer, taller, and better-looking chief of police by now.”
She hopped off the fur cover and trotted across the room, trailing the scent of burned strawberries behind her. She made a quick right, then trotted down the hall to the back door, which she opened with a hoof. “There,” she minced to one side, not stepping out. “Happy?” She minced the other way.
The door opened onto the patio. I hadn’t been back here since Hogan had taken over the place, but what I remembered from the past owner was a blank concrete slab, a few ruste
d patio chairs, and a broken barbeque.
Hogan had swept that all away. Now a cobbled patio, with a pergola above it, looked out upon the long backyard.
Fairy lights twinkled up there in the vines that grew across the wooden roofing, and instead of rusted chairs, there were two small couches with bright, weather-proof upholstery, a baby-blue table in the center, and two wooden rocking chairs in red and yellow. The barbeque had been replaced with a shiny new one.
Also there were gnomes.
An awful lot of gnomes.
Like, more gnomes than I’d seen in one place in my life.
They were statues at the moment, but I knew under certain circumstances they would come to life. Last time had been on Halloween. Luckily, Hogan had figured out how to not only talk gnomish—a knack I’d never developed—he had also become their guardian.
Of course Headless Abner was a big part of that. His head was right there on a pedestal near the corner of the patio where he could keep an eye on the yard and all his fellow gnomes.
“Where are the ashes?” I asked.
“Out there.” Xtelle waved a hoof toward the grill but still didn’t step through the door.
“How about you come out here and show me?”
“How about you find it. You’re a detective.” Her gaze darted back and forth around the patio, as if the gnomes were going to come to unlife at any moment.
I smiled. “Sure are lots of gnomes out today.”
“Yes.” Her eyes flicked faster, as if she expected each statue to move a little while she wasn’t watching. “I suppose. Yes.”
“I bet more keep showing up every day now that Hogan is in charge of them.”
“They do?”
“Yep. Last time I was back here there were maybe two, three gnomes. Now it’s, what? A couple dozen? Three dozen?”
“They just keep coming!” she wailed.
“Well, now that word has gotten out on G-Nom radio, I expect even more of them will be arriving.”
“Those pointy-hatted abominations!”
“Every abomination has a place in Ordinary as long as they follow the rules. The gnomes won’t hurt you. Well,” I said glibly, “they aren’t supposed to.”
“But I’m so beautiful!”
“That doesn’t… Wait.” I pivoted and stared at a blue-capped gnome with a wheelbarrow full of flowers.
