by Gina Ranalli
Finally, I find my voice and ask, “Why can’t you just kill us and get it over with? That would make the most sense, wouldn’t it? Why waste time with this?” I nod towards the lava lamp.
The demon’s voice lowers to a growl. “Because the key can only be given. Not taken. I don’t know who came up with that bullshit, but you can be sure it wasn’t me.”
I frown. “That doesn’t make sense. If you kill us, won’t that count as just taking it?”
Wanda the demon lunges at me, knocking me back into the wall, her slimy black face only an inch from mine as she hisses and snarls, long teeth snapping. “I’m not here to argue semantics with you, Ro,” she says, pinning my arms above me. There is a moment when I shrink in fear, scared that she means to kiss me, but then she pulls back a little and I feel a tiny wave of relief. “Nor am I here to satisfy your curiosity or educate you. I only want one thing and one thing only: to get the hell out of this god forsaken shithole, same as you. Same as everyone.”
Her breath alone almost makes me pass out, but the talons digging into my wrists prevent that from happening. I feel blisters pop and feel tiny trickles of blood flow down my forearms. Bright spears of light flash before my eyes and I hear myself whimper. I close my eyes against the nightmare of her face and say, “My friends will be here soon. You can’t take all of us at once.”
The demon blasts her foul breath at me, laughing. She laughs so hard that she releases my arms and steps away from me to sit on the bed, holding her belly.
I sag slightly against the wall, rubbing my wrists where the skin has been torn. “What’s so funny?”
“Ohhhh,” the demon pants, still chuckling. “Yes, your friends will rescue you. That’s what’s funny. Oh my god, that’s rich!” She flops over onto her back on the bed, fresh peals of laughter shaking her shiny black body.
Straightening up, I can’t help but feel offended. “I don’t see what’s so amusing about that.”
Wanda does her best to gain control of her laughing fit and finally manages to rise to her feet. She goes over to the sliding glass door and points outside. “Do you really think your puny friends will be able to make it past my security?”
“What security? I didn’t see any security.” I join her at the door and look out. Much to my surprise there are a dozen or so plump and pink little cherubs flittering about outside, flying to and fro on little white wings that don’t look strong enough to carry their weight, but somehow still do. I look at the demon. “Cherubs? Your security is cherubs?”
“Don’t underestimate them, Ro. They are a force to be reckoned with, I guarantee you that.”
I watch the cherubs, who aren’t even the kind with bows and arrows. They just look like infants with wings, wearing cloth diapers. “If you say so,” I say and turn away from the door, glancing nervously at the lava lamp. It hasn’t changed in the slightest. The ‘lava’ is still just a flat lump of wax at the bottom and I know from experience that lava lamps always take a long time to get going. Probably an hour or so, which gives the others plenty of time to get here.
“Anyway,” Wanda says. “You’ll have to excuse me for now. I was in the middle of cooking dinner when you arrived. I’m cooking a roast and I’d invite you to stay but in all likelihood, you’ll be dead before its ready.”
Leaning against the dresser, I say, “That’s okay. I’m not a big fan of roast anyway.”
“Oh, but you’d like this one. It’s a cherub roast. So tender it melts in your mouth.”
“Cherub?” I glance over my shoulder at the cherubs flying around outside. “You mean, like, one of them?”
“Yep. Just like one of them. One that thought maybe he could do a little thinking on his own. I have to keep them in line somehow and eating one once in a while is just a little reminder to them of exactly who it is that’s in charge around here.”
I chew my lower lip nervously, unable to think of a comeback to this new revelation.
Wanda shrugs and playfully says, “Don’t you go anywhere now. Mind the security.” With that she leaves the room and after thirty seconds or so I hear pots and pans clanking downstairs.
I wait another minute to be sure she’s not going to return right away and then I switch off the lava lamp. “Duh, to you too, witch.”
35
Gazing out at the cherubs, I wonder where my band is. I hope they’re taking good care of Nemesister, since she is the key that will get us, along with Chemical Gardens, out of this deadly rabbit hole we’ve all fallen into.
I notice not all of the cherubs are white after all. A few more have joined the others and all three of them are dark skinned. They seem to have come from around the other side of the building, which causes me to think that maybe the whole place is surrounded.
Scratching at a blister on my elbow, I begin pacing the room, wondering how to get out of here. Jumping off the balcony might be an option, albeit a painful one, but what about those cherubs? Will they start singing in angelic voices, alerting Wanda to my escape or will they attack me, sprouting fangs and claws and a thirst for blood just as the cute rabbits did?
They don’t look particularly dangerous, but neither did the apple that pierced my lower lip, biting me before I could bite it. Or the paper bag that wasn’t a paper bag at all.
“Yoohoo!” Wanda’s voice travels up the stairs as she ascends them. “I hope you’re behaving yourself in there.”
I hurry over to the lava lamp and switch it back on before leaping onto the bed, my back against the headboard and feet casually crossed.
When the demon enters the room, she is smoking another cigarette and barely glances at me. Instead, her eyes go to the lava lamp and narrow into slits. “Isn’t that thing warmed up yet?”
I press my lips together and shrug, trying to appear perplexed.
Wanda goes to the lamp, peering at it closely, then flicks at the oblong globe with her talons. “Stupid thing,” she mutters and turns back to me. “Comfortable?”
“How can you afford this place?” I ask, hoping to distract her from the lamp. “Did you guys sign to a label or what?”
Ignoring the question, she asks, “Ready to hand over the guitar yet? Or are you still hoping to be rescued?”
“I’m still hoping to be rescued,” I reply, wondering how she expects me to hand over something I obviously don’t have.
She makes a disgusted sound and leaves the room again, presumably to check on her roast.
I leap off the bed and switch the lava lamp off once more.
“Ro!”
Looking around, I expect to see Wanda in the doorway again and when she isn’t I go back to the sliding door. Outside, beneath the balcony, is my band.
“Ro!” Pawn hisses again.
I step out onto the balcony and try to shush her by waving my arms. “Get out of here!” I try to call and whisper at the same time. “Nemesister is the key!”
The cherubs, who at first didn’t seem to care about the three people on the lawn below, suddenly start swooping down on them like fat baby birds of prey. Pawn and Dose easily dodge them, but Whey, clearly panicked, begins running around in a circle making little yipping sounds. On his back, Nemesister sways back and forth, her neck bending one way and then the other.
“What?” Pawn whispers loudly, ducking as a cherub dive bombs her head.
“Go,” I whisper back. “Go, go, go!”
Whey starts taking swings at the cherubs with Nemesister, as if she is a bat and they are the balls.
“Stop it!” I yell, probably too loud. “You’ll hurt her!”
A clatter from downstairs causes me to jump back into the room and switch on the lava lamp again. I look around frantically for something to distract Wanda from the commotion outside and see an acoustic guitar in the corner. I immediately grab it and flop myself onto the bed, guitar in lap, and start strumming loudly. Without giving it any thought, I start screaming out the lyrics to our song “Rescued by a Sinking Ship,” which seems apt somehow.
I keep right on screaming and playing, barely noticing that the guitar is nowhere near in tune.
Wanda rushes over and snatches the guitar out of my hands. “Are you crazy,” she asks, clearly aggravated. “This is a 1965 Gibson Dove. Do you know how much this is worth?”
I indicate by my facial expression that I have no idea.
“Well…a lot! Not to mention, it was dad’s. I learned to play on this guitar!”
“Sorry,” I say mildly.
The demon returns the guitar to its corner and says, “Touch it again and I’ll eat your leg.”
I give her a huge grin, nodding like a maniac, praying she doesn’t hear the scuffling outside.
I needn’t have worried because then she focuses her attention on the lava lamp again. “What is wrong with this thing? It’s not even warm.” She grabs the globe from its base gives it a shake. The wax sluggishly rolls around inside, like a pig fetus in formaldehyde. In fact, the resemblance is so close that I squint at the thing, suddenly certain that it could indeed be a pig fetus. Or some other kind of fetus anyway. Maybe a cherub…
Outside, Whey screams and both of us forget about the lamp and rush out to the balcony. We watch my band ducking and dodging the lunatic cherubs and my heart sinks. There is Nemesister, only ten or twelve feet below us and now I know we’re almost certainly doomed.
“Well, well, well,” the demon says, sounding amused. “The cavalry has arrived.”
It’s not the reaction I expected from her, but then I remember how the key can only be given, not taken. “We’ll never give it to you,” I say stonily.
Wanda ignores me and yells at the cherubs. “What are you fuckwads doing? Playing dodge ball? For Christ’s sake, shoot!”
To my amazement and horror, the cherubs reach into their diapers and pull out what appear to be nine millimeter automatics. They start firing at my band and all of us scream. All of us except for Wanda, that is. She seems almost bored by the display and turns to me. “You’re trying my patience,” she says and hooks her taloned fist into my hair, yanking and dragging me back into her bedroom.
Once inside, she flings me across the room like a much despised ragdoll. I crash into the far wall head first and see stars before sinking to my knees.
The gunfire and shouting coming from outside sound far away and I reach up to touch my forehead. No blood, although a new lump is already forming, but there is no time to worry about my various injuries now. I have to stop Wanda…
Slowly, I get to my feet to see her yanking the lava lamps cord out of the wall and tucking the globe beneath her arm. “I know how to get this thing going,” she says to herself.
I have to act fast, and stumble-rush towards her, swinging my fists, praying they’ll connect with something worthwhile, but Wanda barely glances at me before swatting me away as though I’m nothing more than a pesky gnat.
Sprawled on the floor once more, I choke back the urge to scream. Instead, I try to listen; try to hear what’s happening outside and I don’t know whether to be filled with relief or dread when I realize that everything has grown silent.
“Come on,” Wanda snarls, once again grabbing me by a pigtail. “I smell burning meat.”
She drags me headfirst out of the room, through a short hall and down a spiral staircase, my tailbone cracking hard against the edge of every step. Dimly, I’m thankful the staircase is carpeted but other than that, few thoughts travel through my head, except that I’m about to die.
Again.
36
In the kitchen, she just tosses me off to the side where I crash into a table leg, then she hurries over to the stove to check her roast. While she’s busy pulling it out of the oven and placing it on the counter by the sink, I crawl under the table, for some reason thinking I’ll be safer there. I’ve been reduced to behaving like a kicked puppy and though I’m very much aware of it, I simply can’t help myself.
“Doesn’t this smell delicious, Ro? Mmm. Cherub.” Wanda continues to mutter over her dinner for a few more minutes, while I cower beneath the table, wondering what to do next.
“Well, I’ll let it stew in its juices for a while. That’s what gets the meat so tender.” She walks over and nonchalantly bends down, peering at me. “I guess that lava lamp needs a new bulb or something, huh? That’s ok, though. I have an idea that will get it flowing before you can say ‘Help, help, a demon is eating me.’ Now, come on out from under there. You’re behaving childishly.” She offers me a shiny black hand. The claws look even longer than they did just a few minutes ago. “Come on,” she says impatiently, snapping her fingers. “I want you to see this.”
When I make no move to come, she reaches under the table and once again I’m being dragged across the floor. She lets me go a few feet in front of the stove.
“Look at this,” she says pointing. I look to see that she’s placed the lava lamp globe on a front burner. It looks like it could easily fall over, but somehow Wanda has balanced it just so. It stands upright—maybe not forever, but for now.
She offers me a terrifically awful grin while she switches the dial on the stove to ‘high.’ “This fucker will be hot in no time at all,” she says. “Which brings us back to the reason for your little visit. If you’d just stop all this bullshit, I might think about letting you go.”
“I don’t have the key…I mean the guitar.”
Wanda folds her arms across her black segmented chest and shakes her finger at me, the way one would at a particularly stubborn child. “You do have the key, Ro. I don’t know why you’re being such a bitch about this. Don’t you get by now that I’ve already won? Your crappy little band is lying out on the grass full of bullet holes and pieces of you will soon be in my oven, garnishing my roast. So, just hand over the fucking guitar already.”
“Are you blind?” I yell, attempting to stand up. “Does it look like I have a guitar?” I wave my empty hands at her. I pull myself up by way of the kitchen counter and over Wanda’s shoulder I see two things: a front door with a window in the center and peering through the glass directly at me is Pawn and Whey. Pawn has one finger to her lips, while Whey waves and smiles.
The second thing I see over the demon’s shoulder is not nearly so heartening. The lava inside the oblong globe is now bubbling up, floating to the top at a much faster rate than it would have had it just been left to be heated by the light bulb.
My eyes flick back to Wanda’s face, hoping she hasn’t noticed me noticing anything.
But, she has. She turns around and Pawn and Whey both duck out of sight at the last possible instant, but they needn’t have worried. The demon has spotted the lava boiling in its glass prison as if it were something alive.
She turns back to me, grinning. “Looks like time’s up. Now give me the guitar.” She takes a step towards me, hand held out, and roars “GIVE IT TO ME!”
“I don’t have it!” I yell, trying to match her volume.
Wanda seizes me by the throat with one hand and squeezes. Hard. I bring my hands up to first scratch at her face, but it feels as though I’m scratching at enamel. I try wrenching myself free, pounding at her, kicking, and everything begins to take on a hazy tinge.
I hear glass break and Pawn yelling, “Let her go! We have the guitar! We have it!”
With her free hand, the one that isn’t busy killing me, I feel Wanda frisking me, feeling around inside the pockets of my dress and then she finds whatever it is she’s looking for and makes a victorious whooping sound, not unlike the battle cry of Xena: Warrior Princess. It hurts my ears.
“Now, was that so hard?” she asks me through clenched, grinning teeth. I hear a jangling sound and out of the corner of my left eye I see what she’s holding: my car keys. “I knew that candy-ass Chad was full of shit,” she says, gazing at the keys lustfully. “I could have taken the fucking things any time I wanted.”
I gurgle, feel my weight slipping out from under me.
“We have the guitar,” Pawn continues to shout and that’s what brings it home for me. Wanda never wanted Nemesister at all. She wanted my keychain. My guitar keychain.
Now that she has what she wants, Wanda can divide her attention between her murder victim (me) and the other trespassers in her kitchen. She glances at them and mutters, “I really need to get better security.”
She releases the grip she has on my throat, and I slump to the floor, gasping and wheezing as Wanda turns to Pawn and Whey.
The two of them freeze in their tracks, uncertain of how to proceed, now that I’m no longer being choked. “The keychain,” I rasp, trying to warn them, but my voice is so low and scratchy it barely reaches my own ears.
“Three for the price of one,” Wanda says, starting towards them, and then the lava lamp explodes, sending thick shards of glass through the entire kitchen, but the biggest one, the sharpest, most deadly one, pierces Wanda’s chest, punching through her hard carapace as if it were no more formidable than a pillow.
The sound of the explosion is deafening and Pawn, Whey and I, sprayed with hot wax and glass shrapnel, are spared the largest spears by no more than luck: we’re off to either side of the stove, me on the floor and the others back near the front door.
For a few seconds Wanda the demon doesn’t pause in her attempt to reach Pawn and Whey, doesn’t even seem to realize that she’s been wounded.
“I’m gonna mount your heads on…” She hesitates, looks down at her chest with a kind of wonderment, her hand going to the huge bit of glass protruding from there but stopping just shy of touching it. “…on the wall,” she finishes, before falling flat on her face.
