by Louisa Lo
The University of Demonic Studies was located in a dimension parallel to the University of Toronto on the human side. Cross-dimensional transport could be done either through an existing free-of-charge portal or a temporary one opened for a fee of magical power. Since the control of—and by extension, the frugality towards—one’s power was prized in a vengeance demon’s upbringing, the first option was the way to go for non-emergency travel. I already figured out a passage to use for my future travelling back and forth between dimensions, but it was for walking only and too narrow for a car to fit through.
Once we got out of the campus area, the not-so-pretty part of downtown greeted us with overflowing garbage bins on the sidewalk and thick layers of dust covering the windows of the rundown shops lining the street.
“There, that’s it.” I pointed at a payday loan store with a banner that said Why wait? Get your magic today!
“Are you sure that’s the entrance?” She squinted. “It looks innocent enough.”
“Trust me.”
“But how do you know?” Esme insisted. Great, gotta hand it to Miss Top-of-Her-Class to not settle for anything but a proper answer.
“Today’s Friday,” I pointed out, baring my teeth.
“So?”
“Do you see a line-up of drunken unseelie faes and gambling tricksters cashing their employment insurance cheques?” I shuddered, not exactly proud of the frivolous spending habits that were the signature of my trickster blood.
“Good point,” Esme conceded, turning her car around. She drove it right into the front of the store and came out in a quiet alley on the human side.
I directed Esme to Parkdale, a once-prominent west end neighborhood that suffered “death-by-highway” in the fifties. Now, run-down Victorian houses accommodated young students, druggies, and low-income immigrants alike, with trendy cafes gentrifying the outskirts of the neighborhood wherever more upscale parts of the city were attached.
My new home wasn’t on the outskirts of Parkdale.
As Esme turned the purple sedan into the residential street with large maple trees, I was glad at least it was too early in the day for the hookers to come out. She would’ve told Dad, and hell hath no fury like an overprotective demon father. Never mind that I was perfectly capable of taking care of my supernatural self. In his eyes, I’d always be his little girl. He would find out about my new neighborhood soon enough, but hopefully not today. Call me selfish, but I wanted today to be perfect.
We parked on the street in front of a red-brick duplex, but before I could even open the door, a petite blonde in a white apron ran out of the house and towards me, holding a rolling pin with a smudge of dough still attached to it. She looked just like the chefs I’d read about on the Internet, my sole information source for everything human-related.
“Whew, thank the lucky stars you’re here,” Rosemary breathed. “Mr. Lochte is showing the room to someone else right now. A guy. I don’t want to live with a guy.”
I jerked the car door open and marched towards the duplex, Rosemary falling into step beside me. “That neurotic, untrusting, grumpy old man. It’s only two fifty-seven. We got here in record time.”
Mr. Lochte emerged from the front door with a bespectacled guy about my age. Hands off, Mr. Just-In-Case, the place is mine! I marched up to Mr. Lochte as I reached for the cash envelope in my pants pocket. Totally ignoring my competition, I handed the landlord the cash. “Here, a thousand dollars, and not a penny less.”
I almost felt sorry for my rival when Mr. Lochte counted the money, pocketed it, then turned to the younger man and said, “The place will be available again in four months. Can you wait?”
***
After getting rid of the bespectacled guy and Mr. Lochte, I went upstairs to unpack. Esme tried to help but was soon frustrated by my organizational style, which was a polite way to say that I was a slob who hated hangers and binders. Neither of us could hide our relief when she got the call to handle an ad hoc vengeance request.
In a few hours, the delicious aroma of burnt fat and meat drifted through the closed bedroom door. Rosemary must’ve fired up the barbecue for that early dinner she’d promised.
Then I heard her scream.
I raced downstairs, taking two or three stairs in every stride. Rosemary was by the patio door, holding a stainless steel spatula and pointing at a large man with broad shoulders, crouching over a corner in the kitchen. Fear was apparent in her voice. Being a defenseless human living in a dodgy neighborhood, fear probably came with the territory. “This guy just barged in and starting doing…whatever it is he’s doing over there!”
The imposing figure straightened and turned towards us. He was a tall man, and he loomed over the tiny room with his size as much as his menacing presence. In his hand was a trowel; its sharp edge gleamed when it reflected the late afternoon sunlight. Rosemary made an involuntary squeal.
I breathed a small sigh and laid a reassuring hand on my roommate’s trembling arm. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”
I put as much authority in my voice as possible. Though to my human roommate’s eyes I was as defenseless as she was, my confidence made her relax. She allowed me to push her across the threshold to the walkout patio, but she held onto her spatula.
I closed the door and turned towards the man. “Hey, Dad.”
Dad’s face split into a brilliant smile, and he pulled me into a hug with a wealth of affection, shoving the trowel into his back pants pocket. “There’s my little pumpkin.”
“How did you know where to find me?” I’d already figured out the answer.
“Your sister texted me the directions. You’re serious about living all alone, outside the protection of the vengeance plane? I still can’t believe it.”
I didn’t bother to point out that such protection came with a high cost. Like Esme, Dad wouldn’t understand. Heck, he’d been the valedictorian when he’d graduated from Demon U.
Dad gave the house interior a suspicious once-over. “Is this place defendable? I heard a gang of organ-smuggling ghouls has escaped from prison.”
I rolled my eyes. “That just happened yesterday, three planes over. They can’t travel that fast, even if they’re heading this way.”
“What about gremlins? Humans have too much of this technology thing.”
I snorted, “Said the guy who’s just got the latest iPhone.”
“What about banshees? Brownies with a grudge? Weak spots for cross-dimensional stalking? Did you check for all that before signing the lease? You know how we demons feel about contracts.”
It was almost comical, seeing my dad, the arch vengeance demon, fussing over imaginary threats against his little girl. My eyes suddenly zoomed to the corner of the kitchen my dad was bending over earlier. There were patches of white all over the base molding. “Dad, what have you done?”
“What?” Dad tried to appear nonchalant, but I wasn’t fooled.
“What’s in the inner pocket of your coat?” I eyed the bulge by his left ribs and raised a brow. “And what was the trowel for?”
Almost sheepishly, Dad pulled out a small plastic tub, the type humans put cream cheese in. “It’s an all-purpose sealer that blocks out every magical creature imaginable. I enchanted it to make an exception for Sassy, of course.”
I couldn’t help but feel touched. Here was my dad, a legendary bringer of justice notorious for his mighty vengeance against war criminals and mass murderers alike, slathering sealant over tiny cracks in his daughter’s new digs. If an average demon caught wind of this ridiculous DIY project, Dad would lose street cred fast.
It was sweet, if slightly overprotective.
Dad finished with the rest of the cracks at top speed, then left for a strategy meeting with the other arch demons. To appear inconspicuous, they were always meeting on the human plane, and this week it was at Chuck E. Cheese’s.
Before he left, Dad gave me a large Hellhound-grade pepper spray. I knew better than to argue. I wanted him gon
e before the hookers started hitting my street corner—he’d freak out.
I braced for Rosemary’s reaction to all this, but when I explained that the “intruder” was my dad, she took it really well. She said something about having an Asian roommate before who had a tiger mom. I had no idea there were shape shifters amongst humans.
After making sure that Rosemary was okay with it, I invited Serafina over to the human plane for my very first dinner since independence. Well, as independent as someone who relied on others’ cooking skills could be. Ever since that fire and brimstone bubble tea, I’d developed a friendship with Serafina. I liked her, not just because we had the common ground of both being outcasts, but also because her nature was much sweeter than the average vengeance demon.
We shared a relaxing meal of barbecued pork chops, roasted corn, and peach cobbler. After dinner we cleaned up together, and by that I mean Serafina and I pretended to know what we were doing as Rosemary showed us the wonder of dishwasher loading.
With a pork chop doggy bag in one hand, Serafina gave me an awkward hug at the front door. “Thanks for having me. It was fun.”
“No problem. We should do it more often. And you should seal this before you get back home.” I pointed at the doggy bag.
“Huh?”
“You’ll hurt the house brownies’ feelings if they smell the food,” Serafina didn’t live on campus. After a lifetime of being away, her family insisted she stay with them through the school year, and it was common knowledge that brownies from those old estate houses were as skillful in the kitchen as they were prideful.
“Oh, right.”
After Serafina left and Rosemary insisted on staying in the kitchen to prepare the batter for tomorrow’s breakfast, I went upstairs. I closed my bedroom door and shut the heavy-duty curtains, blocking out the flooding streetlights and the muffled sound of a couple bickering in the next house.
For the first time in my life, I was in a world reserved only for me, and it felt good.
And lonely.
And exciting.
And scary.
And then not quite so alone. Sassy, my pet feline shade, passed right through my blanket and settled in for cuddling, digging her claws into my ribs. She must’ve finished the first patrol of her new domain, pity the poor unsuspecting mice and B&E guys. Laughing, I kissed her furry transparent head goodnight.
Chapter Three
TZEEEEEEE…TZEEEEEEE…
“What the hell?” I flopped over on the mattress and pressed the pillow to my ears. No use. I could still hear the ringing of the morning breakfast bell by Ms. Morris, the hag who served as our dorm mistress. The old witch took delight in tormenting me at every crack of dawn.
Tzeeeeeee…tzeeeeeee…
Hold on, that didn’t sound like Ms. Morris’s bell. The sound through the wall was a lot more metallic.
More human.
This must be the morning drilling routine of Mr. Lochte that Rosemary had warned me about when I first came to check out the place. At the time, desperate to escape the dorm, I was hoping she was exaggerating. Guess not. Great. Bye-bye, demented dorm mistress. Hello, crazy mortal landlord.
There was an unforeseen downside to having a landlord who lived right next door.
Bang, bang! Bang, bang, bang!
Here came the hammer.
My fingers twitched and I itched to snap them. Just one snap…a little push of magic that would cause an accidental slip of Mr. Lochte’s hammer. A tiny ding on the thumb never hurt anyone much. My dear landlord would be done for the day, and I could get some much-needed beauty sleep.
“That’s violating the guidelines, as you’re well aware,” a voice said from the foot of my bed.
I bolted upright. The voice belonged to Enid. Stupid, quiet-as-a-mouse teleporting. I could never manage it with such stealth. Enid stood with utmost dignity amongst my semi-unpacked suitcases and yesterday’s wrinkled clothes-slash-impromptu floor mat.
“How did you know that’s what I was thinking? I thought you were only a partial mind-reader,” I asked curiously.
“I am. But your desire for violence, small as it was, sent out a dissonance in the Concord that I could detect right away. Remember, we carry out violence, but we don’t use it for our own convenience or pleasure. Control is of the essence.”
“I’ll keep working on it.” Enid had risked the wrath of most of the school, and probably some of the staff, in giving my effort a fair chance in the co-op application process. The last thing I wanted to do was to fight with her over the small stuff.
She tilted her head. “Do you want to talk about that wrestling match I’ve heard so much about in the teacher’s lounge?”
“Nope.”
“Alright.”
The silence stretched until I blurted, “The teacher’s lounge?”
“They were taking bets.” Enid shrugged off-handedly, as if we were discussing the weather. “Most of us lost.”
That would mean most of the teaching staff was putting the money on me to win the match. Which was flattering in a way, though a bit disturbing, since wagering was illegal within campus for both students and facility.
“Wait a minute, us?” Us, as in Enid was a part of it?
Instead of answering, Enid placed an envelope on my lap. “Your first official co-op assignment.”
She’d just avoided answering me, but I was pleasantly distracted and didn’t care. It wasn’t like she’d say anything further on the matter anyway. I combed my fingers through my disheveled hair and opened the envelope with great eagerness. What was it going to be?
Unlike the vengeance demons in that Buffy show I watched online, who took on clients and fulfilled their wishes of retribution, in my world we were the guardians of the Cosmic Balance—commonly known as the Concord—the balance between right and wrong, good and evil. Until I became well-tuned to the mood of the Concord, Enid collected injustices off it like spun sugar from a cotton candy machine and put them in nice little office envelopes for me to fix up.
I spilled the contents of the envelope onto my bed. There was a photo of a distinguished, elderly gentleman, a brochure for an assisted-living home, the layout of a building, and a standard vengeance order form. According to the form, the name of my first co-op target was Dan Pillar. He was human, which wasn’t surprising since I didn’t have the clearance level—not to mention the strength—to tackle the supernatural wrongdoers yet. Dan Pillar had fifty-eight women listed as his victims in a two-decade-long career of broken hearts and stolen life-savings.
An image of Benjamin Theodore Judicium, a transfer student in my high school senior class, appeared in my head. He was handsome and smart, and I’d thought he genuinely cared about me. Turned out I was just an entrance fee for him to join the “in” group. To make a long story short, we had sex, he stole my panties to show his new friends, and I got back at him by posting pictures of his Hello Kitty collection on the student online forum. But I’d never forgotten the anger and hurt of being played.
I didn’t let Benjamin get away then, and I wasn’t going to let Dan Pillar get away now.
My eyes continued down the vengeance order form, and I frowned, noting that the scamming had stopped on August second, nineteen ninety-six. The halt was sudden, abrupt, and permanent. That was strange. In general, a criminal’s rap sheet didn’t just end. The nature of the crimes might change, but no one simply stopped unless the person was in jail or dead. Dan Pillar was neither.
Enid nodded. “I see that you noticed the date.”
I chewed on the inside of my jaw. “Why did he stop?”
Enid shrugged. “Not sure. Sometimes they claim to have found God. Sometimes the last job scared them so much they went straight. Whatever the reason, it doesn’t excuse what he did to those women. We caught up with this guy a bit late in the game, but since no amends were ever made, the procedure is the same.”
“Got it.” If amends had been made, the quality of the remorse and rectification would have to
be examined by an independent tribunal, and the level of vengeance would be downgraded by the determined value. In my target’s case, the lack of amends made it much more straightforward.
Ready or not, here comes vengeance.
***
I crossed the lawn of my latest target’s residence with a spring in my step. I had my first paying gig, a room of my own, and freshly baked blueberry muffins for breakfast. Plus, my pearl pendant was still pretty charged up, thanks to Madeleine. Life was good. What was there to complain about? Yes, the landlord’s drilling was annoying, but there had to be a way around that.
I chose to be an optimistic demon. Half-demon. Whatever.
The garden of the assisted-living home, beautifully landscaped, had a gazebo and a fountain. The three-story building was a stucco structure with French balconies and graceful columns. And was that a uniformed doorman? The place resembled a high-end spa more than anything else.
It seemed Dan Pillar had invested the money he bilked well. I narrowed my eyes as I thought about what that financial security could’ve meant for those women he’d taken money from. Asshole. Now, what would be a just dessert for him? There was his age to consider, so I couldn’t go too wild. I swear, my co-op’s no-kill policy was such a killjoy.
I entered the lobby with a cool nod to the doorman, acting like I had every reason to be there. I’d taken care to dress in smart business-casual and to brush myself with faery dust designed to temporarily age me around five years. I’d found the dust on sale, which made sense because who would pay full price to make themselves appear older anyway?
With the help of the faery dust, my youthful skin dulled a shade or two and the corners of my eyes creased with the earliest signs of wrinkles. Let the staff think I was a young lawyer here to discuss a will with one of the building’s well-to-do occupants. Better that than to be cast in the role of a salivating, greedy relative, looking for a handout.
The marbled lobby gleamed under a soaring vaulted ceiling. To the left was a stone fireplace, to the right a concierge desk with a couple of staff. As I approached the desk, both receptionists smiled at me.
