A Devil in the Details

by K. A. Stewart

  Will and I sat in the front, illuminated by the green glow of his dash lights, listening to the sound track from some anime movie. The taillights of the car in front of us strobed red every time the line inched forward another few feet.

  Finally—and I knew it had to be driving him nuts to wait even that long—Will asked, “So . . . you saw one, didn’t you? I mean, that’s why you went tearing up the stairs?”

  I glanced back to be certain Marty was still sleeping. Yeah, Marty knew, but . . . I’m not sure he really believed. That was okay with me. At least one of us ought to sleep well at night. “Yeah, I saw one.”

  “Aw, man!” Will pounded on the steering wheel once with his fist. “I wish I could see one.”

  “No. You don’t.”

  Will drove for me. He flew to all areas of the country with me. He patched me up with his EMT training, even going so far as to duct tape my insides to my insides once, to get me to the hospital. That was how I justified asking for his help. But I kept him at a distance, for the challenges. He didn’t need to have demon names flitting around inside his skull. He didn’t need to see the horrors that existed just outside human perception. It was the only way I could repay him, really.

  “So did you do some of that kung fu shit and kick his ass?” Despite the injuries he’d helped repair, Will still had some grand Hollywood vision of what being a champion entailed. No doubt, he dreamed of epic battles across rooftops with me dodging bullets and flinging ninja stars.

  “No. Just sprayed him with Mace. He left.” The line of cars in front of us seemed impossibly long. I suddenly didn’t want to be in the car, discussing my altercation with Axel. Would Will even know if he’d met Axel? Would he recognize the danger?

  “Well, that’s kinda anticlimactic. I heard there was a big brawl and stuff.” The doofus actually looked disappointed.

  “Other people were fighting. We were just talking.” Other people would have taken the “I don’t really wanna talk about it” hint. But not Will.

  He gave me an odd look. “What do you talk to demons about?”

  I shrugged. “Souls. Hell. Stuff like that.” Not entirely true. I don’t think Axel and I had ever talked about Hell. And we talked about way more than souls.

  He’d been almost frantic—Axel, I mean, not Will—wanting to tell me something. “What is it, Lassie? Timmy fell in the well?” I doubt Axel would appreciate the similarity. What did he know that was so damn important? It had to be about Miguel and Guy. Axel knew what had happened to them, which meant it was more than just an unfortunate coincidence. And that, sadly, was what I had believed all along. Sometimes, I hate being right.

  “Dude! You talk about Hell? What’s it like? Have you seen it?”

  I blinked at him, then reached over and smacked him lightly upside the back of the head. “Are you nuts?”

  “Ow.” He rubbed his head and glared at me, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “I was just askin’. . . .”

  To our right, horns blared and voices shouted. I wondered if it was some of the earlier combatants, meeting for round two. Axel may have nudged them over the edge, but he couldn’t create such rage out of nothing. At least, I didn’t think he could. I hadn’t thought he could assume human form, either, and we’d seen where that had gotten me. I hate being wrong, too.

  “So . . . you need me to drive for you?”

  “Yeah. How’d you know?”

  “I didn’t think you sat around talking to demons for fun, dude.” He pointed to my tattooed right hand. “And that usually means you got work to do. And then, I got work to do.”

  Will has always been strangely pragmatic about the oddities in my life. “Two weeks from now. Night of the full moon.”

  He nodded and finally got the car pulled out onto the street, where a traffic cop waved us on through the red light. If Will noticed that I ducked down in the seat, he didn’t mention it. “That’ll give me time to stock up on supplies. You’re not expecting any burns this time, are you?”

  “No, not this time.” In all fairness, the fire fight—in the most literal sense—had gone heavily in my favor. I barely got singed, that time. Well, and lost my eyebrows. And burned my knuckles. And lost maybe two inches of my hair. It was a good day!

  “Just a normal hack ’n’ slash, hmm?” He nodded his head in time to the music as we pulled out onto the highway and headed north.

  “Yeah. For whatever ‘normal’ is.”

  “Truth, dude.”

  We rode in silence for several miles before he spoke again. “So, can you beat him? The one you were talking to?”

  Now that was an interesting thought. If it ever came down to it, could I beat Axel? I was never cocky enough to answer with a “Sure thing!” about any of my challenges. But once, I might have been more confident where Axel was concerned. Now . . . I wasn’t sure.

  What I said was, “Yeah. I can beat him.” Explaining the difference between the demon following me around and the demon I was contracted to fight was more than I was willing to go through tonight.

  “Cool.” Will fell silent. Maybe he finally figured out that I wasn’t really up for witty repartee.

  I stared out at the city lights whizzing by, my own reflection glaring back at me from the dark window. Somewhere in this whole situation, I was getting screwed. I knew this as surely as I knew the sun would come up in the morning. Even worse, my options weren’t looking good. I was stuck between a very nasty demon and a very hot place.

  On one hand, I could bargain with Axel. I could sacrifice something of mine or betray someone I cared about, in order to get some unknown information that may or may not have any practical value. For all I knew, I could give him what he wanted, and he could tell me the sky was blue and water was wet. Dealing with Axel was the same as dealing with the devil, and the first rule there is “Don’t.”

  On the other hand, Miguel and Guy were dead, and I was sure someone had worked damn hard to make them so. Neither of them would go down peacefully. Given my recent road- rage incidents, I was fairly certain I was next. Maybe the bull’s-eye was on a champion I had never met. It didn’t matter. If Axel was willing to give up the murderer, was the exchange worth it? He wasn’t asking for a soul, only a name. I wasn’t even sure what he could do with that kind of information. Could I justify betraying a friend, if it saved a life and soul of someone I didn’t even know?

  There was no way out that didn’t make my stomach pitch and roll, and the little voice in my head called me eighty kinds of a moron for not figuring something out. And to top it all off, I was pretty sure I was going to be in jail in the next few days. Think, asshole! Think harder! The highway signs whipped past with a rhythmic whooshing noise that sounded suspiciously like “Loser! Loser!”

  The mocking silence stretched on, broken only by the music and Marty’s soft snores, until Will took the exit toward Liberty. “Hey, Jess?”

  I turned back toward my best friend. “Yeah?”

  “If you die, can I put the moves on your wife?”

  I drilled him hard in the shoulder and his yelp of pain woke Marty. Any serious thoughts I might have been having were lost in the good- natured roughhousing that followed. It’s a wonder we made it back to Marty’s in one piece, and it was another two hours before I trundled on home.

  There was a package on the table when I got home, with a Pikes Peak return address on it. Thank you, Viljo.

  While I had intended to creep into the house quietly, the bedroom light was on as I tried to tiptoe my way down the hall, proving that my ninja skills were sorely lacking. Mira was dressed in her usual tank top and pajama shorts, her curly hair piled atop her head in an artfully disheveled mop. She laid her book aside and shook her head at my weak attempt at stealth.

  “How was the game?”

  “It was okay. We lost.” I sat on the bed to pull my boots off and tossed them into the corner with a thump. With my back to her as I undressed, maybe she wouldn’t see the telltale guilt on my face. If I was any
sort of lucky, she hadn’t heard about the brawl.

  I should know that luck is not my strong suit. “They said on the news there was trouble out there. Something about a big fight.”

  “Yeah, I heard that, too.” While it wasn’t a lie exactly, it felt like one, and that made me feel like shit. I was developing a nasty omission habit where my wife was concerned, and I made a silent promise to rectify that. “I kinda punched a guy in the face and got banned from the stadium for the rest of the season.” I pulled my shirt off over my head and almost missed her quiet sigh.

  “You don’t start fights without a good reason. Was it important?”

  “Technically, I didn’t start it. I finished it.” And the fact that the punch and the banning were totally separate incidents didn’t bear mentioning. “But yeah, it was important.” The sheets rustled as she reached for me, and her hand felt cool on my bare back. I turned to find her giving me that serious look.

  “Just be careful that you pick the right battles, Jess. I don’t want to lose you over something stupid.” Those lines were there again, around her eyes, making her look older than her thirty years.

  I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate my mentioning it. It was bad enough that I knew they were my fault. How many nights had she walked the floors, waiting to find out if I was alive or dead? How many hospital meals had she eaten, and how many crappy fold-out chairs had she slept on? I will never understand why she stays with me, but I’m so grateful she does. My life would be a lot darker without her. Hers would be a lot safer without me.

  “Do you think what I do is stupid?”

  She frowned at me, clearly offended, and withdrew her hand. “Of course not. I believe you’re doing the right thing.”

  “Even if I wind up leaving you and Anna alone?”

  “Jesse, if everyone in the world stood by and did nothing, think what a horrible place it would be. Someone has to take a stand. And if I say ‘not my husband,’ I’m just as bad as those people who turn a blind eye. Worse, maybe.” She bit her lower lip, trying to find the words.

  “That first time, when Nicky was suddenly healthy and Cole and Steph were so happy, all I could think was, was it such a bad thing? If it had been Anna so sick, I’d have done the same thing. I’d have done anything to save her. How many other people like that are there, Jess? Good people, trying to do good things the only way they can find. I don’t believe that no good deed goes unpunished. Someone has to help them, when they don’t deserve to suffer for eternity.” Her hand found mine again, squeezing hard. “I can’t fight like you do. The best I can do is use my own power to keep you safe, and to simply allow you to fight. Am I always happy about it? No. It scares me to death every single time, knowing that it might be the last. That doesn’t mean it’s not worthwhile.”

  “You shouldn’t have to do . . . this. Any of it.” If I had even an ounce of magical ability, she’d be safely out of that much of it. We both knew it.

  “I don’t have to. I want to.”

  I had to do something to take that great and terrible determination out of her eyes. I traced her smooth cheek with one finger. “You’re sexy when you’re all serious, you know that?”

  It worked. She rolled her eyes at me and caught my hand. “You’re a pervert.”

  “No, come on, I’m serious.” I scooted over until I could pull her into my arms. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the whole world, and I don’t deserve you.”

  “You got that right, buster.” She poked one finger playfully into my chest. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah!”

  The teasing turned into wrestling and that turned into . . . Well, never you mind what it turned into. If you can’t figure out what married people do when they’re alone, then you’re probably too young to know, anyway.

  Later (much later), I drifted to sleep with the scent of strawberries all around me, and Mira’s head pillowed on my shoulder. Her breath was warm across my skin, and she clung to me as if she could keep me safe by sheer force of will. Who knows, maybe she could.

  If I dreamed, I didn’t remember it. If I had, I might have woken up sooner.

  I think it was the smell from the spent matches that first invaded my rather nice nap. “Mmrf?” One arm flung across the bed found Mira’s side empty, and my eyes snapped open. My internal clock told me dawn was still a long way off. There was no reason for her to be up.

  “Mira?” Maybe Anna had had a nightmare. Or maybe it was just a nighttime bathroom trip. Or maybe she’d gotten into that FedEx box on the kitchen table and was trying to scry for Guy’s location.

  I was out of the bed and struggling into my pajama pants as fast as my gimpy leg would let me. “Mira! Don’t!” But I smelled the matches, the lit candles. I knew I was already too late to stop her.

  She didn’t even look up from the basin when I stumbled into her room. The air was thick with candle smoke and something else indefinable—the taste of magic. It was like cloves on the back of my throat.

  “Mir, please don’t do this.”

  “Shh.” Watching her hands weave invisible sigils in the air was rather like being hypnotized. I could almost see tracers following her fingers, like the glare left behind by Fourth of July sparklers.

  “I’ll break the circle, Mir.”

  “No you won’t.” Damn her for being right. I didn’t know if crossing that line would hurt her in some way, and she knew it. I made a mental vow to get someone to teach me magic, even if I could only learn the theory of it. “Watch . . . It’s coming together.”

  The salt swirled in the bowl, drawn into coherent images by my wife’s will. I could see the white of Guy’s hair and beard—dark in actuality—and even catch some of the pattern in his plaid shirt. The plaid was broken by something dark across his chest, and at first I thought it was armor. But I could see the shirt flap with every movement, and I finally realized that it was hanging open, unbuttoned. Guy wore no protective gear, and the dark shape was his bare chest in negative. He was armed—I could see the hatchet in his right hand—but where the hell was his armor?

  As we watched, he fought a losing battle against an unseen opponent just like Miguel. Whatever it was, it was something big. Guy’s blows were aimed at something chest-height on him. And it was fast. He never had time to turn. The invisible thing latched onto the back of his thigh, flinging him through the air to collide with a solid barrier of some sort. Even downed, the lumberjack champion tried to fight until his arm was literally ripped off at the shoulder and tossed away. Dark blood flowed in negative, white salt taking the place of vibrant red in the reversed image.

  Mira moaned softly at that, and I pressed as close to the circle as I dared. “Stop it. Turn it off and let me in there. Mira, dammit, I mean it!” Even in the dim light, I could see the color leaching out of her skin, the trembling in her hands.

  “I can hold it . . . a little longer. . . .” She spoke through clenched teeth, the cords in her neck standing out with the strain of it. “We have to see. . . .”

  “Mir, he’s dead.” The words felt like the tolling of some great bell, a final nail in a coffin. “There’s nothing more to see.” Her green eyes looked up at me for long moments, stubbornness and vain hope vying against the finality of truth.

  Finally, her shoulders sagged and she dropped her hands. The salt dispersed, making the water milky once more, and Mira scuffed the circle into nonexistence with one bare foot. I somehow managed to catch her as she slumped toward the floor. Her skin was blazing hot this time, and already as dry as parchment. I fully expected blisters to rise on my bare chest as I scooped her into my arms and stood.

  “Wh-what are you doing?”

  “You’re going in the tub, for starters.”

  It was hard as hell to carry her down the hallway on my bad leg, but I was determined to do it regardless. I got her into the bathtub and turned the shower on as cold as it would go, holding her upright as best I could from outside. T
he spray steamed when it hit her at first, but I could tell it was bringing her temperature down quickly. Maybe we wouldn’t need the ice packs from the freezer after all.

  “Why the hell did you do that? Dammit, Mir!” I tipped her chin up so I could look into her eyes, thumbing her eyelids open until she swatted weakly at me. I grabbed a washcloth and soaked it through, bathing her forehead.

  “We had to know. . . .” She rested her head against the tile wall, ignoring my ministrations, arms wrapped around her knees.

  “Not that way, we didn’t. Twice in one week? Are you nuts?” Okay, it was my worry talking. Normally, I wouldn’t dream of speaking to my wife like that. But . . . dammit! “And why didn’t you wake me up?”

  “Because you would have told me not to do it.” The thin tank top and shorts were nearly transparent under the steady stream of water. Her dark curls hung limp and heavy around her face, and as the moments went by, her lips started to turn faintly blue. Examination found her skin properly chilled.

  The cruel hand of fear slowly eased its grip on my heart as Mira seemed to be cooling down quickly. We got lucky. I think I preferred the cold reactions to the hot ones. High fevers could do all kinds of damage.

  I leaned my head against the shower door, trying not to shiver myself where I was seated on the linoleum floor. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Love me?” She reached to take my hand, and I threaded my fingers through hers.

  “Isn’t that my line?”

  “Usually.”

  We sat there for a long time, holding hands in the cold shower. Neither of us said much. I honestly didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make me look like a big insensitive jerk.

  Yes, I appreciated her efforts. And I knew that her ability to help me meant a lot to her. I just couldn’t seem to get it through her head that nothing in the world was worth her risking herself like that—absolutely nothing, and especially not me.

  Somewhere around butt-crack-of-dawn o’clock, I bundled us both into bed to get what little sleep we could.