Hank joined me as I vaulted the waist high divider between the ride and the exit area and emerged into a sea of people on the blacktop.
“You hate it? I think I like it. Reminds me of Coney Island,” he said, falling in step beside me. “Yeah, I think I do. That’s the difference between you and me, Dred—my sunny disposition and your sour outlook.”
I barked a laugh, deciding to head the way the demon had gone. But we’d take our time.
I actually didn’t know if there was a legion of demons living at the park, but I wasn’t in the mood to race through it. Nearly seeing Hank take a fireball in the face because I was trying to do what the Fates had asked still had my hands trembling. I hadn’t wanted a new partner, but here I was, pairing up with him. Mainly because it was this or not work the field, Captain’s orders.
Still, like hell was I going to lose my partner because of some outlandish commandment from meddling gods. I respected the Fabric concept. But I also respected saving Hank and other humans when necessary.
Soon, we’d located a vending machine full of bottles of water and soda.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Hank said, showing off that East Coast urgency of his as I paused to make a purchase.
“You’re out West now. That’s not our culture. We take our time.” I swiped my card.
That wasn’t entirely true, about us westerners. But we were pretty chill compared to New York City, where Hank used to live.
I got two bottles and handed one to Hank. “Drink up, broheim. That bomber jacket’s not ideal for the desert heat.”
He unscrewed the lid and took a long swallow. “Thanks. I think of it like a sauna suit. It’s how I watch my weight.”
I laughed. “OK, new plan, Hank. I think we should take the Sky Ride and get a view of the park. We might spot the demon from up there.”
He studied me. The fragrance of fried desserts wafted past us and my stomach growled. Hank sniffed the air, which was quite the sight in his cool-guy bomber jacket and aviator sunglasses.
“I’m getting a strong hit of Coney Island.”
I wiped sweat from my temple. “Carnival fare. They probably serve the same kind of terrible food.”
“I have an idea—let’s grab something to eat,” he urged, surveying the area as though searching for the source of the foul odor. Of course he was suddenly less interested in the demon now that his stomach was talking.
“Forget it. We might end up chasing the demon. The last thing we need is you throwing up your deep fried Snickers.”
He turned his sunglasses to me. “Do they sell those here?”
“Probably not,” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I never come here. Hate it. I worked here in high school. I have bad memories of this place.”
“Bad memories of the second happiest place on Earth? Impossible.”
“Let’s get moving. Follow me,” I said, starting toward the Sky Ride. I scanned the crowds, rides, and trees one more time, looking for the demon or anything out of the ordinary. “This place wishes it was anything close to Disneyland. It’s a gimmick. Not even remotely approaching the class of Disneyland. Although I hate that place too.”
“What don’t you hate?”
“My Colt 1911. Your summoned Glock. And sometimes I don’t hate my powers that showed up out of nowhere.” And surprised me and killed a legion of demons. I sighed.
I still hadn’t told Hank that story. I didn’t know when I’d trust him enough to share it. It wasn’t just the demons who died that day.
He fell silent, which told me that Helaman Fua, our captain, had told him at least a portion of the story.
At the Sky Ride loading area, we flashed our badges and went to the head of the line. The downtime would relax the adrenaline still doping my veins, and maybe we’d get lucky and spot the demon.
“Here’s my newest question, Hank. Why didn’t the demon attack me when it had the chance?”
Being advised by the gods to lay off the killing of supernaturals bears repeating. Seems like an easy thing to follow. Just do what they say. But it wasn’t that easy. I was torn and there was no point in dancing around that. My job for a while had been to go in strong and decimate supernaturals who were toying with normals.
I guess it could be said that killing supernaturals was a hard habit to break.
Our shoes dangled twenty-five feet over the main drag in one of the Sky Ride’s blue and white gondolas, sailing over the park. Birds chirped in the canopy of trees surrounding us. The afternoon sun warmed the day into the low nineties, sucking any perspiration from our bodies before it had the chance to do any cooling action. Below us, fountains sprayed near the park entrance and shirtless children ran through the water like it was a splash pad.
I continuously scanned the horizon, the crowd, the rides, looking for a red demon like some kind of real-life Where’s Waldo. One that featured a potentially blood-thirty monster. Kind of a macabre take on the franchise, but I went there anyway.
“I had the same thought, Dred. I thought for sure he was going to charge you and knock you off that track. That or gore you with its—”
“If you say dick, I’ll never forgive you.”
He sighed, loudly. “I was going to say horns, but I agree, yours is funnier. Every woman’s dream.”
My cheeks went hot, which irritated me. “Look, just because men fantasize about dying in the arms of a cluster of succubi, all used up and depleted of their lifeforce, doesn’t mean I want that. Or that any woman wants it, either.”
“But you probably do,” he said, his face almost unreadable behind his pretentious aviator sunglasses.
“You hardly know me.”
“Two months? Feels like an eternity to me.”
The faintest hint of a dimple appearing on his cheek gave him away.
“Still haven’t answered my question,” I said. The banter was fun. He was almost as good at it as my former partner, Theo Scott, who I still referred to as Scott. Theo had never fit him.
Hank shifted on the gondola, causing it to sway. “Maybe the demon is protecting something?”
“But then why come out at all and make a stir? If it was protecting something, shouldn’t it just stay hidden and only come out at night?”
“He didn’t try to kill you—really. And that is, admittedly, a strange move. Unlike the demons I’m used to.”
So far during our fledgling partnership, it had been a series of East vs. West jabs with us. “Is there a trait the elite New York City demons share with the country-bumpkin demons here that you are used to?”
“Oh, sure. Definitely. How about, they like to kill and don’t hesitate?”
“Really? So,” I cleared my throat, “bloodthirsty?”
“Oh, yeah. I broke up legions of demons all the time in New York. So many nests of them. So many. And we killed them. Often.”
I scoffed. “Maybe you guys killing ‘so many’ is why the Fabric is all out of balance.” This was our first demon case, so the two of us hadn’t ironed out any of the issues that were now slapping me in the face.
“Nah, Dred. I doubt that. I fail to see how demons are required for balancing anything.” His lips moved like he was about to smile. I wished he’d take off his sunglasses so I could see his eyes and read him better. He seemed to love the mystery and the distance the dark lenses afforded him. “But for the sake of discussion, what does it look like when your little pet Fabric is ‘disturbed’?” He turned to look at me.
Around us people screamed euphorically as rides flung them around. Parents shouted at kids. I squinted against the sunlight and searched the crowds. “Keep watch. No staring at me. We’re looking for a demon.” The gondola swayed when I waved my hand out at the park.
“Fine.” He turned away. “What do you mean, about the Fabric?”
“Was the first time you heard about it when you came here? Has no one in New York looked into the theories about balance and the Fabric?”
“Maybe. Maybe it was all the rag
e and I’ve been ignoring it. That is a talent of mine—ignoring things that don’t interest me.”
I swore under my breath. “Well, I think what it looks like, as far as I’ve seen, is bubbles of odd events elsewhere. So, you guys screw around, just willy nilly killing supernaturals, and out here we have an influx of super activity as though they’re running away from something. They come out of the woodwork and disturb normals. At least, that’s what I think it looks like. No one has really documented it.” I thought back to my recent encounter, where I’d had a momentary glimpse of the Fabric. But, I’d blocked out a lot of the stuff from that day.
Hank laced his fingers together, rested them on the restraint bar, and stared down at the crowd, “Look, I had no idea we were supposed to be concerned about some metaphysical concept known as the Fabric. Sounds hokey.”
I’d need to work on this with him—at least educate him in what I knew of the Fabric, which still wasn’t much. But for now, I saw the demon below us, bouncing across the roof of a performance stage in the middle of the park.
“There it is,” I said, unlatching the lock on the safety bar of our gondola and pushing it open.
“What the hell, Dred? What are you doing?”
“Getting off,” I said.
“That’s what—” he began.
“Don’t finish that. And jump, now!”
3
Every time I’d ridden the Sky Ride, I’d dreamed of a moment like this one. Every time, especially when I was a kid.
Immediately below us was a performance stage, where a musical event was happening. An audience filled the seating facing it, and the whole outfit was covered with what was essentially a large trampoline to provide shade. Loose change glimmered across the woven black surface, untold wealth that taunted Sky Ride passengers. As a kid, I’d fantasized of scooping it up every time I saw it. Easy money. So easy, all that it would require was jumping onto the stage and collecting the treasure.
But this was about the demon, not the loose change. That galled a bit, that I could finally jump onto the trampoline roof, but couldn’t gather up all that coin. Couldn’t be more than five dollars, but for a kid in the late 90s, that was a lot.
My main focus swiveled to more pressing, life or death matters: I hoped the roof would hold my weight.
Below us, the demon trotted across the springy material on its cloven hoofs.
I landed about seven feet away from it. And Hank crashed down beside me in a way that matched his NYC roughness—meaning, not very graceful.
The moment Hank’s feet hit the black material of the trampoline awning, there was a sound like thunder, of canvas being rent in two as a massive hole appeared beneath us. The demon fell through, along with us.
Shrieks and screams erupted from the audience and the musical performance ground to a halt as panic ensued.
Though it was anything but elegant, our entrance was still somehow kind of epic.
We might have landed on some people once we tumbled to the ground, it was hard to say. I rolled around, trying to avoid the bony limbs of shrieking women and men as well as not crash into unforgiving benches while I searched for my footing. Even with my eyes wide open, I struggled to tell what was going on.
Thankfully, the whole process of tearing trampoline fabric did slow our fall and I wasn’t hurt too badly. When I got up, Hank was just dusting off.
“You alright?” I asked.
He winced, rubbing his upper arm and looking at me. “Yeah. You? Where’d our pervert demon go?” Initially, the demon had begun to reveal itself to park guests through flashing its junk at them. Almost like it wanted to be seen by normals.
Since it hadn’t done anything else except run from us, I couldn’t figure out what its goals were.
I stretched my neck and shoulders, running a mental body-scan. I was fine, nothing was broken, but I’d have a few bruises later.
Around us people fled in confusion. I surveyed the scene and caught the eye of a park supervisor of some type, dressed in professional-looking clothes and wearing a walkie-talkie on his belt. He wore a grim expression as he trotted toward us, pulling the communication device off its clip and speaking into it.
I peered past Hank and spotted the demon galloping toward the Roller Coaster.
The creature glanced at me with its brilliant eyes, smirked—the audacity!—then sped up, vaulting the iron railing dividers and knocking into people, before leaping onto the thin railing and running along it like a mountain goat on a tiny ledge. That’s one thing those cloven hooves were good for—precarious balancing—not that anyone would have ever guessed it. At least, I hadn’t.
“Damn, he’s going for the Roller Coaster,” I said.
“Which one?” Hank asked, still looking at me. He turned to follow my gaze.
“The original Roller Coaster. That’s its name. Over there,” I said. “It’s totally wood.”
“I’ll follow you, Dred,” Hank said, biting back a sarcastic comment. I saw it on his face.
“What?” I asked. “Most modern roller coasters are metal.”
“Nothing.”
I rolled my eyes. Wood. Of course. “You’re like sixteen or something.”
“Occasionally, yes. It’s what makes me so charming.”
The demon was ruining my day. Not that we weren’t crashing the party for the park guests. They clustered around the edge of the stage, talking loudly, consoling each other, searching for answers in the haphazard nonsense. I could imagine the stories they’d have later about the mishap concerning the roof of a venue falling on them. And for some of the luckier ones, human bodies landing on them from the heavens. What a blast! The Torchkeepers had their work cut out for them today.
The park supervisor reached us before we could get away. I took my Supernatural Relief Guild badge out of my pocket and flashed it at him.
“I’d heard there were police here. Care to explain this?” He scowled and pointed at the torn roof above us.
“We fell out of the Sky Ride.” We weren’t police, but I had no desire to correct him. Flamehearts were often mistaken for police.
“You know there’s a fine for jumping out of the Sky Ride?” He lifted his walkie-talking to speak into it.
“Hold up.” I showed him the badge again. A fine? That was it? Seemed like a slap on the wrist for such grand destruction.
He paused. Though it wasn’t a police badge, he’d believe that it was due to the badge’s enchantment, and that could get Hank and me away from the conversation. This bottleneck was giving the demon more time to wreak havoc.
I flashed the supervisor an appeasing smile. “You called us. For the demon. And look, I’m sure your insurance can cover the Sky Ride fine while it’s covering the replacement for your stage awning. Tell your guests it was a bowling ball falling from an RC drone, for now. Whatever works. But let them know they’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”
“RC drones can’t carry a bowling ball.” His eyes narrowed and he frowned.
Hank was watching me with an appraising look on his face, letting me handle the diplomatic efforts.
I stood firm. “Coconuts, then, being dropped by swallows. Doesn’t matter. Be creative. They’ll forget later, and so will you.”
I heard Hank chuckle softly beside me. At least someone appreciated the excellent reference. Mr. Humorless Park Supervisor did not.
He cocked his head and frowned, bracing his hands on his hips. “Why lie? And what are you talking about? Demon?”
The Veil—an ancient spell placed over the world by a group of powerful sorcerers to conceal the hidden world—was working already.
“Oh, look at the time,” I said, backing away. I didn’t even pretend to look at the watch on my arm, “We need to be getting on with our business. We’ve got to go fix this problem for you. My suggestion, get your first aid people here to look after the injured guests. Sorry about that—we really didn’t mean to hurt anyone. No time to chat! We’ve got a demon to catch!”
; I turned and took off, heading after the demon before Mr. Park Interrogator could ask another question.
“Wait!” he shouted.
I didn’t wait.
I pushed through the crowds on the Midway and reached the entrance to the Roller Coaster. A large, open dome covered the loading and unloading zone. Iron railings guided guests up the ramp to the ride through a series of switchbacks. The scent of sweat and fried food permeated the air. I placed a hand on the hot railing nearest me and vaulted over it. Indignant guests protested and glared at me. I flashed them my badge, shoved through their ranks, and muttered “excuse me” on my way to the main ride platform. Flames were just beginning to lick the wooden pillars and risers of the roof structure.
Screams were already erupting from the park guests. My heart sank. I bit my lip and hoped the creature hadn’t decided to create mischief like that on the ride itself.
I got through the crowds and took my first full look at the Roller Coaster itself. A breath exploded from me as I slowed to a stop on the metal decking of the platform and stared.
Damn.
We were too late.
Flames spread along the wooden supports of the ride while the creature danced on the tracks at the top of the first hill, sixty feet up.
Hank skidded to a stop beside me.
“Seriously, Hank, why’s a demon out in the daytime like this? Just to cause trouble? This is the kind of display our usual showoff demons would save for the dark, when the flames are really impressive.”
“What a nasty bugger!” Hank hissed. “I have no idea. But we need to do something. Get the guests out of here.”
I couldn’t argue that. The demon leapt above a train car full of passengers as they creaked along beneath him. He landed on the middle of the car, and then leapt again, landing skillfully on the tracks as the train finished its ascent. With a thunderous roar and the typical jubilant shrieks from the passengers, it swooped down the largest hill.
Flames to Free (Dred Dixon Chronicles Book 1) Page 2
