Devil Ash Disarray (Devil Ash Saga Book 3)

by Mitchell Olson

  “It is fortunate you’ve returned.”

  The old baker directed his attention to the kitchen, the source of the woman’s voice he just heard. Standing next to the oven was the familiar gloomy woman he’d seen earlier leading her team. But why was she now standing in the kitchen?

  “Uhh…” the old man said, at a loss for words. “I’m sorry ma’am, but the kitchen area is for employees only. You’ll have to come back over-”

  In the time it took to say those words, the mysterious woman crossed the room and interrupted the old baker by gripping his throat with her right hand. The old man’s eyes nearly popped out of his sockets and his face turned a dark shade of red as he kicked and struggled to free himself.

  “I needed a body swap as well,” the woman said as she lifted the old man off the floor. “Yours will do.”

  The old man’s arms flailed, his hands gripped and slapped at whatever he could reach. The woman’s grip would not loosen, no matter how the old man struck her. He tried forming flame, but being unable to breath and in such a state of shock and panic, his fire wouldn’t burn. He spat a few bursts of dim sparks, but nothing hurt the woman. His legs kicked desperately, but no amount of sway could shake the woman’s grip. The old baker’s eyes swiveled around the room. He looked to his sons for help, but none was coming.

  Instead of jumping in to help their father, the four young men remained at ease. Sinister smiles even graced the faces of a few of them. No one moved an inch otherwise.

  “They will not help you,” said Otozek through the woman’s mouth. “They are my loyal servants now. It’s time you joined us.”

  The next time the woman opened her mouth, something long and dark shot out like a missile. The piercing appendage went straight into the old baker’s mouth, connecting him to the demon woman. Her eyes rolled back in their sockets and she released her grip on the man’s throat. It was too late for him to escape as he choked on the demon’s tail, his muffled cries of terror barely audible.

  The four demon-controlled men stood by watching as their leader slipped out of the woman’s body and into the old baker. What was a normal sight to the demons was a bizarre one for anyone else. As Otozek’s tail probed deeper and deeper into the baker’s mouth, more and more of the demon prince’s body slipped out of the woman as a logic-defying mixture of solid and liquid matter.

  Eventually Otozek left the woman behind, disappearing entirely into the baker’s wide open mouth. The poor lady fell to the floor, limp and unconscious like the others surrounding her. The old baker’s body swayed for a moment like he was about to fall over, but the demon prince established control and kept the body standing upright.

  Otozek tested his new body, squatting in place and waving his arms. “Not as spry as the last one, but it will be good enough,” the demon prince said, turning to his team. “We’d better clean up this mess before anyone sees us.”

  The mess he was referring to was the five unconscious bodies lying on the floor. The unfortunate team of ladies still drew shallow, short breathes, but looked otherwise lifeless. As the demon team stretched their new host body’s jaws open to impossible proportions, descending upon their prey with hungry eyes, the women were better off being unconscious.

  No one should ever have to endure being fully conscious and aware as they’re devoured alive.

  Chapter Seventeen: Otozek Advances

  After finishing off every last bite of evidence, the demons took their new bodies out for a test ride on the town. The air was hot, the sun was shining and the streets were crowded, making it the exact opposite ideal environment for a demon. As they left the shop Otozek led them through mostly shaded areas, sticking to the backstreets and less populated routes.

  With their faster-than-average speed, they were able to acquire some nifty items. Solar spectacles were a hot new product among the merchants, and so were parasols. The demons saw no harm in removing a few of these useful objects from unsuspecting merchant’s carts. These devils tools they were actually greater for.

  “Try to blend in and search for the human again,” said Otozek. “We know he is part of a team competing in their festival. He should be out somewhere participating.”

  “But master…” Orkazek interjected from the body of the youngest son. “The devil kingdom is so large and there are so many games going on all over! This could take a long time!”

  “We must act fast. Watch me, and do as I do,” Otozek replied, marching forward with confidence. The demon prince walked up to the nearest random stranger on the street and tapped the man on the shoulder.

  “Do you know where the human is today?”

  The man shrugged and shook his head “no”.

  Otozek left him and moved on to the next closest person. His team took the cue and copied their master. Not all of the greater demon team had mastered the art of blending in flawlessly, though. Gnusek could only communicate in grunts and moans.

  After clearing through an entire street full of scurrying people, the demon team was no closer to having their answer. Not a single person they spoke to knew the whereabouts of the famous human Ash Kaplan. It wasn’t until after thirty minutes of random questioning did the demon team get lucky. Just as another unhelpful stranger turned away from Otozek, a person holding a tall white flag approached the prince of demons.

  “Hello sir,” said Kurdis as he tapped Otozek’s shoulder. “I overheard you asking about Ash. I just so happen to know which team he’s on, and where they can be found today.”

  Prince Otozek tried to contain his excitement. A demon’s smile spread across the devil’s face, his eyes wide with desire. “Where.”

  Kurdis smiled. “I would love to tell you,” he said, lifting his arm and presenting his donation cup. He rattled the coins around inside it with a shake. “For a small donation, of course.”

  Otozek might have ripped Kurdis’s head off, but he managed to keep his cool. He remembered from his studies of the devils that they valued small round pieces of ore they called skorch. He looked to his team, motioning with his eyes for them to continue following his lead.

  The demon prince patted down his host body’s pockets, feeling for anything at all. His followers did the same. They managed to produce an assortment of random objects: a few paperclips, some candy, a pipe, and a pocket-sized book about the art of baking bread. It was Otozek’s host body, that of the old baker that actually held the pouch of coins. Everyone presented their objects to Kurdis.

  The orphanage owner smiled, welcoming any and all charity as he took the items. He was especially excited about the baker’s coin pouch, which he opened immediately. The little sack was half full of coins, at least a thousand skorch worth.

  “This will most definitely do,” said Kurdis gleefully. “You can follow us. We were going there anyway, actually.”

  “Us?” Prince Otozek asked.

  “Me and the kids, of course!” Kurdis replied, stepping aside to reveal the children of the orphanage lined up in a long queue behind him. “We’ll take you straight to Ash!”

  Ash and the gang sat around an outdoor picnic table observing their individual copies of the relay race route map. In the shade of a large parasol, sipping iced drinks, they plotted strategy and discussed again what the official lineup would be. Aura surprised everyone by endorsing Uverstarr’s plan and offering to take the first stretch of the course.

  “I think Bratty McShortstack is right,” said Aura, jerking his thumb at Uverstarr. “I volunteer to start us out. If I give it my all I can put us in the lead for sure.”

  “That’s fine,” said Shiva. “I’ll go along with the kid’s plan with one exception. I want to trade with Raley and take the second slot instead. I’ll show you just how fat I am when I put us even further in the lead.”

  Uverstarr responded by sticking his finger partway into his mouth and making overdramatic gagging sound effects.

  “Sounds good to me too,” Aralia said. “How about you Ash?”

  The girl turne
d to Ash, who’d been staring off into the distance since they first sat down to plan their day. Despite his claims of feeling fine, it was obvious that the boy was tired. Ash snapped out of his trance and joined the conversation, his eyes and hands fidgety.

  “Huh? Oh, yeah,” the boy said. “That’s fine with me.” After a brief glance-over of the map he realized the last leg of the race was indeed the shortest. He considered asking for another leg, but felt too sore and worn-out to complain. He decided to just accept their charity instead.

  “Then it’s settled,” said Shiva. “We’ve got about twenty minutes to get to our starting points before the race starts. Some of you might want to get going since you’ve got quite a hike.”

  Shiva was right. Each starting point was spread out all across the kingdom, sometimes miles apart. Ash in particular had the longest way to go, being the last leg of the course.

  “I guess I should get going,” Ash said. The boy turned to leave, slurping his iced drink through a straw and looking dejected.

  Aralia watched the boy go, wishing she could cheer him up. She wanted to walk with him, but their starting points weren’t close. Her route was off in the same direction as Shiva, so the girls would walk together. As Ash left, Aralia nudged Uverstarr’s shoulder and prodded him forward.

  “You should walk with him,” she told the boy. “Make friends!” Uverstarr rolled his eyes and slinked forward, stalking after Ash. Aralia turned her focus to her idol. “Shall we go, Lady Shiva?”

  “Oh, yeah…” Shiva replied, already backing away from the table. “You’re coming with me…”

  Aralia caught up to Shiva quickly and the two ladies marched off to their destinations together. Aralia immediately launched into an overenthusiastic conversation about Shiva’s hair. The Royal Princess of Hell furrowed her brow and sighed heavily as they disappeared into the crowd.

  Aura remained at the picnic table in the shade. He sat facing the nearby assembly of athletes, all warming up for the relay doing stretches in a roped off area that was for participants only. He kept a close watch particularly on the slim, toned, athletic ladies of the competition. He licked at a red snow cone, eyeing one young blonde who happened to be bending over wearing tight black shorts. For the time being he felt confident in his decision to take the first leg.

  His moment of peace didn’t last long. Among the sounds of people chattering excitedly as they waited for the game to start, several dozen more high-pitched, screaming, squealing, squawking, talking voices drew closer. When the death toucher pulled his eyes away from the blonde bimbo bending over, he saw a throng of children approaching. In the lead was Mr. Kurdis of the orphanage, carrying his tall white flag and sporting the donation cup he was so fond of.

  “Oh! Aura!” Kurdis called out when he spotted the boy. “Aura Draxler! Come on kids, over here. I spotted Mr. Draxler.”

  Aura chowed down the last of his snow cone as the assembly of youngsters set upon him. Little Amalia cut from the line and rushed past the other children. She ran to Aura’s side, a delighted smile gracing her excited adolescent face. She paused just before reaching the boy, looking like something was awry.

  “Hey squirt,” Aura said, forcing a polite smile. The little girl cocked her head like a surprised dog. “Long time, no see.”

  “Princess ponytail!” said Amalia, pointing at Aura. The boy quickly realized it was his new hairstyle that had given the girl pause.

  “That’s right,” Aura said with a nervous smile. “You want one too? We can be twins.” He held out his hand offering the girl a spare hair tie he had. She gingerly took it from him, fastening it to her head in such a way that when she was done her ponytail hung from the side. Aura couldn’t help but smile at how adorable it looked.

  “Looking good, Mal,” Kurdis said, patting the girl on her head. She twisted from side to side in pleasure, waving her dress playfully with a big smile. “She won’t stop asking about you, you know,” said Kurdis to Aura.

  “Sorry about that,” Aura replied as Amalia could take it no longer. She crept close enough to wrap her little arms around him, and was at last content. “I guess even younger girls aren’t immune to my charm.”

  “So it would seem,” said Kurdis, dividing his attention between the conversation with Aura and the group of misbehaving young boys behind him. “Stop shoving Brandon! Elton get in line! Don’t make me come back there Jace!”

  “I guess you’re all here to watch the race then?” Aura asked.

  “Of course,” Kurdis replied, beaming with pride. “We’re your own personal fan squad, and we’re here to cheer!” The man’s words brought to mind something he’d forgotten. “Oh, by the way, where is Ash? I found a few fans of his that would like to meet him.” Kurdis jerked his thumb toward the back of the line of children, but Aura wasn’t sure who the man was pointing to.

  “Where?” Aura asked, seeing only the edges of the crowd beyond the line of orphans. “Are they good looking ladies? I’ll talk to them.”

  Kurdis spun around and searched the area for the strangers he led there, but found no trace of the men. He never saw them disappear. “That’s odd,” said Kurdis. “I guess they must have left already. Oh well. At least they paid me – Cammy, Ken, get back in line this instant!”

  A festival official holding a megaphone boomed, making her voice heard by everyone in the vicinity. “May I have your attention please! All competitors should now proceed to the starting line! The relay race will begin shortly!”

  “Guess I’m up,” said Aura with a shrug. He climbed out of his chair, fighting Mal’s tight-fisted grip on his shirt as he rose. “Wish me luck,” he said, patting Mal gently on her head.

  “Luck!” Amalia chirped with a friendly nod.

  Aura waved goodbye to everyone and departed. Kurdis led the children in an inspiring chant of “good luck mister Aura!” The death toucher battled the throng of spectators and athletes heading for the starting line. Kurdis led his line of rowdy children away to find a suitable area to watch from.

  Miles away across the kingdom, Ash felt an ominous chill run down his spine. He shook it off and continued on his trek with Uverstarr to find their starting positions. With so many people around, the boy would never know of the menacing group of man-shaped beasts following several hundred paces behind him.

  Chapter Eighteen: Going For A Walk

  “Racers to the starting line!” the megaphone girl boomed.

  Aura strode with swagger, hoping to enchant a few honeys on his way to the starting line. His hopes were pretty well dashed after arriving at his destination and seeing his arch nemesis Bora standing there waiting patiently.

  After a moment of dismay hit him, Aura began to consider the situation. Here he had a real shot at showing up Bora once and for all. He had no idea how the rest of the race would go. No clue what order his old gang was racing in, either. But he was sure of one thing.

  Bora was going down.

  “Fancy meeting you here, again,” said Aura as he stepped into the lane next to Bora.

  “Hiya Aura,” Bora replied. “Would you look at that? We’re in the same leg of the race! Isn’t that nice?”

  “So nice.”

  “Maybe after the race you can join us at Eastside’s Eatery for some authentic East Hell Clawbster.”

  “Maybe after the race you’ll be too busy weeping into a pillow.”

  Bora ignored the comment and started stretching. “I know what you’re doing,” he replied, raising a knowing eyebrow. “I know you think I’m replacing you, but that’s not the case.”

  A moment passed where neither of them spoke. The other racers were all gathered around in their lanes. Five racers total. Each one stood several feet apart in a straight line facing their first hoop checkpoint, suspended high off the ground by a pole.

  “It’s a free kingdom, isn’t it?” Aura replied with a shrug. “I don’t have to be your friend if I don’t want to.”

  While Bora digested his rival’s words, a festiva
l attendant handed out batons to each of the racers. Another employee manning the megaphone prepared to start the race.

  “Racers, ready!”

  Aura and his competition prepared to run.

  “Wings, set!”

  All of the racers brought out their wings in unison.

  “Goooooo!”

  The racers took off sprinting. No clear frontrunner emerged. The mad dash didn’t last long though as the racers took to the sky, beating their wings to get level with the first hoop.

  This was where it got tricky. Only one racer could fly through the hoop at a time. They would have to take turns, but obviously couldn’t politely discuss the matter beforehand. They had to feel out the right time to go for it and hope no one else was aiming for the hoop at the same moment.

  Aura was at the head of the crowd. He felt confident he’d be the first to pass through the hoop. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something rocket past him spiraling like a football. The racer tucked his wings in closely to fit through the narrow hoop. Once through he spread his wings wide and flapped powerfully, keeping himself aloft.

  “Bora,” the death toucher cursed. He wanted to be the first to pass through the hoop. Now he’d have to settle for second. The crowd roared like wild demons as Aura flew through the hoop, followed by the rest of the racers.

  The course route ran down the street and around the next corner. Fans cheered from below as the racers soared by overhead charging toward the next hoop. This one was lower to the ground. Aura adjusted his wings to lose altitude, gaining speed as he glided down. Bora’s feet were only an inch away from his face, but there was no way to pass him.

  Yet.

  Aura bided his time waiting for the right moment to overtake Bora. He came close after turning the first corner, when Bora made a slight miscalculation in his direction that set him back a second.

  By this point they were away from the crowded streets and flying high above building tops. The majority of the hoops were attached to roofs, with a few of them diverging through some tight alleyways or between buildings. Spectators watched from every conceivable angle. Diehard fans held brilliantly painted signs advertising their favorite athlete.