The Hag

by Erik Henry Vick

  She glanced at him sharply, lips drawn into a moue of disapproval mixed with fear, then she scanned the surrounding area—eyes scouring every shadow, every nook, every cranny. No, he isn’t.

  Why do you continue to serve him?

  McBride shrugged, dislodging his perch, and LaBouche had to flap his wings furiously to arrest his fall toward the gravel. He rolled his eyes and hovered near her. Don’t do that again, idiot.

  Oh! I’m sorry.

  He alit on her shoulder, shaking his head. She was so strange, more human than demon. He could see why Chaz abused her so. It would be so easy to fall into that pattern with her—hurting her, feeding off her pain and degradation. LaBouche would have sneered if his features had allowed it. Damn Brigitta!

  Brigitta?

  He’d let that last thought go through. He would have to watch himself, being in such close contact with a demon. The years he’d spent with Scott had allowed him to grow sloppy. It’s nothing, just wondering where she is. She is Herlequin’s heir, after all, isn’t she? Shouldn’t she be here? Taking charge of things?

  I don’t… McBride’s whole body tensed. I don’t know about such things.

  You don’t have to watch what you say with me. I’m not the same as the other older ones; I still have a sense of humor.

  I…I see. Her mental tone was not one of confidence and belief. She’d no doubt heard something similar from Chaz—a trick used to allow him to punish her.

  You’ll see. My word is my bond. Besides, I’d much rather dine on humans than on demons. Wouldn’t you?

  Of course!

  She walked toward the door of the rundown colonial she lived in. Her hands wrestled with one another. What… Why…

  What do I want? Why have I come to you?

  Well… She took two full steps before she nodded.

  Brigitta punished me hours before they killed her father. She cast me into this ridiculous form, and she blocked my ability to project facades. Had she not been so petty, I would have been there…I would have been able to fight by Herlequin’s side. I could’ve turned the tide of that battle, and Herlequin would still be alive.

  I’m sure I don’t know about such things.

  Standing on her shoulder, LaBouche rolled his eyes. He had a lot of work to do to get McBride where he needed her. I only mention these things so I can explain what I want and why I’ve chosen you. That is what you want, isn’t it? An explanation?

  McBride nodded.

  Simply put, I need your help. I can’t approach Chaz or any of the other older demons in my present form. Let’s say it wouldn’t be wise. You, however, can go where you please, do as you please. So you see, I’ve come to recruit you to act as my intermediary. We cannot go without a leader…we can’t afford to, not with those human hunters free to do as they please. Someone must take command.

  And that someone is you?

  Ire sparkled in his heart, but it was too soon to let that show. Not after he had spent several minutes assuring her that he was not like everyone else, but she could speak her mind without fear of retribution.

  Even so, he added her name to his list.

  Not necessarily. I can’t lead them in this form, can I? Chaz is a likely candidate—at least to be the face we show to the others.

  The face we show to the others?

  Exactly. What I want to suggest to Chaz is that we form a limited partnership. He and I make the decisions, yet he gives all the commands to the others. He will appear to be in charge. Chaz will get all the credit.

  She stopped dead in her tracks but said nothing, thought nothing he could hear. She stood there, as still as if carved from marble for several minutes.

  He will like that, she finally thought to him.

  Had his physiology allowed it, LaBouche would have grinned.

  6

  “What did he mean?” Chaz demanded.

  Sally knelt before him, her head down, but her one usable eye flitted around the room. “He said he believes the two of you should take command, but that the others wouldn’t be able to understand how two demons of power could cooperate…that…that he would let you take all the credit, that you could appear to be the leader.”

  Chaz swatted her across the back of her head. “Yes, I got that from the first time you said it.” His tone was wry yet tinged with anger. “I asked you: ‘what did he mean?’ That’s your opportunity to tell me what he meant. Are you capable of that, Fuck-it-up?”

  A mewling whine escaped her before she could stop it. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Lord.”

  Chaz sighed, and the promise of pain filled his expression. “I don’t know how to make it any plainer. I’m speaking English, aren’t I? Do you speak the language?”

  “I believe…” McBride bowed her head further toward the floor.

  “Yes?”

  “I believe he would take command himself but for Brigitta. He wants to set you up if Brigitta ever returns—to make it seem as though you are the usurper. And in the meantime, he still has his say in the running of things.” It was what LaBouche had told her to say, but it was also what she believed.

  “Hmm,” hummed Chaz. “A plan with merit. And what do you think, Fuck-it-up? Will Brigitta ever return?”

  She looked up at him helplessly. “Such things are beyond me, Lord.”

  The slap seemed to come from nowhere and knocked her sideways off of her knees and onto her side. “Now, that was beyond you. But, never mind. Your opinion is worthless anyway. She’s gone—probably dead. She should know better than to go rushing headlong to die by Herlequin’s side.”

  She lay where she’d fallen, not even raising a hand to her burning cheek. “Yes, Lord. What shall I tell him?” Her eyes danced to the long window behind Chaz’s desk, up into the boughs of the maple tree where the bright yellow magpie sat.

  “LaBouche? You tell him ‘yes,’ of course. His fears aren’t my own. Brigitta’s gone. I will partner with him for now, but I will need a valid excuse to kill him later. You watch him, Sally, and you report back to me. His every move, mind! I don’t want him taking a nap without you letting me know.” He came to stand over her, one foot on either side. “Tell me, Sally, can you do this simple task? Can you serve me in this way? Can you do this simple task without screwing everything up?”

  She drew her eyes away from the picture window and fixed them on Chaz’s kneecaps. “Yes, Lord,” she said in a husky whisper.

  “You understand that this is your chance to redeem yourself? Your only chance to redeem yourself?”

  “Yes, Lord, and I thank you for the opportunity.”

  Chaz walked away from her and stood gazing out the picture window. Butterflies performed feats of acrobatics in her guts. Should he see that little yellow bird…

  “You’re not entirely without merit, Sally. Keep that in mind.”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  He turned to face her, gazing down like a benevolent uncle. “On your feet, Sally. Your days of groveling before me are over.”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  “And no more of that. We have our facades to maintain.”

  Sally stood and shrugged. “Okay, Chaz.”

  He narrowed his eyelids, and his eyes burned at her from behind them for a moment. “Very well. Go be about your work.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Welsh.”

  The fire burning in his eyes lessened, and he nodded. “I will have a statement for you to deliver to our co-conspirator for his approval within the hour. See that you are here when I am ready for you.”

  Sally nodded and backed out of the town manager’s office. She pulled the door closed behind her and turned away. When she was ten steps from the office door, a sigh of relief exploded out of her. She couldn’t wait to see what LaBouche thought.

  She couldn’t wait to see Chaz writhing in pain at the end of their conspiracy. Brigitta isn’t far away, she thought. She’s in mourning, that’s all. Both of these posturing idiots are too dimwitted see it. They will both burn i
n the fire of her wrath. I’ll see to it.

  7

  Kelly-Ann made a face as she piloted her beat up Civic to the side of the road. It had been cruising right along before it coughed twice and died dead. “Perfect,” she muttered. She switched off the ignition and slumped back in her seat. The car wasn’t in good shape—she couldn’t afford to maintain the car nor to pay a mechanic to fix the Civic after it broke.

  She rubbed her eyes with her thumb and index finger, already feeling the headache blossoming behind them. First, her boss had kept her over—mostly to ogle her legs—and afterward, the car hadn’t wanted to start. After twenty minutes of trying, it had started, only to give up its mechanical ghost way out in the middle of nowhere—halfway between Oneka Falls and Genosgwa.

  She let her arms fall to her sides, limp and nerveless, and sighed, fighting back tears of frustration. “Fuck,” she whispered. “This damn car… Fuck!” Hot tears splashed down her cheeks as she slapped the steering wheel twice with her palm. She twisted the key in the ignition, but the car didn’t even crank, let alone start.

  Kelly-Ann fished her purse from the back seat and dug through it, looking for her phone. “Where is it?” she murmured when she couldn’t lay hands on it. She ruffled through the purse again, with a touch more energy.

  Still, no phone.

  She dumped the contents of her purse into the passenger seat and fished through them in the dying light. The last thing she wanted was to be walking down the side of a deserted county road after sunset, but if she couldn’t find her phone, she suspected that was exactly what the night held in store for her.

  “Where did I put it?” She looked on the passenger-side floorboard, squinting to see past its shadows. Kelly-Ann checked the console again and again. She even went as far as opening the glovebox and rooting around inside it—though she’d never put a cell phone in any glovebox in her life. She patted her pockets at least thirty times.

  It was no use. Her phone had disappeared into the ether.

  She slumped in the seat, cocking her head on one palm, her elbow wedged against the window. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips into a thin, white line. It was the perfect end of a shitty day, the perfect end of a shitty week, a shitty month, a shitty year. It was the perfect capstone on her entire fucked-up life.

  Someone tapped on her window.

  Kelly-Ann shrieked and bolted up in her seat. Her eyes snapped open.

  A man stood next to her door. He was average in almost every way—height, weight, brown haired, dressed well, but without much expense. But his eyes…his eyes were exceptional. They were bright hazel and seemed to spin in the low light of the coming dusk.

  He flashed a smile at her and held both palms toward her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  One hand covered her mouth and one pressed between her breasts, right over her racing heart. She stared at him through her window, her mind trying to come up with something to say. How long has he been standing there? she wondered.

  “Car trouble?” he asked, spinning one hand in a circle—the international hand signal for “roll down the window.”

  She blinked and blew out a breath, smiling. She cranked the window down and laughed. “Holy crow, man. You about scared me to death!”

  He smiled back, his eyes glinting in the dying of the sun. “Sorry,” he said. “Car trouble?”

  “It just quit on me. Doesn’t even crank now.”

  He nodded, and his eyes danced away. “Pop the hood. I’ll give her a look.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I can—‍”

  “Don’t be silly. Unless you’ve got a cell phone in there somewhere, you’ll be walking all night.” He peered into the car. “I take it you don’t have one?”

  She shook her head. “I have one, but I have no idea where I left it.”

  His eyes found hers, glinting with amusement. “Dadgum things hide, I swear it.” His laugh was warm, gentle, and she chuckled along with him.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Kind of like cops—they’re never around when you need one.”

  He nodded, expression sobering. He tapped the hood. “Pop it.”

  With a quick smile of thanks, Kelly-Ann leaned forward to grab the release. That’s when he hit her.

  8

  When the group reassembled, they did it at Toby’s “professor apartment” near the campus where he worked. They hadn’t needed phone calls to arrange the meeting time, they all just decided to visit the apartment at about the same time.

  Two days had passed. Toby had stayed in the Desperado, once again parked on the shores of Lake Ontario, though this time in a different RV park. Scott had checked into a hotel a few hours after they made it to Rochester—the cleaners needed a few days at his house to remove the gore. Mike got the room next to his. Shannon and Benny had spent the time together, and no one asked them where or what they did.

  It seemed obvious.

  “Toby, you seem much more relaxed,” said Benny. “What did you do out there, alone?”

  “Who said he was alone?” said Mike.

  “What?” asked Benny. “You have a…”

  Toby rolled his eyes.

  Scott cleared his throat. “Has anyone given any more thought to how we’ll deal with our friends down south?”

  “We should try to outfox them politically,” said Benny in an excited tone of voice.

  “We could do that,” said Mike. “Oneka Falls isn’t such a complicated place. There’s a lot of nepotism, and we won’t get far if we picked the wrong people, but it’s doable if we can figure out what safeguards they have in place to keep from losing.”

  “Yeah…” Toby scuffed the worn sole of his tennis shoe against the linoleum in the apartment's foyer. “I spent the last couple of days thinking.”

  “That’s always dangerous,” said Mike with a grin.

  “I… Look, guys, I’ve been doing this for a while. I’m good at what I do, and my talent led me to do things the way I do. What am I going to do in a political fight?”

  “We can each do something that suits our particular—‍”

  “No, Benny. You aren’t hearing me.”

  “Oh, I heard you, Toby. I mean, I’m right across the room. But hear me out a minute. We can each fill a role in a political machine that—‍”

  “No,” said Toby. “You hear me out a minute, Benny. I’m set up for this.” He swept his hands outward, encompassing the apartment, the campus, and everything that went with it. “I’ve been doing this for years—long enough to get over sixty of them. I know how to track them, I know how to take them out, and I know how to get rid of them and make sure they stay gotten rid of. Switching gears won’t do any of us any good.”

  Scott watched him as he spoke, tilting his head to the side and appraising him. “Yeah, I don’t know what I could contribute to this political thing, either. I’m not wound that way.”

  Benny looked from one to the other, his expression growing grimmer and grimmer. He glanced at Shannon as if lost, and she came to stand next to them and stroked his forearm. “I don’t understand. This is the best way.”

  Toby shook his head again. “Not for me, Benny. I’m not sure it would work, anyway. I mean, surely these guys have faced political fights in the past twenty-something years, right? They’ve held power the entire time. Right, Mike?”

  Mike nodded and stroked his chin with his thumb.

  “So what are those safeguards? Strong-arm tactics? Ballot box stuffing?”

  Mike chuckled. “Nothing as Tom Clancy as all that. I mean, think about it, they’ve got more demons in the town limits than people, right? That’s quite a voting bloc. It could be they command everyone to come out and vote a certain way in a referendum or something.”

  “No matter what they do, wouldn’t we face the same resistance if we tried to mount a challenge?”

  Benny’s grimace deepened. “But back at the park, we all agreed—‍”

  “We were all full of adrenaline, an
d we were all worried about having to face every single one of those demons at once. But we don’t have to do that. Even if we don’t do the political challenge thing, there are other ways. I’ve been doing one of those ways for years now.”

  “But going at them one at a time, Toby… That’ll take years,” said Shannon. “And from what I’ve seen, every single one we take out that way represents a significant threat and a significant risk to each one of us.”

  Toby shrugged but shook his head at the same time. “The ones we faced—Red Bortha, Brigitta, Herlequin—they’re the cream of the crop. They were the oldest demons, some of the first to arrive in this world. I’m sure at least a few others of their caliber exist, but we don’t have to go after them until we’ve dealt with all the others.”

  “Even so, this can’t become a battle of attrition,” said Mike. “I mean, Shannon’s right. That will take forever. No matter how weak or strong any given demon is, each one can kill any one of us with ease.”

  “That’s true, of course, but it doesn’t change the fact that if we're careful, if we go in prepared, we can win. As I told you in the car that night, I’ve done this sixty-one—well, sixty-three times now if we count Herlequin and Red Bortha—and every one of those sixty-three demons could have killed me. But they didn’t. To the point, I killed them.”

  Benny shook his head and looked at the carpet.

  “Working together, Benny, you, me, and Mike killed Herlequin. Despite his tricks, despite his dog-things, despite a deck that was stacked against us from the very beginning. And in a way, we beat Herlequin when we were eleven. What makes you think any of these demons will be harder to kill than him?”

  When Benny looked up, his eyes blazed with passion, and his gaze locked on Toby’s. “Herlequin couldn’t move—not really. Sure, over time he could move to another forest, but the tree itself? That took a long time to move. He couldn’t run from us, and once I realized that, the solution presented itself.”

  “You’re making my point, Benny.”

  Benny shook his head hard enough to make his hair fly around his face. “No, Toby, you misunderstand me. We didn’t beat Herlequin by working together—well, we did, but that’s not why we won. No, we won because he was arrogant, and he assumed there was nothing we could do to him—that we’d never understand his nature. He assumed that even if we caught him, we would focus on killing his puppet and leave as soon as that was accomplished, assuming we’d won, while he packed up and moved to a different forest, free to start his trick-show all over again.” Benny slapped his hands together. “Don’t you realize how lucky we are? Lucky that you brought those canisters full of that incendiary? Lucky that Herlequin didn’t bring everything he had against us? He could’ve had hundreds of demons in the Thousand Acre Wood. He could’ve had his daughters in better forms—the dog-things might be great for chasing little kids, but they didn’t seem very effective against us.”