“Yeah, kiss my scaly ass, you normal freak!” the rat demon squeaked out.
Hilario squeezed the rat demon’s body. Normal freak? “Stay out of this,” he said.
“Bring the creature to me!” Rachel commanded in her echoey voice. The green flames running over her freshly made sword brightened.
His body tried to obey. Shuffled a step forward before he could stop it. The rat demon dug his claws further into Hilario’s hand.
Shocked him back out of the command trance.
Powerful. Wouldn’t want to mess wit them again.
He’d encountered the power of command before. But never as strong as this.
“Rachel, please,” Hilario said, “Please stop. We need to get out of here. Somehow.”
“You need to get through the Eye!” the rat-demon shouted.
“We already went through the Eye,” he said.
Or did they?
The rat demon ducked its scaled head. “Whups. Shouldn't a said that.”
For a long moment no one said anything. The only sound was the scrape and rattle of the blood thorn trees.
Green light from Rachel’s fire flickered in the rat demon’s beady black eyes.
Then…
“Oh man, where am I?”
The skinny man, Larry’s delivery driver, sat up. Put his hands to his head.
“My head,” he said, “It’s like a pack of angry weasels and a cement truck had a fight in it.”
He looked up at Hilario. Then his gaze turned to Rachel. And to Marco.
“That’s it,” he said, “I’m going into rehab.”
The man, Rodney, if Hilario recalled correctly, sniffed the air. Clamped his nostrils shut with two fingers.
“Dude. This place smells really bad. Like Satan’s butthole.”
“How would you know?” the rat demon snapped at him, “I’ll have you know it smells like–”
Hilario put a hand over the rat demon’s mouth. Some things were best left unsaid.
“Rodney,” Hilario said, “So wonderful that you’re conscious. Perhaps you–”
“Who killed him!” Marco said.
The detective rounded on Rodney, his gun pointed at the man’s face. Which was better than where it had been. But still not good. Having it not pointed at anyone would be even better.
Rodney’s eyes went wide. His skinny body shook.
“Who!” he said, “I don’t know anything! I swear!”
Rachel spun around. Pointed her flaming sword at the terrified man.
“You know who murdered my husband,” she said, her voice still doing the echoey thing, “I command you to tell me.”
“I don’t know anything green fire lady!” Rodney cried.
Hilario took a tentative step backward. Everyone seemed to be losing focus on the real problem here. And that was fine for the moment. It gave him time to have a private discussion with the rat demon.
Let me persuade him, Marco’s gun said, pop a cap in his nuts. He’ll talk then.
“Wait, what!” Rodney shouted, “Did that gun just talk! Don’t shoot me man!”
“I command you to speak!” Rachel shouted. Her voice boomed like thunder.
“Okay, okay, what do you want to talk about?” Rodney said, “I can talk about all kinds of stuff. How about basketball scores? Did you see the Raven’s game the other night?”
“No, not that,” Rachel said.
Hilario turned and stepped away, back towards the van.
“Your people are crazy,” the rat demon said.
“They’re under a lot of stress right now,” Hilario said.
Their voices faded against the rustling and scraping of the blood thorn trees. He scanned the horizon and the flickering lights below. The town, such as it was, had to have been alerted by now. Rachel’s green magic would have lit up the ether like a bomb.
It was surprising there already weren’t porcupine bats flapping overhead.
He hurried over to the van, lifting his feet so his floppy clown shoes didn’t slap the ground.
Larry stuck his ghostly head out of the van.
“Mamma mia!” Larry said, “What-a is-a that-a thing-a?”
“I’m your god, ghost boy!” the rat demon said, “Kneel before me and weep!”
Hilario rapped a finger against the rat demon’s head.
“Stop that,” he said.
The rat demon gave him a withering glare. “You’ll pay for that, clown boy,” it said.
Hilario sighed. “I know. I always end up paying somehow.”
“Did-a that-a really-a come out-a Sapphire?” Larry asked.
Of course Larry had seen the whole thing, sitting there in the van. What was he going to do, take a nap? Check the messages on his phone? No, because he was dead. His main activity for the foreseeable future was going to be observing the living and making comments in his stupid, fake accent.
“For pity’s sake, Larry,” Hilario said, “Stop with the accent.”
“Aw come on,” the rat demon said, “Her witchiness thought it was kind of cute.”
Hilario squeezed the creature with both hands. “You know the Sapphire Witch? Where is she?”
The rat demon made a show of gasping for air until Hilario eased up. Slightly. It was all a show. Demons didn’t breath air. Their lungs were mostly for storing noxious fumes and rotten flem.
“Course I know her,” the rat demon said, “You think I’d be running around in a puppet without her telling me to?”
Hilario’s head was spinning. Not literally. His current body didn’t have that ability. But his brain was spinning, reeling, doing the Watusi and the jitterbug trying to wrap his mind around the idea.
But, then again, this was a demon. Truth wasn’t something they generally practiced.
Not without persuasion.
And it just so happened he had some in the van.
With his free hand he pulled the side door open then maneuvered his awkward bulk inside. The van still held a whiff of Detective Marco’s musky cologne. Which was slightly better than the rotting death odor outside.
Slightly.
Larry the ghost peered over the seat. His faint blue glow gave the inside of the van an eerie twilight feeling. Hilario suppressed a shiver and made his way over to the make up cabinet.
“Need to freshen up there, clown boy?” the rat demon said.
Hilario
