Demons aren’t supposed to live among humans. They wreak all sorts of havoc that you can’t really appreciate until it’s too late.
First, they’re giant insects with human appendages pasted on their exoskeletons.
Second, those appendages usually carry swords and other godawful weapons.
Third, they murder without any remorse.
Fourth, they make shadow deals with anything and everything that is willing. Unless you really, really know what you’re doing when you make that deal, there’s always going to be a loophole, and that loophole always means the severe risk of bodily injury, your death, or the destruction of the human race. You know me well enough by now to know that I’m not kidding.
Fifth, you just can’t trust the buggers.
And did I mention that they are giant insects?
As the stitch to the spirit world pulsed cool light across my backyard, I couldn’t help but want to wring Natkaal’s wings.
Natkaal and I have a special relationship. As far as demons go, he’s more trustworthy than most. He takes great pride in doing exactly what he says he’s going to do. That cuts both ways; if he says he’ll uncover some information for you, expect the information. If he says he’s going to kill you, he’s going to kill you.
Natkaal risked his reputation in the demon world to help me save my grandson, and I would never forget that. He also saved my life on another occasion, and his blood ran through my veins.
And you know what? Despite all of these things, I was livid.
I stomped down the paved path toward a giant maple tree. My shoes crunched on dead leaves.
I put my hands on my hips, stared up into the canopy of the tree, and shouted, “Natkaal, you’ve got some explaining to do!”
The leaves in the canopy rustled. A crazed, whinnied laugh carried down on the wind.
The next thing I knew, Natkaal was hanging upside down from a strand of silk from one of the upper branches. His wings caught the starlight and reflected like a stained-glass window. His ruby-red eyes met mine.
“You called?”
“Maybe you can explain why a group of wolf assassins just tried to take me out,” I said.
“What are you talking about, necromancer?” Natkaal asked. The demon’s face wrinkled with mild disdain.
“Don’t play games with me,” I said.
“I seriously have no idea what you are talking about,” Natkaal said. “I’m beginning to get offended.”
He flipped off his strand of silk and landed in front of me, his grasshopper exoskeleton low to the ground.
“Tell me more about these wolves,” he said.
I pointed to the stitch. “Find out for yourself. I trapped one in the spirit world.”
Natkaal shrank away from the stitch.
“What’s the matter?” I asked. “Forgot where you came from?”
“I can’t go back yet,” Natkaal said.
“If you don’t go, I’m breaking our blank check,” I said.
In an instant, the grasshopper demon’s face flashed maliciously and he gnashed his teeth.
“You wouldn’t dare! After all I did for you!”
“Then indulge me,” I said.
Natkaal scurried up the tree. “I. Am. Not. Going. Back. To. That…Hellhole.”
I agreed to let Natkaal take up temporary residence in the world of the living. It wasn’t one of my finest moments, but I was about to get mauled by a group of raccoons possessed by an archdemon, and if that had happened, I would have never seen my daughter or grandson again. Talk about a moment of weakness.
“The wolf in there says he got hired by a coven,” I said. “Know anything about it?”
Natkaal roared. “Those cauldron-loving, wand-toting, frog-kissing—”
I folded my arms. “So you do know something.”
“This did not concern you, necromancer,” Natkaal said. “At least, not yet. But if you will know, yes, I had planned to use you as a pawn in my feud with those horrid witches.”
My heart sank. So much for a quiet night.
“When were you planning to use me?” I asked.
“Not tonight,” Natkaal said. “Next week, perhaps. I was waiting for the right moment to strike.”
“Well, you got struck,” I said. “And if you don’t strike back, Bo and I are going to be chicken wings in the morning, to use Bo’s words.”
I pointed to the stitch again. “Let’s go.”
No sooner had I finished the sentence did the temperature drop a few degrees. There was already a chill in the air, but it was like going from autumn to the dead of winter in just a few seconds. The air didn’t change like that unless something was afoot.
A black shadow stood next to my garage. It began chanting in a language I didn’t understand.
I know death languages. Demon tongues are one of them. You can tell a lot about the language by how it sounds, and boy, did this one sound like someone was angry. The syllables were harsh and saliva-covered.
Instinctively, I ducked as a giant fireball flew past me and struck the tree.
Natkaal screamed as the tree erupted into flames.
An ear-splitting screech and a dazzle of green droned across the sky.
Natkaal slammed into the shadow, sending it flying into the alley. Whoever it was cried out and landed on the gravel with a sickening thud.
Natkaal panted as his wings carried him into the air.
“Let’s go!” I cried, springing toward the stitch.
In the alley, the shadow slithered into the air like a snake caught in an updraft. It broke apart into two wisps that zoomed over the garage. One flew toward me and the other toward Natkaal.
The air hummed with the sound of more incantations. Whatever it was saying, it was probably a curse.
I don’t have any luck with curses, so I wasn’t about to try my luck this time.
I ran toward the stitch.
“You won’t deter me!” Natkaal cried.
I was only a few feet away. The incantations grew louder.
“This isn’t over!” Natkaal said. “I will kill your entire coven, bottle your blood, and sell it to the highest bidder!”
A chill rippled through my body at Natkaal’s words.
I jumped.
The voice finished its spell and I felt the warm flames of a fireball behind me.
I smashed into hard, rocky ground.
The fireball whooshed past my ear.
I looked up and watched in horror as a giant red ball sailed across the spirit world. It trailed over the hills like a comet.
“Dayum,” Bo said. “What the hell were you doing over there?”
Bo and CeCe stared at me, slack-jawed.
“Get down!” I cried.
Bo dragged CeCe down as a salvo of fireballs ripped out of the stitch and across the plains.
The salvo stopped. Natkaal crawled through the stitch. The grasshopper demon’s exoskeleton was as pale as bone.
I rolled over, staring up at the blistering orange sky. I was never happier in my life to be in the spirit world.
“Start talking, Natkaal,” I said, panting.
But before Natkaal could say anything, a white blur dashed past.
Gillian.
The wolf bounded into the air. The stitch sewed itself shut behind him.