The Demon Conspiracy (46 page)

Kurt seemed almost likable. Because he
believed in monsters.

She thought about him replacing Jon in her
heart. Was it even possible? Her mom would say she was vulnerable,
on the rebound from a broken relationship. She should wait. But
Maria wasn’t so sure. Kurt was a nice looking guy, and rich. If his
cruel streak were truly over he’d be worth giving a second chance.
Not only that, but Mr. Lazarus owned the strip mall where her
parents’ restaurant was located and Kurt had guaranteed Maria that
if she went out with him on a regular basis he could get his dad to
lower the rent. That would help her parents out a lot. Was seeing
Kurt a possibility? Could a relationship with a guy like that work
out after all?

When she stood up from the vanity a tiny
strip of white at the edge of the mirror caught her eye. It looked
like a piece of paper had been wedged between the mirror and the
wood frame. She used her fingernails to dig out a small rectangle
of paper. She gasped when she saw what it was. A wallet-sized
photograph of Jon.

Maria was surprised. She thought she’d
thrown all his pictures away. How had it gotten there? Then she
remembered hiding it when she and Jon had first started dating. Jon
hadn’t met her parents yet, and she’d been certain they wouldn’t go
for her dating some orphaned guy with no real home or family. As it
turned out, her dad and Jon had gotten along great. Jon often spoke
about how he needed to support his younger brother and sister, like
he was their father or something. He had strong feelings of family,
even though he didn’t have parents anymore. And his willingness to
accept responsibility had reminded Mr. Sanchez of himself. Her dad
had always spoken fondly of Jon. He saw him like a son.

“You told me you loved me,
Jon Bishop,” said Maria, staring at the picture. “You told me we
were going to spend the rest of our lives together. How could you
say all of that if you didn’t mean it? After all the time that was
ours, how could you say you
never
loved me? You make me sick!”

She tore the photo into tiny pieces and
threw them all into a small trash can in the corner of her room. “I
hate you! You’ll never have my heart again!”

Maria straightened her dress and checked
herself over one last time in the mirror. She was dressed well
enough for church. If God didn’t like the way she looked he could
just…. She didn’t know how to finish the thought. What could she
say that would upset God?

All at once she glanced back at the
trashcan. She hurried over to it, glaring into the bottom of the
can. Tears welled up in her eyes and fell over the pieces of torn
photograph like rain on a funeral.

“Why did you leave me, Jon? Where have you
gone?”

JON

Jon Bishop walked along the busy highway
with his thumb out and his T-shirt blowing in the cold, stiff
breeze. His eyes were fixed on the city skyline across the river
ahead of him. New York City: the greatest city in the world. It was
the only place he could go to become the greatest magician in the
world. He could almost feel its energy.

Dozens upon dozens of cars flew past him,
the occupants never paying him any mind. But it didn’t matter to
Jon. He really didn’t care if they picked him up or not. The
important thing was to keep moving. Even if he had to walk the rest
of the way he’d get to New York eventually. Jon had learned by
watching other travelers that if he stuck out his thumb while he
walked, sometimes people would give him a ride. Getting rides
brought him closer to his goal much faster than walking. It was
certainly worth the effort to hold up his thumb.

Sure enough it happened
again. A silver minivan pulled over in front of him and stopped.
Jon had also learned to
run
to the vehicle so the driver wouldn’t get
impatient and leave him behind. This time he sprinted and arrived
at the passenger side door at the same time the window opened. An
elderly man and woman smiled at him. The woman drove; the man sat
in the passenger seat.

“You going to the city, young fella?” asked
the man, whose white mustache curled up stiffly to a point on both
sides of his mouth.

“Yes, I am going to the city,” said Jon with
a smile. “I am going to New York City. I can see it just over
there.”

“That’s right,” said the man. “We can only
take you as far as Times Square, but if that works for you, hop on
in.”

The passenger side door slid open by itself.
For a moment Jon thought that the man and woman might have magic of
their own until he remembered the doors on Angie’s minivan did the
same thing. He climbed inside and sat back in the warm car. The
door closed.

“Let me guess,” said the woman, whose white
hair had been stacked in plate-sized rings on top of her head.
“You’re going to New York to be an actor. Or a singer. No, you look
athletic. You’re a dancer. Right?”

“I am going to New York City to become the
greatest magician in the world.”

“Magician?” said the man. “That’s different.
Marge and me, well, we’re the greatest hotdog vendors in the world.
That’s our supplies behind you.”

Jon glanced behind him because he sensed the
man wanted him to. Other than the fact they were giving him a ride
he had no interest in what these people did for a living.

“Aren’t you cold?” asked the woman named
Marge. “It’s barely forty degrees out there and you don’t even have
a coat.”

“No, I am not cold.”

“Are you from England? You sound like you’re
from some place like that. I had a buddy from London. He was a
newspaper reporter.”

“I am not from England,” said Jon, bored. “I
am from Virginia.”

“I see. So what kind of magic do you
do?”

“Can you pull a rabbit out of a hat?” asked
Marge.

“Yes. But everybody does that. I can do
anything.”

“Anything?” asked the man jokingly. “How’d
you like to magic me about five grand right now? I could use the
money.” He laughed at the thought as he looked back at Jon and
winked.

Jon considered for a moment. He turned one
hand over, palm down, then turned it back up again. In his hand was
a stack of one hundred-dollar bills, still in the wrapper. The old
man’s eyes lit up.

“Wow! Damn, boy,
you
are
good!” He
got even more excited when Jon handed him the cash. “I can’t take
your money, son. You’re going to need it for your
shows.”

“I do not need it,” said Jon. “You can have
it. I got it for you.”

“Is it real?” asked his wife. The old man
tapped her on the arm and shook his head.

“That’s not
even
polite, Marge.”
Then he looked at Jon. “Is it?”

“It is real. Money is easy to magic, as you
say.”

“Easy?” The old man and his wife exchanged
glances. He took out a business card and gave it to Jon. “If you
need a place to stay while you’re in the city you just call the
number on that card. That’s my cell. We’ll make sure you have a
real nice place, okay?”

Jon took the card and put it in his pocket.
“Okay.” He sat back and gazed at the approaching New York City
skyline. His time was near. Soon he would be the greatest magician
in the world.

40

DEMON FIGHT

DONNIVEE

Donnivee Fox sat on the
stone floor guarded by a dozen slobbering, toothy demons who
watched her with eyes that never blinked. They talked about her,
too, she could tell. They spoke in low voices so she couldn’t hear
them and they said
bad
things about her.
Unspeakable
things. Things that would make everyone laugh at
her and put her down and try to hurt her. Donnivee had scores of
issues that really set her off, but when she heard people talking
about her…dammit! That was at the top of her list! It made her want
to kick in their teeth and break their arms and punch their faces
into hamburger! She stood up suddenly. Her mind was a haze of
scathing hatred. Her fists were clenched. She’d fight every one of
them! Only…these things around her weren’t people. They weren’t
even close.

She glanced over her shoulder and understood
why she was so popular. They were cooking something—or getting
ready to—inside a massive, black pot that was bigger than her
bedroom at home. The acrid smell of a coal fire burned all around
it, causing heavy steam to rise from inside the pot. Two lanky,
horned demons stood on a rock scaffold built beside the fire and
stirred the brew with long wooden poles. She’d already seen several
buckets of body parts tossed into the mix, including a human hand.
In spite of the unholy warmth inside the cave Donnivee shivered. It
wasn’t easy to face up to the fact that most likely she was going
to be lunch.

More than anything right
now she wanted to run. She might have tried, except for the
shackles on her ankles that were chained to a thick iron ring
embedded in the floor. The shackles were rough and tight and had
already rubbed her legs raw. Run? She almost laughed. Even if she
got away where could she possibly go? She looked at the long stone
trail that wound upward through the enormous cavern. If she could
make it to the mouth of the cave she could get home. She knew the
way from there because when the demons had brought her in she’d
seen the sign,
Pandora’s
Cave
. She’d seen the ranger station too.
She knew where she was. But getting that far would be a
problem.

It’d be an uphill run for a good
quarter-mile, maybe further. And if she made it to the top she’d
have to deal with the winding, pitch-black tunnels that these
creatures knew so well. She’d never find her way through the
tunnels without a light. Apparently demons didn’t need light, they
could see in total darkness.

Donnivee had to face the facts. She’d
probably never get out of this cave alive. This must be how a bird
feels when it’s caught in the jaws of a cat just before the chewing
starts.

She licked her dry, cracked lips, salty from
the tears and sweat that had poured out of her under the latex
mask. That stupid mask. She wanted to remove it, to let her face
cool off and her hair hang down, but the demons didn’t realize it
was a mask. They thought it was her real face. They’d even tied a
gag around the mouth of the mask to keep her quiet, never realizing
the rubbery teeth inside the rubbery lips were all fake. The silly
mask might be the only thing keeping her alive at this point.

“What do we do with ‘er?” said the
four-armed demon, Grund, the one who had brought her all the way
here on his shoulder. “Why’d the Boss want us to get ‘er?”

“The traitor human wants ‘er,” said the
little one, the one the others called Lipsludge.

“If ya ask me the Boss listens to that
filthy human slime way too much,” said Grund with a mutinous look
in his three yellow eyes.

“Don’t lets him hears you says that. Or
you’ll bees in da soup instead of the Kelly Bishop.”

There. They said it. They were going to
throw her in the soup and eat her. All because they thought she was
Kelly. Donnivee began to shake. The mind-numbing fear of certain
death grew within her and spread like cancer to every part of her
body. A noxious pain slithered through her stomach. Suddenly, she
gagged. It was a big one, as if she’d stuck her finger down her
throat and jiggled it side to side. The gag turned into a wave of
uncontrollable dry heaves. She dropped to her hands and knees,
doubled over in spastic contractions. She heaved repeatedly. Her
face was flushed behind the mask, her belly ached from the strain.
Somehow she got it under control and held back the vomit. Good
thing, too. Throwing up inside a mask would be just plain nasty.
Especially when she couldn’t take it off. When she was done she
looked up. The demons gawked at her with baffled expressions. Guess
they’d never seen another demon almost toss its cookies.

A tall gray demon with arms and fingers like
long, skinny tree branches appeared through an arched doorway. The
doorway led into an even larger cave where a strange reddish glow
lit up both caverns. Donnivee saw movement in the other room, but
not enough to know who or what was moving or what they were doing.
Often she heard what sounded like the crack of a whip. A moment
later she’d hear an agonized scream. Once she heard an entire
chorus of grisly screams that made her skin crawl. They sounded
human. Donnivee decided not to think about the other cave.

“Where’d Klawfinger go?” asked the gray
demon.

“He went to get da Boss,” said another.

Lipsludge stood up and ambled over to
Donnivee. He stood nearly eye-to-eye with her, though she was still
kneeling.

“I been wonderins, human,” said Lipsludge,
tilting his head as he studied her face. “What’s da traitor human
wants with da likes of you? You looks more like one of us, than one
of dem. How comes he wants ya?”

Donnivee’s fear had reached the boiling
point. Hell, she was already on the menu. What’d she have to lose
by fighting back now? She clamped her jaw firmly and threw a
well-aimed right cross at the little demon. The blow caught
Lipsludge squarely in the side of the head. It was so strong it
lifted him off the floor and sent him rolling into the feet of a
large, hairy demon with seven red eyes.

Donnivee scowled under the mask. She forgot
she even had it on. Her eyes were on fire. The demons around her
tensed up. She expected them to retaliate. Sure they would. The
entire group would attack her to avenge their little buddy. And
she’d fight them to the death. Then they could eat her if that’s
what they wanted, but at least she’d be dead first, not cooked
alive in the soup.