Part 9 (2/2)
A little dazed, she nodded. Not quite rea.s.sured, I leaned over to kiss her. Then I turned back on the demons. ”You two are responsible for this. If she'd been hurt, I'd have taken this out on you personally. I'd have found a voodoo doctor to put a curse on a chicken for me. Then I'd have cursed you with chicken parts. I'd have...”
”Cursed us with chicken parts?” Vanessa raised an eyebrow at Monica. ”She didn't learn that from you, did she?”
Monica hissed at her.
”Quit interrupting while I'm threatening you. If you two were any use at all...”
Vanessa laughed. ”That's so cute. She's threatening us. Should I turn her into something? How about...oh, I don't know...a bunny rabbit?”
”You mind your own business,” Monica told her.
”She is my business. As long as Ca.s.sandra loves her...”
”Count on it,” Ca.s.sie said fiercely.
”...the two of them are a package deal. You should know that, for Lucifer's sake. Didn't you learn anything in Malediction 101?”
Monica defended herself briskly, but I didn't pay any attention. Package deal, were we? It was an oddly appealing concept. Apparently Ca.s.sie felt the same way; she reached over to squeeze my hand and didn't bother to let go.
We're in this together, she'd said a few weeks ago. I couldn't let her be in this getting-fired thing together, but just for this evening, it wouldn't hurt to pretend it was true.
The sudden cessation of argument in the back seat distracted me. Suspicious, I turned to see what was going on with them and almost banged heads with the demons, who were leaning forward avidly to see what was going on with us.
Vanessa smirked at my demon. ”Told you. They're a twofer.”
”We'll see,” Monica said ominously. ”Now, who takes care of this business back at the party? You? Or me? You started it, so...”
”Tosh. You started everything before that. You fix it.”
Ca.s.sie and I exchanged glances. ”What do you mean, 'fix'?” I asked Monica.
”I'm busy, Devlin,” she growled.
”I don't care. What is she supposed to fix?”
”The firings,” Monica said, aggrieved. ”They weren't supposed to happen. Goldilocks here needs to turn everything back 24 hours.”
I was interested against my better judgment. ”Can she do that? I saw Superman do it in a movie once, but he had to spin the Earth backward.”
This time, Monica hissed at me. Ca.s.sie gave her an evil look and pulled me forward.
”I'm not doing it, Monica,” Vanessa insisted. ”And you can't make me.”
”I can make you wish you had.”
”You don't scare me. Anyway, you're losing your touch. You couldn't...”
She never finished. There was a little squelching sound, and then her black gown collapsed. Startled, I leaned back over the seat. Monica was smirking, and Vanessa was a toad.
”Not very original,” I remarked.
My demon, in no mood for criticism, raised her hand. But just as she did, the toad sprang from the seat into her face. Cursing in a language I didn't recognize, Monica tried to swat it away, but it hopped down into her cleavage. Her eyes met mine in shock for a split-second just before her gown collapsed, too.
Ca.s.sie fought over my restraining arm to see what was wrong. ”What are they doing?”
”Fighting,” I reported. ”Vanessa was a toad a second ago. I think she just got even.”
Then we saw something wriggling in Monica's gown, and a snake poked its head out of the neck opening. Ca.s.sie recoiled, horrified. But the toad, which had jumped to safety on the armrest, hopped up and down meaningfully a couple of times, and the snake turned into...
”What is that?” Ca.s.sie whispered.
”A hedgehog. I think.” Frowning, I leaned over to get a better look. ”It was a lot cuter in the Beatrix Potter books.”
The hedgehog didn't appear to like that remark, but it had other things on its mind. It pulled out one of its quills and speared the toad with it, and the toad turned into a c.o.c.kroach.
I'd seen enough. ”Duck,” I told Ca.s.sie.
”No, honey, I think that's a bug.”
There wasn't time to argue. The combatants were going at it hammer and tongs now, turning each other into things at a furious pace. There might have been an actual duck in there somewhere, but it was really hard to keep up with what was what, let alone who was who. Finally, one turned the other into a pigeon, which caused a violent fit of flapping and screeching.
”No birds in this car!” Ca.s.sie shrieked, hitting the power-window b.u.t.tons. ”Not on this upholstery!”
The pigeon shot out of the BMW, hotly pursued by a robin. They both did a couple of circuits around the car, flying close enough to the winds.h.i.+eld that we saw the tiny fangs in their beaks. Then they lighted out, disappearing into the night.
When the shock had worn off, I reached over Ca.s.sie to roll up the back-seat window. ”Everything OK, sweetheart?”
She thought about it for a long time. I half-expected her not to answer. Finally, she drew a shaky breath. ”Which part of 'everything' do you mean? The part where we're both fired, or the part where we have more time to spend with your family at Christmas?”
”Never mind,” I said quickly.
(c) 2000, K. Simpson To Part 9 The Devil's Workshop (c) 2000, M.C. Sak Disclaimers, Credits, & E-Mail: See Part 1.
CHAPTER 9.
Three Days Before Christmas *
Finally, there was nothing to do but go home.
Ca.s.sie and I had done all we could about the job thing. We had a lawyer all over it; charges were flying back and forth, and our lives would get very unpleasant soon. But the unpleasantness would keep until after the holidays. Lawyers were human, too, our lawyer explained.
An old joke occurred to me (Q: What do you have when you have a hundred lawyers up to their necks in sand? A: Not enough sand), but I was just able to resist repeating it. Chances were that he'd heard it anyway; a lawyer had told it to me in the first place.
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