Page 37 of Wicked Deeds

The afrit’s leg withdrew from the gap, like it was following his movement. My skin crawled. I could smell it now. Acid and rot, a scent my brain and body associated with terror and death and danger. I had to fight to keep my breathing steady. I knew I could kill it, but it still terrified me. It was demonkind. The enemy. Demons, given a chance, would devour our world and everyone in it.

Damon gripped the so-far-intact side of the bucket. His face was taut. Determined. But also possibly trying not to breathe too deeply.

“Alright,” I nodded at Maia, wanting to get on with it. “Take the cleaning stuff.”

She moved fast, lifting the containers and carrying them to the far side of the roof. Damon’s knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on the bucket. As though it had sensed the changing weight, the afrit thumped against the side of the bucket, making it shake. It screeched again, the sound like nails down a demonic chalkboard.

I resisted the urge to order Damon to swap places with me. He was behind the side with the hole. That was hopefully safer as long as the damn afrit didn’t decide to spit upward.

“Can you burn it from where you are?” Maia asked as she returned and picked up the water bucket.

“We’re about to find out.” I stretched out my hand, pulling on my magic, and summoned a flame, thinking about shaping it into a spike like a miniature lightning bolt.

The flame rose in my hand, brilliant orange. Hot enough to burn through anything I aimed it at, though hopefully not through the concrete roof before we could put it out.

“Alright,” I said to Damon. “On the count of three, let go of the damned bucket and get the hell out of there. Once you’re out of the way, I’m burning it.”

He nodded, mouth grim.

I turned to Maia. “Ready?”

The water bucket was at her feet but she had her gun out, ready in case the afrit got free. “Ready when you are.”

“One, two….THREE.” I yelled at Damon.

True to his word he let go and bolted sideways, back toward the doorway.

I waited until he was fifteen feet away before I sent the flame arcing down.

The plastic went up with awhoomp. The afrit started screaming, the sound of it physically painful. Bad enough that it made me want to stop my fire so I could clamp my hands over my ears. Somehow my brain knew it didn’t come from the throat of any creature from the human world. But I held my ground and the flame. After about thirty seconds, the noise stopped. I waited another thirty seconds before I stopped feeding the fire.

Maia held up a hand. “Wait.”

We stood in silence, watching the flames dance. The stench of burning plastic made my eyes stream but there was no movement from within the fire. Maia held her forearm over her mouth, coughing. The smell was as bad as the shrieking had been—the combination of burning plastic and afrit was stomach churning—and the breeze was blowing in her direction.

After a minute or so she said, “Okay, enough.”

I pulled my gun back out of my pocket just in case, and she dumped the water over the molten mess of burning plastic.

Fortunately, it went out, hissing steam, which made the stench worse.

Ewwww. I coughed, wishing I could cover my mouth and nose, but I needed both hands for my gun.

Maia put her bucket down, gaze still fastened on the steaming pile of ash and melted plastic.

Nothing moved.

Thank God.

“You want me to check it out?” Maia asked, nodding at the mess.

I shook my head. “Let’s wait.”

At least the death cries hadn’t summoned any friends. Afrit often moved in packs but this one seemed to be alone. Like the one Callum and I killed in Dockside had been. Weird.

Damon came back to my side. He wrinkled his nose at the smell but smiled at me. “Well, that was exciting. But good job. You, too, Maia.”

“Thanks, boss,” she said.

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