Page 10 of The Monster of Darkspell Comics
“Closing time,” Pashar announces as he turns off the neon “open” sign.
“Already?” I look up at him curiously and then check my watch. Sure enough. The day passed quicker than I had expected. Raising my hands over my head, I give my shoulders and back a good stretch as I consider the night ahead of us. “It’s Sunday night and we are off weekend opening hours tomorrow, so what should we do?”
He squints at me as if perplexed by my question. “Whatever the hell I want. It’s my vacation. You’re just the unfortunate passenger.”
“Your vacation?” I echo as I drop my hands. I’m not even ready to touch the “unfortunate passenger” bit just yet. “But you’re working. You are running this entire store. What kind of vacation is that?”
“One that keeps me from getting bored,” he grumbles. “I don’t have to open it if there is something else that I want to do. But I like what I do, and it’s far more relaxing that my usual gig.”
Plaguing people with nightmares. I remember. I roll my eyes before I can stop myself and give him a pointed look. “Okay, tourist from hell, what’s the plan?”
That same uncertain look comes to his face as if he hadn’t really thought that far ahead. “Maybe we will just go back to my abode where I can work in peace, and—”
“You can’t be serious. You’re ademon. Aren’t you supposed to be ready to go out and party and cause mischief... something! Here you’ve been working all day on your illustrations, perhaps fielding one or two customers, while I’ve been dealing with the majority of the traffic and ringing everyone up... and you want to workmore? No offense, but that’s lame. You have a more annoying work ethic than myparents, and that’s saying something.”
“Maybe I want to clean—”
“Lame,” I challenge again with a grin.
“You didn’t even let me finish,” he snarls. “There’s nothing wrong with spending quiet night at home with a glass of—”
“Lame,” I repeat, louder.
His brows slant sharply as he scowls at me. “What happened to quivering in terror and trying to preserve your pitiful existence?”
I shrug. “Don’t get me wrong, as a demon you are terrifying, but—” I trail off, uncertain if I should really say more. Respecting my elders has been deeply ingrained since birth, and as old as he likely is, he is way up there. I don’t really want to offend him.
“But what?” he demands.
Well, if he insists.
“You run a comic book store, for starters. That would level you down to a nerd in most social circles.” I immediately lift my hands in a pacifying gesture as his eyes narrow on me. “Don’t get me wrong, comic books are much loved—hell, I love them. It’s just not... scary.”
“I told you—these are not comic books; they are one-of-a-kind issues, each made woven with very unique enchantments,” he grumbles as he picks up the volume on the nearest shelf. He trails his fingers down the cover lovingly. “As you may recall, they literally drag the humans kicking and screaming intothem. That requires some highly specialized work. Each one is a carefully crafted predator lying in wait for its perfect prey.”
I raise my eyebrows at the comic book. Though I recall my own experiences all too well, I didn’t realize that they required that much detailed artisanal work. I figured it was just a random spell that did it all. “That’s pretty gnarly,” I admit. “So that’s what you are doing when you are doodling all day. Totally choice... but it doesn’t really makeyouscary.” I give him an apologetic smile. “Then there is the fact that you just act far too normal. You eat corn dogs for lunch and dote on a giant houseplant. It doesn’t exactly scream ‘intimidating.’”
“I do notdoteon that infernal monstrosity.”
He says that with so much loathing and venom that I’m almost convinced. That is until he grabs the spritzer and begins to liberally mist the fern. I grin as I watch, and his shoulders come up defensively. A darkness seems to gradually gather in the atmosphere around him as I stare, and I’m pretty sure I can see all of his insane monstery parts from the back through whatever illusion he’s wearing.
“I’m not doting,” he suddenly growls over his shoulder. “Chewy just needs regular misting as the store doesn’t contain the thick fog that encases the nightmare realm at night. It’s simply something that she needs.”
“Totally,” I agree, trying not to laugh.
He squints at me suspiciously as he gives Chewy a few more spritzes before finally setting the bottle aside. Crossing his muscular arms over his chest, he gives me a thoughtful look. “Perhaps I should get out there a bit more and see what other amusements this place has.”
“Considering the city’s name, I can’t imagine why not,” I reply drily. If nothing else, the entire Death Canyon Valley seems to play with a theme that promises to deliver on high expectations for the unusual.
“And I suppose you have an idea?” he grumbles.
“As it happens, I do!” I grin with excitement as I retrieve a flyer I found from my back pocket and present it to him.
He glowers down at it for a minute, his brow puckering slightly in confusion. “Lunatic Roller Rink—come have a howling good time. What in the name of the dark lord isthat?”
I gasp in shock. With all the human things Pashar has padded his nest with, it didn’t occur to me that maybe he is a bit out of the loop on the regular stuff. He certainly looked disgusted enough at my grape Bubble Yum as if it were some kind of capital offense putting it in my mouth. He feigned gagging more than once over the course of the day whenever I’ve popped a fresh piece.
“Fuck me! You’ve never roller skated?”
