Page 15 of Lust

“Your name is Yesterday?”

The imp nodded and examined the kitchen.

“I’m Eddie,” she said. It only seemed polite at this point. “And I’m guessing you came through the hell gate.”

“What is this place?” Its eyes locked on the oven.

“It’s a kitchen.” Which probably meant exactly nothing to an imp. “It’s a room in which I make food.”

The imp grunted. “This is a good room.” He sniffed and glared at her. “You smell of rakshasa.”

The name sounded familiar. “Who’s Rakshasa?”

“A demon.” The imp sneered. “A hell guardian knows rakshasa demons.”

From which she gathered there were different types of demons, and that fit with her sketchy mythology knowledge. Whether it was the toad or the grasshopper she wasn’t going to reveal her ignorance. “There have been a couple of…er…demons coming through the hell gate in the last couple of days.”

“Hmm.” Yesterday scratched his horn. “That makes sense.”

“Why?” And should she expect more otherworldly visitors? How to stop them might also be a good piece of information.

It blinked at her. “The gate is open.”

Putting two and two together, because she was quick like that, she linked the open gate with the dreaded Scottish play. “Which is why you came through it?”

“It was open.” The imp shrugged.

A nasty follow-up thought chased through her mind. A grasshopper, a toad, and an imp she could handle, but Dee had always warned her of the apocalyptic consequences of the gate being open, so it stood to reason that there were more threatening things that could come through. Mind like a steel trap, that was her. Dee needed to get her ass off her Alaskan cruise and back here, and close that fucking gate. “We need to close the gate.”

“No problem.” Yesterday sniffed and twitched his ears. “For another of those magic yummies, I can lend you my assistance.”

A peanut butter sandwich to close the hell gate seemed like a hell of a deal to her. Then again, maybe too good of a deal. “Are you lying to me?”

The imp snorted.

Not an answer, but Eddie made another sandwich anyway.

The imp didn’t even chew them. He pointed to her arm. “The rakshasa bit you?”

The wound on her hand was even bigger and red and swollen. “It’s getting worse.”

“Bad.” Yesterday made a clicking sound. “Very bad. Rakshasa bites.”

Her bite looked like it was infected. “What do I do?”

“No problem.” Yesterday blinked. “Rub some salt on it.”

“Salt?” She was thinking more in the antibiotic direction. Then again, didn’t salt block demons and witches and crap?

Yesterday nodded and eyed the bread on the counter.

For a small little bugger, he could pack it away, and Eddie made him another sandwich. Grabbing the box of kosher salt, she poured a handful on her bite.

“Motherfucker!” It stung, like a whole helluva lot, like her leaping around the kitchen and swearing a lot.

Yesterday belched and hopped off his chair. “And now we close the hell gate.”

Well, that was easy.

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