Page 22

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“N ow it feels like everything’s back to normal," Cody said, looking around Margie's Diner with newfound appreciation. It was Monday evening, and he was unemployed, again, but he was back inside his own body, and Margie’s was there for them, like always. The familiar smells of burgers and fries felt almost sacred.

Demmy smiled from across the booth. "Is it weird that I sort of expect to see myself when I look at you?”

“A little, but I get it. It was weird being shorter. How do you manage looking up at everyone all the time?"

"I'm five-ten. That's average height. Not everyone's a walking redwood."

"Average is just another word for short.” Cody winced when Demmy kicked him under the table.

The diner was busy for a Monday. Couples and families took up nearly every booth and table. A warm feeling of contentment had settled within his chest over the weekend. It was like the amazing date he’d had with Demmy on Friday had been the pin he’d needed to pop the bubble of grief wedged inside him. Hopefully, contentment might shift into a bit of happiness at some point.

Margie herself had returned to her regular schedule, barely missing a beat after taking part in the ritual. She'd brought them their iced teas earlier, giving them a smile before heading off to handle the dinner rush. She was walking with a slight limp from a pulled muscle when they’d all been knocked to the ground during the ritual, but otherwise, she seemed fine.

"Jugs said he wants to have a party next weekend," Demmy said, scrolling through his phone. "To celebrate not being possessed or killed by a demon."

"Hard to put that on the invitation," Cody said.

"You thinking about going?"

Cody shrugged. "Yeah, maybe. If it doesn't conflict with my busy schedule of unemployment and existential dread."

Demmy reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Hey, we'll figure it out. We always do."

The bell above the diner door jingled, and Cody looked around. His hand tensed under Demmy's when he saw who had entered.

"Is that...?" Cody said.

“The city manager, Morton Whitfield.”

“Pain in our ass," Cody muttered. “He going to give us another year until we can get our license back?”

“I hope not. Maybe he’s meeting someone for dinner.”

Morton stood just inside the entrance, scanning the diner with nervous energy. He clutched a leather portfolio to his chest like a shield and kept adjusting his glasses with his free hand. He'd always been a nervous guy, prone to rapid blinking and stammering when stressed, but today he looked like he might vibrate right out of his khakis.

When he spotted them, his eyes widened, and he made a beeline for their booth.

"Great," Cody said under his breath. "Just what we need."

"Be nice.” Demmy gave his hand one final squeeze before pulling away. "He's probably traumatized after what happened to the mayor."

Cody snorted. “He should have been ringside for it."

Morton reached their table, hovering awkwardly. "Mr. Bower. Mr. Singleton. Good evening."

"It's Bower-Singleton now," Cody corrected, more out of habit than any real annoyance. "Been that way for a while."

"Oh! Yes, of course. My apologies." Morton adjusted his glasses again. "May I join you?"

Cody was about to say they were expecting their food any minute when Demmy said, "Of course. Please, sit down."

Morton slid into the booth beside Demmy, who scooted over to make room. The city manager placed his portfolio on the table and folded his hands on top of it, a strangely formal gesture.

"I've been looking for you," Morton said. "I tried your home, but there was no answer.”

“That’s because we weren’t there,” Cody said.

“Yes, of course.” Morton nodded and a smile flickered briefly before winking out.

"Is something wrong?" Demmy asked, his voice gentle, always the diplomat.

"No! No, not at all." Morton laughed nervously. "Quite the opposite, actually."

He opened his portfolio and withdrew an official-looking envelope with the city seal.

"As you may have heard, following the… unfortunate passing of Mayor Henderson, the city council has appointed me as interim mayor until the special election."

Cody hadn't heard that. He'd been deliberately avoiding news about anything related to demon possessions or dead politicians.

"Congratulations," Demmy said. "That's a big responsibility."

Morton's cheeks flushed with pride. "Thank you. I'm still getting used to the idea myself." He winced and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Of course, I would have preferred it to be under less, shall we say, tragic circumstances.”

“Of course,” Cody said.

Morton gave a single nod, then slid the envelope across the table toward him. "One of my first official acts was to review certain legal and municipal decisions made by the administration. Specifically, the termination of your business license for Critter Catchers."

Cody's pulse quickened. After a glance at Demmy, who looked equally surprised, he picked up the envelope.

"Go ahead, open it," Morton urged.

Cody tore open the envelope, half expecting to find another summons or fine. Instead, he pulled out an official document with the city seal emblazoned at the top: a business license for Critter Catchers Animal Control, LLC, dated for the following week.

“Is this for real?" he said.

"I took the liberty of expediting the reinstatement. The council and Judge Wichita agreed unanimously that your service to the community warranted special consideration. Especially in light of, well, recent events."

"Recent events," Cody repeated flatly. "You mean the witch that released a demon who then possessed a tree, the mayor, and a few other folks?"

Morton’s glasses slipped down his nose again. "Yes, well, we're not putting it quite that way in the official record. But essentially, yes."

Demmy leaned forward. "This is incredibly generous, Mr. Whitfield?—"

"Morton, please."

"Morton. So we don’t have to reapply for our business license at all?"

“That’s correct. All of that has been preapproved. Consider it a token of the city's appreciation." Morton reached into his portfolio again and produced another envelope, this one thicker. "Which brings me to the second reason for my visit."

This time he handed the envelope to Demmy, who opened it carefully. His eyes went wide.

"This is a check," Demmy said, his voice barely audible. "For ten thousand dollars."

Cody nearly choked on his tea. "What?"

"A settlement," Morton clarified. “And another token of thanks.”

“That’s a hell of a thank you note,” Cody said, reaching for the check.

“Consider it an apology for the previous termination of your business license, as well as a small token of appreciation for the suffering and sacrifice you’ve experienced as you continue to keep our town safe from… undesirables.”

“Undesirables?” Cody repeated, making a face. Demmy took the check back and stared at it as if he expected it to vanish in his hands.

Morton leaned in and lowered his voice. “Not just the witch and the demon, but the werewolves and the zombies and the vampires.”

“Don’t forget the shape shifting water sprite,” Demmy said.

“I hadn’t heard about that one.”

“You’re better off not knowing,” Cody said. “But for future safety, if you’re having doubts someone is really who they are, just look at them and say ‘nix.’”

“Nix?”

“Right. If they react as if it hurts, get the hell away from them.”

“I see.” Morton sat back and looked between them again. “You two have been through quite a lot, haven’t you?”

Cody met Demmy’s eyes and smiled. All they’d endured and triumphed over hung between them. And, he realized with surprise, he wouldn’t change most of it.

“Yeah,” Cody said. “We have.”

“Well, on behalf of the entire town, we thank you.” Morton gestured to the check. “It’s not much, but we found a bit of surplus in the budget.”

“All those paychecks you’re no longer writing for a DPW crew?” Cody said.

"I don't know what to say," Demmy said quickly, shifting Morton’s attention from Cody’s statement.

"'Thank you' would suffice," Morton suggested with a nervous smile.

"Thank you," they both said automatically.

Morton nodded, clearly relieved he had accomplished his mission. He stood abruptly, the table wobbling slightly and nearly spilling their teas. "Well, I should let you enjoy your dinner. The paperwork is all in order. Your license will be effective next Monday, though I understand you may need time to reestablish your operation."

He extended his hand first to Demmy, then to Cody. His grip was surprisingly firm.

"Parson's Hollow needs you," he said, his voice carrying an unexpected weight. "Both of you." Then, with a final nod, he hurried out of the diner, nearly colliding with Margie as she approached with their food.

"Was that Morton Whitfield?" Margie asked, setting down their plates—a turkey club for Demmy, a double bacon cheeseburger for Cody.

"Interim Mayor Whitfield now, apparently," Demmy said.

“Oh, I’d heard that,” Margie said, shaking her head. “This town." She nodded toward the envelopes on the table. "Good news?"

Demmy held up the business license. "We're back in business."

Margie's face split into a wide grin. "Well, it's about damn time! This town needs you boys." She glanced over her shoulder at the busy diner. "Gotta run, but your meal's on the house today. Consider it a welcome back gift."

She hurried off before they could protest, leaving them staring at each other across the table.

"Did that just happen?" Cody asked.

Demmy nodded slowly, his eyes bright. "I think it did."

Cody looked down at his burger, then at the business license, then the check. "Ten thousand dollars."

"And our business back."

They sat in stunned silence for a moment.

"We should call people," Cody said. “Jugs. Amelia. Dave and Ollie."

"In a minute," Demmy said, pulling out his phone. “There’s one call I want to make right away.”

He scrolled and tapped, then held the phone to his ear. Cody took the opportunity to take a bite of his burger. It tasted better than ever.

“Hi, is this Rachel White?” Demmy said. “This is Demetrius Bower-Singleton. I’m calling about the office space for lease out on Route 118, in the Crossroads Commons strip mall." He paused, listening. "Yes, that’s the one. Right, we did own the lease at one point. Is it still available?"

Cody's heart skipped a beat as he watched him. A rush of excitement went through him, and he felt the sudden urge to jump out of the booth and shout for joy. Could they really get it all back?

"Excellent," Demmy continued. “I’d like to discuss leasing it again, but I think we’d like to rework some of the terms. Yeah? Great. Okay, I’ll see you out there tomorrow. Thanks!"

He hung up and looked at Cody, a mix of excitement and nervousness on his face. "I still have the key to the back door. We left in such a hurry I didn’t have time to hide it again.”

Cody shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “Amazing."

“Sorry, I just went ahead and did that without discussing it first. Are you mad?"

"Mad?" Cody laughed. "Demmy, you just got us our office back before I even had time to process that we have our business back."

"So, that's a no?"

Cody reached across the table and took his hand. "That's definitely a no."

Demmy visibly relaxed. "Good. Because I was thinking we could maybe eat our dinner there? Kind of christen the place?"

That was how, twenty minutes later, they found themselves parking in the alley behind their old office space. Demmy unlocked the steel back door with the key as Cody held the bag with their takeout containers. Demmy pulled the door open, and they stepped into their old office, soon to be their new office once again. The space was exactly as they'd left it a week ago: dusty, empty except for the card table and two folding chairs. A gentle scent of burned sage hung in the air from the hex bag that had caught fire, but there’d been no other physical damage from it, not even a scorch mark on the carpet.

"Home sweet home," Cody said, looking around.

Demmy smiled. “Yeah. It needs a good cleaning, but it’s perfect.” He looked at him. “Do you think Jugs might want his job back?”

“Pretty sure he will,” Cody said.

“Good.” Demmy looked around again. “We should probably get a security system this time."

"And holy water sprinklers," Cody suggested. "Silver-lined doorframes. Garlic in the flowerpots."

Demmy laughed. "Let's start with the desks and the chairs."

"We should call people," Cody said, walking into the break room to set the bag of food on the counter. But he made no move for his phone.

"Tomorrow," Demmy replied, taking the containers from the bag. "Tonight's just for us."

He faced Cody, and something in his expression made Cody's breath catch. Even after all these years together, after everything they'd been through, Demmy could still look at him like he hung the moon. He’d never felt so adored, so loved.

Cody closed the distance between them in two strides, cupping Demmy's face in his hands. "Have I told you lately that I love you?"

“Feels like it’s been forever," Demmy said, sliding his arms around Cody's waist.

"I love you," Cody said, leaning down to kiss him.

It was a soft kiss, gentle at first, then deepening as Demmy pulled him closer. When they finally pulled apart, both slightly breathless, Demmy smiled up at him. "Food's getting cold."

"I don't care," Cody murmured, but released him anyway.

They ate standing at the counter, too wired to sit, too excited to do anything but exchange glances and small, private smiles between bites. The food was good, but the company was better. For the first time in a long while, Cody felt hopeful. Light. Like maybe the universe wasn't out to get them after all.

"It's going to be great," Demmy said, wadding up his napkin and tossing it into the empty takeout container.

Cody followed him out of the break room and looked around the empty office, with its bare walls and newly installed industrial carpet. He thought about all the monsters they'd faced, all the times they'd nearly died—the times they actually had—and all the moments of fear and uncertainty. And then he looked at Demmy, standing there with that determined gleam in his eye, already planning their future.

"No," Cody said, surprising himself with the certainty in his voice. "It's going to be better."

And for once, he actually believed it.