Page 27 of The Monster of Darkspell Comics

Fanny

“ N o, absolutely not.” Pashar growls in offense, though he meekly sits before me as I adjust his costume.

“Come on, don’t be like that. You promised to cooperate. You wanted to know what was in the bag, after all,” I sing out in reminder as I adjust the cheesy, plastic red devil mask on his face. With its cartoon-like appearance and wide smile, it is just the thing that my demon needs.

“It is insulting to demons everywhere,” he complains. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. You look great,” I rush to assure him. “Look at it this way, you can be a demon and not only not terrify every human in the mall but give the fake impression of being friendly and approachable to the children with minimal effort.”

“I will be mocked by demons everywhere,” he hisses, but I huff in amusement at that.

“Oh quit. It’s a family-appropriate costume that you can hide behind. What more do you want? I’m dressed up, too,” I point out, gesturing with my gloved hand at the small red demon horns attached to the red headband on my head that somewhat match the paint coating my face.

“It’s not the same at all,” he grumbles. “You are just wearing color and soft horns. If you are going to torture me, why not provide me with the same costume?”

“I suppose you didn’t catch the part about looking approachable,” I reply dryly.

“I love you, Pashar, but your idea of looking friendly will frighten small children, which is the opposite of what we are trying to do. Besides, you left all the Halloween prep stuff up to me since you didn’t want to deal with it—and this is what you got.

So just relax. Besides, who is going to see you to tell, anyway? ”

“What in Satan’s twisted bowels...” a deep voice booms and I wince as I practically feel Pashar’s annoyance hit the roof with Dzik’s bark of laughter. “That is quite a costume, Pashar,” he chokes out as Kimmy tips her head back and gives the big male a pinched look.

“I think it’s cute,” she says, doing her best to be helpful.

“Oh, it is,” Dzik agrees, his smile growing eviler by the minute.

The exchange hits its mark, and my demon glares, his glowing eyes spitting furiously at Dzik as they narrow dangerously behind the plastic smiling face.

“Shouldn’t you be perched over your hell pit?” Pashar shoots back from behind the mask.

Dzik just chortles, his loud laughter carrying far enough to draw several curious gazes in passing.

“Oh, we haven’t opened yet,” Kimmy chirps cheerfully, her eyes shining as she peers around the shop.

“Dzik’s just taking me around because I wanted to see what everything looks like before we get busy.

This looks great! Like the haunted mansion of some sorcerer whose demons are on the loose,” she adds.

I smile in response, delighted with the compliment. I have to admit—I did a good job. Besides the display at the front, the inside of the shop is littered with fake spiders, plastic pumpkins and cardboard cut-outs of grinning wicked witches posted along the displays and hanging from the ceiling.

“I just do not know why I have to wear anything,” Pashar grumbles. “I can simply adjust my illusion if I must do this.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” I challenge as I pick up the floppy fabric demon tail and give his denim-clad lower body a thoughtful look.

Although it takes a very large size to accommodate his frame, I’m glad that he is at least wearing real clothing today and merely adjusting its appearance for the sake of his illusion.

Given how monstrously huge his true form is, I’m also gratified by the fact that he can compress himself enough so that the size of his illusion is that of a really big man.

It makes my job with this much easier. Plucking up a safety pin, I circle my finger in the air and give him a sweet smile until he begrudgingly gets up from his chair and turns to present his backside to me, his arms crossing over his chest. Dzik ignores his warning glare and laughs even harder at my demon’s indignation.

Even Kimmy can’t quite hold her giggle in as I pin the tail right above where his actual tail is concealed within his pants.

It looks really tiny on him as it flops and dangles with his every movement, not even reaching his knees.

He gives it a disgusted look, missing Kimmy’s apologetic smile as she waves goodbye and practically hauls the snickering demon out with her to see more of the mall.

The trickle of activity is slow, but soon customers are pouring through the shop, many of them stopping to admire the decorations.

Because we have hours yet until Trick or Treat Street is underway, I don’t bother opening the bags of candy I have stashed behind the counters.

I attend to my usual work, my fake tail swinging behind me as I walk.

It must be as distracting visually as it is wearing it because more than once I catch Pashar watching it with obvious interest. It makes me wonder what it would be like to really have a tail.

If I did, how would it feel to have him grab it and give it a tug?

Does he like his tail pulled? I bite my lip as I consider curling my fingers around the base of his long, thick tail and yanking on it. Maybe I will give it a try and see.

As if sensing my thoughts, Pashar looks up from the art he’s carefully enchanting.

His true eyes glow brighter from behind his illusion, and I feel an answering heat rise within me.

We’ve been fooling around quite a bit, working up to the main event, and man am I ready.

I’ve been aching to feel the length of his cock pushing into me.

The lack of penetration is the only thing that has helped Pashar keep his fangs—and subsequently, venom—to himself.

As tempting as it is to just go for the gold and enjoy it, I really want it to be the best end to the spookiest day of the year.

Finish off the holiday in an extra special way.

How many girls can say that they spent their Halloween mating with a demon?

I give Chewy a giddy smile as I feed and water her.

With a fond pat to one of her vines, I continue on my usual route around the shop, straightening here and there, cashing customers out when there’s nothing that requires my immediate attention so that Pashar can continue to work.

We make a good team in every way. Granted, there are a few tense moments when a few flirtatious comments regarding my costume make my demon straighten in his chair, emanating pure violence, but I make it a point then to hurry them along and out of the shop before Pashar explodes.

Despite that, I’m enjoying myself and don’t even mind the fact that I have to touch up my makeup after lunch to repair the small smears around my mouth.

Or that the thick goop itches unpleasantly.

It’s all worth it, especially when the first stream of Trick or Treaters arrives.

Although he grumbles, Pashar doesn’t object when I move his stool from behind the counter to the corner just outside the entrance.

Instead, he picks up the enormous bowl of candy and lowers himself onto the stool as I dole out the treats to the kids who, with a little encouragement from their parents, and more than a little cajoling from me as well, hesitantly make their way to him with wide eyes.

From the first dutifully rumbled “Happy Halloween” from my demon and his deep chuckle at their sudden awe-filled gasps, my already conquered heart melts a little more.

Especially when he goes the extra mile for the littlest among them, I acknowledge as I watch a little girl who can’t be any older than four warily approach us, her hand tucked into her brother’s hand as they follow behind a stream of older kids.

Dressed all in pink like a fairy, she gives Pashar an uncertain look and appears to be on the verge of tears as a little boy dressed as a skeleton walks her up to us.

I wiggle my fingers at her and give her a cheerful smile, but her gaze is fastened entirely on Pashar looming on his chair like a vulture on a perch.

Although having him sit on his stool brings him a little closer to the level of the kids trick or treating, he is admittedly still huge.

So much so that I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even see me.

“Come on, Sally,” the boy murmurs. He sighs and throws back his head with a groan when she whimpers.

“Don’t cry. It’s Halloween, remember? People are just in costumes.

And look, he’s got that big bowl of candy.

You want some, right? Let me show you; it’s simple.

” Striding forward, he holds his bag. “Trick-or-treat.”

Pashar rumbles in approval, keeping it lower than usual so that it doesn’t spook the little one too much as I fetch a handful of candy from the bowl and toss it into the kid’s sack. He turns to the little girl with a triumphant look. “See. Just like that.”

As if on cue, Pashar shakes the bowl in her direction so that the little foiled wrapped pieces rustle together. Her tiny teeth sink into her bottom lip, but she nods and moves closer. Blinking rapidly, she holds up her little bag.

“Twick-o-tweat,” she lisps in a very little voice, her eyes like saucers in her head.

“Happy Halloween, brave little pixie,” my demon murmurs, his voice pitched low in a soft purring sound as her bottom lip wobbles.

She blinks again, her lashes spiky with her unshed tears as she regards him with surprise as he continues to purr. Gradually, the corners of her lips tip and a tiny, watery giggle escapes her.

“Just like a kitty,” she observes.

Pashar nods solemnly. “All the best monsters are,” he assures her. “And all the best do a little magic... just for special pixie princesses.”

Wait, what? I give him a confused look, but he frees one of his hands from the side of the bowl and curls it low in the air between them, spinning shadows and a pearly gray mist gathering between his fingers and palm as tiny fairy lights spring up to zip around before dancing merrily around his hand.

Her little mouth gapes open, and she leans in closer.

The lights make little bell-like sounds as they rise to her, their soft glow illuminating her face and shimmering in her eyes.

I’m pretty sure I am gaping a little as well as I watch the interaction between them.

Pashar is always so utilitarian about his skills.

There is nothing visible to see outside of his art when he is working on a new comic, and his glamour settles around him instantaneously without a lot of fanfare.

This is honestly the most show I’ve ever seen from him.

The fact that he’s doing it for a frightened little girl on her first time out trick-or-treating is the cutest thing ever.

His gaze shifts, his eyes meeting mine, and I swear I see a hint of amusement in those glowing depths that makes me want to screw my face up and stick my tongue out at him to show him that I’m definitely not impressed.

It would be a lie, but I would do it. Except that it would also draw attention to what he’s doing, and it’s obvious that it is meant to be a small thing just for her as her brother digs through his bag.

I give myself a hard mental shake, grab a big handful of candy, and drop it into her bag.

The fairy lights are immediately forgotten and wink out of existence as her head drops to investigate her loot.

A happy squeal leaves her, and she runs over to show her brother her score, our shop left behind as the children hurry off to their next stop.

My demon stares after them for a moment until he realizes that he’s still purring, and the sound cuts off like an engine.

“Not a word of this to anyone,” he grumbles before levying a menacing growl towards a group of teens who grin with delight in response.

“Of course,” I murmur. “A demon enjoying Halloween would be just terrible.”

“I’m not enjoying it,” he denies, but I smirk at the blatant lie in his voice. “Experts say that sugar gives nightmares, so I’m just fueling them and prepping them for their nightmare demons.”

What a load of bull crap. I bite back a laugh because we both know that he would do nothing of the sort if he truly believed that.

“Absolutely. It can’t be for any other reason. If it were, what would the other demons say?”

The look he gives me as the children rush away with their candy is one that promises the best kind of retribution. A punishment I definitely mean to collect.