Page 8 of The Monster of Darkspell Comics

Fanny

B eing a demon’s lackey isn’t quite as terrible as I imagined it would be.

Sure, I get bossed around, but he is also surprisingly protective of me.

Witnessing it in action was far more satisfying than I would have expected.

That’s nothing to complain about. Then there is the fact that when I’m with him, I can go sit in a bar and not worry about random creeps hitting on me.

That’s definitely a bonus. I also can’t complain about the fact that I get fed three square meals during the course of the day.

.. and snacks! The boss is surprisingly big on snacks, and he is always sending me out to fetch something after noticing that I’m not even trying to escape.

As if! It’s hardly a wonder why I’m not trying to find a way to run away.

And it’s not just my upbringing telling me just to pay off my debt.

Actually, it turns out that this is all a pretty sweet deal.

It’s hard to be mad about being a pet when my stomach is full and I’m spending the night curled under a quilt on a fairly nice-looking, if somewhat hard, couch.

It looks a little familiar—like something from the Sears and Roebuck catalog, actually—but that just makes me suspect that most of his furnishings were smuggled straight from the human world.

It makes me wonder what kind of bed he’s going to be digging up for me.

Regardless, it beats anything I’ve had in a while.

I bury my nose beneath its hem and smile.

It has a warm, unidentifiable smell that I really like.

There’s something comforting about it that is just as strange as the fact that, for being in a nightmare demon’s home, I didn’t have a single nightmare last night.

Rather than a den of horrors and nightmares to plague me all night while I’m there.

It’s cozy and reminds me of grandma’s house a little with its delicate tea set on the table in the middle of the room, and the thick quilt currently covering me.

There was even a subtle woody, herby smell that reminded me of incense.

I could contently lie here for another hour or longer except that I can’t ignore the shadow of the demon looming over me.

I peel one eye open to peer up at him questioningly.

“Get up and eat this,” the boss growls.

He throws a brick of what looks like a granola bar onto the coffee table in front of me and I wrinkle my nose in distaste as I sit up. I pick it up with my first finger and thumb and wrinkle my nose in distaste. Again?

“There’s punishment, and then there’s that,” I grumble. “Can’t I get a bowl of cold noodles, left-over pizza, or a pastry? Literally anything but that again.”

He scowls at me and then at the granola from hell. “What is wrong with it? It is full of valuable nutrition. Humans are supposed to like this. I bought an entire case for you.”

I groan quietly to myself. That explains why it has been on the menu every morning.

He bought it for me the way I might buy a bag of cat food.

The gesture is sweet, but I honestly don’t think I can stomach another one.

It looks about as tasty as the blocks of shredded wheat I see on grocery store shelves.

Or that oat bran stuff. Aren’t demons supposed to push sugar and crack?

I scrub my face with both hands and then peer up at him. “I’ll tell you what... you take a bite of it and see if you can tell me why I absolutely can’t eat another one of those things.”

He gives me a skeptical look but shrugs and unwraps it.

Disposing of the little plastic with a flick of his claws that transforms it into a column of mist that gradually disperses, he takes a large bite, crunching down on it.

I lean forward, enjoying the play of emotions on his face as he forces himself to chew and swallow.

“So,” I drawl gleefully, “what do you think?”

His long tongue rolls briefly out of his mouth in an expression of disgust. “I think it tastes like cardboard dressed up with a hint of sweetness. Hurry up and get ready. I will feed you something else. Even one of those sugary pastries if you insist. If nothing else, it will piss Dzik off,” he mutters to himself.

He gives the granola in his hand one last look and shudders before the rest of the bar disappears the same way the plastic wrap had. I watch with fascination. What else can he just disappear?

“Does that little trick work with everything?” I ask.

He gives me a surprised look, and it occurs to me that it was such an unconscious thing for him that he doesn’t even realize that he literally vaporized shit right in front of my eyes.

It was definitely not done to threaten me or to show off his demonic capabilities.

Although I didn’t think that was the case, it is still a relief.

“As long as it’s not a living thing, it works,” he replies. His brows lower in clearly feigned annoyance as he glowers at me. “But just because I cannot turn you into mist doesn’t mean I don’t have other methods of torment, pet. Just keep that in mind.”

I suck in my cheeks, trying not to laugh.

Instead, I nod soberly as I get up and head to the bathroom with a fresh change of clothes to wear.

Much to my surprise, the boss has not only provided these, but has managed to make several changes of clothing magically appear.

Quite literally by magic. Perhaps even by similar methods he used when he made things just disappear into mist, since they are the exact carbon copies of the clothes I had soiled previously.

But all the same, still very welcome. They even have the same worn, comfy feeling when they slide on.

As promised, the boss buys me a couple of donuts to keep me contently fed once we enter the mall through the mirror.

As the food court opens earlier for the breakfast rush, I’m happily munching on my food as the boss prepares the shop for opening.

He is so quick about it that I’m licking the last bit of frosting off my fingers when he gets the till set up in the register and heads to the door to hit the open sign.

We fall into our usual pattern. He spends the earliest part of the morning pretending not to hover as he drifts around the shop while I tidy the place up.

It’s always a temptation to touch the comics, so I don’t bother restraining myself so long as I don’t touch any of them individually for very long.

I’ve become comfortable enough with handling them that the boss no longer appears worried while he covertly watches me.

Eventually he drifts back to his little corner, but that sense of rightness continues to flow through the air all around me.

It’s such a comfortable routine that it doesn’t take me long to start singing along to the tunes blasting through the shop.

He doesn’t even look up now when I start singing.

Instead, his mouth curves a little as his hidden claws beat a rhythm on the table in time to the music while he works.

We get a few stragglers who come in throughout the morning, but the first rush doesn’t hit until pretty close to noon.

With the rush, he rises from his table with a stretch and works the floor while I man the register.

We make a pretty good team, and I’m only a little dismayed when he slips away afterward, leaving me alone in the shop.

I shrug to myself. It’s his vacation. I can’t be very miffed about it, I suppose, if he is amusing himself cruising around the rest of the mall or something.

I lean over the top of the counter, resting my elbows on it as I prop my chin between my hands.

Being alone in the shop when it’s slow kind of sucks.

The music is choice, but there’s little for me to do when everything is put away and there are no customers in sight.

I need to find a good bookstore or something.

I sigh heavily, my mind wandering, but I’m saved by the series of different sized bells hung devilishly over the door clanging discordantly together as a customer comes in.

I turn to greet them, and my eyebrows raise.

What on earth is this guy doing here? Although he is dressed in slacks and a jacket obviously meant to disguise his physique with an impression of something lankier, it’s failing spectacularly.

Clark Kent he is not, though he’s definitely trying, right down to the pair of thick-rimmed spectacles perched on his nose.

Dude is way out of place. Even the way he looks around the store is not with the enthusiasm of someone with a passion for comics.

His expression appears almost vacant until his gaze falls on Chewy.

And he’s heading right for her! Crap!

Dropping my load of comics at the nearest surface, I grab her spray bottle to make it look like I’m already heading in that direction for a reason and immediately hurry over and set myself in his path before he can get within spitting distance of her.

Whether he’s from the town or not, he’s definitely not “local” when it comes to goings on of this particular shop, or privy to what is lurking here.

As he obviously doesn’t even belong here, it’s a huge red flag that he’s likely up to no good.

Which is pretty dumb in this place. I may have been brought into indentured servitude for my transgression, but I don’t want to find out what the boss will do to me if someone gets eaten on my watch. Time to save the tourist.

Having some practice with pick-pocketing when necessity demands it, it isn’t too hard to make our collision seem entirely accidental.

My shoulder bumps into his chest as I intersect with just enough force that he instinctively stops and drops back several steps, a meaningless apology dropping from his lips as he blinks down at me.

I feign a look of surprise as I stumble back as if set completely off balance.

Maybe I missed my calling—I could have been an actress. Molly Ringwald, eat your heart out.

“Sorry about that,” he says with a feigned joviality that immediately sets my teeth on edge. He reminds me of my second uncle during New Year’s family gatherings whenever he showed up with empty hands and high expectations of welcome.

“No sweat, Space Needle. I didn’t see you there,” I reply after making a production of recovering my composure, and beam cheerfully up at him. “Can I help you find anything?”

He peers down at me, his brow knitting faintly, but he shakes his head and his gaze shifts back to Chewy. “I’m actually just passing through the area. With a name like Death Canyon City, it’s hard not to stop and explore a bit. That fern, though, is something else.”

I nod to myself. That makes sense. It’s what made me venture into town rather than try my luck seeing how far I could get on the bus. Death Canyon City has an allure that is hard to resist.

“I think it’s some kind of exotic species.

I’m not sure. It belongs to the boss, and he’s massively anal about not wanting anyone touching it,” I say, gesturing to the signs.

“As for the town, I’m pretty new here, myself, but from what I’ve seen, the entire place is deadly to the max.

Check out The Vulture’s Nest if you want some epic-level grub and drinks.

The atmosphere there is excellent. There is also Reaper’s Leap.

I hear it has a bodacious view of the canyon.

I haven’t been yet, but it’s been highly recommended. ”

Better that he takes himself there rather than try anything weird here. He is way too interested in this shop, but especially Chewy. Far too much for my comfort.”

“Reaper’s Leap, huh?” he says, his lips twitching faintly as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I will go check it out, thanks... uh...”

“Sharon,” I lie. Dude gives me major creeps; there’s no way I’m giving him my actual name. “You might find it a bit more entertaining than a comic book shop. We don’t really indulge in the touristy hype here, I’m afraid.”

“Thanks, Sharon. I’ll be back,” he says, and my skin crawls at the promise in his voice.

I shudder a little as he leaves, and I feel a tickle around my ankle.

I glance down to see one of Chewy’s long, thornless vines curling around my ankle.

I didn’t realize that I was that close. For a moment, my chest squeezes anxiously until I notice that the touch of the frond is whisper-soft.

I regard the vine as it strokes over my skin almost lovingly before retreating.

Turning, I peer back at the plant and notice several of her heads peeking through the fronds.

“Don’t worry, Chewy, I’ve got your back,” I say quietly, and several of her soft, fuzzy vines curl in something vaguely resembling heart shapes around her.

I’m not sure if it’s intentional or not, but I smile.

Somehow, I think I just made friends with a demonic fern.

“Are you thirsty?” I ask, picking up her spray bottle.

Her numerous mouths open eagerly in reply, and I spritz, giggling quietly to myself. I know she’s dangerous. I’ve seen her thorny vines sneak out more than once when customers ventured a teeny bit too close, but I think she just might love me.

Having something terrifying love you isn’t exactly a terrible thing in my book.