Page 9 of The Monster of Darkspell Comics

Pashar

H aving a human pet is actually quite nice, I decide. Sadly, I can’t keep calling her “pet” or “human” without rousing suspicions among those running the mall. I’ve caught Kremble eyeing my shop more than once as she makes her rounds preparing for something called Trick or Treat Street.

I squint at the flyer she gave me to pin on the board behind my counter while my pet straightens up after the last slew of customers. I do not understand. The instructions are to don a costume and give unhealthy quantities of sugar to human offspring?

“Human, come here and take a look at this,” I snap, drawing my pet’s attention to me.

Her dark brows lower as she puts the last comic book on the shelf and heads toward me. It has only been a few days, but she has lost most of her fear of me, much to my dismay. Instead, she has been showing an increasing amount of irreverence and attitude that I plan on curtailing.

“Since there appears to be no end in sight of you ordering me around, you could just use my name,” she grumbles. “Like I told you four hours ago when ‘pet’ got old.”

I frown as I promptly lose my train of thought. She did?

“Remind me.”

I’m rewarded with the exaggerated roll of her eyes that is as annoying as it is ridiculously amusing. “Fanny,” she huffs and leans forward to peer at the flyer behind me, her ass tipping in the air.

I stare at its delectable curve, my tongue snaking over my lips as I imagine sinking my teeth right into it. And then blink.

“Fanny?” What a peculiar name.

She shoots me a sharp look, the long tail of her gathered curls grazing my arm with the turn of her head.

Her lithe, little body is suspended over the counter so close to me that it would take little to no effort to pull her toward me—or push her over onto her ass, however the impulse at the moment drives me.

“Yes,” she bites out. “As in a fanny, and if you think you have any lame butt jokes, I’ve heard them all. It’s short for Francine, but I can’t stand that name either,” she grumbles, her attention returning to the flyer.

The annoyance on her face shifts to one of curiosity, and I eye her, trying not to enjoy the natural perfume of her body mixed with whatever annoyingly sweet substance she seems to be constantly chewing.

“Oh.”

I hadn’t been aware of it before, but now I’m intrigued with the way her face has turned red. I can feel the smile pulling my lips and my tail twitching with maniacal amusement.

Her slender finger shoots up in warning, and she drops to her feet. “Don’t even think of it. If you can’t be nice, I’ll get you back.”

Bah! I would like to see that. I regard her silently, weighing the matter, and then snort with amusement. “There is nothing you can do to ridicule Pashar.”

Her brow furrows. “What the hell is a pashar?”

“It’s not a what,” I bark, incensed. Hasn’t she ever heard of any good, respectable demon names? I’m the fourth in my line to be rewarded with such a distinguished name for my incredible skill at terrifying mortals and all other beings susceptible to nightmares. “It’s my name, diminutive female.”

“Your name, huh?” She crosses her arms over her chest and regards me for a long moment before making a derisive sound of amusement. “Okay, I give. I’ve got nothing.”

“Give what?” I eye her suspiciously.

Her lips twitch. “Give up. As in, you win.”

I scoff as I give her my back and peer at the confounded paper once again. “Of course, I do. I’m a demon.”

A scowl pulls at my face as the strange cheerful smile on the gourde in the picture mocks me. “But this,” I growl, waving a hand at the flyer, “I don’t understand.”

Fanny’s smile rivals that of an imp. “I thought you were a know-it-all demon. Don’t tell me that you don’t know what trick-or-treating is? Does Halloween ring a bell?”

I sniff disdainfully, my wings folding together against me beneath the illusion spell.

“Some ridiculous human tradition, no doubt. I have some vague memories of humans celebrating a holy All Hallows Day.” I don’t recall that being much in the way of actual fun or having anything to do with the projected merriment suggested on the flyer.

She widens her eyes with a look of surprise. “You really don’t know what Halloween is? Oh, you’re in for a treat!”

Somehow, I doubt that. My doubts are largely confirmed when Fanny gives me a quick run-down on the festivities.

As if moving on their own accord, my arms cross over my chest as I pin her with a glare.

I’m privately amused by the way she throws her hands up in the air and huffs at me in response, but I wrestle it down so that my expression doesn’t crack.

“How can you, a demon who peddles horror comic books, not like Halloween?” she finally asks with an air of complete disbelief.

I give a taciturn grunt in response. Truthfully, the administrator’s idea doesn’t sound half bad.

Especially if the large plastic skeletons that I can see the administrator struggling to haul through the mall are any indication of how it is going to be decorated.

More skeletons, monsters, and horrors of all types are always better.

I can see the night being very lucrative, too, if the swarm of small children doesn’t scare away my usual sort of clientele.

What use do I have of extra children roaming around the mall?

Unlike some of my brethren, I hold myself to higher standards when it comes to my victims.

“First, my nightmares are made expressly for adults . Second... I don’t have much experience with children,” I admit with a grumble.

The idea of having to interact with a large number of them makes me feel as if I’m on the brink of breaking out in hives, complete with festering colonies of stinging wasp-like parasites.

Fanny’s mouth downturns, her head tipping to the side. “I would think that a nightmare demon would be someone pretty familiar with children. Doesn’t the nightmares of children make up most of your business?”

“For some,” I agree, my tone turning sour as I move away, determined to find something for my pet to do.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t give up so easily. She scampers after me, her dark eyes lit up with delighted curiosity. “You don’t scare children, do you? Holy cow! This is totally rad. A demon with a soft spot for children.”

“I didn’t say that either,” I sharply rebuke. I have no idea what “rad” is, but I’m quite certain that’s an insult. “Don’t go putting words in my mouth.”

“You do realize that we’re going to have to wear costumes, right?

” she sing-songs behind me, obviously taking far too much joy in my predicament.

“We will have to do something really gnarly, but not super scary. We can do a matchy thing. It will be the perfect way to introduce you to the Halloween spirit... and kids!” She lets out a gleeful giggle that is just on the verge of being a demon-worthy cackle.

I have a sneaking suspicion that she knows how much the prospect of being surrounded by children terrifies me. It’s kind of cute that she wishes to honor me with a good scare. Cute, but not going to happen.

Grumbling, I toss a few dollars in her direction onto the counter to distract her.

Might as well let her get out and find something else to entertain herself with for a while.

“Time for lunch. Go get me a couple mustard wieners from The Good Char. Extra honey mustard. Get something for yourself, just do yourself a favor and grab a bite somewhere else.”

She looks at the money in surprise. “You’re actually letting me go out and get it?”

“You are my servant, not the other way around. It occurs to me that it’s time to actually start putting you to better use than playing around the shop. Just mind my advice.”

She nods mutely as she straightens the cash and pockets it. I give her one last casual glance before turning my attention back to the nefarious flyer. If she doesn’t follow my advice, then that isn’t my problem. She’s been sufficiently warned.