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Chapter 6: My team dances with the devil
Wednesday the 11th of October, 2006 – Shields Crossing, Ontario
“In my defence, in movies, bottles break really easily,” I said feeling sheepish. The bottle just sort of lay there at his feet.
“Did you really think a little holy water would stop the devil?” he asked incredulously. Then he picked up the bottle and unscrewed the cover. An extremely strong smell of olive oil, peppermint, and rosemary permeated the air. What couldn’t be smelled was the purified salt and iron. He laughed and said, “I am not a salad.”
“Oh, it wasn’t for you,” I replied.
“Who—” He turned in time to see Sylvie’s fist.
“Me, you asshole,” she said to punctuate the hit.
I heard his nose break. He dropped the mixture, splashing it on himself. Where the liquid hit him, he burst into flames. The same thing happened when it hit the floor.
For one triumphant moment, I thought we’d won. Then the fire petered out and the devil reappeared next to his own body. He slow-clapped to rub it in and said, “I’m impressed. Beside myself, really.” I ignored his pun. “What was in that?”
“Extra virgin olive oil from the same tree species as the cross of Christ, rosemary oil, peppermint oil, salt, and iron shavings. All of which is blessed by six different religious leaders,” I said with a sigh. It was a sort of catch all, it should slow down ghosts, demons, angels, undead, Fay, and most things considered evil in western mythology.
“Let’s talk business then.” Luc smiled, his mouth looking two sizes too big.
“You forget that you have six knights in front of you,” Clifford quipped and tried to summon his sword. It didn’t work. “Um. Maybe we can negotiate?”
To give the devil his due, he didn’t seem angry and just chuckled. “Enough silliness. Everyone sit down!” His words were a command with magic behind it. The table and chairs all moved to fulfil his will.
Killing him didn’t work. It must be the building that’s the source of the magic, not him, I said to my team in mindspeak. None of them replied.
“Good deduction,” Luc said. “Mindspeak doesn’t work here. Same as your weapons, and any real magic.”
“What do you want?” Sylvie asked, looking ready to punch him again.
“It’s simple, I have something you want and you have something I want.”
“What is that? Our souls?” Sylvie asked sarcastically. When he didn’t correct her, she rolled her eyes and said, “I’m an atheist.”
“Then you’re trading something for nothing.” A flourish of his hand had a contract appear in front of her, along with a comically long feathered pen.
Scoffing, Sylvie replied, “My wife explained to me that there are some actions, especially with magic, where the intent and the willingness to do the action is more important than the consequences. If I sold you my soul, even if there is no such thing, I would still have sold my soul and been willing to sell it. No way am I signing anything you give me.”
Luc squinted at her and said, “Aren’t you a cop?”
“Ex-cop and there’s a reason for that, which I won’t be sharing with the literal devil.”
Flapping his hands dramatically, contracts appeared in front of everyone but Grant.
Mine promised me a life with the woman I loved and the ability to protect the world. It was tempting but my love would have to choose me or it wouldn’t matter. I pushed the contract away.
“What’s the matter Galahad? Not a good enough deal?”
“I’m far from pure and certainly not incorruptible, but your act doesn’t interest me.”
“Well, if I can’t make a deal with you, I’ll make one with one of the others.”
“No!” I ordered. “You have nothing we want other than our freedom.” I started getting up and added, “Your hospitality has been adequate but we must be on our way.” I focused all my energy toward the building in the same way I would for an Aether-creature and I felt the house pushing back.
With a comical pout, Luc said, “You’re free to go then. But this isn’t the end. I will have your souls.” He cackled and the entire house faded away, leaving us shivering in the forest.
“What? That was—” Sylvie started and I cut her off.
“No. Don’t! Just don’t.” I looked around but there was no hint that the area had ever been inhabited by anything bigger than a squirrel.
“Did you take care of whatever was in the caves?”
“Actually, Grant did,” I said.
Sylvie looked him up and down and didn’t say anything. I was having the same doubts that she was but there wasn’t anything I could do about it, yet.
“So was that my quest?” Sylvie asked.
“Let’s head back to the hotel and lick our,” I looked around, “metaphorical wounds and go on from there.”
As I drove the van around the lake and back toward town, I heard Ursula tell Sylvie, “Some people get the sword before their quest, like me. I got the sword two months before anything exciting happened. Others get it after a show of bravery like Albert. And finally others get it in the middle. You’ll know when it’s over. You’ll feel more secure and safe with the sword.”
Sylvie sighed and replied, “It’s not over. There’s something we’re missing.”
I hit the brakes as hard as I could and swore.
In front of the van was something that filled me with terror. Looking at us bewildered was Popeye the Sailor man in glorious two-dimensional animation.
Clifford was the first to echo my sentiment but soon everyone but Sylvie swore in various languages.
“It’s just a cartoon. You took on the devil? What am I missing?”
I was the first to explain, “Cartoon characters follow their own rules. They don’t care about things like real life or physics. They’re made by someone extremely powerful or a full-on rupture of the barrier protecting us from voracity of the Aether.”
“Dramatic much, cuz?”
“He’s saying that either we’re facing a mage of Merlin level or someone destroyed a part of the barrier in one of the places it’s the strongest.” Ursula said.
From outside with a bellowing baritone, Popeye said, “I’m strong to the finish ’cause I eats me spinach,” and flexed his improbably shaped arms before punching down on the front of the van.
Read Chapter 7
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