Few Are Chosen

Riptide Publishing PO Box 6652 Hillsborough, NJ 08844 http://www.riptidepublishing.com This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Few Are Chosen Copyright © 2011 by Storm Grant Cover Art by L.C. Chase, http://lcchase.com/design.htm Editors: Rachel Haimowitz and Kate McMurray Layout: L.C. Chase, http://lcchase.com/design.htm All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, at Riptidepublishing.com, or at [email protected]. ISBN: 978-1-937551-22-3 First edition February, 2012 ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: We thank you kindly for purchasing this title. Your non-refundable purchase legally allows you to replicate this file for your own personal reading only, on your own personal computer or device. Unlike paperback books, sharing ebooks is the same as stealing them. Please do not violate the author’s copyright and harm their livelihood by sharing or distributing this book, in part or whole, for fee or free, without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner. We love that you love to share the things you love, but sharing ebooks—whether with joyous or malicious intent—steals royalties from authors’ pockets and makes it difficult, if not impossible, for them to be able to afford to keep writing the stories you love. Piracy has sent more than one beloved series the way of the dodo. We appreciate your honesty and support.

Sparks fly between virgin teenage demon hunters when the Chosen One turns out to be the Chosen . . . Two? Apprentice warrior Blake St. Blake is the Chosen One, raised by an ancient order to defend the world against evil. Well, maybe not the whole world, but at least his neighborhood in downtown Detroit. When a dreaded reflux demon is sighted in a local cemetery, Blake is sent off to his very first battle, armed with his sword, his super-senses, his black leather duster, and a few well-rehearsed oneliners. But another Chosen One gets in Blake’s way—an apprentice wizard named Shadow. While the boys argue about who’s the more chosen of the two, the demon escapes. Blake wants to be angry, but it turns out he and Shadow have a lot in common. Besides, Shadow’s pretty cute, and Blake can’t help but think that the wizard’s skills (and hands and lips and other bits) might make the perfect complement to his. Blake and Shadow are brave enough to challenge the reflux demon in a second battle, but will they have the courage to tell each other how they feel?

hading my eyes against the moonlight and streetlamps, I deliberately dilated my pupils, searching the dark cemetery for movement. Or glowing eyeballs. On my twenty-fourth sweep, I saw it: a creature moving between the headstones, barely a shadow amongst shadows. “Time to man up,” I said aloud. My balls had another idea, though, and tried to retreat to their place of origin at the thought of facing my first demon. “This is excitement, not fear,” I told them. “The thrill of the chase. It’s what you—I’ve—been training my whole life for.” I took a deep, centering breath as my mentor had taught me. It worked. My heartbeat slowed, my breathing evened, and my balls descended. I was ready to go find me some demon. Shunning the elevator I had ridden up to the rooftop, I spread my leather duster like the wings of a bat and sailed gracefully to the street three stories below. My landing, however, was less than graceful. I sprawled on my ass in the middle of the street and lay where I’d fallen, wind knocked from my lungs. Behind me, lights caught my attention, and I leaped for the sidewalk as a speeding taxi gunned directly at me. A minion of evil, no doubt sent by my enemies. He pulled abreast of me and signaled before pulling away. I returned his one-fingered salute and focused my attention on the greater foe. I set off for the cemetery, leather duster swirling about my legs as I strode through the deserted streets. Having reached the locked, spike-topped gates of the graveyard, I turned southward and circled the perimeter. I ran a hand through my curls, smoothing them into place after my crappy landing. My

hair was medium ash blond this week, with electric blue streaks that looked awesome in the right light. I located the break in the cemetery wall and squeezed through, vowing to give up pizza pockets for a month. Once inside, I froze in place, surveying the houses of the dead and their pale markers. The night seemed to grow darker still. A cool breeze brushed my cheek, which was refreshing since a leather coat really wasn’t summer-wear. Still, the coat was de rigueur. I’d say all the cool demon hunters wore them, except I was, of course, the only one. All the prophecies said so. I’ve been training for this day as long as I can remember. I am the single line of defense between the sleeping innocents of Detroit who believe themselves safe in their beds at night, and the Hell spawn that rise to slay them all. It is my destiny to— A tinkly version of the theme from the Lord of the Rings jerked me from my reverie. Drawing my iPhone from my pocket, I pressed the answer icon. “Talk to me.” The phone sighed, or rather Hadley, my mentor, did. Or maybe it was just a bad connection. “Blake?” “Yeah, sir.” “Are you in position yet?” “I’m inside the hallowed ground now. I have yet to locate the target.” “Well, be careful then. Oh, and if you pass a convenience store on your way home, we’re out of pizza pockets.” “But sir, I’m on my first big mission. I can’t go to 7-Eleven.” How dare he sully my noble mission with something as mundane as pizza pockets? But my stomach rumbled loudly at the thought, and I had to admit a pizza pocket would’ve gone pretty good right about now. “Stop whining. It’s unbecoming. If you don’t want to stop for pizza pockets, then don’t, but don’t look at me when the freezer’s empty. Now, be alert and stay safe. This is just a fact-finding mission.

Don’t forget that. Do not engage the demon. And remember; let’s be careful out there.” He always ended with that line which I’d been disgusted and disillusioned to learn came from an ’80s TV show. Couldn’t he be more original? Witty lines were the stock-in-trade of a good warrior. He should’ve been helping me hone my wit as well as my wits. Oh, good one. I’ll have to remember that one for next time. Although he couldn’t see me, I nodded solemnly. “As you wish,” I said, breaking the connection and setting the phone to vibrate before returning it to my pocket. My stomach rumbled again. And then there was another rumble, off to my left. So, not my traitorous belly, then. I turned my head toward the sound. Not just the rustling of a squirrel or raccoon, but the rumbling, snorting, and wheezing of a demon! Crouching low, I followed the noise toward the huge mausoleum in the middle of the graveyard. A massive demon stood before the crypt. It was like no demon I’d ever seen before. Okay, I’d never seen one alive before. The tomes and scrolls I’d studied did not do justice to my evil foe in the flesh. Its eyes bulged from its toad-like head, which swiveled about, searching for prey. I stepped further back into the shadows. It sniffed at the air, its noseless nostrils hairy and moist. Where its bare flesh poked out of its clothing, its pink skin rippled as if walnut-sized parasites roamed beneath it. It raised a giant ax. For a moment I thought the ax was its hand, until the clouds drifted aside and moonlight illuminated filthy clawed fingers wrapped around the ax handle. An awful grating sound echoed from the depths of its flabby belly, sending a wave of flame and noxious fumes on its putrid breath. I tried not to cough, reining in my enhanced sense of smell. It pursed its puffy red lips and horked. Where the spit landed, the earth sizzled. Only one type of demon belched fire and spit acid: the dreaded reflux demon!

According to my studies, the reflux was a crafty son of a bitch. It’d be no easy prize to be won with a few sword strokes and a witty one-liner. I felt my phone buzz against my hip, but chose to ignore it. I knew it’d be Hadley calling to remind me not to engage. But how could I not? Who knew when I’d get another chance? Or how much damage the reflux would do before I could dispatch it? I rose from my half-crouch, a war cry gathering in my throat. My balls once again surged upward. Ignoring my scaredy-cat testicles, I took a deep breath, raised my sword, and rushed at it. “Fear me, oh spawn of Satan. For I am Blake St. Blake and I have come to return you to Hell!” I had to slow my run a bit to get that all out before I arrived. A flicker of movement caught my eye, but it was too late for me to stop my charge. Another creature sprang from the darkness, weapon at the ready, crying, “Yo, asswipe. I’m gonna rip off your head and spit down your throat!” I ground to a halt in front of the confused demon. And honestly, I was as confused as it was. I didn’t know which one to smite: the ax-wielding, acid-spitting, fire-belching demon, or this other thing, cloaked in dark cloth and brandishing a glowing stick. “Who be-est thou?” I demanded of the newcomer. I had to shout to be heard over my pounding heart. At least I’d remembered to use formal demon-hunter language like the heroes in books and movies did. “What the fuck?” the cloaked being said, raising his glowing stick. His eyes shone from beneath his cowl. The demon lifted its ax, orange-slitted eyeballs rolling from one side to the other. The stick-wielder turned to face me. “Who the fuck’re you, sucka?” he asked, shaking his stick at me. A sly look grew upon the demon’s face and it shifted its weight toward the newcomer.

“Yesss,” came a hiss from the depths of its flabby body. “Who the fffuck are you, sssucka?” So they’d either arrived together from Hell, or had decided to align forces against me. Oh, shit. I just couldn’t catch a break! I gripped my sword hilt tighter, knuckles shining white in the moonlight. I would just have to slay them both. “Nay, ’tis I who shall ask the questions. Are you two together?” “Oh, hell no,” Stick-wielder said, moving back a step from the demon, who had sidled up close and personal. “You’re not pulling that bullshit on this wizard.” He clenched his stick tighter. “Dude, you are toast!” The stick began to glow brighter. It occurred to me that it might be some sort of oversized magic wand and not just a plastic light saber bought on eBay. Especially since he’d called himself a wizard. “It’s my freakin’ destiny to slay your sorry ass!” Now I knew he must be delusional because I was the only Chosen One around. Nobody else got divine powers. I was the only one with enhanced senses and the ability to leap off buildings in a single bound. I would have raised my sword, but it was already up as far as I could lift it. In fact, my arm was beginning to tremble from holding my weapon aloft—these things were a lot heavier than they looked in the movies. Having no idea if the sorry ass on the wizard’s slaying agenda belonged to me or the reflux, I decided to engage him in conversation. Perhaps I could trick him into revealing his allegiance. “So . . .” My voice broke. I coughed and tried again. “So . . . You’re a wizard, are you? What are your powers, pray tell?” “Prey what? I ain’t nobody’s prey. Prey this, motherfucker.” He shook the glowing stick at me. “And who are you to get all up in my business, I mean, bidness anyhow? I can’t hardly see in this damn moonlight.” He squinted in my direction. “Oh, wait. I can fix this,” he mumbled. He raised his stick higher, although not as high as I held my sword. The stick began to glow brighter and brighter, until the entire clearing lit up.

Now it was my turn to squint, before I remembered that dilating and contracting my pupils was one of my powers. The enhanced senses had come on only lately so I wasn’t used to them yet. I blinked several times and concentrated, shrinking my pupils down so the light no longer blinded me. There, now I could see again. “So you claim to be a wizard. Can you do anything else with that stick, or is it just a fancy flashlight?” The wizard rounded on me. I bit my tongue, wishing I hadn’t goaded him. There were always painful things one could do with a stick, magic or not. I could barely see my opponent’s features beneath his hood, but his tone dripped venom when he said, “No, asshat. I came out to mix it up with this badass demon here with nothing more than . . . Wait? Where’d it go?” I turned just in time to see the demon duck back inside the mausoleum, pulling the solid stone doors closed behind it. They thunked into place, barely a seam to show they’d ever been open. “Ah, shit!” the wizard cried. “Now you’ve gone and driven it off. How’m I supposed to send it back to Hell if I can’t get anywhere near the thing?” “You’re going to send it back to Hell? That’s my job. I’m the Chosen One. Why, I’m—” “Don’t make me laugh. You’re a Chosen One?” “Not a Chosen One, dumbass. The Chosen One. As in the one and only. All the prophesies say so.” “Well, don’t believe everything you’re foretold. There’s a bunch of Orders going way back to the Crusades or the dawn of time or the ’50s or something, and each one gets its own prophecy and its own Chosen One. Sheesh. Don’t they teach you anything in your Order?” I glared at him. I had lots of practice at glaring instead of answering. He didn’t seem to require an answer, anyway. Just kept on talking.

“Sorry to have to be the one to break it to you, man, but I’m all over that Chosen One shit. See this wand?” He raised it again. It was kind of hard to look at since it was glowing like a supernova, so I contracted my pupils down as far as they would go and looked again. The wand, or more accurately, staff, was made from some sort of twisted old wood with runes and symbols carved along it. The wizard gestured with it and a beam of greenish light shot toward me. I used my super-human reflexes to leap away, coming to rest on the other side of the clearing. In the spot where I’d stood a moment before, the ground smoked a little. “Hey, man. How’d you do that?” Wizard Boy asked. “You’re kidding, right? You nearly blew me up with your magic stick, but you think jumping a few feet is impressive?” He shoved back his hood, which I now saw was actually a Gap hoodie, worn over slouchy jeans riding low on his hips. I hitched up my own nearlyidentical pair, although I’d bought the kind with the real waistline. A demon hunter can’t have his jeans falling down in the midst of the chase. “Um, yeah. That jumping thang’s pretty neat. And actually, I smoked the ground a coupla feet in front of where you were standing. I wasn’t really going to hurt you.” The torch-bright glow from his stick illuminated one side of his face, while the other side was lost in shadow. I assumed they matched, though. He had dark skin, knifesharp cheekbones, and wide-set brown eyes. He wore his hair in a medium-length afro combed or cut to a peak at the center of his forehead. I found my gaze lingering on his lips. They looked soft and inviting. Until he said, “Wasn’t really gonna hurt you . . . yet.” I shook my head to clear away distracting thoughts. “Ha! As if you could hurt me,” I yelled, gathering myself for another leap. “Can so,” he said, raising his magic staff. It shot green light at me, and this time he managed to hit me. Suddenly all my muscles froze. I’d been poised to leap, so my center of balance was thrust forward and my stiffened body toppled over, face-first into the dirt.

The wizard’s laughter went on for quite some time. I would have said something cutting, but I couldn’t move my mouth. At least my lungs weren’t paralyzed, or I’d have asphyxiated. This guy was kind of scary. Also kind of cute. Which, I mentally chided myself, was an entirely inappropriate thing to notice in one’s enemies. Evil can be glamorous. I needed to be careful, despite the wizard’s hotness. I lay on the ground, flushed with anger. The wizard also fell to the ground, not from spells or blows, but from laughing so hard he couldn’t stand. “Oh, man. I’m sorry, but that was one awesome faceplant. Where’s my phone? I want to take a picture before it wears off.” Pins and needles prickled my body, and I began to unstiffen as if I were melting. My power of speech returned—mostly. I spit dirt and forced out a few words from one side of my mouth: “If I hear a single click, you are so dead.” Pausing, I added, “I shalt slay thy sorry ass.” Clearly, I needed to work on the warrior speech thing some more. “Oh, yeah, Sword Boy? You and what army?” I dragged my stinging limbs into a sitting position, massaging a painful cramp in my calf. “I alone am the Chosen One.” I was still slurring a little, like I’d just had a cavity filled. “The one boy in all the world with the strength and power to fight the evil ones.” “You is so played out, dawg.” “And I notice your gangsta speech disappears when you’re not paying attention.” “Same with your flowery speech, man. Just how many times have you watched the Lord of the Rings?” I flushed again. So what if I owned the extended-edition box set special director’s cut in Blu-ray? And an action figure or two. Or ten. “Now see here. This was supposed to be my first kill and you’ve gone and wrecked it. You’re just some Chosen One wannabe and I’m not going to stand for it.” Except, I did stand then, rising from the lawn like his worst nightmare. Or sexy wet dream, I hoped. “Yeah, well. Sometimes you’re the knight, sometimes you’re the grail, man. I guess we’re both Chosen Ones. Ralph says there can be more than one.”

“Ralph? You call your mentor Ralph?” The wizard scratched his neck. “Well, yeah. It’s his name. And I’m sure not calling him by the time-honored title of Master.” In a much lower voice, he added. “Or Dad.” My heart, which had finally stopped racing while we talked, now sputtered a little. “No. Uh, not that.” I’d begun calling Hadley “Sir” right about the time I was old enough to realize no Mommy or Daddy was ever coming for me. We stood there awkwardly for a few minutes, staring at the closed doors of the mausoleum, each sneaking sidelong peeks at the other. I checked him out and found him even hotter when we weren’t giving each other a hard time. I was almost sure he checked me out, too. My phone buzzed in my pocket, reminding me of my purpose. I was the Chosen One, and I had an important mission. “I must away. But ere I go, I warn thee, apprentice wizard, that I will not suffer your interference a second time.” I crossed my arms over my chest and stared down my nose at him. “Oh, yeah? Well, right back atcha, Mr. fancy-talk apprentice slayer or whatever. Yeah, you said this was your first kill so that makes you an apprentice, too. Just like me.” He folded his arms across his chest and glared at me. “How old are you anyway? I bet you can’t even get into clubs yet.” “I recently attained the age of majority.” He looked like he was going to start laughing again, so I decided to drop the formal speech. “I could so go to clubs if I wanted to. Have you been?” “Yeah, course I have. I been breakin’ it down for ages, dude.” “Blake. Not dude. Blake St. Blake.” “That’s a whack name. Your momma musta had zip imagination.” “My mother died giving life to me. But before she died, she told the midwife I was to be called Blake.” According to Hadley, the overworked hospital staff had been only too glad to have the orphaned baby claimed by a “distant relative.” And so the Order of the Keep raised me—the Chosen One—in accordance with the Prophecy.

“My Order named me Blake St. Blake in honor of her dying wish.” “Oh, man. I’m sorry about your mother. I don’t know anything about mine. The Order keeps ‘the sacred bloodline’ a deep, dark secret. For all I know, I was popped and dropped.” He shrugged, looking out over the treetops. I felt sorry for him. At least I could tell myself my mom would have loved me, given the chance. I moved a little closer, settling one hand on his shoulder. “Sucks, man,” I said. “I live with a bunch of out-of-it old guys. I don’t even get to go to regular school. Just studying and training all day every day. Then if I’ve done really well that day, I get to watch a DVD or play World of Warcraft for a couple of hours.” He nodded, eyes meeting mine briefly before shooting away. I think they may have been shiny with unshed tears. When he spoke, though, his voice was even. “Sounds like we live the exact same lives, man. It’s kind of, uh, lonely.” Now it was my turn to nod and avoid his eyes. I tried hard, but failed to stifle a sniffle. “Allergies,” I said. “I know, man. I know.” He laid his hand on top of mine, and stared deep into my eyes. I glanced down at where his hand covered mine. Even in the near dark, I found the contrast of our light and dark skin tones exciting. To be honest, I found everything about him exciting. I leaned in a little closer, and when he didn’t pull away, I raised my other hand and stroked my thumb over his lips. They were every bit as soft as they looked. My breathing sped up again, although no danger lurked nearby. I watched, heart thudding, as the surprisingly pink tip of his tongue flashed out and touched my thumb where it lay against his lower lip. His free hand rose to stroke my cheek. “Blake,” he murmured, leaning closer. Wanting to return the gesture, I asked, “What’s your name?” “Shadowfax,” he whispered, lips so close to mine I could feel my eyes crossing as I watched them form the syllables.

“What?” My voice came out louder than I intended. I pulled back a bit. He met my gaze, his eyes soft and dark. “Shadowfax. Well, I go by Shadow, mostly. It’s the name of the great wizard in the Lord of the Rings. I’m surprised you don’t know that.” I tried to control myself, but he’d laughed at my earlier tumble, so I let loose a huge guffaw. “Shadowfax? Shadowfax! That wasn’t the wizard, you moron. That was his horse!” I took personal affront to anyone getting the details of the Lord of the Rings wrong. Shadow’s eyes grew huge and the corners of his mouth drew downward. He shook my hand from his shoulder like it offended him. I guess it probably did. “You know what you are? You’re not the Chosen One. You’re the Chosen Asshole. I’m so outta here.” He spun around and left, taking with him all the light and leaving me alone in the darkness once again. At least, as he stalked away, staff raised to light the path before him, I had a well-lit view of how nice he looked from the back.

e said his name was Shadow, you say?” I nodded, unable to bring myself to tell Hadley about Shadow’s screw-up with the Lord of the Rings reference. “Did he mention what order he was with?” “Nu-uh. Ow!” I stuck my burnt fingers in my mouth. I could quote chapter and verse the names, habits, and techniques required to kill all 127 types of demon, but I could never remember to let a pizza pocket cool before trying to eat it. “All right. We can’t have our Chosens getting in each other’s way. Someone could get hurt. We talked about this at the last meeting of the Order of Orders Council. Your pal Tiffany’s Head Witch suggested you all be issued orange, glow-in-the-dark safety vests like hunters wear. Which is not such a bad i—” I cut in with gagging noises to show where I stood on that little fashion idea. Hadley pulled up one side of his mouth in a look that said, “Are you quite finished?” and continued. “I’ll put out word among the other orders and see if I can locate this boy’s mentor. I have a good idea who it is. Did he say his mentor’s was named Ralph, by any chance?” Apparently Shadow’d been right; there were more Chosen Ones out there, something I might have known if I’d paid more attention to Hadley’s Order of the Orders reports. I’d never really thought about why there was more than one order, but it made sense now: because there was more than one Chosen One. Huh. “Ralph. Yeah. Something like that. Anyway, the point is, he calls his mentor by his first name.” I took a bite of the still-too-hot pizza pocket, waving my hand ineffectually in front of my mouth. “And?” I took a long pull on my soda. “He thinks the whole apprentice thing is archaic, and I do, too.” I squared my shoulders, swallowed,

and met Hadley’s gaze. “From now on, I’m going to call you Hadley.” I looked away quickly, my lunch suddenly fascinating. Something pinched my heart a bit. Hadley was the closest thing to a parent I’d ever had. The rest of the Order were more like aunts and uncles, I figured. But what did I know? It’s not like I’d ever had a real family or anything. I sucked in a big breath and choked on a crumb. Hadley said nothing, which was worse than yelling or sarcastic comments. Not that he did that much, but once in a while . . . I risked a glance at him. He was giving me an appraising look, a tiny smile drawing up the corners of his mouth and laugh lines crinkling like math brackets around his eyes. Tomato sauce dripped onto my leg, no longer hot enough to scald, but still hot enough to make me realize I was squeezing my pizza pocket way too tight. I dropped it back on the plate and used my finger to scoop the wayward sauce into my mouth. “So you want to call me Hadley, hmmm. This Shadow seems to have had quite an effect on you. And you only met him for five minutes, you say?” He stroked a finger over his mustache. For the first time, I noticed a little gray in his short, dark beard. “That’s fine. But I have a question for you. If I’d asked you to call me Hadley, would you have done it?” “Whatever,” I said, licking sauce from my fingers. He had a point; lately everything he’d told me to do, I’d felt driven to do the opposite. But no way was I going to admit it. Swallowing a painfully large bite, I asked, “When can I go after the reflux demon again?” “And if I told you not to pursue this demon again, you would anyway, right?” When I didn’t respond, he continued. “So since you’re going to go back out there after this reflux, do you think maybe you should have a partner?” I glared at him. “What? You don’t think I can do it? You think I’m not good enough?” He raised a single eyebrow. “No. I just think two together can be stronger than one alone.”

I stuffed the last bite of my lunch in my mouth, rose stiffly, and stalked away. Even if I did agree I needed help, where would I find a partner, anyway?

t’d been an entire week since I’d met Shadow—I mean, since I’d gone after the reflux. This time, because I knew where the demon would emerge, I hid in the small stand of trees near the crypt. I figured the crypt must hold a demonic portal from Hell. I was poised, focused, and alert. Two hours later, I was bored, sleepy, and yawning. Perhaps this was not the right place after all. As I pulled out my phone to text Hadley, a shriek of rusty metal warned me of the demon’s arrival. The stone doors of the crypt creaked open, and the hideous form emerged in the moonlight. I stepped forth before it could orient itself. “A-ha, foul beast. I command thee to return to Hell!” I brandished my sword, using both hands to support it so it hardly trembled at all, even though my heart raced and my balls didn’t know which way to run. The demon swiveled its head in my direction. “Oh, you again. You’re the apprentissse warrior, right? Not the junior sssorssserer?” “Yes, I’m the warrior. See. The. Sword.” I thrust it a bit further forward. The beast nodded, failing to quake with terror, or even to look particularly impressed. I tightened my grip on my weapon and shouted, “I command thee to return to Hell and trouble this fair land no more!” “Fffair land? Thisss isss downtown Detroit. I’m not ssseein’ a lot of fffair around here. And hey, I’m ssstanding right here. There’sss no need to ssshout.” I opened my mouth to command it again to leave, but it cut me off. “Lisssten, boy. I’ve got sssome errandsss to run and I’m not going home until I get what I came fffor.” “And what, pray tell, are these tokens which you seek?”

“Tokensss, what? I’m gonna get a cassse of Bud, and then sssome grossseriesss. And maybe a fffatted calfff. There’sss a butcher over on Missshigan that hasss really good beefff.” Its shoulders raised in what may have been a demonic shrug. “D’you know where there’sss a WalMart around here?” I refused to answer, refused to be tricked. The foul beast was trying to humanize itself so I would be less inclined to kill it. Well, that wasn’t going to work. It was way too fugly to get to me. “If you will not return to Hell immediately, then you leave me no choice. I must slay you. I mean, thee.” My cheeks heated and I cursed myself for screwing up the wording. My first demon and I was getting it all wrong. I could hear Hadley’s voice in my head telling me to just breathe and take it easy. Okay. I drew in a deep, calming breath, only to start coughing. God, this thing needed a Tic Tac. Luckily I could do that thing now that allowed me to turn my sense of smell way, way down. Relax, I ordered myself. It’s not like anyone’s recording your performance. Not like when we taped my practice sessions for critiquing later. I raised my foot to take a step forward, but froze when I heard the reflux horking up acid, sounding exactly like one of the older members of our Order in the mornings. I threw myself backward, intending to land lightly yards away, poised for my next attack. Instead, I smacked painfully into a tree. My head struck bark, but at least I wasn’t where the demon’s acid landed, sizzling the ground where I’d just been. I dashed to the right, finding cover among the shadows. The demon advanced, its putrid fire-breath illuminating the night. It was a lot like Shadow’s glowing staff from last week, only stinkier, and I coughed, my eyes watering from the nasty fumes. Too bad Shadow wasn’t here; I could handle the reflux on my own, of course, but his glow stick and ability to paralyze would have been handy. Plus things were always more fun with a friend. I could really have used a friend right about now.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are, Sssword Boy.” I moved further under the trees, but the little stand was no medieval forest, and I tripped over a gravestone, sprawling on my ass. This seemed to be my destiny: to subdue my enemies by making them laugh. Just as Shadow had collapsed in a fit of laughter last week, the reflux demon doubled over with laughter now. Perhaps I could make this my signature move? I leapt to my feet, hoping to slay the demon while it was incapacitated. Raising my sword high, I began the downward arc that would lop off its ugly head. But while its laughter prevented the generation of more acid, nothing stopped it from raising its ax. My sword clanged harmlessly off the steel ax head. I leapt away again. When Hadley referred to me as “Grasshopper,” he meant it pretty literally. (And that, too, was stolen from an old TV show.) The demon stood once more, wiping tears (or possibly acid) from its reptilian eyes. “Boy, you’re a hoot. I like you. I haven’t lafffed like that in agesss. You may not believe thisss, but Hell isssn’t the most fffun plassse around.” I ground my teeth in fury. The demon was supposed to quake with fear, not laughter. “Ssso,” it continued. “I guesss I won’t kill you afffter all.” “Nay, ’tis I who shall end your sorry existence.” To hell with the thees and thines; I had more important things to worry about than pronouns. I charged it again, sword raised. This time I leapt over it, thereby avoiding both spit and ax, and slashed downward just as I passed over the demon’s misshapen skull. My sword landed with a dull thunk. Score! But the vibrations from the impact shuddered back up the sword, jarring it from my grip. My blade landed on the mossy lawn with barely a whisper. Oh, shit. Now I’d really done it! My knees nearly buckled, and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. “Ow!” said the demon, rubbing its head. “I wasssn’t exssspecting you to actually land one.” It turned to face me where I was crouched behind it. And spat. The caustic gob landed near my feet.

The demon had missed. I instantly felt more confident. “Underestimate me not, oh, foul one, for I am the— Owww!” The gob of acid had landed not just at my feet, but on my boot. It had taken only a second to eat through my Doc Martins and spatter my little toe. Why hadn’t I let Hadley order the steel-toed ones like he’d suggested? “Owww!” I yelled, hopping about to another chorus of demonic laughter. I brushed the stinging acid from my toe, which of course just burned my fingers. I wiped them on the grass. It instantly browned and wilted. “You bastard! These are my best boots!” “Oopsss,” it hissed. “Sssorry?” To add insult to injury, it actually looked chagrined. It hung its ugly head and clasped its taloned hands behind its back. It resembled a giant, hideous toddler. It almost looked cute. Fah! That was too much. I went berserker on its ass, lunging for my sword and snatching it out of the grass, holding it before me like a lance. “Die, demon die!” I cried, charging it dead on. The demon knocked my sword point—and me—aside without breaking a sweat, assuming reflux demons even did sweat. I tumbled into the dirt once again, my sword flying into the trees. This time, instead of laughing, it lumbered toward me, sickening gurgling noises emanating from its throat. I rolled away, knowing my leather duster would provide little cover against an acid gob. “C’mere, punk,” it roared. “Make my fffreakin’ day.” I jumped to my feet in one of my best ninja moves, then pulled a dagger from beneath my duster and rushed it again. The demon must not have expected this, because I managed to slice a swatch from its Harley Davidson T-shirt. “Damn it!” it cried, holding the fabric up so it could examine the slit in the moonlight. “I loved thisss ssshirt!” “Ha,” I said, snaking through the trees to retrieve my sword. Finding it quickly, I returned to face the demon, holding a blade in each shaking hand. “Now we’re even.”

“Okay, Warrior Boy. You’re ssstarting to get on my lassst nerve. I’ve had enufff. Gimme that.” A blur of motion spun toward me, and a moment later, the demon stood mere inches away, holding both my sword and knife in one broad hand and its ax in the other. I could feel the heat of its breath on my face. My eyes watered from the fumes—that was one thing I couldn’t turn down. I was too surprised to even cower. My heart banged against my ribcage so loud I could barely hear. “Eep!” I might have said. “Now look, kid. I’ve got plasssesss to go, creaturesss to sssee, ssso here’sss what I’m gonna do.” My entire body sagged with relief as the demon turned away and stomped over to an ancient pine, trunk nearly as large around as a trash bin. It thrust first my knife, and then my sword deep into the heart of the tree. “Now I’m heading out. Ifff you can’t get thessse toysss fffree, I’ll releassse them fffor you on my way back and hide them in thossse bussshesss behind the crypt. ’Kay? Don’t try to fffollow me. Let’sss sssay thisss ended asss a draw and nobody hasss to know otherwissse, right?” Some sort of vile film descended over one of its toad-like eyes, and I realized it was winking at me. “Toodlesss,” it said, leaving me gaping after it, hurt, humiliated, and with a hole in my favorite Docs.

hate to say I told you so . . .” Hadley said without raising his eyes from slicing celery. I didn’t bother to respond, just focused on scraping the last of the tree sap from my sword. I hadn’t managed to free either weapon and eventually gave up and crept home, hoping to retrieve them next morning before Hadley woke up. I thought a crowbar might help. But it had been a very late night and I’d slept in. Hadley had noticed my missing weapons. He’d panicked, thinking I hadn’t made it home, and charged into my room yelling. Then I’d had to tell him the entire sorry truth. Together we’d returned to the cemetery during the day, and found my blades hidden in the bushes exactly where the demon had promised. We’d stuffed them quickly into a fishing rod carrying case. You can’t wander around downtown Detroit with bladed weapons, after all. A semiautomatic weapon, maybe, but not a sword. I was half inclined to ask Hadley if I could maybe get a gun, but my ego still smarted from being bested by the demon. “Listen, Blake. You don’t have to go after it again, you know. You weren’t actually supposed to engage the thing at all, remember?” I glared at him. If he’d told me I should go, I still would have glared at him. It seemed to be my go-to response since puberty. He sighed and returned to his slicing and dicing. He taken up sighing right about the time I’d taken up glaring. “Are you going to tell me I need a partner again?” I asked, slumping in my chair in one corner of the big stone kitchen. He just raised a single eyebrow at me and began chopping cilantro. The kitchen filled with the scent of sausage browning in garlic and butter, making my mouth water. I sulked for a few more

minutes, knowing Hadley was up to something. Finally, I could stand the sound of his Slap Chop pounding the cutting board no longer. “What?” “Oh, nothing.” Chop chop chop. He moved the chopper and hammered it again. Suddenly my eyes burned and the room reeked of onions. “Don’t you have any advice for me? I mean, you fought these things in your day, right?” I swiped at my eyes with the hem of my T-shirt. Funny, onions didn’t usually bother me like this. “I mean, it’s your job to train me, right? So is there a way to defeat these things?” “Oh, yes, there is. Certainly. But remember, part of my job is to make you self-reliant. I believe everything you’ll need to beat this demon is already within your reach. You just have to figure out what among all you’ve learned most applies to this situation.” “Gee, thanks, Captain Cryptic.” I stole a piece of celery and stalked away.

had a demon to slay, and a wizard I sorta, kinda, wanted to see again. It seemed like an eternity to Friday. Then suddenly it arrived. Way too soon. Tonight would be a waning moon, just past full. I’d have plenty of light—all the better to see my monster by since I didn’t have any glowy walking sticks like Shadow did. To be honest, I wasn’t very excited about the whole demon battle thing anymore. I really couldn’t envision a different outcome this time—the beast just had too many resources: acid, fire, ax. And apparently super-speed. Maybe I should start with a demon that only had a single weapon, like maybe just claws, and work my way up to more heavily armed Hell spawn. Wasn’t there a really old, decrepit demon I could battle just to get warmed up? Like a training-wheels demon? I thought about Hadley’s comment that I could use a partner. I’d been pissed at the time he’d said it, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. I mean, I didn’t need another warrior—we’d just get in each other’s way. But a wizard . . . He would come in handy. I’d lead the charge and he’d follow. No, wait. I’d get him to paralyze the demon first, and then . . . What if he had other spells that were more useful than my jumping and enhanced senses? Maybe he didn’t need me. I kind of felt like I needed him. Or at least I’d like the chance to get to know him better. I felt like we could be . . . friends. Good friends. Of course, I so wouldn’t want Shadow to know that, unless he felt the same way. My heart stuttered a bit just thinking about him. I really hoped I’d run into him again tonight. Unless he didn’t want to see me, in which case I really hoped I wouldn’t see him again tonight.

I dragged myself toward the cemetery, no leaps and bounds this time. I stopped in to a bookstore along the way and poked at books I’d never buy. Eventually, the manager kicked me out. I guess she got to go to her nice, safe home with her loving family. What kind of idiot goes to fight demons in a cemetery at sundown, anyway? “This kind,” I mumbled, kicking a rusty old pop can down the street before me. “I never asked for this stupid destiny.” I punted the can along the street a few more times. Down the block I spotted a homeless man shuffling along, pushing a cart of collected tins and bottles before him. I picked up the can I’d been kicking and presented it to him. He doffed a worn old cap in my direction, acknowledging me as a fellow denizen of the darkness. Why couldn’t I be a normal kid who went to clubs and had normal friends who couldn’t turn me into a chicken like Tiffany claimed she could do? I squeezed through the break in the cemetery wall and headed for the old mausoleum, dragging my feet. My brand new Doc Martins squeaked as I ambled along. I was having trouble working up enthusiasm for tonight’s encounter. I couldn’t even muster the enthusiasm to use the formal speech all the fantasy books said a true warrior should. Who cared? I was probably going to die tonight anyway. Hadley and the Order had gone to the trouble of casting auguries and contracting seers to find the Chosen Child, raise me, and train me all for nothing. They’d have to go out and find another Chosen One and start over. And Hadley wasn’t getting any younger. I sniffled a bit. Must be residual onion fumes. I felt tonight’s spaghetti sauce simmering in my stomach and belched sourly, then shook a couple of Tic Tacs into my mouth. Maybe I’d just get maimed. Now there was an encouraging thought. I put one Doc in front of the other and eventually arrived at my destination. As I approached the small stand of trees that flanked the crypt, I heard voices. Crouching low, hidden by the foliage, I surveyed the situation. The voices sounded familiar. One was the unmistakably weird contralto of the reflux demon, only instead of words, it made underwater-type noises, as if it were gagged.

I peeked out from behind a large pine tree, getting sap all over my hand where I clutched the rough bark. I ignored it, focusing on the tableau in the clearing before the crypt. Somebody had replaced the bulb over the mausoleum so it was pretty well lit. There stood Shadow, wand-y staff thing raised and shooting green light at the demon. It was the same kind of light Shadow had lasered me with the night we’d met. But where I’d been completely paralyzed by the beam, it only seemed to slow the demon down. Its speech was more slurred than ever and it moved as if swimming through syrup. My shoulders slumped. I was a big epic failure. Shadow was able to subdue this great big powerful demon all by himself, when I had gotten my ass whipped by it. The only reason I was still alive was because the damn thing couldn’t be bothered to kill me. Suddenly, a tinny ringtone sang out from the phone in my pocket, echoing loudly in the clearing. Like an idiot, I’d forgotten to set it on vibrate. Shadow half-turned toward the sound, the beam of greenish light shifting with him and hitting the ground next to the demon instead of the demon directly. The reflux took advantage of Shadow’s momentary distraction and brought its ax down on Shadow’s staff, knocking it from his hand. The green light cut out immediately, and the demon regained its ability to move far more quickly than I had the other night. “Ssso, wizzzard. Not much good without your ssstafff, are you?” The grating sound of fire building in its belly cut across the small clearing. I followed its line of vision; it intended to destroy Shadow’s magic staff. Oh, no! Seeing Shadow in trouble—and all because of me—I hurtled into the clearing, sword singing as I drew it from its scabbard. I reached Shadow’s side in a few ground-eating strides, seeking my opening. Shadow glanced at me, and thanks to the bare bulb over the crypt, I saw relief spread over his handsome face. “Grab your staff !” I shouted, thrusting my sword into the surprised demon’s side. A dark stain blossomed on its dirty white T-shirt. A few drops hit the ground, sizzling the lawn where they landed.

“Hey! That wasssn’t sssupposssed to happen.” The demon clutched its side, staring at the blood oozing out between its sausagelike fingers. Then it lifted its head. I rocked back a step; the only way to interpret the look on its misbegotten features was anger. Up until this point, it had seemed to alternate between amused and annoyed, but now it was clearly pissed. “You boysss were jussst sssupposssed to mmmfffm mggmgm.” Shadow had retrieved his staff and rewhammied the beast. It rolled its eyes and tried to back away from us, the hand not clutching its bleeding belly raised in a warding-off gesture. The fact that it still held the steel ax in one hand undermined its pantomimed request of mercy. Undeterred, we advanced, Shadow still zapping it with his staff and me brandishing my sword in a manner most threatening. “Take that, motherfucker!” Shadow shot an extra-bright beam of green at the thing, sending it flying. It landed on its back with a grunt. I liked seeing frozen demon a lot better than I’d liked being the freezee two weeks ago. I grinned at him and raised my hand for a high five, but Shadow kept his focus on the beast. I took a page out of his book and paid attention to the demon, too. No more slip-ups for this Chosen One. I stood over the reflux, sword clutched tightly in my hand, and glanced at Shadow again, but he was sweating and straining, eyes still fixed on the demon. Keeping the spell going must have been hard work. In fact, his powers seemed to be draining or something, ’cause the green light began to sputter and fade. “I can’t hold it much longer,” Shadow panted. “Slay the fucker. Now!” “Muuu!” The demon slowly opened its webbed fingers, and the ax dropped the ground next to it. Slothlike, it raised its hands in surrender. “I’mmmsss llgoo. I’mmmsss llgoooo!” I placed the point of my blade at its throat. “Drop the spell,” I commanded Shadow. He did so with a look of relief and came to stand across the demon from me, wand ready in case said “fucker” tried

any tricks. Based on what I’d seen when I first entered the clearing, I figured the spell should be wearing off and the demon would be able to talk shortly. “What sayest thou, evil varlet?” I’d meant to look up varlet before I came here tonight; hopefully I was using it right. “Don’t ssslay me. Pleassse, don’t ssslay me. I’ll return to Hell. I promissse. Crosss my heart and hope not to die.” It made a crossing motion somewhere down around its abdomen. I tried to recall where a reflux’s heart would be located, but 127 types of demons and all their anatomies was a lot to remember under pressure. “Ifff you jussst let me up, I’ll go ssstraight back into the tomb there and return to Hell. I promissse.” I wanted so badly to consult with Shadow, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off the demon. This could be a trick. And speaking of tricks, a sudden inspiration hit me. “Ould-shay e-way ill-kay it-ay?” I asked. Although I’d been homeschooled (because Webster Elementary didn’t offer Swordsmanship 101, go figure), I’d been allowed to play with the neighborhood kids. I prayed Shadow’s Order had tried to give him the same sort of normal childhood mine had. “Ut-way ooday oo-yay ink-thay?” The demon shifted its gaze from me to Shadow and back, clearly puzzled by my words. I pressed my sword point further into its greasy neck, just above its dirty white—and now bloodstained and acideaten—AC/DC T-shirt. “Etter-bay ot-nay.” Awesome! Shadow knew Pig Latin, too. “Utway ould-way e-way oo-day ith-way uh-thay ody-bay?” He was right. Body disposal was always a big concern for the modern Chosen One. I sighed with relief. I didn’t really want to kill the thing, especially since it had let me live and even returned my weapons to me last week. Surely it didn’t deserve to die for injuring a pair of Doc Martins, even if they were my favorites. I risked a glance at Shadow. He nodded and held up his staff again.

“All right,” I said to the demon. “Get on your knees slowly and crawl to the crypt.” “Crawl? You’ve got to be kidding—ow! Will you ssstop that?” I’d stabbed it in the shoulder. Well, poked it with my sword, to be honest. I hadn’t even cut the T-shirt this time. “Okay. Okay.” The demon slowly levered itself onto its hands and knees and crawled the five or six yards to the mausoleum, up the two marble steps, and through the giant stone doors. It retrieved its ax on the way, but since it kept crawling toward the crypt, I didn’t say anything. We followed behind, close but well out of clawing distance, weapons at the ready. In one corner of the crypt, a pus-yellow radiance swirled like a vertical whirlpool. The demon dragged itself toward it and, without stopping, crawled right into it and disappeared. “Well, it’s gone for now, but how do we keep it from returning?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the swirling vortex. “I think I can do it.” Shadow began to mumble, and then, nodding once, he lifted up his staff, looking exhausted but confident. “Gij zult niet passeren!” I had no idea what he’d said, but nodded anyway. I just felt like I could trust him. A beam of light—pure white this time—shot from his staff and blasted the portal, disrupting its swirliness and putting an end to the passage between Hell and downtown Detroit. Shadow lowered his staff. I could see his arm trembling even in the dim lighting. “Hey, man, that was awesome!” I said, punching the air in celebration. “Yeah, dude. We rocked that demon eviction. And also? Good to see you’re starting to talk like a normal human being.” “Totally epic,” I said, flushing. If I’d spent some time on urbandictionary.com, he didn’t need to know that. “In fact, we were legendary!” He high-fived me, then grabbed my shoulder and drew me into a big, warm hug. I grinned into his shoulder. Not nuzzling. Absolutely not.

“Wicked,” he said, his breath hot against my ear. I shivered a little, despite the warm night, and started to pull away before anything popped up that shouldn’t. He pulled me closer and I could feel him trembling, too. I felt his lips brush my earlobe and my erection leaped in my jeans. Embarrassed as hell, I pulled away, my face burning. If he blushed, too, I couldn’t tell. No fair! To cover my awkwardness, I grabbed at the first random thing that slid into my mind. “Was that Latin you used for your spell?” “Dutch, actually. We come from a long line of Dutch magicians.” “But you don’t look—” I clamped my mouth shut. I only hoped my own glares were quite as cutting as the one he shot at me. “No, that’s great. We have an order of Vietnamese witches in the manse next door to ours, and they’re pretty cool. Tiffany Nguyen is my best friend.” I gave Shadow what I hoped was a winning smile, although it was pretty dark in the crypt. He hadn’t re-lit his staff. “She your girlfriend?” he asked, sounding vaguely angry. I didn’t know why he’d be mad, nor why it pleased me that he was. “Nah. Just a friend that’s a girl. I don’t have a girlfriend.” Standing in the crypt doorway as he was, I could see his silhouetted shoulders relax and, once I’d remembered to dilate my pupils, I could make out his smile. A small window near the ceiling had been smashed, letting in moonlight and fresh air. “Okay, then. I got friends who are girls, too. None of them are girlfriends, either.” I took a deep breath and decided to take a huge chance. We’d defeated the demon together, so I felt like taking risks tonight. “I don’t really like girls.” I kicked at a loose pebble on the cement floor. “I mean, I like girls. I just don’t like them . . . that way.” There, I’d said it. Shadow could deal with it in a mature, positive way, or he could whammy me again with his big magic stick. “I don’t really like girls that way, either.” He looked at the floor, then raised his eyes to meet my gaze. “I kind of like—”

Behind us, the huge stone doors slammed shut, the reverberation traveling right through the soles of my Docs and up my calves. “Holy shit! We’re trapped! The demon must have rigged it to close up after him when he used the portal.” I rushed through the Stygian darkness to where I thought the doors were and shoved at them as hard as I could. I might as well have been trying to move the entire mausoleum. A faint glow arose behind me, and I whipped around, worried the portal had re-opened. But it was just Shadow doing his glow-y staff thing. “Can you do anything about these doors?” My voice squeaked with fear. I tried again. “Can you blast them open or something?” Shadow walked across the small room and laid one hand on the door. “Maybe.” He pushed a little. “But not for a while. I’m completely drained.” Even in the pale light of his staff, I could see he looked exhausted. I put my own panic on hold. “Let’s go sit down for a bit. We can try to open them later.” I looked around for some place to sit. Giant cement markers lined the walls. They probably had old, dried-up bodies behind them. The air smelled stale and musty, but at least there was no hint of rotting flesh, not even to my enhanced senses. Probably nobody in whatever family was buried here had died in a long time. Thank God. That’s probably why the demon picked it to set up his hole between worlds. But we were stuck in a freakin’ tomb! What if we couldn’t get out? What if the portal re-opened. What if— Shadow took a stumbling step toward the one wall that was casket-free. I reached out to steady him, but realized I still had my sword in my hand. I re-sheathed it. The scrape of metal echoed eerily in the crypt. I shivered. I could feel Shadow trembling as well when I gripped his biceps to support him. “Oh, man, am I wiped. Do you mind if we sit in the dark for a while?” He gestured to his staff, causing the light to flicker and dip. “I can recover faster if I stop casting for a coupla hours.”

“Just give me light for another sec, ’kay?” I left him slouching against the wall while I stripped off my duster, the motion sending a few dried leaves whirling across the floor. It was too hot for a leather coat anyway. I spread it out on the floor by the wall and sat on one half of it, back against the wall, legs straight out in front of me. I dilated my pupils to the max, but there wasn’t much light to let in; I could probably see a little better in here than Shadow could, but not much. I unbuckled my sword belt, smiling at the satisfying clang of sword and dagger hitting the marble, and left it within reach in case the demonic portal reopened. Leaning heavily on his staff, Shadow lowered himself to the floor and sat beside me. Where our thighs touched, my leg burned and tingled; I knew there was nothing supernatural about what I felt. “Okay, you can douse the light now.” I tried to keep my voice even, but it may have cracked a little. Shadow leaned his staff against the wall, letting the light fade with a sigh. I was only too glad of the darkness so he couldn’t see my flushed face or the burgeoning tent in my jeans. Just because he doesn’t like girls that way doesn’t mean he likes you. “You gonna be okay, Shadow?” “Oh, yeah. I just need to sit down for a few. It’s like when you’ve run a race or played a really intense game of soccer or something. You just need to recuperate. Don’t suppose you have any Gatorade on you?” “Yeah, right,” I responded with a snort. He sighed again. “Sorry, stupid question.” He shifted around in the dark, cloth scraping against stone. “No, actually, I do.” I rummaged around in the pockets of my baggy jeans. “Ta da!” I crowed, producing an Eddie Bauer plastic hip flask. “My mentor— I mean Hadley has this thing about making sure I stay well-hydrated and keep up my electrolytes.” Realizing he couldn’t see, I sought his wrist, locating it without touching anything more embarrassing than his hip—at least I thought it was his hip. Gently, I wrapped his fingers around the curved bottle.

“Here. Have as much as you want.” “Thanks, man.” He took a quick swig and tried to give it back. “No.” Instead of taking it from his hand, I pushed his arm back toward him. “Drink up. Finish it.” He tried again to return it. I could just barely make him out waving around in the darkness trying to find my hand. “But aren’t you thirsty, ace?” I chuckled. “First, I didn’t expend nearly as much energy as you did. And next, it’s you we need to recuperate to get us outta here . . . ace.” I tried on one of his nicknames. I liked that he called me things, but they were pretty generic. He probably used them on everyone. I wanted him to use my name. “Thanks.” We sat quietly in the dark, our breathing echoing loudly in the silent tomb. Even the noises of the nearby traffic barely penetrated the solid stone structure. I tried really hard not to panic, or at least not to let Shadow know how nervous I was about being locked in here with all the dead bodies. But after a few minutes, when no ghosts jumped out at us, and we were warm and fairly comfortable, claustrophobic thoughts slipped to the back of my mind. All I could think about was Shadow and how awesome it had been to work side by side with him. How attractive he was. And how hot his thigh felt pressed up against mine. “So, uh, Blake.” I jerked up. Oh, God, he’d used my real name just when I’d been thinking how much I wanted him to. What if mind-reading was one of his powers? Then he’d know the nasty thoughts I was having sitting here pressed up against him. “Wha— What?” I said, trying for cool. “So, uh, you said you didn’t like girls.” “Well, I don’t hate ’em or anything. I’m just not, um, interested in them, you know, that way.” Could he feel the heat from my face across the inches that separated us? “Does that, um, mean you like guys that way?”

I relaxed for a second. If he had to ask that question, then he couldn’t possibly be a mind reader. Because that was the only thing on my mind at the moment—that I liked guys. Or one particular guy, anyway. I bit my lip. How should I answer? Should I lie? I’d only ever told Tiffany. Not even Hadley knew. But I was a big, brave warrior. If I could seek out and battle a reflux demon three times, then I could be honest with one guy about my sexuality. “Yeah, I think so. Maybe.” Oh, God, I was such a coward. “‘Maybe?’ Like you don’t know?” “Um, it’s complicated.” My cheeks burned so hot I thought they might glow like Shadow’s staff. “What about you?” “Um, yeah. I know I like guys.” “Have you ever been with a guy?” I blurted, realizing how stupid it sounded. He half turned to face me, which was pointless in the darkness. “Yeah, like dozens of times.” “Dozens?” “Oh, that sounds bad, doesn’t it? No, I mean, like. Well. That’s kind of personal. What about you?” “No, I haven’t. That’s what I meant by ‘maybe.’” One of us had to be brave and admit to virginity. I figured it should be the warrior. In fact, purity was a big deal in some warrior cultures. Luckily my Order didn’t seem to care one way or the other. It’s not like we were monks or anything. “I live kind of a sheltered life. Home schooled. I read a lot. So, um, yeah. I think about guys, but I’ve never been with anyone.” “Not even kissed?” he almost squeaked with disbelief. “No.” I crossed my arms. “Have you?” “Well, sorta. There was this guy in a club. I snuck out and went dancing. And he came up on the dance floor and was all over me. To be honest, it was kinda gross. He was all sweaty and hairy and wore a lot of leather. I mean, ugly leather. Not nice like your coat.” “Duster.”

“What?” “The style of coat is called— Never mind.” I tried to picture Shadow in the club and my breathing grew so heavy I thought I might fog up the stone. “So this guy kissed you.” My dick was rock-hard and all squashed up against my jeans. I shifted, but it didn’t help. “He tried, but at the last minute, I turned my head. I didn’t want my first time to be with some old bear. I mean, the guy must have been at least thirty-five.” I nodded. That was positively ancient—just a few years younger than Hadley. Gross. We fell silent for a while, making no more noise than the dried up old bones lying in their final resting place. I thought about what I really, really wanted to do, and I thought about what Shadow had just said. Keeping my voice low, I whispered, “Do you . . .” I cleared my throat and tried again. “Do you want your first real kiss to be with me?” Shadow didn’t answer. Inside I felt cold and wished I was wearing my duster and not sitting on it. I trembled so hard my teeth would have rattled if I hadn’t been clamping them together. The tiny muscle on the left side of my face jumped from the tension. Shadow shifted away. My thigh felt hollow and cold without the heat of his pressing up against it. Even over the hammering of my heart, I could hear the sound of Shadow’s boots scraping against the concrete floor. Oh, no. Had I frightened him away? Or worse, did he find the idea of kissing me as awful as the idea of kissing that guy in the club? My stomach lurched. I thought I might puke. But I was wrong. From the dark-against-darkness silhouette I could just make out, and the soft feel of his breath on my cheek, and I realized he hadn’t moved away. In fact, he’d moved closer; he’d risen to his knees and moved to kneel in front of me. He placed a tentative hand on my right shoulder and the other on my left. Gently, he leaned in and brushed his soft, generous lips against mine. It was awesome. I thought I might puke.

He pulled away an inch or so, but I reached up and cupped my hands around his shoulders and pulled him back toward me. Our noses bumped when we both turned the same way, but we worked it out on the next try, and our lips met again, more firmly this time. The kiss deepened, and when I instinctively pushed my tongue a little way out, he opened to welcome it. The sexy taste of him on my tongue sent flashes of pleasure throughout my body—especially my dick. My heart stuttered and I had to pull away to catch my breath. He was panting, too. But after only a moment, he dove back in for more. We French kissed for ages, and when I drew my tongue back into my own mouth, his didn’t hesitate to follow it in. I’m not sure how, but we’d gone from awkwardly facing one another to slowly sliding sideways until we were lying on my coat, arms wrapped around each other, tongues exploring and breath mingling. I knew if I went missing long enough, Hadley would come looking for me, but at this moment, I hoped I wouldn’t get rescued for hours and hours. In fact, I felt like I could stay here with Shadow forever. Or better yet, find someplace softer and more romantic to stay with Shadow. Shadow moved his hand down my side, bringing it to rest on my hip. A breathy moan escaped me. I blushed, but who cared? I mirrored his movements, our arms tangling briefly, before we managed to find a way to fit together like a puzzle. We pulled back a bit, just facing each other in the darkness. Did we dare take this further? “Do you want me to . . . ?” Shadow whispered. “Yes,” I whispered back, even though I wasn’t sure exactly what he was offering. He nodded against my arm, and then his hand left my hip, spidering down my jeans to my zipper. He dragged it down slowly, one tooth at a time. My heart beat so fast I thought it might just explode. Once he’d unzipped it as far as it would go, he hesitated.

“It’s okay,” I murmured. “You don’t have to.” I could feel him tense up. “It’s okay.” He paused for another moment, while I held my breath, not sure if I wanted him to continue or to stop. Then he seemed to gather his courage and reached inside my jeans. I was glad he couldn’t see in the dark because I was wearing tighty-whities, which weren’t really warrior underpants. I should talk to Hadley about— “Ohhh.” His warm fingers wrapped around my erection and gently squeezed. It was nothing like when I did it myself. This was so much better. Then he began to slide his hand up and down. Oh, God. Oh, God. I grabbed him and kissed him again. He lost his grip for a sec and I thrust up against him. That got him moaning. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, but I drew his hand out of my pants, stifling his “Didn’t you like tha—?” with a devastating kiss, then thrust against him again. He grabbed my ass and I grabbed his and we pulled toward each other, thrusting, straining, gasping. I couldn’t last. I groaned embarrassingly loud, thrust hard and fast, completely losing the rhythm. “Oh, Oh, Oh,” I cried, as I shot what felt like buckets of cum into my tighty-whities. A few moments later, Shadow shoved against me with a grunt, freezing in place. Even through the several layers of clothing between us, I could feel him pumping his load into his own jeans. “Oh, God,” he panted, rubbing his hand over his face. “Man, that was awesome.” “Likewise,” I said, rolling onto my back, one shoulder scraping the wall. He propped himself up over me and I realized I could see him clearly. “Hey, look!” I pointed to his staff. It had begun to glow again where it stood propped against the wall behind us. And he wasn’t even touching it! He grinned like a fool, like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. I hugged him to me, afraid he’d start to disappear. He laughed, but before I could get indignant, he hugged me back. I guess I laughed, too.

“You gonna tell your friend-who’s-a-girl about this?” A mixture of pride and shyness colored his tone. I thought about it. Lying there holding him, just tracing my fingers gently up and down his forearm seemed like the only thing I ever wanted to do. Until we were ready for round two, that was. My dick tried to stir, but it was done for at least fifteen minutes. “I dunno. Maybe. Not right away, anyway.” His smile grew wider. Guess that was the right answer. “How you feeling, anyway?” I asked. “We were supposed to be resting, weren’t we?” I might have giggled when I said “resting.” “Ah, man, I feel great. Like, completely invigoriated. You recharged my batteries real good. In fact . . .” He pulled himself gently from my arms. “I might be up to blasting those doors open.” I, too, felt pretty damn good. I leapt to my feet, zipped my fly and gathered up my sword and knife. I buckled them on, ignoring the cooling wet spot in my underwear. I brushed the worst of the dirt off my duster before slinging it over my shoulder. “Let’s rock and roll, partner.” He gave a delighted chuckle. “Partner. I like that. Partner.” Still grinning, he turned toward the doors. He barely moved his lips as he incanted. I couldn’t make out his mumbled words, but it was probably in Dutch again, anyway. A blue beam hit the doors. They glowed a little blue, then bluer, the way a burner grows redder as it heats. When they were so blue they gave off light themselves, they blasted open, rusty old hinges snapping under the force of his magic. One door was left dangling awkwardly, held to the door frame only by its lower hinge, and the other ended up several yards away, near where I’d held my sword to the demon’s throat. That seemed like ages ago already. I’d been a boy then. Having battled a demon and won, then taken my first lover, I was a man now. Now I had the right to call Hadley by his first name. We stepped into the doorway, standing side by side, facing the world. I drew my sword; it just seemed like the right thing to do. Sword in my right hand, Shadow’s staff in his left, we clasped our free

hands and walked out into the moonlight. Across the cemetary, the tiniest hint of dawn pinked the horizon. As one, we stopped and surveyed the clearing where together we’d defeated a fearsome demon. And found each other. “To partners,” Shadow said, pulling me to him. We touched lips briefly, and his hand scrabbled along my waist. Before I could wonder about his intentions, he pulled out my iPhone. Balancing his staff in the crook of his arm, he clicked a few keys, then held it up for me to see. “That’s my number, Blake. Text me yours as soon as you get home. Okay?” He ducked his head, not meeting my gaze, so I quickly reasured him. “To partners,” I echoed, kissing him again. Without further words, he turned and walked east, toward the rising sun. I watched him go, tracking him with my enhanced vision until he scrambled over the wall and disappeared up Woodward. I re-sheathed my sword and headed west, back toward the break in the wall. I missed him already. Was it too soon to text him?

ell, I sure didn’t see that coming,” Hadley said as he stepped from behind the old pine tree. Producing a handkerchief from his jeans pocket, he tried to wipe pine sap from his hand. “Did you, Ralph?” Ralph joined Hadley in the clearing, leaning lightly on his staff. “I had an inkling, but I have to say, I can’t think of a nicer way for them to partner up. Lord knows if we’d tried to suggest they work together, we would have met with nothing but teenage sulking and resistance.” “Nothing like reverse psychology.” “Look how well the partnering thing worked for us, back in ‘the olden days,’ as our young wards would say.” “That’sss great ’n all, but you owe me two T-ssshirtsss and a new ssspleen.” The reflux demon, now shirtless, stepped into the clearing. Acidic blood sizzled where it dripped on the ground from the stab wound Blake had managed to inflict. “That’s my boy,” Hadley said proudly, examining the injury, carefully not touching it. Ralph raised his staff, mumbled something in Dutch. The wound closed over in a matter of seconds. “What, no ssscar?” The demon demanded indignantly. “I earned that ssscar. Give it back.” “Oh, very well.” Ralph murmured more Dutch; this time it sounded like a record spinning backward—in Amsterdam. When the raised scar reappeared, he stopped in the middle of a word. “Satisfied?” “Sssatisfffied,” the demon agreed, using both hands to hold its sagging belly up where it could admire its new scar.

“You said something about shirts?” Hadley removed his glasses, polishing them on his handkerchief, inadvertantly smearing pine sap on one lens. From behind the closest gravestone, the demon produced a plastic bag. He drew out two damaged T-shirts, one Harley Davidson and one AC/DC. Ralph gestured toward the shirts, and the slashes and cuts mended instantly. The white AC/DC T-shirt practically gleamed. “Don’t sssuppossse you wanna throw in a cassse of Bud while we’re at it?” The demon looked from Ralph to Hadley and back. “Oh well. It wasss worth a ssshot. Ssso we’re good, then?” “Yes, your debt is fulfilled. You are no longer bound to us.” Hadley gestured with his dagger toward the mausoleum. “We thank you for your services and bid thee return to Hell.” The demon looked up from folding the T-shirts and placing them back in a plastic Wal-Mart bag. “Jay-sssusss, no wonder the white kid talksss fffunny. Okay, you two. Sssee ya ’round.” It stepped into the damaged crypt, and a whooshing noise informed the men it had returned to Hell. “I’d better be getting back. Blake is going to want to tell me all about his great triumph over the evil demon. I’m sure Joey, I mean Shadow, will want to do the same. So see you at Council next week?” “What?” Ralph, who had turned to face the crypt, looked over his shoulder at Hadley. “Just a sec.” He waved his wand again and the crypt doors flew back into position, hinges repairing themselves. What had been rusty old brass was now gleaming stainless steel. He turned back to face his old friend again. “Yup. See you at Council then.” Ralph clapped Hadley on the shoulder, and then strode away into the sunrise. Hadley smiled and followed his young apprentice home.

Special thanks to Ann Lethbridge for the world’s fastest (and best) critique. Thanks also to Blaine D. Arden for the Dutch translations.

Sucks & Blows Shift Happens Creep Acolyte Gym Dandy Tart & Soul “Lust in Translation” (A story in the charitable anthology I Do) “Be Prepared” (A story in the charitable anthology Coming Together: with Pride)

Storm Grant is a writer of short and long tales, her work spanning both genres and genders. Storm’s stories offer titillation and merriment, and in a few cases, horror. In the last few years, she’s published with MLR, Torquere, Phaze, Blood Bound Books, eXessica, Amber Quill, and Riptide. Storm is a board member of the Toronto chapter of the RWA, a member of the FF&P and YARWA chapters, and a founding member of the Rainbow Romance Writers chapter. Her business degree has seen much use over the three decades she’s spent working in marketing and administration. She lives in Toronto, Canada, with her husband, a miscellany of rescued pets, and a rather messy house. Follow Storm’s life and writing career at her blog, storm-grant. livejournal.com, or email her at [email protected]. Oh, and Twitter, of course: twitter.com/StormGrant. Watch also for mainstream novels (if quirky novels with a whole host of supernatural creatures can be called mainstream) from Storm, writing under the pen name Gina X. Grant (ginaxgrant.com).