Once inside, I stood by the patio door and peered out of the window. The red—whatever they were—wandered around and walked through my mother’s flowerbeds. Scarface plucked blooms from the plants, inspected them, and crushed the flowers into the ground. He then tried to climb a tree, cursing violently when his stumpy legs were too short.
An ear-piercing sound sliced through the air. I cringed and slapped my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. My gaze swung to the other creature. It was laughing as it pushed the swings on the swing set. It climbed up the ladder to the cyclone slide my brother loved so much, took a leap, and slid down. Its cackling echoed off the walls of the slide until he came out the other end and plopped on his ass.
“Milayna,” Scarface called, “we’re getting tired of waiting. Come out and play with us.”
I took a step back from the window where I’d been watching them. The first creature pressed his nose against the glass and looked at me. “I can see you,” it sang.
Movement caught my eye. I turned and saw Chay round the corner. The weird red men froze. Their faces turned demonic as their eyes grew wide and glassy black, and their lips pulled back against their yellowish-brown teeth. They watched Chay’s movements closely.
“Chay,” Scarface said.
“What are you doing here?” Chay asked, his voice hard.
“Ah, don’t worry, we’re just looking around. There are so many fun things to do at Milayna’s house.” Scarface laughed, an ugly, garish laugh, and I cringed.
Chay hooked his thumb around his belt loop and leaned casually on one leg. “Leave.”
“We’re not done playing,” the friendlier one said.
“Leave or I’ll send you back.”
“Tsk, tsk, Chay. You really need to work on your temper. Angels are supposed to be passive.” Scarface brushed one finger over the other in a shame, shame gesture.
“I’m only half angel.” They slowly backed up as Chay advanced on them. He seemed apathetic, bored even. “I’m only going to ask you nicely one more time. Leave.”
“Make us,” the friendly one said, sticking his tongue out like a child.
My hands were damp with sweat, and I ran them up and down my thighs. I watched as Chay walked toward whatever the hell the red things were. It was hard to breathe. I felt like I’d just run the Boston Marathon in an hour. I couldn’t catch my breath.
This isn’t possible. I think I’m having a nervous breakdown or something, because this is just way too bizarre. What are those things?
Biting my bottom lip, I watched as Chay grabbed them by the back of their necks and knocked them together. Their heads clunked, making a thud so loud I could hear it in the house. He let go, and their fat little bodies fell to the ground.
A bright flash of light lit the yard, and I had to shield my eyes. When it dimmed, the red mini-trolls were gone, leaving behind nothing but two puffs of smoke and the same putrid smell I’d noticed before they popped in. I covered my nose and mouth with my hand to stifle it.
Chay jogged up the deck stairs two at a time. He didn’t wait for an invitation to come inside; he just opened the door and walked into the house, brushing ash off his jacket.
I looked over his shoulder and peered into the backyard. It was still empty. Other than the trampled flowers and the swaying swings, there was no sign that the freaky red things had been there.
“Um, you want to tell me what the hell just happened? What were those things?” I looked up at Chay. I was gonna lose it any second, and it wasn’t gonna be pretty.
“Hobgoblins,” he said.
“And?” I asked slowly.
“They’re harmless for the most part.”
“But hobgoblins are the cute and likeable mischief makers of fairy tales. They’re not spawn from Hell!”
“The fairy tales got it wrong. They usually do.”
“What did they want?” I stood by the kitchen sink and looked out of the window. My bottom lip between my teeth, I bit it harder waiting for his answer. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be one I liked. And for once, just once, since this started, it would be nice to get some good news.
“You.”
“Oh. Will they come back?” I had butterflies in my stomach, and not the lovey-dovey kind. The I’m-officially-freaked-out-and-scared-shitless kind.
He hooked his thumbs in his back pockets. “Probably not.”
Probably not. I was just visited by fat little demons from Hell, and he says they probably won’t come back.
“What do you mean probably? I’m really not all that comfortable with ‘probably’.” I said, using air quotes—which was funny since I hated it when people did that. “I’d like to be ready next time.”
“They were just messengers for Azazel.”
I stared and waited for him to elaborate. It wasn’t hard, actually. Staring at him. He was handsome in an understated way. Not movie-star handsome like Jake, but definitely swoon-worthy. He had a strong jaw, full lips, and a golden complexion that was clear except for a slight scar on the left side of his chin, which only added more character to his wicked handsome face. Add to that the most beautiful blue-green eyes I’d ever seen all framed by dark, almost black, hair. And don’t even get me started on his body—yeah, staring at him was easy. Talking to him, or at least getting him to talk, was a bitch.
“And?” I crossed my arms.
“They were just seeing if you were alone.”