My mouth wanted to say something dumb like, “I hope you’re not bored with me,” but I kept my lips tightly sealed. “Did you have somewhere you needed to be?” I said lamely.
“Need to schedule practice with the band before Friday,” he said. “Demon or no, I don’t want us to suck.”
“I’m sure you won’t suck.”
“Not if I let him sing for me. Maybe I’ll get one good thing out of him.” Devon’s arm moved as he put his pixie in the box. The electricity left my space. “Cam?” he said. “About Friday…”
How dumb is it that I hoped he’d ask me to the dance? Very dumb. We had more important things on our minds. Anyway, I still liked him better with the black hair than with the blond, which meant I was all kinds of weird, liking something that was demon related. I had problems I wasn’t going to admit to Devon.
“You’ll be there, right?” Devon said. “Help me if things go haywire?”
Internally I sighed. “Of course,” I said. He reached for my pixie and I put the little winged creature into his hands. Our fingers touched as he took it from me. Electricity, bam.
I kept waiting for him to pull his hands away, but he didn’t. It was like we were both pretending that a pixie needed four hands to keep it from getting away. His face was so near to mine, his green eyes clear and deep. “Then … maybe after…”
I tumbled over sideways as the backpack I was leaning on was jerked out from under me. “What the—”
Sparkle backed away, rifling through the swiped backpack.
“Get back here,” shouted Devon, and I heard him jumping to recapture the newly escaped pixie.
I started toward Sparkle, but she glared at me and I stopped, thrown.
Her nose was back to normal.
I mean current-normal. The nice straight nose she’d had the last two months.
“Erase the picture and I’ll go,” Sparkle said.
“It’s not in there.” I edged toward her. Sparkle hefted the backpack as if she would throw it. Her eyes were wide, darting. I knew it would be bad for me to show Sparkle any empathy, but I couldn’t help it. “Are you okay?” I said. “You seem really weird the last couple days. Weirder than normal.” The barb soothed the meaner urges of my soul.
“You’d know weird,” she sniped. “Where’s your phone?”
In my pocket, thank goodness, but I didn’t want another wrestling match. “In my locker,” I said. “Can I have my backpack?”
“Cam,” said Devon.
“Picture first,” Sparkle shouted. “I want it gone, gone, all evidence of weird stuff gone, do you hear? Gone for good! I want it to never have existed. Erase it!”
“Calm, calm,” I said. “What’s really going on here, Sparkle?”
“Cam,” repeated Devon, lower and deeper.
One hand flew to her cameo, the other pointed past me. “Tell me what’s really going on with him.”
I whirled and there was a different Devon standing there. He fell into a crouch, his eyes were hard. Black hair flopped, fingers curled into claws around the recaptured pixie.
The demon had woken up.
9
Squash
“Thanks for filling the first task,” the demon said. He stretched. “It’s a rather odd and tingly feeling, being bound to a contract. I’ve done it before, of course, but it’s new and different every time. Isn’t it?” He leered at Sparkle.
“We wouldn’t know,” I said. “Your ‘frogs’ are up here, so why don’t you come down off the roof and go home for the night? Sparkle, I suggest you move along, too.” I motioned us all across the roof to the trapdoor, but nobody budged.
“Task one is not entirely complete,” Estahoth said.
“Aha,” I said. “Devon figured out that the ‘frogs’ just have to be here till Friday, then we can let them go. You should be in favor of that, because as I understand it, your kind likes to avoid completing contracts. Now off we go, down from the roof.” I had to get the demon away from those pixies.
“Quite right,” said Estahoth. “But the reason we like to avoid completing contracts is so we can stay longer. Your mother has worked in a time limit of Halloween. No extensions. Thus all my energies are focused on him.” He thumped his chest and a scent of firecracker and mold wafted out.
“Camellia?” said Sparkle. “What on earth is the new boy going on about?” She clutched her cameo necklace like a security blanket.
“Please. Go,” I said. I crossed to the trapdoor and motioned her down it. She stepped onto the rung of the ladder, but didn’t go any farther. My nerves were on edge and the little hairs on my arms stood upright. “Devon, you come, too.” I tried the witch’s firm tone.
The demon pointed a finger at Sparkle. “I know something you don’t know,” he said in a singsongy taunt, and as his finger stayed on her, her face seemed to change, but not just her nose this time, not just her height. Her face aged rapidly, wrinkles forming, jowls drooping. He waggled his finger and then she went back the other way, younger, younger, shrinking. Back up.