FIVE

DAY 366,162

19 June 2004

“A nd, I’m like, it’s been four years! They said they’d help me with my big project four years ago, but there’s been nada coming out of the Court in all that time. You’d think four years would be enough to get things kicked into high, wouldn’t you?” I took a big slurp of coffee (heavy on the cream and sugar, because a demon has to keep his strength up). “I mean, you go to all the trouble to locate this very important person whose name I can’t tell you, and get them to say they’ll help you, and then blammo. Radio silence for four years. Four years!”

Oblitton, one of my coworkers, who was also a troll with tendencies toward kleptomania, sidled away and murmured, “It’s a shame, it’s definitely a shame. Uh. I have to get back to the phones. You know how Sam is.”

I dropped my now-empty cup into the sink, pretending not to hear the crack of ceramic hitting the metal sink. “How someone as powerful as the important person whose name I can’t tell you can loll around for four years—four!—doing nothing while I’m waiting for vengeance is beyond me.”

Oblitton slipped into his cubicle and immediately slapped on his headset.

I stood outside my cubicle, wondering if I’d been wrong to put my trust in Sally. I thought for a moment of Camio, my spirits sinking until I felt the urge to go sit in a closet and cry.

“Dalmatians don’t cry,” I told myself, looking down at my spotty legs. I’d tried out the form a few days ago, but already I was finding it lacking. “I just gotta have faith that Sally will do what she said she’d do.”

No one else in the office paid me any attention, so with a sigh that I felt down to my toenails, I got back into my seat. “Hi, you’ve reached Whiskey Sam’s Genuine Psychic Guidance Hotline, Jim speaking. How can I help?”

“Yeah, hi, I ... um ... wait, if you’re a psychic, aren’t you supposed to know what I want?” The voice was filled with suspicion.

I consulted the script that Sam insisted we follow. Per instructions, I chuckled, which isn’t easy when you’re in the form of a Dalmatian. I don’t know if those dogs just don’t have great vocal cords, or if chuckling is alien to them, but the resulting sound wasn’t at all mirthful. I made a decision right then and there that just as soon as I had a quiet moment, I’d switch my form to that of a glorious black Newfoundland dog. I’d seen pictures of one earlier, and the sheer magnificence of it blew me away. “I know, right? It seems like I should, but you know how it is with psychic abilities—you don’t want to blow all your power on trivial stuff, right? You got to save it for the big guns.”

“Oh.” The woman on the phone sounded disappointed. “I guess that makes sense. What do I need to tell you?”

“Whatever you want.” I nosed the script aside. I never felt comfortable sticking to it, even though Sam said it made life much easier. “What’s on your mind?”

“My husband.” Her voice had dropped to an intimate level, and I imagined she was glancing around furtively to make sure she wasn’t overheard. “I think he’s cheating on me, and I need you to tell me if he is.”

“Yup,” I said, knowing most of the unhappy people who called were likely in relationships that, if not outright abusive, were probably at best dysfunctional. “He sure is.”

“How do you know?” Her voice rose as she spoke. “I haven’t told you what he’s doing!”

“OK, you tell me what he’s doing,” I said, wanting to point out that she’d called a psychic hotline and was surprised when I acted like I had psychic powers.

Spoiler: I don’t.

“Well,” she said in the same hushed tone, “it’s not just one thing that’s suspicious. But he does hide his phone whenever I’m around.”

“Cheating,” I said, peering around the cubicle wall when one of my coworkers emerged from the entrance with a bag of take-out noms. I sniffed the air a few times. Pad Thai! I loved pad Thai! I eyed Ramon, the coworker, and wondered if he was susceptible to puppy dog eyes. Immediately, my form changed to that of a stunningly handsome Newfoundland dog. One with lots of fur, and big, heart-tugging eyes. I fluttered my eyelashes at Ramon, deciding that this definitely was the right choice of forms. I could just feel how emotive my face was. “He’s definitely cheating on you.”

“And then there’s all the overtime he says he’s putting in just so we can take a trip to Disney World before the kids go back to school.”

“Cheating,” I repeated, leaning out a bit farther until Ramon sent a wary glance my way as he peeled back the lid on the container. I sucked up a bit of drool that started the minute the full blast wave of pad Thai scent hit my highly effective nose.

“And he keeps mentioning Marjory, his new supervisor, and how clever she is, and how she takes care of herself even though she has three kids and a full-time job, and that I’ve let myself go. He told me I’m a slob, and that I need to pull my crap together, and that I should be more like Marjory. I have two toddlers under four, and go to school at night, and work from home whenever I can get the kids into a day care program. I don’t have time to have massages and personal trainers and chef-made meals like Marjory!”

“Cheating, cheating, cheating,” I said, adding out of the side of my mouth to Ramon, “Heya! Where’d you get that? It smells delicious. Does it have any onions or garlic? Dogs can’t have those, you know. It messes with them. But that doesn’t smell like there’s anything bad in it.”

Ramon pulled the pad Thai up tight to himself, just like he was protecting it from a ravaging herd of Newfies. I experimented by curling up one black flew at him. The lip curl was incredibly responsive. Newfies rocked!

“Do you really think so?” My attention was yanked back to the caller by the misery evident in her voice. “Is that what your ... er ... spirit guide or whatever tells you?”

“Yup. And Giza—my spirit guide—also says you can do way better than the deadbeat who doesn’t appreciate the fact that you run your home, gave him two fabulous kiddos, and still hold down a job. I’m not gonna say to kick your hub to the curb, because only you can make that decision, but, girl, the spirits all agree that you need to get yourself into some counseling so that you can realize you are a queen, and deserve to be treated like one.”

“Oh, I ... oh.” She sounded flustered, but pleased. “They really said that? I’m a queen? Do you mean in a past life?”

“Sure,” I said, willing to go with the flow if it got her the help she needed. “Hey, Giza just came through with a couple of phone numbers of people who can help you. The first is a woman’s shelter, and the second is a group for women in dicey relationships. Giza says they’ll get you onto the path you’re supposed to be on, and into the headspace you want. You got a pen?”

I read the phone numbers off the couple of cards I kept hidden under the monitor stand—Sam didn’t like us diverting paying customers to services he didn’t profit from—and by the time she thanked me for my psychic insights, she sounded happier, chattering about how she always knew she had some role of importance in the past. I felt a momentary twang at that lie, but put my faith in the resources I’d provided.

“They’ll do a lot more for her than we can,” I told Ramon, who had turned away from me to eat. I slid off my chair and wandered over to him, sniffing deeply. “So! Did you say where you got that from? Is it chicken pad Thai? That’s my most favorite food ev—”

I stopped, feeling a bit woozy for a few seconds.

“I am not sharing with a demon,” Ramon said, his brows pulled together as he clutched his pad Thai closer. “You can get your own if you want—”

Just as I was shaking my head, hoping the wooziness cleared, everything went swirly for a few seconds; then I found myself standing on a hideous carpet, in a small hotel room, facing a woman with curly hair who was bent out of a window coughing like she was a six-pack-a-day smoker.

I sat down to consider this new situation, not best pleased. Obviously, the woman was a Guardian, and she’d summoned me. I was about to tell her that I didn’t have time to conduct the heinous acts she no doubt wanted, because Sally might need my help at any time, but then the Guardian turned around to face me.

Her eyes were hazel, the same as Camio’s.

Mind you, the startled expression was all hers, and after she introduced herself—her name was Aisling—she went on and on about how she’d called me there to help her with some project.

I got over the eerie familiarity of her eyes, and decided that the sooner I did whatever it was she wanted, the sooner I’d be available to Sally.

In hindsight, I might have been a bit snarky with her, but by the time we were doing pre-bed walkies, I felt like I had her number.

She was clueless, naive, had no idea what a Guardian was, not to mention didn’t know the first thing about demons to the point where I was just about to tell her that I was too busy to help her. However, an hour later (after I partook of a little privacy behind a large azalea bush in the Tuileries), Aisling went into full grumpy mode, and I decided this had to end.

“Tell me you didn’t poop behind the flowers,” Aisling grumbled as she ducked to avoid an orange tree’s outstretched branches and struggling around various small shrubs before stumbling to a stop behind the azalea. She waved a handful of grocery store bags in one hand. “You did! Dammit, Jim, I’m a Guardian, not an acrobat! I get that you can’t use a toilet like a normal demon, but can you at least do that where it’s easy for me to clean up and I don’t get scratched to pieces?”

I paused in midstep, glancing back at her. An echo of a memory lurked at the edge of my mind, a little zing of pain making me wonder.

Just who was this unlearned Guardian? Why did she seem familiar? Was this a sign?

Did I have to poop again?

“Do you know Sally?” I squinted at her, unsure of whether I was facing what I could only think of as a sign from Cam.

Aisling had wildly curly brown hair and a pleasant but perfectly normal face, not the least bit like Camio’s long blond braids and pretty heart-shaped face. Their eyes were similar, but that could just be a coincidence.

I gave a mental shake of my head. I was imagining things. What I needed was to simply deal with Aisling as quickly as possible, then get in contact with Sally and ask her how the plan to destroy Ariton was going.

“Me?” Aisling grunted a little as she shoved her way through the back side of the azalea, picking up after me. “No, I don’t know a Sally. For the love of Pete, Jim, this is beyond normal for a dog to have this much ... droppings. Is it because you’re a demon?”

I spun around, watching her as she finished cleaning up before proceeding to a nearby trash bin that I’d already watered when she wasn’t looking.

“No one ever said I was stupid,” I said softly when she ranted a little more about some green dragon who had done her wrong. We walked back to our hotel, her talking nonstop, and me thinking long and hard.

That night, I lay on the blanket and pillow she’d placed on the floor for me, and watched her sleep.

There was something about her, a sense of being lost and alone and needy, that plucked at me. And then there was the fact that when I was with her, the pain of Camio’s loss, which felt like lead straps binding me, seemed to ease. Just a bit. But still, it was there.

I got up and marched over to where Aisling had her face smooshed into a pillow, really looking at her. She was as grumpy as the day was long, but she’d also fed me a couple of hamburgers, taken me out every time I needed to go, and even bought me some things at a local pet store, including a nice collar.

No one had ever bought me a collar. Or a brush. Or doggy toothpaste and a toothbrush.

Only Aisling Grey did those things.

“You want me to have healthy teeth,” I told her. “You care about me. Camio cared, too. She was always nagging me about stuff just like you do.”

She snored slightly, muttered something about a dragon named Drake, and buried her face deeper into the pillow.

“I don’t know who you are, but if Cam approves of you, then so do I,” I told her. “I guess this is the path that Garders wanted me to take. It just better work. You’ll make sure it works, right?”

Aisling snorted, lifted her head an inch, and, without opening her eyes, said in a thick voice, “Sure. Go to sleep.”

I nodded at her promise, but hesitated, imagining I could hear Camio, so added, “I won’t leave you, then. For one, you have good taste when it comes to the kind of food this magnificent form demands. For another, you need me. Like a lot. I can’t think of when I’ve met a more naive Guardian. So that’s it, then. You help me to make Sally’s plan happen, and I’ll take care of you. Because it’s a tough world out there, babe, and you’ll be dragon fodder if I’m not here to keep you safe.”

“Mmrf,” she murmured into the pillow, followed by a slight snore.

I nodded again, then went back to my blanket, noticing a sheet of crumpled paper that stuck out from under the bed. I nosed it out and squinted to read it in the dim light. It was a photocopied page of an old grimoire, one that evidently Aisling had used to summon me. Along the top was written: Here are the pages you asked for. I hope they help! Beth.

In a different hand, someone else had noted on the side of the printed sheet in bright red ink: Don’t worry if you don’t have the exact ingredients. It’s the intention that matters.

I eyed that last notation, wondering about it, because ingredients very much do matter when it comes to summoning. The ink on the page was hot pink, just like the phone number written on a scrap of paper that Sally had given me four years ago. I left the photocopy and returned to my bed, such as it was. I had a lot to think about, but for the first time in four years, the world seemed a bit brighter. Lighter, even. More hopeful.

The following day, when Aisling was having a shower, I dug through my phone until I found an old text entry and launched a new message.

ME

Hiya! Got myself bound to a Guardian. Just an FYI in case you need me to help with whatever thing Hildegarde hinted at. Because it’s been four years, and there’s been no action. Not that I’m telling you what to do, but if you didn’t send this Guardian my way as part of your master plan, let me know. Although at this point, I kind of hate to leave her. I mean, yeah, she’s a Guardian, and they’re badass, but she seems a bit ... needy. Like she is in way over her head. And since she wants me to have good dental hygiene with no gum disease, and lets me have hamburgers with fries even though she said my fantabulous form was a bit chunky, and takes me out whenever I ask, I figured I’d stay and make sure she’s OK. Unless that’s not your plan. Er ... is it?

ME

Sally?

ME

You guys are almost as frustrating as the dragons Aisling keeps making us visit, and they are world-class ignorers of questions. Welp, no news is good news, right? Guess I have a new demon lord. Yell when you need me to help take down Ariton!

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