Read Online The Stein & Candle Detective Agency, Vol. 3: Red Reunion (The Stein & Candle Detective Agency #3) by Michael Panush - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Panush
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Weatherby turned. He saw Butch Waller standing in the doorway, flanked by his usual two football player friends. Butch looked straight at Weatherby and Peggy, his lips curling back like an angry dog. He carried a silver suitcase in both hands.
Butch pointed at Weatherby, as the flustered chaperones hurried to the door. “I knew it!” he shouted. “I knew it! This little runt stole my girl! He stole my girl and all of your just let it happen! You turned your back on me, just when he did a slick little magic trick. Well, I’ll show you. I’ll show you a real magic trick, and just how pathetic he is!”
“Butch, don’t—” Peggy started, but Butch shook her head.
“Shut up. You’re a little slut. I should have realized it sooner.” He patted the suitcase and moved his hand to the clasp. “You want a new boyfriend? Fine. I got a bunch right here. Why don’t you get better acquainted?”
Before the chaperone could stop him, he undid the clasp. The suitcase fell open, revealing nothing but darkness inside. Weatherby couldn’t see the back of the suitcase. It was like Butch held the square entrance to some shadowy cave in his hands, which was far bigger than the suitcase could possibly contain.
A bright neon blue arm reached out of the suitcase, followed by a grinning face with a long nose and pointed ears. The creature tumbled out, leaping onto the floor and emitting a chattering hiss of malevolent joy. The creature was the size of a monkey, with long claws, beady eyes and pointed teeth in a permanent smile. Weatherby recognized it instantly. This was an imp, angry lower demons who were the most brutalized creatures in the Pit – and loved to take out their frustration on others.
With a chattering howl, the imp leapt into the dancing students, slashing out with his iron claws and tearing the fabric of dresses and tuxedoes. Butch tossed down his suitcase, and more and more imps poured out of it like smoke from a fire. They leapt around the room, screaming and laughing as they overturned chairs, chased students, and broke the instruments of the band. Smoke rose in thin ribbons from their iron claws, which grew red hot whenever they struck.
Butch nodded to Weatherby and Peggy as he closed the gym doors. “I’ll just leave you two alone,” he said, and slammed the door shut.
“Weatherby!” Peggy screamed as an imp came bounding toward them. Weatherby thought quickly, already reaching through his pockets. The imp leapt into the air, its claws poised. Peggy’s foot lashed out, the tip of her high heel striking the demon in the throat. The imp fell writhing on the ground.
“Come on,” Weatherby said, grabbing Peggy’s arm and pulling her to the refreshments table. “I might have a way to stop these little devils.” He pulled a leather pouch of tiny pebbles. “These are from Europe, from soil that minor saints have walked on.” Weatherby spotted the punch bowl and ran for it.
Another imp jumped after them, and Weatherby grabbed a fallen chair and hurled it at the little monster. The metal chair slammed onto the imp’s back, and it howled in rage. They reached the refreshment table, and Weatherby got to work. His hands were shaking as he poured the holy rocks into the punch. Against powerful demons, the charm would be useless, but it might work against the imps.
The imps were running riot in the gym. A few of the students had been savaged by their claws, and lay crying in the corners, while others managed to escape by a small door in the back. The poor chaperone struggled in vain to restore order, until an imp clobbered him with a guitar stolen from the band.
As more and more imps headed toward the refreshment table, Weatherby dipped a finger in the punch and whispered a few words in Latin. “Weatherby!” Peggy cried. “They’re gonna eat us!” The imps were closing in, forming a circle of waving tails and chattering teeth. Their red hot claws clicked across the tiled floor as they
Butch pointed at Weatherby, as the flustered chaperones hurried to the door. “I knew it!” he shouted. “I knew it! This little runt stole my girl! He stole my girl and all of your just let it happen! You turned your back on me, just when he did a slick little magic trick. Well, I’ll show you. I’ll show you a real magic trick, and just how pathetic he is!”
“Butch, don’t—” Peggy started, but Butch shook her head.
“Shut up. You’re a little slut. I should have realized it sooner.” He patted the suitcase and moved his hand to the clasp. “You want a new boyfriend? Fine. I got a bunch right here. Why don’t you get better acquainted?”
Before the chaperone could stop him, he undid the clasp. The suitcase fell open, revealing nothing but darkness inside. Weatherby couldn’t see the back of the suitcase. It was like Butch held the square entrance to some shadowy cave in his hands, which was far bigger than the suitcase could possibly contain.
A bright neon blue arm reached out of the suitcase, followed by a grinning face with a long nose and pointed ears. The creature tumbled out, leaping onto the floor and emitting a chattering hiss of malevolent joy. The creature was the size of a monkey, with long claws, beady eyes and pointed teeth in a permanent smile. Weatherby recognized it instantly. This was an imp, angry lower demons who were the most brutalized creatures in the Pit – and loved to take out their frustration on others.
With a chattering howl, the imp leapt into the dancing students, slashing out with his iron claws and tearing the fabric of dresses and tuxedoes. Butch tossed down his suitcase, and more and more imps poured out of it like smoke from a fire. They leapt around the room, screaming and laughing as they overturned chairs, chased students, and broke the instruments of the band. Smoke rose in thin ribbons from their iron claws, which grew red hot whenever they struck.
Butch nodded to Weatherby and Peggy as he closed the gym doors. “I’ll just leave you two alone,” he said, and slammed the door shut.
“Weatherby!” Peggy screamed as an imp came bounding toward them. Weatherby thought quickly, already reaching through his pockets. The imp leapt into the air, its claws poised. Peggy’s foot lashed out, the tip of her high heel striking the demon in the throat. The imp fell writhing on the ground.
“Come on,” Weatherby said, grabbing Peggy’s arm and pulling her to the refreshments table. “I might have a way to stop these little devils.” He pulled a leather pouch of tiny pebbles. “These are from Europe, from soil that minor saints have walked on.” Weatherby spotted the punch bowl and ran for it.
Another imp jumped after them, and Weatherby grabbed a fallen chair and hurled it at the little monster. The metal chair slammed onto the imp’s back, and it howled in rage. They reached the refreshment table, and Weatherby got to work. His hands were shaking as he poured the holy rocks into the punch. Against powerful demons, the charm would be useless, but it might work against the imps.
The imps were running riot in the gym. A few of the students had been savaged by their claws, and lay crying in the corners, while others managed to escape by a small door in the back. The poor chaperone struggled in vain to restore order, until an imp clobbered him with a guitar stolen from the band.
As more and more imps headed toward the refreshment table, Weatherby dipped a finger in the punch and whispered a few words in Latin. “Weatherby!” Peggy cried. “They’re gonna eat us!” The imps were closing in, forming a circle of waving tails and chattering teeth. Their red hot claws clicked across the tiled floor as they
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