Christopher Moore - Practical Demonkeeping

“I’ve been trying. I don’t understand this much more than you do.”

“Well, I need a drink,” Brine said. “Is there anything in the house?”

“I doubt it. Jenny said she couldn’t keep anything in the house or her husband would drink it. She drank all the wine last night.”

“Even some cooking sherry would be fine,” Brine said, feeling a little sleazy as he spoke.

Travis began going through the cupboards.

“Should you find a small quantity of salt, I would be most grateful,” the Djinn said.

Travis found a box of salt among the spices and was handing it to the Djinn when the phone rang.

They all froze and listened as the machine played Jenny’s outgoing message. After the beep there was a pause, then a woman’s voice. “Travis, pick up.” It was not Jenny.

Travis looked to Brine. “No one knows I’m here.”

“They do now. Pick it up.”

Travis picked up the phone, and the answering machine clicked off.

“This is Travis.”

Brine watched the color drain out of the demonkeeper’s face as he listened. “Is she all right?” Travis said into the phone. “Let me talk to her. Who are you? Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

Brine couldn’t imagine what was going on in the conversation.

Suddenly Travis screamed into the phone, “He’s not an Earth spirit — he’s a demon. How can you be so stupid?”

Travis listened for a moment more, then looked at Augustus Brine and covered the receiver with his hand. “Do you know where there are some caves to the north of town?”

“Yes,” Brine said, “the old mushroom farm.”

Travis spoke into the phone, “Yes, I can find it. I’ll be there at four.” He sat down hard on one of the kitchen chairs and let the phone fall into its cradle.

“What’s going on?” Brine demanded.

Travis was shaking his head. “Some woman is holding Jennifer and Amanda and her husband hostage. Catch is with her and she has the candlesticks. And you were right, there are three invocations.”

“I don’t understand,” Brine said. “What does she want?”

“She thinks that Catch is some kind of benevolent Earth spirit. She wants his power.”

“Humans are so ignorant,” the Djinn said.

“But what does she want with you?” Brine asked. “She has the candlesticks and the invocations.”

“They’re in Greek. They want me to translate the invocations or they’ll kill Jenny.”

“Let them,” the Djinn said. “Perhaps you can bring Catch under control with the woman dead.”

Travis exploded. “They thought of that, you little troll! If I don’t show up at four, they’ll kill Jenny and destroy the invocation. Then we’ll never be able to send Catch back.”

Augustus Brine checked his watch. “We’ve got exactly an hour and a half to come up with a plan.”

“Let us retire to the saloon and consider our options,” the Djinn said.

Augustus Brine led the way into the Head of the Slug. Travis followed, and Gian Hen Gian shuffled in last. The saloon was nearly empty: Robert was sitting at the bar, another man sat in the dark at a table in the back, and Mavis was behind the bar. Robert turned as they entered. When he saw Travis, he jumped off the stool.

“You fucking asshole!” Robert screamed. He stormed toward Travis with his fist cocked for a knockout blow. He got four steps before Augustus Brine threw out a massive forearm that caught him in the forehead. There was a flash of tennis shoes flailing in the air as Robert experienced the full dynamic range of the clothesline effect. A second later he lay on the floor unconscious.

“Who is that?” Travis asked.

“Jenny’s husband,” Brine answered, bending over and inspecting Robert’s neck for any jutting vertebrae. “He’ll be okay.”

“Maybe we should go somewhere else.”

“There isn’t time,” Brine said. “Besides, he might be able to help.”

Mavis Sand was standing on a plastic milk box peering over the bar at Robert’s supine form. “Nice move, Asbestos,” she said. “I like a man that can handle himself.”

Brine ignored the compliment. “Do you have any smelling salts?”

Mavis climbed down from her milk box, rummaged under the bar for a moment, and came up with a gallon bottle of ammonia. “This should do it.” To Travis and the Djinn she said: “You boys want anything?”

Gian Hen Gian stepped up to the bar. “Could I trouble you for a small quantity…”

“A salty dog and a draft, please,” Travis interrupted.

Brine wrapped one arm under Robert’s armpits and dragged him to a table. He propped him up in a chair, retrieved the ammonia bottle from the bar, and waved it under Robert’s nose.

Robert came to, gagging.

“Bring this boy a beer, Mavis,” Brine said.

“He ain’t drinking today. I’ve been pouring him Cokes since noon.”

“A Coke, then.”

Travis and the Djinn took their drinks and joined Brine and Robert at the table, where Robert sat looking around as if he were experiencing reality for the first time. A nasty bump was rising on his forehead. He rubbed it and winced.

“What hit me?”

“I did,” Brine said. “Robert, I know you’re angry at Travis, but you have to put it aside. Jenny’s in trouble.”

Robert started to protest, but Brine raised a hand and he fell silent.

“For once in your life, Robert, do the right thing and listen.”

It took fifteen minutes for Brine to relate the condensed version of the demon’s story, during which time the only interruption was the screeching feedback of Mavis Sand’s hearing aid, which she had cranked up to maximum so she could eavesdrop. When Brine finished, he drained his beer and ordered a pitcher. “Well?” he said.

Robert said, “Gus, you’re the sanest man I know, and I believe that you believe Jenny is in trouble, but I don’t believe this little man is a genie and I don’t believe in demons.”

“I have seen the demon,” came a voice from the dark end of the bar. The figure who had been sitting quietly when they came in stood and walked toward them.

They all turned to see a rumpled and wrinkled Howard Phillips staggering out of the dark, obviously drunk.

“I saw it outside of my house last night. I thought it was one of the slave creatures kept by the Old Ones.”

“What in the hell are you talking about, Howard?” Robert asked.

“It doesn’t matter any longer. What matters is that these men are telling you the truth.”

“So now what?” Robert said. “What do we do now?”

Howard pulled a pocket watch from his vest and checked the time. “You have one hour to plan a course of action. If I can be of any assistance…”

“Sit down, Howard, before you fall down,” Brine said. “Let’s lay it out. I think it’s obvious from what we know that there is no way to hurt the demon.”

“True,” Travis said.

“Therefore,” Brine continued, “the only way to stop him and his new master is to get the invocation from the second candlestick, which will either send Catch back to hell or empower Gian Hen Gian.”

“When Travis meets them, why don’t we just rush them and take it?” Robert said.

Travis shook his head. “Catch would kill Jenny and the Elliotts before we ever got close. Even if we got hold of the invocation, it has to be translated. That takes time. It’s been years since I’ve read any Greek. You would all be killed, and Catch would find another translator.”

“Yes, Robert,” Brine added. “Did we mention that unless Catch is in his eating form, which must have been what Howard saw, no one can see him but Travis?”