Chapter 14 #2
People start to approach our table. The crystals sell the quickest. I think they’re normal crystals until Kit explains that they all have a little something extra in them.
Sure, the rose quartz will boost feelings of self-love and foster loving relationships with others, as all do, but this particular rose quartz will be especially powerful in making love spells.
And yes, the onyx will promote strength, but it will especially promote physical strength, making the wearer inhumanly strong. And so on.
As Kit is laughing with a customer, I notice another customer approach the table.
He’s pale, with cropped, dark hair and green irises.
He raises a manicured brow at the energy ball then stares at Kit with pure contempt.
His heavy gaze on us makes a chill go down my spine.
I try to look away, but, unlike Kit, my focus is locked on him.
When Kit does not immediately acknowledge the newcomer, he clears his throat.
Kit turns to say, “One moment,” but trails off when he sees the man. Kit stands up straight and says, “Garficious. Sir. How may I help you?”
Garficious continues to regard Kit with contempt. “Tonkitgrol,” he says slowly, like he’s tasting it on his lips. “That’s your name, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmm.” He picks up one of the gems, a hunk of amber, brings it close to his eye for inspection, sniffs it, then pockets it. Kit does not protest. “So, you’ve decided this is the best use of your time?”
“Yes, sir. It helps me make a little money. While I know I can take a lot of the things I need, having some cash does help.”
Garficious looks impressed. “Well, I suppose it is nice to know you have somewhat of a brain. Not many demons as young as you would bother to consider that.” He picks up one of the wooden masks and slips it into a plastic bag in his hand.
Again, Kit does not protest. Garficious scans Kit up and down.
“It’s been a while since you’ve been back to Hell, Tonkitgrol.
Four years, in fact. Earthly years. The Queen may not take notice or even care about your absence, but I notice.
I notice everything. I hear everything, I see everything. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How much communication do you have with other demons?”
“Not much, sir. I find we don’t agree on many things.”
“You always have been an odd one, haven’t you? Well, I suppose you keep it that way for now, yes? And perhaps stay out of Hell for a while longer. Things down there are, well, tricky. The last thing I need is more bodies to sort through.”
“Yes, sir.”
Garficious disappears. Like vanishes before our eyes. Kit lets out a huge breath and leans on the table with his hands splayed.
“Where did he go?” I ask. “Who was that?” Kit’s breathing increases speed, and this time it’s not my fault. Thankfully, he manages to swiftly get it under control, and when he does, I question, softly, “Are you all right?”
Kit pushes himself back to a fully upright position.
“Fine. I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting him.
Shit. Okay. Sorry. It could have been someone much worse.
We’re fine. Uh, that was Garficious. He’s the Queen’s right-hand man.
He was previously the same for the King.
He does anything and everything for them.
He is, as he said, the eyes and ears of Hell.
” Kit drags a hand down his face. “He’s a mid-level demon, but with all the connections he has, he may as well be the highest of them all.
It’s all right, I just wasn’t expecting any demons of his stature here.
It’s been a while since I interacted with anyone with connections that tie that deeply to Hell. I’m fine.”
“Are you?”
“Yes,” he snaps.
I click my tongue. Kit seems spooked, regardless of what he says. I should change the subject, or shut my mouth, but the curiosity bug takes over. “He can teleport? Is that what happened? He just disappeared.”
Kit relaxes with the question. “Teleport is a very sci-fi word, but yeah. Most demons can jump like that. Easier than walking. Easiest way to get to and from Hell, also. There are other pathways, but that would be the most direct.”
“Can you? Teleport, I mean.”
“I should be able to. I’ve never tried.”
“Why not?”
“My host could die if I don’t do it correctly.”
“Oh.” My fingers tap my window. “Then let’s not, shall we?”
Kit laughs lightly. “Let’s not.”
Kit is on edge for the rest of the night. He’s still being friendly and chatting with customers, but he keeps glancing around like he’s expecting Garficious to reappear, or he’s expecting the “someone much worse” he mentioned.
A man in a dark overcoat and black fedora (very 1920s mobster vibes) eventually buys the energy ball. He places it in a metal box and marches out of the market holding it as far from himself as he can manage, arms completely outstretched.
By the time the sun peeks through the windows at the top of the building, our table is almost empty of items, save for a handful of crystals.
Kit packs the crystals into a paper bag, leaving the duffel bags behind.
He gathers his earnings and then exits the warehouse, heading back toward our stolen vehicle.
As the sun is now up in the sky, I draw a third line on my chalkboard to mark another day gone.
Kit hotwires the car a third time to get it to start.
He drives back to the grocery store parking lot, leaving the car there, and walks the rest of the way back to my apartment.
He settles down on the couch and turns on an episode of Friends.
I relax back and watch with him, eyes heavy.
It’s the episode where Phoebe’s psychic tells her she’s going to die that week.
I chuckle at the ridiculousness, but still, my memories consume me like quicksand, pulling me under and trapping me in the thick sludge of my past, impossible to escape.