Chapter Two
Each time Sheyenne appears, she brightens my day—and right now my day certainly needed brightening. As McGoo and I stood facing the murderous creature from the Fifth Pit of Hell, not to mention the flock of feral chickens, my ghost girlfriend appeared beside us in the alley.
She has beautiful blue eyes, long blond hair, curves in all the right places, and a sparkling personality that shines through her translucent form. Sheyenne is a former medical student and a smoking-hot lounge singer. She and I had a fling, just one night back when I was still alive. Then she was poisoned to death and I was shot in the back of the head. So much for the relationship we had planned. It happens.
Fortunately—if anything about the situation could be called fortunate—the Big Uneasy changed the rules. Sheyenne came back as a ghost, and I rose from the grave as a zombie. Back from the dead and back on the case. Once I solved Sheyenne’s murder and my own, Chambeaux & Deyer Investigations continued with our regular clientele. Business wasn’t exactly thriving, but it wasn’t dead-on-arrival either. Even as a ghost, Sheyenne served as our office manager, receptionist, and all around “best foot forward.” She opened the mail, did the filing, monitored the budget, chased past-due invoices, and managed the complicated paperwork so Robin and I could focus on our cases.
I wasn’t sure why she would show up while McGoo and I were facing off against Obadeus. Seeing Sheyenne, the demon gave a lascivious, hungry growl. At first I was angry that this ugly thing was lusting after my girlfriend, until I realized he saw her as prey. That was worse.
I stepped in front of her protectively. “Sheyenne, what are you doing here? Can’t you see there’s trouble?”
“I know.” She drifted closer. “And you could use some help, Beaux.”
McGoo and I kept our guns pointed at the demon, who was beginning to realize that our weapons posed no threat to him … and neither did we.
Sheyenne wavered in front of me. “Remember, this came in the mail from that new spell subscription service? I figured you could use it.” She held a piece of paper printed with big, bold letters.
FREE SAMPLE!
ALTERRO’S SPELLS ’N SUCH
“It’s a demon-shattering spell, Beaux.”
“It’s junk mail, Spooky!” I did recall Sheyenne showing me the flyer and asking if we wanted to subscribe, and I’d brushed her off with something like, “When in the world will we ever need a demon-shattering spell?”
Now Sheyenne flapped the flyer in front of me until I was forced to take it.
“It’s your only chance,” she said.
* * *
Now that Chambeaux & Deyer Investigations had grudgingly joined the UQ Chamber of Commerce, we got more mail solicitations, flyers, catalogs, and free samples than I could imagine using. On the day the Spells ’N Such flyer arrived, I remember Sheyenne diligently sorting through the mail. She used her poltergeist powers to tear open the envelopes, unfold the letters, and separate the bills from the disappointingly few checks from clients.
The main thing that caught my attention was a charity flyer, a plea from the AAA, Agricultural Avian Activists, led by an earnest do-gooder werewolf (and quite possibly their only member) named Maynard Kleck. Maynard was distraught over the plight of feral chickens in the Quarter. “Flocks of them have no homes, and they just need a place to roost.”
I had seen chickens running loose in the streets, and I knew most of them came from a well-meaning resident who simply wanted to bring more birds to the gloomy Quarter and had turned them loose to multiply. Chickens knew how to multiply, and now they ran through the city leaving feathers and droppings in unwanted places. They had effectively become the Quarter’s new pigeons.
Sheyenne had skimmed the solicitation, then showed it to me. “Do you think we should contribute something?”
Robin came out of her office, her big brown eyes showing deep concern. The mere mention of a creature in need usually drew her attention. “It sounds like a terrible plight. Maybe we should do what we can to help Mr. Kleck and his organization?” She gave a sympathetic cluck. “Those poor chickens!”
“You know what McGoo would say,” I replied. “The best way to get rid of unwanted chickens is to eat them. Then everybody’s happy, except for the chickens.”
Sheyenne showed me the next item in the junk mail, the flyer from Spells ’N Such, a new by-mail subscription spell service, much like those recipe-of-the-week clubs that sound so good when you first sign up, but the recipes keep coming and keep coming and you never actually use any of them … especially when you’re a zombie and don’t do much cooking. Then you can never get off the mailing list.
I frowned at the arcane symbols and the “quick and easy phonetic pronunciation” beneath them. “If Alterro’s going to give a free sample, why doesn’t he send something people can use? A demon-shattering spell! When would that ever come in handy?”
It seemed funny at the time.
* * *
I snatched the paper from Sheyenne. McGoo and I advanced down the alley, trying to look intimidating. We hoped that Obadeus didn’t come to his senses anytime soon. The bloodthirsty demon must have assumed we possessed some kind of superpowers, otherwise why would we have been so foolish as to come after him in the first place? But the demon from the Fifth Pit of Hell had no idea just how foolish we really were.
I slipped the .38 inside the pocket of my stitched-up sport jacket and decided to rely on the spell after all. Could I really trust some hokey mumbo-jumbo that arrived via bulk-rate mail?
With a revolver in each hand, McGoo matched me step for step. As we came closer, Obadeus flared his gargoyle-like wings, facing us. The chickens squawked and scuttled around. One pecked at the demon’s scaled foot.
Sheyenne flitted in. “I’ll stall him, Beaux. Read the spell!” She swooped toward the demon, who slashed at the air, ripping his claws through her shimmering translucent form. Sheyenne flickered and drifted away laughing, taunting. Of course he couldn’t harm a ghost—but he could piss me off.
I started reading the spell, ignoring the helpful tips on how to get the most out of my trial subscription to Spells ’N Such. The words were like a child’s jump-rope chant, cutesy and rhyming, and I felt ridiculous. I knew we shouldn’t bank on this, but I continued to utter the silly sounds.
McGoo lunged forward to block the demon’s outstretched claw as he tried to snatch the spell paper from my hands. Obadeus struck him hard, knocking my best human friend against the alley wall with enough force to stun him.
That was the last straw. I meant to finish the spell, whether it worked or not. Obadeus would probably tear me limb from limb, after which my personal taxidermy specialist, Miss Lujean Eccles, would have to spend hours stitching me back together like an undead Humpty Dumpty.
I completed the spell, pronouncing the words according to the helpful phonetics. I was surprised to feel the paper tingle in my fingers, which are normally numb and don’t usually detect things of a tingly nature. The air started to glow and sparkle.
The astonished demon recoiled, his face folding back in a grimace, his fanged mouth dropping open in disgust. He writhed and cringed like someone who had unexpectedly stepped in a large, fresh dog turd.
Sheyenne flitted next to me. “It’s working!”
Searing silver and blue threads appeared in the air, slicing down like piano wires. First one, then four more, then a dozen, all wrapping around the burly demon. Obadeus struggled as the silver filament cut into him, burning and smoking through his armored flesh. His roars and growls changed to wails as the silver lines intensified.
The chickens clucked and scattered, running around in circles even though no one had cut their heads off.
The sound of chimes rang in the alley, drowning out the sounds of the scampering chickens and the howling monster. With a mighty flash and a whoosh of released power, the demon-shattering spell did exactly what its name implied.
Obadeus let out a final roar, and then splintered into glowing, gem-like blobs.
I shielded my eyes.
Sheyenne cried, “Oh, pretty!”
Sparkling pieces of shattered demon sprayed everywhere like reflective bits from a disco mirror ball, and the panicked chickens squawked as they flapped their wings and finally fled the alley.
McGoo picked himself up, shook his head, and retrieved his blue patrolman’s cap, which had fallen to the ground. “Huh. No more demon … and no more chickens. Sounds good to me.”
“Case closed.” I had a big grin on my stiff face.
Sheyenne said, “Not until all the paperwork is complete.”