with Sheyenne someday, a chance to spend more time alone with her. I hated for her to think I was no longer interested just because she was a ghost. You have to make some concessions in order for a relationship to work.
Standing in the gloomy alley in front of the closed pawnshop, I was so preoccupied with my personal problems that I didn’t notice the two demon goons closing in until it was too late. A private detective is supposed to be observant, picking up tiny details missed by the police or evil criminal masterminds. Even so, I did not see the hulking things before they were right up on me. For all their scales, horns, and poisonous fumes leaking from their nostrils and mouths, demons somehow manage to tiptoe quite well.
“Dan Chambeaux,” gargled the larger demon as purplish brown vapors curled out of his fanged mouth. “We need a word with you.”
The slightly smaller demon next to him chuckled with a huffing sound like a badly tuned engine. His breath looked like diesel fumes. “Yeah. Strong words.”
They blocked the alley, and I faced them. “How can I help you boys?”
The two demons were of the “hired thug” variety, certainly not management material. Large and imposing, with faces and bodies covered with scaly plates and sharp protrusions, they looked like the result of an unintended pregnancy between a porcupine and a crocodile—and that was not a porno clip I wanted to see under any circumstances.
The foremost demon had blazing scarlet eyes, and his partner’s were orange, denoting lesser intelligence (or lesser meanness, I hoped). I was sure I would find out soon enough. “If you’re looking to rent the storefront here, I can put you in touch with the real estate agent.”
The red-eyed demon grabbed me by the front of my shirt, wrinkling my jacket as he shoved me against the alley wall. His clawed hand was the size of my head. My fedora fell off onto the ground.
“Careful with the hat!” I said.
The orange-eyed demon stomped the fedora flat.
“Stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, Chambeaux.” The purplish brown fumes wafting out of his mouth stung my eyes like acid—maybe it was acid—and I couldn’t keep myself from coughing. Not exactly the most dignified response I could have made.
“Could you be more specific?” I managed. “I’m a detective—it’s my job to stick my nose in things.”
The big demon lifted me into the air, letting my legs dangle beneath me, then swung me around and slammed me against the opposite wall of the alley. He chuffed, “Ooh, that’s going to leave a mark.”
“I’ve been told it adds character.” Actually, because I have embalming fluid rather than blood, bruises don’t show, and I can withstand a lot of battering, not that I enjoy it. Even if the bruises weren’t visible, however, lumps and broken bones could still be very unsightly.
The demon tossed me to his partner, who turned me upside down and dropped me to the street, as if they had invented a new game called “Pass the Zombie.”
I picked myself up. I knew I was damaged, some pieces broken, and my clothes were definitely torn and dirty. The orange-eyed demon stomped on my fedora again for good measure, though it was already flat.
“Just watch yourself,” said the larger demon, leaning close and exhaling again so that I couldn’t breathe without burning my nostrils.
“You’ve got a bad case of the vapors,” I said.
“Stop poking into Goodfellow matters, if you know what’s good for you,” said the less intelligent thug. “The Smile Syndicate doesn’t like it.”
“Really?” I shook my head to clear it. “Missy told me she has nothing to hide.”
It was the wrong thing to say, but then I often do that. The scarlet-eyed demon was annoyed that his partner had blabbed the Goodfellow name. They propped me up and used me as a punching bag, hammering away at my chest and face, tearing my jacket (which was going to need several more stitches—as would I).
“If you don’t learn your lesson, maybe we’ll go twist the head off your lawyer friend,” the red-eyed demon said. “Like unscrewing a lid off a jar.”
His companion chuckled. “The lid off a jar!”
They left me in a rumpled heap before strutting away, whistling a cheerful tune. “Let’s go celebrate,” said the big demon.
The orange-eyed partner trotted along beside him. “Can we? Can we?”
I lay there for a long time, feeling a thousand aches, hoping I could be patched up, but knowing I was no