Those Who Fight Monsters: Tales of Occult Detectives

I clutched his wrist, my knees clamped tight as I straddled him, but I couldn’t hold him for long. I needed a weapon, something I could slide into his eye — something sharp and pointy that could kill a demon.

“Mom!” Allie said, and as she spoke, she tossed me something small and silver. Instinctively, the demon tilted his head up and opened his eyes wide.

And that was all it took.

I snatched the clippers from the air, held them with the pointy file sticking out, and plunged the metal deep into the demon’s eye.

Immediately, I heard the hiss of the demon leaving the body. Beneath me, all that was left was a shell.

A dead body.

And there I was in a roomful of kids, all of whom would surely awake from their faints soon enough.

I sighed. A dead body wasn’t going to go over well with them.

Lamenting the fact that demons don’t disappear in a puff of ash and smoke, I grabbed the body under the arms and started dragging it. “Open it,” I said to Allie, motioning with my head to a door at the back of the room.

She ran ahead, and I shoved the body into the small, dark closet. For now, that would have to be enough, especially since there was no time to do more.

Around us, all the kids were stirring. I saw Jeremy’s eyes go wide, then saw him look around frantically, relaxing when his eyes found Allie.

“What happened?” he mumbled.

“You should go home, Jeremy,” I said. Then looked around at the entire group, “All of you.”

Faced with a disapproving adult, they all slunk out guiltily. All except Mindy, who was looking at me with no small amount of trepidation. “Hi, Aunt Kate,” she said. She cleared her throat, then turned her attention to Allie. “We’re in a lot of trouble, aren’t we?”

Allie cocked her head to the side and looked at me, her eyebrows raised in question, as if the fact that she’d done herself proud in the demonic ass-kicking department would erase all the other wrongs of the night.

I didn’t answer. After a minute, that was answer enough.

Allie sighed. But not her usual exasperated sigh. This one was a sigh of resignation and acceptance, and I knew then that although the lesson had been hard fought, she’d learned a bit more about prudence and responsibility tonight.

“We’re definitely in trouble,” her words said, and I know that’s what Mindy heard. But what I heard was, “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, kid,” I whispered. “Now let’s go home.”

Chronologically, this story falls between Deja Demon and Demon Ex Machina.

—Julie Kenner

Julie Kenner does not hunt demons, but she does spend her days wrangling two small children and an equal number of cats, not to mention a husband. She’s also the author of numerous novels, including the “Kate Connor: Demon Hunting Soccer Mom” series and the newly released “Blood Lily Chronicles.” Visit Julie online at www.juliekenner.com

Soccer mom Kate Connor spends her days driving carpool, organizing Gymboree playdates, and hunting demons. Just another day in suburbia…

The Spirit of the Thing: A Nightside Story by Simon R. Green

In the Nightside, that secret hidden heart of London, where it’s always the darkest part of the night and the dawn never comes, you can find some of the best and worst bars in the world. There are places that will serve you liquid moonlight in a tall glass, or angel’s tears, or a wine that was old when Rome was young.

And then there’s the Jolly Cripple. You get to one of the worst bars in the world by walking down the kind of alley you’d normally have the sense to stay out of. The Cripple is tucked away behind more respectable establishments, and light from the street doesn’t penetrate far. It’s always half full of junk and garbage, and the only reason there aren’t any bodies to step over is because the rats have eaten them all. You have to watch out for rats in the Nightside; some people say they’re evolving. In fact, some people claim to have seen the damn things using knives and forks.

I wouldn’t normally be seen dead in a dive like the Jolly Cripple, but I was working. At the time, I was in between clients and in need of some fast walking around money, so when the bar’s owner got word to me that there was quick and easy money to be made, I swallowed my pride. I’m John Taylor, private investigator. I have a gift for finding things, and people. I always find the truth for my clients; even if it means having to walk into places where even angels would wince and turn their heads aside.