had gathered around the lip of the pit, and they danced, screamed, and gesticulated in a wild orgy of religious ecstasy, as others stood off behind the crowd pounding on hollow log drums.
"Uhh, Braveheart, I think we're in trouble."
Irritated by the inane comment, she scowled and gave White-Lion a dirty look. "Brilliant deduction, Sherlock," she growled in a sarcastic tone.
White-Lion jerked her head around, her eyes and mouth opened in large startled O's. "Oh, my! What brought that on?"
"Whaddya think, ya ditz?"
"You sound upset."
"Now, what makes you think that? A bunch of murderous savages want ta immolate us as a sacrifice to their god in punishment for trying ta steal their sacred jewel. Why the hell would I be upset?! Gaaah, sometimes you can be such a space-case!"
"Well, getting mad at me won't help."
White-Lion's words triggered an idea for how to escape. She realized it was a long shot, but she didn't see that they had any choice.
"Geeze, get a clue, will ya? We wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for you and yer hair-brained schemes."
"Hey! You can't blame this on me."
"Oh, yeah? Whose idea was it ta steal the Eye of the Devourer?"
"Well, it certainly wasn't my idea to sneak through the village at night."
"Yer the one who set off the alarm!"
"Only because you were about to step on that sleeping guard!"
"Ya didn't have ta yell!"
"How else was I supposed to get your attention? You were too far away to hear me whisper."
"You were supposed ta be right behind me."
"You were moving too fast!"
"I was tryin' ta get through the village before we were discovered, ya bimbo! Why couldn't you keep up?"
"I was trying to be stealthy!"
"Dammit! I thought we agreed ta move fast!"
"I didn't agree to anything, you decided for both of us!"
"I thought it was the best thing ta do!"
"I'm the senior partner, I'm the one who's supposed to make the decisions!"
"Hah! You couldn't decide what shoes ta wear this morning, you idiot!"
"I'm the idiot? You're the one who thought we could scare the natives with a simple trick!"
"How was I ta know they'd seen matches before?!"
By that time they were within ten feet of the lava. Eile could smell the foul gases and feel the heat rising up from the surface.
"I knew yer obsession with adventure would get us killed some day, but I never thought we'd go out like this."
"Son of a--stop blaming me!" White-Lion kicked her legs in frustrated anger.
She smiled. That's it, she thought, get good and mad. "Who else am I gonna blame? It's no one's fault but yers!"
"Ooohhh! I can't believe I chose a poopy-skull like you to be my partner!"
"God, I can't believe I fell for a self-centered butthead such as you. I thought I had better sense!"
White-Lion screamed in rage as she twisted and bucked her body, but it soon turned into a guttural roar as light exploded from her eyes. It echoed through the jungle, scaring up flocks of birds and flushing animals out of hiding as they fled in terror.
Yes! Now we're getting somewhere. The only problem was, White-Lion's magical ability was erratic. Eile had no idea what would result. She could only hope it was something productive.
Read the rest of the story [https://www.goodreads.com/story/show/338142-the-peril-gem].
From "A Deliberation of Morality"
A pop startled her, and when she opened her eyes and slipped her glasses back on she saw a small column of fire and smoke standing in the middle of the report she had been writing, accompanied by a deep, resonant bass organ chord. Alarmed, she half rose out of her chair when it disappeared. In its place stood a feminine anthropomorphic figure inside a ring of char. It was no more than six inches high, dressed in an erotic bodice with a cross in the cleavage lacings, a pair of belted panties, fishnet stockings, and stiletto-heeled shoes, with a garter on her left thigh, two more on her upper arms, and a spiked collar around her neck. The clothes were fiery red while the collar, belt, garters, and shoes were night-black, and the spikes, buckles, and cross coin-silver. It took her a moment to realize the tiny woman looked exactly like her, even down to the glasses, except for the two red horns sprouting from either side of her head, and the long, sinuous barbed tail that emerged from her backside.
She looked up at Differel with a sly, devilish expression as the aristocrat stood up, but as soon as she saw who it was, she jumped, a shocked look on her face.
"Good God!" Despite her size, her voice sounded normal, and identical to her own. "Whatever I did, it couldn't have been bad enough to deserve this!"
"Who, or what, the bloody hell are you!?" Differel leaned over the desk, her hands braced against the top.
Recovering quickly, the diminutive Differel gave her a look admonishing her not to be daft. "That should be obvious. I'm your shoulder devil."
"My...what?!"
The devil-doll sighed in frustration and shook her head. "Do you have a hearing problem? Shoul--der--de--vil!"
"And just what is that supposed to be, exactly?"
She threw up her hands and looked towards the ceiling. "Oh for the love of Evil! How dense can you possibly be? I'm one of the two personifications that sit on your shoulders and offer advice on moral dilemmas. In my case, I personify temptation, and appeal to your selfish motivations."
Differel felt faint for a moment and resumed sitting. "I must be dreaming," she half-whispered, leaning forward. She held her head in her hands with her elbows resting on the desktop. "Yes, of course, I've fallen asleep over my work and I'm having a guilt-ridden nightmare."
"I wish!" The devilish-Differel sounded peeved as she placed her hands on her hips and turned away. "Being assigned to you is hardly what you would call a plum assignment. In fact, it's usually reserved either as a way to haze rookie tempters, or as a form of punishment."
Differel looked up and crossed her arms over the desk. "I beg your pardon?"
She spared her an exasperated glance over her shoulder. "Being a shoulder devil is an occupation, not a vocation. It's usually a devil's first job after graduating from the tempters training academy. However, it can be assigned to retirees who wish to keep their hands in the business, or to incompetents or malcontents as a way to teach them humility and the error of their ways. Haven't you ever read C. S. Lewis? The Screwtape Letters?"
That did seem rather familiar. "Alright, I see what you're getting at."
The devil-doll nodded her head and turned to face her again. "Finally! Now we can get down to business. Oh, by the way, the name's Differel Diabolique, but you can call me DeeDee. I prefer informality among friends."
Differel frowned. Her attitude was getting on her nerves. "Just a moment. If what you say is true, then there should be a 'shoulder angel', correct?"
"Exactly. She personifies your conscience and appeals to your altruistic motivations."
"Shouldn't she be here as well?"
Her face split into silly grin. "Are you kidding? You don't need her, you're a bigger stiff than she is."
Differel felt her anger flare as she sat upright. "Now just a bloody minute--!"
DeeDee's own face turned fiery red as she became upset. "I meant it as a compliment! Jesus, but you have a temper. I told you, being assigned to you is considered onerous duty. Why do you suppose that is, huh? It's because you're such a straight-arrow no tempter has a chance of getting you to commit any kind of sin, no matter how insignificant. So why would you need a shoulder angel? You do her job better than she would. In fact, I hear being assigned to you is considered a rather cushy posting Upstairs. She's probably off somewhere working on her tan, the stuck-up little bitch! Me, I'll probably spend my time doing my nails. Big whoop."
Differel forced herself to relax. If she was having a dream, she should be able to control it, but she would have to be calm, and if
she wasn't, getting mad still wouldn't help her situation.
"Hey." DeeDee broke into her thoughts. "Do you mind if I change into something more comfortable?"
Before Differel had a chance to respond, the devil-doll disappeared in a flash of fire and a puff a smoke. A larger column of smoke and flame sprang up in front of the desk, startling her, accompanied again by the organ note, now loud enough to shake the desk. DeeDee reappeared, full-sized, but otherwise no different. She stretched in a languid, almost provocative, manner, as if working the kinks out of the compacted muscles.
"Man, does that feel good! Being shoulder-size gets to be pretty confining after awhile."
Somehow, Differel found her larger size more disturbing, in more ways than one. "Are you sure this isn't a dream?"
DeeDee walked around the desk to her side. Differel reached under the top to grip her pistol, but didn't pull it when she leaned backwards against the edge. "If you don't believe me, call someone. If this is a dream, they'll see me, otherwise they won't."
She raised an eyebrow as she removed her hand. "I can call anyone?"
"Anybody you like."
She smirked. "Hmph. As you wish." And she sent out a familiar mental summons.
Vlad Drakulya emerged from the corner closest to the door. "You rang, My Master?" he said in his deep bass voice.
Find the story here: [https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/399503].
From "Youthful Indiscretion"
As soon as the block fully reassembled itself, the tolling stopped. Apprehension crept over Henry; he knew something was about to happen, he just didn't know what. Then the room began to grow dark. He looked around at the lights. They didn't