Ralph's lower lip quivered and he fell into one of the booths near the door. He held his temple in his hand and shook his head.
"Ah'm ruined. . ." he moaned. "Nobody's gonna come here knowing it's haunted and smells."
I snorted. "Everybody's known about the smell for years."
He waved me away. "Don't go trying to butter me up. Ah know when Ah'm in trouble. That feller said he'd never be back, and Ah know the others were thinking the same thing." He stood and shuffled into the kitchen.
I followed him and dodged a few homicidal fish with small steak knives in their mouths. "Come on, Ralph, you're taking this way too seriously."
Ralph stood by his chair that sat near the swinging doors. The fish had knocked it over and one of its legs was nearly snapped in two. He sighed and shook his head.
"No doing. Ah've been through a lot owning this place, but this takes the cake," he replied.
"And the pies," I quipped as I watched a few slices zoom by on the backs of the fish.
Ralph righted the chair and plopped himself in the seat. He waved at the door. "Ya should leave. It ain't safe being here."
I stepped towards him. "Ralph, I might know someone-"
He snapped his head up and glared at me. "Ah said go, now git!"
I started back. He'd never been angry at me before. Mad, maybe, but not angry. I pursed my lips and nodded.
"All right, I'll go. You want me to come back tomorrow?" I asked him.
He turned his face away from me and shook his head. "No. Just keep yerself away from here, and tell Candy, too."
I grabbed my coat and paused at the door to look over my shoulder. It was a little surreal to leave Ralph seated on the broken chair with flying fish over his head, but he was the boss. Besides, I needed space to work, and that space was taken by Ralph. If Roland and I were going to be doing some exorcising than we'd do it better without Ralph around.
I went to my car and drove out of the parking lot, but only around a wide hedge of brush behind the diner. Ralph would think I left, and I could see when he left. Then I dialed the land-line to my apartment. Roland picked up on the third ring. That should've told me something was wrong, but my thoughts were full of sole spirits.
"Roland, we've got a problem here at the diner. Something smells fishy, and it floats, too," I told him.
"I can't come. Not at this time," he informed me.
I pulled the phone away and blinked at it. "Seriously?" I wondered.
"This is very serious," he confirmed.
I frowned and placed the phone against my ear. "What could be more important than flying ghost fish?" I asked him.
"There is something amiss with my soul box," he explained.
I felt the color drain from my face and my hand shook.
"I'll be right there."
CHAPTER 2
I slammed on the gas and sped down the road. The car had wings because I flew over the bumps, through a few trash cans, and nearly over that drunk on the corner beside the liquor store. I parked in my spot and hurried up to my apartment.
I found Roland in his usual chair with the box in its usual spot on the coffee table. Nothing unusual about the abnormal except the lid of the box was slightly ajar and there was a consistent mess of blue mist that floated out from beneath it. The mist floated through the air for a few inches before a claw-shaped red mist poured from the lid behind it and pulled it back inside. The box kept up that same pattern, like a mother slapping the hand of a really stubborn child.
I sat down on the couch and pointed at the box.
"How long has it been like that?" I asked him.
"Since early this evening."
"Did you insult it?"
"No."
"Did you scratch it?"
"No."
"Did you stare at it funny?"
"No."
"Did you do anything to it?" I wondered.
He shook his head. "No. I was merely pondering you when the box opened as you see it."
I snorted. "So you had sexy thoughts about me and the lid rose?"
"It is my soul," he reminded me.
I looked over the box and noticed an emblem on the side. It hadn't been there before. My eyes widened as I recognized the mark. It was the red hoof like on the fish crates. I pointed at it.
"What does that mean?" I questioned him.
"That is the mark of the Devil. It represents his ownership," he explained. He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"I just saw that tonight on the boxes of fish that came in," I told him.
"Boxes of fish?" he returned.
"Yeah. Ralph ordered some cheap fish that turned out to be possessed or something. They came in a bunch of wooden crates, and that mark was on the side," I explained.
Roland leaned forward and looked me in the eyes. "You're sure of this?"
I frowned. "I had a rough night, but not that rough."
"I would like a picture of these crates," he requested.
"So you don't believe me?" I questioned him.
"We must be sure his hand is involved," he insisted.
I waved my hand at the box. "Shouldn't we be worrying about the stuff we know his hand is in?"
"I don't believe it's a coincidence that a crate of fish arrives at your place of work and the box opens," he pointed out.
"Well, why don't we go together in case the fish try to deep-fry me?" I suggested.
Roland shook his head. "I dare not move the box. The lid may shut."
"Or open," I argued. "And that would be good, right? You'd get your soul back?"
He pursed his lips. "I am not sure."
My mouth dropped open. "Not sure? You swiped your soul box from the devil and fought off other vampires, ghosts, and a something to keep it safe, and now you're telling me you might not get your soul back if the box does open?"
"Correct."
I leaned back against the couch and threw my arms up in the air. "Perfect. This is a perfect end to the night."
Roland dropped onto one knee in front of me and grasped my hands. A faint blush developed on my traitorous cheeks as his bright blue eyes caught mine in their gaze.
"Misty, I know I'm asking you to risk a great deal for the chance of no reward, but we must be sure of what you saw, and the box remains safe. As you brusquely pointed out, we have risked and fought a great deal to keep my soul safe. Now we must go a step farther. Please."
I sighed and shrugged. "I guess it is just a bunch of dead flying fish. What's the worst that could happen? Beside death by disembowelment, that is."
He raised an eyebrow. "Are they as bad as that?"
I snorted and shook my head. "No, only stinky and slimy, but I grew up around farm boys and been around Ralph's cooking for a lot of years. This won't be a problem."
He smiled. "Good. Will Ralph be of assistance?"
I frowned. "I'm not even sure if Ralph's going to be there, and that means I might not get inside."
Roland reached into his coat and pulled out a ring of keys. He pulled one off and held it out to me. "This will ensure your entrance."
I took the key and looked it over. The teeth were blunt, but thin, and there was a skull at the top.
"A skeleton key?" I guessed.
Roland grinned. "Naturally," he replied.
"Naturally," I agreed. I pocketed the key and stood. Roland stood with me and continued to hold my hands. "I'm going to need those, you know," I reminded him.
"Would you call me a fool if I told you I hesitate to let you leave?" he asked me.
"After that spiel telling me to go I'd call you more than that, but I really should be going," I insisted.
Roland leaned down and pecked a teasing kiss on my lips. He pulled away and I glared at him.
"That's only half a kiss," I pointed out.
He smiled. "The other half waits for you to come back."
"That's evil."
"I prefer to call it incentive."
"It's still evil."
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He chuckled. "Then evil I will be, at least for the moment."
I sighed and pulled my hands from his. "All right, but that pucker of yours better be ready when I come back with a picture."
He bowed his head. "For you, always."
I snorted. "At least I don't have to worry about you kissing any frog princes." I slipped away from him and over to the door. "Anyway, wish me luck."
Roland smiled. "You won't need it."
I wasn't so sure of that as I climbed back into my car. This whole mess smelled fishy, and not because of the rancid odor that had crept into my work clothes. Roland was right. There was too much coincidence. I know what I saw, and what I saw was that mark on the was that mark. My phone camera would prove it.
I drove back to the diner and found the place as dark as Roland's coffin.
"Why'd you have to think about coffins right now. . ." I muttered to myself as I parked the car in the back lot.
Ralph's truck was gone, and everything was as quiet as the grave.
"Stop it. . ." I growled at my brain.
I stepped up the stairs and tried the key. It slipped in like a glove, and I slipped inside and flicked on the light.
I screamed when I found myself face to face with a dead fish. The door shut behind me before I could stumble backwards through it. My back slammed against it and I winced as the score became Door: 1, and Misty: 0.
I rubbed the back of my head and glared at the flying fish. It floated off and joined its school near the ceiling. The kitchen was a mess of tossed food and utensils. Broken plates and battered pots were strewn over the old, stained linoleum, and the place smelled like rotten fish.
I ducked beneath the fish as they floated leisurely above me and made my way over to the crates. I crouched down and took a picture of the emblem.
"Just as I thought. . ." I murmured as I lowered the lens. It was the red hoof.
I pocketed my phone and crept away from the school before the bell rang. The hairs on the back of my neck didn't rise until I reached out for the light switch. Something was wrong. I slowly turned around. The same fish from before floated a foot in front of my face. I blinked at it. It blinked back. The rest of the school stopped their slow circle and turned to face me. I stepped back and hit the door.
That's when the lead fish spoke to me.
"I'm delighted to meet you at last," the lead fish told me.
I blinked at it. "I don't recall making an appointment with a dead floating fish," I quipped.
The fish chuckled and its gills flapped in and out. "I make the appointments for the people I meet, though I have to admit meeting you is an exception to my rule. I generally don't make the acquaintance of someone who isn't on his naughty list."
"Santa?" I guessed.
"No, but he does occasionally sport a beard," the fish told me. "I myself prefer a simple black goatee."
A flash of red light blazed on the side of the fish. It was the hoof mark from the crates. The fish's red eyes blinked back at me. My eyes widened.
"Oh God. . ." I murmured.
He chuckled. "Not quite."
This was the red man himself. That not-so-jolly St. Nick of the dyslexic. Satan. I flattened my back against the door but tried to give him my best devil-may-care look.
"I plan on staying off of any list of yours," I told him. It. Whatever.
"Ah, but that's the beauty of the best-laid plans. They all lead to my domain, and I hope this one is no exception," he told me.
"'This one?'" I repeated. I gestured to the fish and their crates. "So you had these things sent here?" I guessed.
He shook his slippery head. "No. This was merely a convenient grudge to set the wheel in motion, but it's to my advantage. It's fortunate you returned alone. You see, I've come here to make a deal with you."
I snorted and shook my head. "Not interested. There's no microscope on earth, or anyone else, that can read your fine print."
"But you must at least listen to my proposal. It concerns your precious vampire," the fish informed me.
My eyes narrowed and I pursed my lips. "I'm listening."
"I want my soul returned to me, and you wish to always be with Roland," he pointed out.
"It's Roland's soul," I reminded him.
He chuckled. "Once a human becomes a vampire they forfeit their soul to me. It's part of the contract."
"Signed in blood and with no return policy?" I guessed.
His tail flipped to and fro in annoyance. "Something like that, but we digress. I offer you a chance at the best of both worlds. You return the soul to me, and I will make you a vampire."
I crossed my arms over my chest and snorted. "Sounds fishy. No deal," I told him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a picture to rub in a certain vampire's face."
I turned my back on the Devil, but his smooth voice called me back.
"Don't you want to know what your precious vampire has been hiding from you?" he cooed.
I turned and frowned at him. "He doesn't hide anything from me."
The fish chuckled. "I'm afraid that isn't quite true. You see, when he stole his soul from me and brought it to the world of the living he started to die. He's dying as we speak."
I glared at him. "You're lying again."
"Am I? Ask him yourself. You know where to find me if you need me," he dared.
The emblem on the side of the fish disappeared and it floated away. Its brethren turned away from me and became a meandering school of undead fish.
I pursed my lips and turned my back on the smelly mess. I'd find out who was deceiving me.
CHAPTER 3
I drove back to town and marched into the apartment. Roland was again seated in his chair. I stopped in front of him and dropped the phone in his lap. He picked up the phone as I crossed my arms and glared down at him.
"Something bothers you," he commented.
"I had a talk with the Devil at the restaurant," I revealed.
Roland started back. "He didn't-" I held up my hand.
"He didn't touch me with his unholy hand or anything. He talked through one of the fish," I explained.
"What did he say?" Roland asked me.
"He said it wasn't his fault the fish got to the restaurant and he had a deal for me." I looked straight at Roland. "He wanted me to steal your soul and give it to him."
Roland pursed his lips. "Did you agree?"
I frowned. A pain of hurt struck me in the heart. "Would I be telling you all this if I did?"
Roland fell back in his chair and sighed. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. I looked him up and down. Roland did have a bit more emaciated look than usual.
"What did he offer you in return?" Roland wondered.
"He offered me your life," I revealed.
Roland started. "My life? What of my life?"
"He told me you were dying." I bent down and caught his eyes with mine. "You are, aren't you?" Roland averted his eyes. That was the first time he'd ever done that. "Roland?"
Roland closed his eyes and gave a nod. Just a single nod. That's all I needed to see.
I turned away from him and ran a hand through my hair. "Damn it. . ." I muttered.
"Very possibly," he agreed.
"This is so serious I can't even laugh," I commented as I slumped down on the couch. My throat went dry, and a swallow didn't help. "How long has it been happening?" I whispered.
"Since I removed my soul from Hell," he told me. "But the strain from its theft has hastened the decline."
"How long do you have?"
"Only a few more weeks."
I pursed my lips. "Damn it. . ." I whispered.
"So it seems," he agreed.
I glared at him. "This isn't time for jokes."
Roland turned to me and smiled. "A joke would be worth a great deal to me at this moment."
I sighed and leaned forward. "Yeah, but I'm running on empty right now. Isn't there anything we can do to stop it?"
Roland nodded at the lea
king box. "If I can reunite my soul then I will not die."
"You're sure about that?" I asked him.
"Nothing in life is certain but death, and I feel its dark arms wrapping around me as we speak," he commented. "My only hope lies in uniting my soul with my body."
I tilted my head and studied the box. "So if we get this box open all the way you'll be reunited with your soul?"
"That is my hope," he agreed.
I sighed. "That's a lot of hoping. Any chance something will go wrong?"
"A great deal," he told me.
"You're a coffin full of good news tonight," I quipped.
"There is very little to go around," he pointed out.
I leaned back against the couch and furrowed my brow. "So we figure out how to get it open and hope for the best."
"Precisely," Roland replied.
Figuring out how the box opened was harder than it looked. There didn't seem to be any triggering point. Roland had merely sat in his chair and the lid sprang up those few inches. The horizon brightened with the rising sun and Roland winced. He stood up and placed the soul box gingerly in his chair. I looked up and frowned at him.
"I am sorry to leave you alone to figure out my dilemma," he apologized.
I looked past him at the oozing box. "Not as sorry as your chair's going to be if that keeps up."
Roland smiled and leaned down. He caught my lips in a soft kiss that left me wanting more for my buck, but I got what I paid for as he pulled away and slipped inside the coffin. He partially closed the lid, but paused as his eyes fell on me.
"For what little it matters, I apologize for not telling you earlier about my condition."
I shrugged. "It's okay. I should have noticed."
He smiled. "Thank you."
I raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
"For being here for me when I most need you," he explained.
"It's what you do when you love someone," I told him.
His blue eyes lit up with his smile, and he bowed his head. "Until the evening then, my love."
I snorted and grabbed the lid. "Don't get too mushy on me or I might think about investing in the stake market."
I shut the lid before he could argue, and there was quiet.
The sun came up before my wracked mind could find an answer to the conundrum. I sat on the edge of the couch and stared at the lid for a good hour puzzling over the puzzle box in the chair. The blue mist died down with Roland's sleep.
My mind was so focused on the box at hand that I jumped when my phone rang. I looked at the name and sighed. Aunt Ma.
"Hi, Aunt ma, could I call you back?" I answered.
"What's wrong?" she asked me.