American Monsters

“Can we get off that topic now?”

“Sure thing.”

“Thank you.”

“So how is the boss?”

Amber’s temper flared, but she kept it down. “Can we please not call him that?”

Milo glanced at her. “What are we supposed to call him?”

“Astaroth. The Shining Demon. A Duke of Hell. The Great Burning Asshole. I don’t care, just not the boss. Why are you giving me a hard time about this? It’s your fault that I’m working for him in the first place. If you hadn’t got yourself caught, I’d never have had to trade my servitude for your life. I saved you, and all I get from you is grief. Jesus Christ, I do not need this.”

They drove on in silence for a bit. It was nice, the silence, but then Milo had to go and ruin it.

“Ever think that maybe you shouldn’t have saved me?” he asked. “Ever think that maybe I deserved to be in Hell after all the innocent people I killed?”

“No, Milo,” she said, feeling stupid for losing her temper, “I didn’t. You lost your way. You sold your soul to the Whispering Demon, whatever his name is—”

“Demoriel.”

“Whatever. You sold your soul to him – you must have had your reasons – and he made you a demon. The people you killed when you were the Ghost of the Highway, they … they …”

“Are you going to tell me they don’t count, just because I can’t remember them?”

Amber sighed. “No, I’m not going to say that. Obviously, they count. Obviously what you did was … was evil. But that was twelve years ago. You’ve changed. And I’m sorry if you think I should have let Astaroth hand you over to Demoriel for ten thousand years of torture while Astaroth tortures me, but I don’t, and, while I’m paying your salary, you will do what I—”

“You haven’t paid me in over four weeks.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’m not sticking around because of the money. I’m sticking around because I promised Imelda that I’d keep you safe, and because I’m not going to just abandon you when you need backup.”

“Oh. Well, thank you. I’m not going to abandon you, either.”

“Right.”

“So it looks like we’re stuck with each other.”

“Yes, it does.”

“So can we stop talking about this now? It’s late, I’m tired, and I’m cranky, and I’ve still got bogle juice on my belly.”

“I thought you said they didn’t lay their eggs on you.”

“Yeah, well,” she replied. “I was just trying to make you feel special.”

They drove to the very outskirts of Kingston Valley, and pulled in at the Catching Z’s motel, an L-shaped building with a diner out front. The Charger rumbled as they passed a massive old truck cab occupying two disabled parking spots, and they parked up near the manager’s office.

They each grabbed their overnight bags and headed inside, found the manager reading a battered paperback behind the counter. He had large ears. The rest of him failed to register with Amber because of the largeness of his ears. They were very large ears.

“Two rooms, please,” Milo said. Amber dropped her bag at her feet and put the money on the counter.

A girl came in – pretty, blonde, around Amber’s age. She stood beside them at the counter, picked up a brochure and flicked through it.

“You have room service?” she asked the manager when he came back with the keys.

“Sorry?” the manager said.

“Room service,” the blonde repeated. “Do you have that here?”

“Uh no.”

“So I’d have to leave my room in order to get food? I don’t know, man. Seems like a lotta work. Why don’t you do room service?”

“We, um, we don’t have a kitchen.”

“All I’d be looking for would be a sandwich or something. You can make a sandwich, can’t you? You don’t need a kitchen to make a sandwich.” The girl sighed. “I don’t know. I like the look of the place. It’s nice. It’s got a nice ambience. I like what it’s called. Catching Z’s. But the room service thing … that might be a deal-breaker.” She drummed her fingers on the counter as she made up her mind. “Listen, I’ll check with some of the other motels in the area, and if they don’t do room service, either, I’ll come back here. How about that?”

The manager nodded dumbly, and the blonde picked up her bag and walked out.

“Takes all kinds,” Amber said to the manager, but barely got a grunt in return.

Milo leaned a little closer. “You realise she took your bag, right?”

Amber looked down at the space her bag had been occupying. “Ah balls.”

(#ulink_86dafb13-1b80-5173-a126-d7170b6b2514)

AMBER HURRIED OUT OF the motel office, caught a glimpse of the blonde disappearing round the corner. There was no one else around so she shifted. She ran to the Charger, jumped and got a foot on the edge of the hood, then sprang, reaching the roof of the motel. She kept low as she jogged across the rooftop, anticipating the blonde’s path. She dropped down the other side, reverted to normal, and waited a few seconds, until she heard running footsteps. Then she stepped out and the blonde shrieked and leaped backwards, lost her footing and fell.

“I think you have my bag,” said Amber, looking down at her.

“Holy crap!” the blonde said, not even trying to get up. “How did you do that? You nearly gave me a heart attack! How did you do that?”

Amber picked up her bag. “This is mine.”

The blonde lay back, flattening herself out on the ground. “My nerves are shot. Gimme a second.”

Amber couldn’t help but smile. “You okay?”

“No. I’m really not.”

“Sorry for scaring you.”

“You should be.”

“But you did steal my bag.”