With Demon
Sally arrived at the wedding with a demon. This was back before any of the family were possessed, but we knew about demons from when Pincer was coaching little league, and you know that whole story. I’d had a crush on Sally since high school and had figured that Joanne’s wedding might just be the time to do a make-or-break move. Chances were, I knew, that I’d come off like a complete idiot. You can just see me, right, going up to her at the punch bowl and saying something like “You know I’ve always loved you?” Might as well get one of those hats from Argyle’s with the neon sign flashing “Schmuck.”
They pulled up on the grass verge near the church in a ’69 Mustang. Black. Mint condition.
First clue.
I was at the door, just at the top of the steps, doing the usher thing–handing out little photocopied sheets with the service script to the guests, asking if they were with the bride or groom (seriously, I thought I knew everyone that Joanne and Peter knew, but all these strangers kept arriving), and guiding them to the left or right pews. A crow landed on the steeple and started barking. Clue two.
Sally and the demon climbed out of the car and started back along the asphalt. She was in black. LBD. Gorgeous. This is why I had an unshakeable crush. Well, that and her personality. She gave me a wave.
I waved back. Schmuck.
“Jimmy!” she hollered from right out there in the road. “You got a date?”
I did, but I wasn’t going to holler on back. Stacey Metter. Also a high school crush. She was a widow now. Her husband got himself crushed at the quarry by some piece of machinery going the wrong direction and doing the wrong thing. Stacey was still a mess. After a year. Seriously. She’s pretty enough, smart enough, young enough and she’s still on antipsychotics because her husband turned into road kill.
Well, at least I had a date. And someone I could have ditched if Sally was suddenly and miraculously available.
They came to the bottom of the church steps fast. Not so fast that they would have beaten a sprinter, but fast enough that it was frightening. They didn’t seem ruffled or hot at all.
“You look nice,” I said.
The demon looked like hell. His face had scaly, scabby skin, shedding and flaky. His black suit was immaculate, but his clawed hand on her arm looked as it if might tear her to shreds any moment.
“Pretty full in there?” Sally said.
I glanced over my shoulder. All the pews were filled. Peter was standing up the front next to Eddie, with the celebrant, ready for Joanne to arrive. “Pretty full,” I said. “But we can squeeze you in.”
The demon–who I’d figured for a demon by now–leant up and whispered something in her ear.
Sally nodded. “Yeah, Jimmy. Think we’ll stay out here in the sun for a moment.”
I saw Joanne’s limo creep over the rise and wheel in along the road. It parked right out front.
“You can come in,” I said. Pretty sure that the demon wouldn’t. Tough, but still pretty skittish about being in a church.
A door on the limo opened. Joanne leapt out. She ran–as well as a bride can run in taffeta and crinoline and veils and trains–right up the church’s walk.
Sally turned to greet her and Joanne popped her one right on the kisser. Sally collapsed with a yelp. Joanne smacked the demon and he collapsed too.
“Don’t you ruin my wedding,” Joanne yelled. She stormed up the steps.
I went down and helped Sally up.
The demon fragmented and flaked and blew away on the wind.
“Darn it. Now I need a date.” Sally looked at me with a melting smile. “You?”
“Sorry,” I told her. “I’ve got one.”
