Vic Owens: Paranormal Advisor

Vic stumbled out of his room, wearing a fuzzy robe and carrying a bad hangover. He bounced from one side of the wall to the other as he struggled to walk a straight line down the hallway. He grabbed a pan out of the kitchen cupboard, eggs out of the fridge, and went to work on filling his empty stomach. That’s when he became aware of the activity in the living room.

Maya—and Pete—sat cross-legged on the floor, an Ouija board resting between them.

With a heavy sigh, Vic went back to frying eggs and said, “Pete, what the hell are you doing in my living room?”

Sounding genuinely shocked, Pete replied, “I thought it was cool if I came over. I mean, after almost getting me killed by a skeleton, I assumed there was an open invitation to some sort of friendship.”

Every ounce of Vic’s being wanted to tell Pete that he had assumed wrong and to beat it. But Maya stepped in.

“Sorry, Vic,” she said. “I woke up really early and started reading through that book that Alyssa gave me.” Her eyes gleamed. “It’s a witch book! Do you believe it? It’s not like those phony ones people buy for quote-unquote, love spells, and what have you. This is a book with real witchcraft. And it’s old. Like from the sixteen hundreds, old.”

“Did you conjure up Pete with it?” Vic asked.

Maya smirked a little. “Obviously not. I didn’t want to wake you. I saw all the empty cans in your room and figured it was best to let you sleep. So I took your car—”

“My car?” Vic ran to the window and yanked the curtain aside, relieved to find his car parked out front.

“And I wanted to go shopping for an Ouija board. But I didn’t want to go alone, so I called Pete and picked him up.”

A hint of rage coursed through Vic, but he held it inside. He considered yelling at Maya for taking his car without asking … and for bringing a guest over without asking. But after the conversation he and Maya had shared the night before, he knew she was in a vulnerable state. Yelling at her would only push her closer to her breaking point. Nobody would benefit from that. And it wasn’t nice. And maybe he should try harder to be nicer. He opted with an easy going response. “Fine. Just don’t mess up my carpet.”

“On the already stained parts, or the semi-clean parts?” Pete asked. “It smells sticky.”

Gripping the frying pan handle, Vic’s fingers went numb restraining himself from finishing the job Billy Bones had started. Being nice was hard. He let Pete’s remark pass … this time.

“Pete is helping me out with a protection spell.” Maya held up the witch book. “It’s hard to read, but I think we’ve got it figured out.”

The eggs sizzled and hot butter splattered against Vic’s hand. He flipped the eggs and sprinkled some shredded cheese over the top of them. “Why do you need an Ouija board for a protection spell?” He was confused. Ouija boards were usually for communicating with the dead, or summoning things that shouldn’t be summoned.

Maya took a moment to answer. Maybe she was confused as well. “The directions say to use an Ouija board. The incantation is written in Latin, so it’s taking time to translate and interpret on the phone. It also asked for some of my blood to make it work, so I used one of your coffee cups for storage.”

Gross. Vic’s face twisted in disgust, but he kept his comments to himself. That’s why he never kept friends. Friends would come over to your house uninvited and, if they got comfortable enough, would use your dinnerware to store their blood. And if they stuck around long enough, they might even shit on your floor.

Latin? He asked himself. Why Latin? The cheese had melted over the eggs. Vic scooped it all onto a plate and tossed a couple pieces of buttered bread in the pan. He hadn’t found the time to buy a toaster in his hundred years of existence. “Be careful, will you? I don’t want you accidentally summoning something instead of casting a protection spell.”

The two goons began performing their spell, struggling to hide their childish giggling about using an Ouija board.

Right as Vic got the bread toasted to perfection, he heard some of the few Latin words he knew. Unfortunately, they weren’t good ones.

“Daemon, esto subjecto voluntati meae,” Maya and Pete chanted together.

Dropping his delicious gourmet meal, Vic rushed over to them. “Hey! I told you no summoning demons.”

“What are you talking about?” Maya asked, looking around the room and shrugging her shoulders. “There’s no demon.”

“What do you think the Latin word “Daemon translates to?”

The Ouija board lifted off the floor, being raised by the head of a … demon. The board rested on top of its head as it rose from the floor through some sort of black void portal. And of course it was a nasty-looking son of a bitch. It had one hell of an underbite, and giant teeth protruding from its bottom jaw, all the way to its long side-slanted nose. A steady stream of snot dripped out of its nostrils. Ancient-looking clothes, that could’ve come straight from biblical times, covered its muscly body. Tufts of black hair adorned the sides of its head. All it was missing was a pretty bow on top.

Maya screamed and Pete gasped. Vic shook his head in annoyance.

The demon removed the Ouija board from its oblong head and whipped it through a window, shattering the glass.

“Hey, dickhead!” Vic shouted. “You broke my window.” He grabbed the hot pan off the stove and threw it at the demon. The warm metal clanged against the demon’s thick jaw with no effect. What a waste of good toast.

As Maya and Pete got to their feet to run, the demon backhanded both of them at the same time, sending them sprawling against a couch, tipping it over.

Vic needed to save them before the trailer became a macabre Rescue 911 scene. He leapt into the air and delivered a fine superman punch to the demon’s chiseled face. This did stagger it, but it still managed to grab Vic’s robe and fling him against the wall—hard enough to collapse the paneling and framing, leaving an elf-sized hole in the side of the trailer. In the past couple of weeks, he had been thrown through things and beaten more times than necessary.

If being thrown through a wall wasn’t punishment enough, the demon barreled ahead and smashed against Vic, slamming him back to the floor. One big boot landed on Vic’s chest. His lungs burned as the air rushed out of his mouth, and his ribs cracked from the force. With a sweat-inducing heave, he shoved the demon’s foot away.

“What realm is this?” the demon asked in a deep, throaty voice. It surprisingly spoke English.

“What realm is this?” Vic asked, struggling to his feet. “What do you mean? This is Raven’s Hope. Do you mean Earth?”

“Earth!” the demon exclaimed. “I have unfinished business on this plane of existence. Tell me elf, are those two humans for sale?”

Vic looked and saw Maya and Pete cowering behind the tipped over couch. For a second, Vic wanted to joke with the demon and ask “how much.” But the demon would probably take it literally. So he chose the normal-person answer. “Not for sale. They’re with me.”

“Understood,” the demon replied. “A shame. I could use their hands on my quest for redemption against my former clan.”

Vic wasn’t sure if it meant it could use their help, or use their actual hands. He didn’t want to ask, either.

The demon peered through the hole in the trailer wall. “I must take my leave of you now. Sorry for the hostility. I am not skilled in fixing homes, so my assistance here is not needed. So long, new allies.” Instead of using the door, the demon shoved its way through the hole in the wall. It had to punch through more paneling to create enough space to fit, much to Vic’s dismay. Its thunderous feet bounded across the grass and into the woods behind Vic’s trailer.

Vic clutched his chest, his ribs still aching. The good news was that elves were rapid healers. “New rule,” he said, righting the couch and taking a seat. “No doing magic in my house without letting me check it out first. I’m not big on surprises.”

“Sorry,” Maya said, looking shameful. “I thought I had the right spell. I guess my phone translation didn’t work so well.”

Exhausted from having to battle a giant ass demon, with a hangover, Vic leaned back and ran his hands through his hair, his robe hanging wide open. Thankfully, he had decided at the last minute to wear shorts underneath.

Vic sighed. “It’s fine. “Let’s just not make a habit of it. Cool?”

“Cool,” Maya repeated.

Meanwhile, Pete had decided to help himself to Vic’s breakfast. “These eggs are fantastic,” he mumbled with a mouthful of food. “How did you make them?”

With a roll of his eyes, Vic said, “Help yourself, Pete. No need to ask.” He sat for a moment before adding, “Cast iron. Gives them an extra kick of flavor.”

“I’m gonna have to try that,” Pete said. “I have to buy a cast iron pan first. If I can afford it.”

“Take that one,” Vic said, pointing to his pan—with a demon-sized bend in it—on the living room floor. “It’s dented. Makes a good parting gift for those about to go home.”

“About that,” Pete said quietly. “I was thinking maybe I could hang with you two today? I don’t have anything to do, and this magic stuff is gnarly. We could try figuring out the rest of the members of The Nines. I’d make a great detective. Maybe. That was my dream when I was a kid.”

Vic got up and found his pack of smokes. “Fine. But, just so we’re clear, it’s not an open invitation for all day every day.”

Pete nodded. His body was tense like he was trying to keep from jumping up and down like an excited dog. Such a simple man.

“First things first,” Vic said, taking off his robe and throwing a random shirt on. “You guys owe me breakfast. Pop and donuts it is. Also, you two are going to repair this disaster.” He pointed to the hole in the wall and motioned his finger in a wide circle around it.

The house phone rang. Breakfast would have to wait. The only time the phone ever rang was for disturbance calls that he needed to deal with. What magical situations would he have to advise on today? He stood next to the phone and let it ring four times before answering it.

“Yeah,” Vic said. His typical opening greeting for paranormal dispatchers.

“Vic Owens?” a woman’s voice said, in a buttery southern accent.

“This is he.”

“My name is Natalie, administrative assistant for Mayor Dodd. Mr. Dodd requests an appointment with you, in his office at Raven’s Hope City Hall. Can you be here at one this afternoon?”

The new mayor wanted a meeting with him? Holy shit. The previous mayors barely even knew that Vic had existed. Only the mayor from back when the paranormal advisor position was first created had paid any attention to him. That was when the position seemed like it would be important, and would make a difference in uniting monsters and humans under one umbrella. But that had all gone to shit in a hurry. After that, the rest of the mayors had viewed the job as more of a carnival sideshow attraction—a crappy one. They never checked in, and never kept tabs on what Vic was doing. If there had ever been citizen complaints about him, and lord knows there had to have been hundreds over the years, he had never been fired or reprimanded. All he knew was he was still getting a steady paycheck. And that’s all that mattered these days.

“Yeah,” Vic said. Then decided he should sound more formal. “Yes. I have an opening in my schedule for that time. I can be there.”

“Thank you,” Natalie said. “He will see you then.”

“Do I need to wear something nice? Business casual?” Vic asked. But Natalie had already hung up.

“Who was that?” Maya asked, standing uncomfortably close, like a kid wanting to know who her parent could possibly be talking to, besides them.

Vic hung the phone up and cleared his throat. With an air of great importance, he delivered the news. “It was Mayor Dodd’s office. I’ve been summoned.”