Hexed

sausages here for your hound. Mind if I give ’em to ’im? «
    › Sausages! ‹ Oberon’s tail began to wag madly. › I thought I smelled something yummy! ‹
    » What kind o’ sausages? « I asked.
    Coyote chuckled. » Old paranoid Druid. You never change. Normal sausages, perfectly safe. Chicken–apple flavor. I didn’t want your hound to go hungry while we talk. «
    » That was right nice o’ ya, Coyote. My hound and I both thank ya for it. « If he knew Oberon wanted chicken–apple sausages tonight, that meant he was close by when we first ran into that demon—close enough to help, but he clearly chose not to. It also meant he could hear Oberon’s thoughts. I took the bag from him and opened it up to find eight perfect chicken–apple sausages the size of bratwurst, still warm and smelling delicious. I tore open the bag and laid it down on the porch in front of Oberon so he could get at them easily. He wasted no time inhaling them.
    › These are awesome! Tell him I said so! ‹
    » Good, « Coyote nodded, taking another swig of beer. He seemed unaware that he had replied before I had repeated Oberon’s words. » So, seen any demons ’round here? «
    Oberon stopped chewing and raised his head, ears perked, and I studied Coyote carefully for any signs of suddenly sprouting horns or the stench of brimstone. He threw his head back and laughed at us. His canine teeth shone in the pale yellow light of the streetlamps.
    » Hoo-ee, you oughtta see your faces! I bet ya seen a demon, all right! Lemme guess, a big black bug? «
    » Yeah. But I reckon ya didn’t have to guess, didja? « I asked.
    » Naw, I saw him comin’ this way afore I got here. But he ain’t the only one out there, ya know. «
    » Yeah, I figured, « I said.
    » I ’spect you did, Mr. Druid. And you’re the reason they’re runnin’ ’round here, eatin’ people. «
    » What do you care if a demon makes mischief in town? « I asked.
    » What do I care? If a demon went ’round eatin’ white men like you, you’re right, I wouldn’t care. But I said they’re eatin’ people , an’ by that I mean they’re eatin’ my people, Mr. Druid. My people are feedin’ a demon that’s here because of you. So we have somethin’ to talk about, you an’ I. «
    » I see. « I nodded, and Oberon took this as a signal that it was okay for him to finish off his repast. » Where and when did your people die? «
    » A maiden at Skyline High School was eaten yesterday, when all t’other kids were eatin’ lunch inside. «
    » What, at the school? Where ever’one could see? «
    » Nobody seen it happen but me. She was by herself, eatin’ flatbread outside. An’, besides, humans can’t see this one. You coulda seen it, though. An’ I seen it for sure. «
    » What did it look like? «
    » Huge black thing with wings. « Oberon belched and I felt a bit of indigestion as well. I knew the demon Coyote meant. It was one of the first creatures out of hell when Aenghus Óg opened the portal and the first demon to disregard the binding. It was very strong, and since it flew, there was no way I could kill it with Cold Fire, which required the demon to be in contact with the earth. » So what’re ya gonna do? « Coyote asked.
    » I’m gonna wait, « I said. » Eventually it’ll come after me here, and when it does, I’ll be ready. «
    » Lemme suggest a different plan, « Coyote said, his half smile still playing about his face. He pointed the mouth of his beer bottle at me. » You’ll go out to that school tomorrow an’ kill that demon afore it kills again. There are more of my people at that school, an’ I don’t wanna lose another one ’cause you wanna wait. «
    » Why don’t you just kill it, Coyote? «
    » ’Cause I ain’t responsible for it bein’ here, paleface. You are. An’ it’s a demon from the white man’s religion, anyways, so my medicine won’t be as strong against it as yours. But I’ll help ya if I can. «
    » Well, my medicine might not be any stronger. I may be a white man, but this thing don’t figure into my religion neither. Besides, I’m awful busy with problems of my own. «
    Coyote’s perpetual smirk vanished, and he glared at me from underneath his hat brim. » This is your problem, Mr. Druid. Or didn’t I make that clear? You’ll fix this situation or you’ll answer to me. An’ to Pima Coyote. An’ Tohono O’odham Coyote, an’ Apache Coyote too. An’ while ever’ single one of us might die in the