Eleven
A slow, playful smile spread across Luke’s face before he turned toward her closet and spoke in a loud tone. “Which one of you turds do I kill first?”
Shrieks and chaos ensued from the closet.
“I didn’t say anything!”
“Wasn’t me, boss.”
“Kill Dohlar! He needs to go.”
“Shut up, Envee. Take her. She’s useless.”
Luke pounded on the wall with his fist. “Knock it off, evil spawn.”
They went instantly silent.
She was right, they were afraid of Luke. “So, how many of them are in there?”
He screwed his face up as he considered it. “Not sure, really. At least a dozen. Maybe two…or more.”
“And they live in your office closet?”
“Well, yeah,” he said defensively. “They’d drive me insane if I trapped them in my apartment.”
“But why are they trapped in the closet…period?”
Luke shrugged. “Why not? You want me to let them out?”
“Depends. Are they dangerous?”
“Depends,” he repeated. “They’re demons. Low-level, granted, but demons, nonetheless. They tend to run amok when released. There’s no telling what they might get into. Ever seen the original Ghostbusters? It would probably look a lot like that. Probably worse.”
Absolutely terrifying. And it still didn’t answer her main question. “Why are they here?”
“We’re his pets.”
“I love you, master!”
“He adores us. Don’t hurt us!”
“I want a cookie!” That sounded like the demon who had to pee earlier.
He gave her a peeved stare. “Humans have cats and dogs. We have demons. Whenever my dad wanted on my good side, he’d send over a new one. And like Helly, they followed me out of Hell because they’re fiercely loyal.”
“Arf, arf!”
“Meow!”
“Baa, baa.”
“That’s a sheep, idiot.”
“People have sheep.”
“No, they don’t.”
“Yes, they do. They count them to sleep.”
