The Devil You Know - S. A. Huchton

Table of Contents
Front Matter
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twent-Three
About the Author
Other Books
Copyright © 2017, Starla Huchton
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be
reproduced in any form by any electronic or
mechanical means including photocopying,
recording, or information storage and retrieval
without permission in writing from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
businesses, places, events, and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or used in a
fictitious manner. Any resemblence to actual
persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely
coincidental.
Cover design by Starla Huchton, SH Productions,
LLC
Edited by: Jennifer Melzer
Interior Layout: Scott Huchton
All rights reserved.
ONE
I wish I had some amazing story of revelation to
share, some brilliant anecdote about the first time I
realized I could see what no one else could. I wish
I could start off by saying I was in a horrific car
crash, or nearly drowned, or was struck by
lightning and it somehow changed me. I wish I
could describe how I was part of some mad
scientist’s secret plot to take over the world,
subjected to super soldier serums or something
equally weird.
Sadly, I wasn’t nearly that interesting. In fact, I
was more or less average. Well… except for one
little detail.
I saw… I don’t know, demons? Monsters?
Something. The type of stuff from horror movies or
paranormal TV shows. Honestly, I never bothered
to ask, so I couldn’t really explain what they were,
or if they were all the same species, or alien races
from different planets, or magical, or whatever.
Like I said, I didn’t ask. I just saw them hiding
behind human faces. They had no idea I could.
If I’d woken up from some traumatic event and it
was suddenly my new reality, I’d probably have
freaked out. I would’ve been sent straight to a
psych ward and rendered nearly comatose with
medications for talking about it. The truth was way
more boring. That was simply my life. I had no
idea it was weird or potentially scary until my
kindergarten class was told to draw a picture of
the teacher for art. I started out scribbling exactly
what I saw, using a green crayon to color in the
scales on her face. It wasn’t until I noticed what
my classmates were drawing that I came to a
startling conclusion: they had no idea what the
world truly looked like. I squinted hard at her and
did my best to replicate the brown ponytail and tan
skin of her human illusion, but the whole thing
messed me up for days. Even that young, I saw
what happened to the kids who strayed outside the
norms of the group, and I had no intention of
sharing a table with the little boy that ate the glue
sticks.
I didn’t talk about any of that, of course. Rule
number one was to never, ever tell the demons—
or anyone, really— that I could see them. Even
when I was little I knew other people saw the
world very differently than I did. When I got older,
I did my research on any potential conditions I
might’ve had, but nothing fit. I wasn’t violent, I
didn’t walk around terrified, I functioned perfectly
well in the world, and I had an average amount of
well-adjusted relationships. I figured if it wasn’t
broke, don’t fix it. And when it got to be too much,
well, that’s what wine was for.
The thing was, those “others” I saw were more
or less like everyone else. They ran the gamut of
personalities like humans did, but in slightly more
extreme ways. They were just living their lives, so
I didn’t see any reason to cause a fuss. Some of
them were really charismatic and persuasive.
Some of them inspired bizarre fanaticism for weird
causes or beliefs. Some of them were really, really
good at hiding and sleight of hand. Nothing like the
world-ending biblical crap Hollywood was
always on about.
Even so, I saw what they thought I didn’t. I kept
my head down and didn’t interfere, mostly. I did
keep this zombie-looking dude from walking into
traffic once, a rare instance of breaking rule
number two: don’t let a demon think you’re useful.
George was really depressed about being alone.
His disguise was terrible, so I gave him some
personal hygiene tips and took him to a coffee shop
a block away. The manager there was a female that
looked to be the same kind of whatever as him, so I
figured maybe she could help him.
He was working there a week later and, since
then, always gave me an extra shot in my lattes for
no charge. Good dude once you got past the
Hawaiian print shirts.
Anyway, that’s where I was when the circus
rolled into town.
Not a literal circus, of course, because that’s
way more interesting than saying “the day before
the business analyst conference started.” Circuses
were much more fun. Also, analysts didn’t
generally have giant bags of cotton candy and snow
cones for sale. But I digress.
“Would it be weird if I asked what you were
doing next Saturday?”
I paused as I reached for my latte, hoping I
didn’t have to find another shop that used real
whipped cream instead of that fake stuff because of
some drama I didn’t need. George’s expression
was more sheepish and awkward than normal,
which I didn’t know was possible for someone
whose face had been perpetually decaying since I
met him the year before.
“Uh… I dunno. I’d have to check my calendar to
see if there’s a corporate event that day. They like
to run thinly-veiled work meetings on weekends so
they don’t have to pay us. Why?”
He shrugged a bony shoulder, freeing the
turquoise and orange flowers of his shirt from
garish folds. “Well, Jilly and I are getting married,
and it’s just a small gathering, but I thought, since
you’re the reason I met her…”
“Married?” I tried not to look too stunned, but he
never mentioned anything about it before. “That’s
awesome, George. Good for you.”
He grinned, his yellowed teeth peeking through a
crumbling hole in his cheek. “Thanks. So… any
chance you can make it?”
More than happy he wasn’t asking me out on a
date, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and
flipped through my calendar. “Looks like I’m clear,
so, yes. I’d love to.”
Excited, he rushed to the back, returning a
moment later with a bright yellow envelope I
pretended didn’t hurt my eyes.
“Thanks, Kendra,” he handed over the invitation.
“It really means a lot to me.”
It was kind of cute to see a zombie in love. They
sort of lit up a little bit, and the wheezing giggles at
the end of their sentences were surprisingly
endearing. I took the envelope and my coffee and
turned to go, waving with a smile as I absolutely
didn’t look where I was walking.
Somewhere in the back of my head, I heard the
bell on the door jingle, so I knew someone was
coming in. But when the world suddenly moved in
slow-motion, and even though I saw the train
wreck coming for me, nothing could stop it from
plowing on through.
And that was how I ended up covered in ice,
milk, and espresso, plastered to the chest of the
largest demon I’d ever seen up close.
He was tall, probably pushing six-foot-five
without shoes. Light silvery skin clung to every
chiseled muscle on his face, disappearing in the
slick black swath of hair on his head. His eyes
swallowed me whole, a pair of impossibly dark
orbs boring into me. Two sleek, ebony horns
protruded from his temples and wrapped around
the sides of his skull, sticking out like handles
begging to be gripped as I…
I shook myself, absolutely flummoxed by the
way my mind wandered. He was saying something,
but the world was stupidly foggy. I had no idea
how long he stood there trying to snap me back into
focus. Eventually, though, I shook myself and
picked my jaw up off the floor.
“Are you all right?”
His voice. It slid over my skin like warm water
after a long walk in the snow, almost painfully
exquisite. I’d never heard a voice as deep as his in
my life, and while part of me wanted to hear it
again, another part of me sounded the tornado
sirens of panic.
Stay away from this one.
Twenty-seven years is a lot of time to learn a
few things through observation. As a case in point
of how some of these “others” had amped up skills
like stealth or the ability to inspire with a word,
the one standing in front of me had “walking
aphrodisiac” written all over him.
It wasn’t that I had a problem with demons,
really. I actually dated one or two who were very
nice. Great kissers. But that guy? Definitely not the
stable kind you got involved with willingly unless
you were seriously masochistic.
“Miss?”
I fought off a shudder and backed away. “I’m
fine. Sorry. My fault completely. Are you…” I
winced when I took in the wet splash of iced
coffee darkening his really expensive-looking gray
suit. “I am so sorry.”
A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Don’t worry
about it. You’re not much better off.”
Looking down, I cringed at the beige stain
covering the front of my pale pink blouse. Damn it.
“I’d be more than happy to replace it. There’s a
store around the corner that—”
“No!” Instinctively, my hands went up, and I
stepped back a pace. Rule number three loomed
large in the front of my brain: don’t ever owe a
demon anything. Remembering he didn’t know I
could see what he was and hoping to keep it that
way, I cleared my throat and composed myself.
“Er, no, thank you. That’s very kind, but I have to
get back to work. I have a spare in my desk.”
The look he gave me stopped me cold.
Well, as the expression went anyway. What I felt
was anything but cold. My insides fired up as my
pulse raced, and it was all I could do to suck in a
single, jagged breath.
“Really,” he closed the distance between us in a
long step, “I have to insist. I won’t forgive myself
for causing you such an inconvenience.”
Oh, damn. He was good. It was a struggle to
keep from throwing myself at him right there. I
needed to get away, some sort of escape route…
“You okay, Kendra?”
George’s wonderful, rasping voice snapped me
out of the spell instantly. I turned, smiling in
gratitude. “Yes, thank you. Sorry about the mess, I
—”
“Don’t worry about it.” He grinned at me and
held out a freshly made latte. “That’s what friends
are for, right?”
I took the coffee and he retrieved the slightly wet
invitation from the floor.
“Thanks, George. See you tomorrow?”
“You bet.”
Not risking another second of eye contact with
Mr. Take Me Right Now, I hustled out the door and
around the corner to my office building. Not gonna
lie, I seriously considered turning around several
times. Fortunately, I still had a little bit of good
sense left in my head.
No demon was worth getting fired over.
I hadn’t been invited to a ton of weddings
before, but I was pretty sure George and Jilly
didn’t have anything close to a normal registry. The
shop I found myself in was a little hole-in-the-wall
in Chinatown. I mean that in every sense of the
word. The entryway was very obviously created
via sledgehammer, the door built later to fit.
Whether or not that was an artistic choice, who
knew, but Geographical Oddities was not the type
of place I frequented.
Walking into the store, I was immediately
accosted by a cloud of nag champa incense and
dust. I think the former was to cover the latter,
rather than going to the effort of actually cleaning
anything. The next sensation to hit me was mild
claustrophobia.
Shelves overflowed with weird statues and
small, taxidermied animals, and books were piled
along the two-foot width of concrete path that
wound in a random zig-zag around larger pieces of
weirdness. Higher up on the yellowed walls, heads
and horns of things were mounted alongside racks
of vials with aged labels. As I swerved my way
around a six-foot steel tube filled with small
drawers, I boggled at the tag hanging from it.
Apparently it was some sort of music box that
played a different tune depending on the drawer
pulled out. The price? Nine-hundred and fifty-
thousand dollars. Praying that wasn’t indicative of
the cost of other items in the store, I pressed on and
headed for the counter.
The glass case was definitely the cleanest part of
the interior. The items within were small, but
immaculately lit and placed on a bed of white
satin. Bizarrely-shaped crystals still embedded in
granite sat alongside tiny carvings of multi-headed
animals and sparkling vials of liquid. Nothing was
labeled, however, but whatever that stuff was, it
was probably important or expensive. Likely both.
Not seeing anyone about, I rang the pretty bell
beside the antique cash register, hoping that would
get someone’s attention. After a minute, no one
showed, so I turned away, thinking maybe I walked
into a shop someone forgot to lock. I decided to
give the bell one more chance before heading on
my way.
Upon turning back, I nearly jumped out of my
skin. A… woman, I guess, stared at me
expectantly, her abnormally long face and nearly
translucent skin startling to see.
Of course I should’ve expected a demon couple
to send me to a weird store run by another demon.
Not that it was out of the question I would’ve
ended up at a department store, but, seriously.
Nothing about George was subtle.
“Can I help you?” Her voice was lovely, but
completely unnerving. It wound around me like a
current in a stream, grazing my skin to leave
goosebumps in its wake.
“I, uh…” I fumbled with the card that came with
the invitation. “My friend George is getting
married next week, and he directed me here.”
Her rubbery mouth pulled up into a smile, her
eyes narrowing to happy slits. “Ah, yes. George
and Jilly. Such a lovely couple. Did you have a
specific gift in mind?”
“Not really, no. This said they’re registered
here, so…”
Her hollow eyes looked me up and down, sizing
me up and clearly reading me as human, which
made me wonder how many of my kind ever
stepped into her store. “I understand. I have the
perfect thing. One moment, please.”
I blinked, and she was gone.
As I waited, I studied the case contents more
closely. The objects didn’t appear to have anything
in common, but what did I know about demon
artifacts? Vials of gold swirled with lifelike intent,
as though something was trying to get out. One of
the objects shifted my gaze away, preventing me
from even identifying its shape aside from small
and dark. I couldn’t be completely sure, but I
thought I saw a little bear totem wink at me.
Admittedly, I was curious about all of them, but not
enough to ask and risk outing my truth-seeing
ability. Was it real magic? Alien tech? Or maybe
they were living creatures like the human-sized
demons, kept as pets or imprisoned there. With a
frown, I decided I’d rather not know. Boring and
alive trumped dead and interesting any day of the
week.
When I stood up, the woman was back, her
stretched head cocked to one side with a smirk.
“See something you like?”
I shrugged it off. “Just looking.”
Her hands lifted and set a ten-inch box on the
counter. As she carefully opened the red cardboard
lid, what she revealed was surprisingly mundane at
first glance. It looked to be a smooth, antique bowl
nestled in a pile of shredded newspaper.
“It’s a kapala,” she said, removing it from the
packaging. “The least expensive item the couple
requested, but a most important one.”
As the exterior of the bowl came into view, the
last of my hopes for a normal gift deteriorated. The
outer side was carved beautifully, but there was no
mistaking what it really was.
Who gives someone a human skull as a wedding
gift?
I bottled up my sigh and resigned myself to more
weirdness than usual. “It’s lovely, but I’m
unfamiliar with the name. What’s it used for?”
She displayed it reverently, resting it between
her palms. “Offerings to the gods and spirits in far
eastern cultures. It’s a ritual item.”
Silently, I thanked her for not expounding on the
subject. The most important question for me was
how much it was going to hurt my bank account.
For a couple that ran a little coffee shop, they
apparently had expensive taste.
“And how much is this?”
“Only two entries in the debt ledger.”
Not what I was expecting. “I’m sorry, the what?”
The woman looked extremely confused. “The
debt ledger. Did your friend not explain
transactions here?”
Dammit, George, what did you get me into?
“No. Afraid not.”
Her long fingers arced through the air, a fluid
means of brushing it off like it was no big deal.
“It’s quite simple. You open an account, and it
keeps track of what you owe. These debts are
repayable in the future, brokered by a debt dealer,
who matches requested favors with suitable clients
to fulfill them. Two little entries are hardly any
trouble. Likely little more than shuttling a client to
the airport or picking up a lunch tab. Quite simple.
Of course, it’s possible you have an account with
credit due already. Shall I check?”
If it didn’t go against my strict don’t-tell-the-
demons-you-know-they’re-demons policy, I
would’ve planned a very, very long lecture for
George with some extremely colorful instructions
about what he could do with his wedding gift. But
as I was already in too far to find my way out
again, it was time to play dumb. It was either break
rule number one, or rule number three.
“Really?” I kept my face from betraying my
dislike of the situation. “That seems easy enough.
Sure. What do you need from me?”
Utterly unbothered by my reaction, she pulled
her phone from the pocket of her slacks and tapped
something on the screen. When she turned it my
way, it was blank save for the outline of a small
white box.
“Place your index finger there, please.”
I complied, and moments later my results came
back.
“Good news,” she said. “Apparently you have
ten credits in the ledger. That’s enough for the
kapala and accompanying pieces for the set. Well,
mostly. You’d owe a single credit after purchase.”
A balance of ten? What was that about?
I didn’t think about it too much. Maybe if I used
the credits and did the single favor I could close
the account and be out for good.
“Sounds fair. Let’s do that.”
“Wonderful. Let me package everything up for
you. Gift wrap is included, but delivery is an extra
credit fee.”
Yeah, no. “That’s all right. I’d like to deliver it
myself.”
Ten minutes later, I left the shop with what was
absolutely the oddest gift I’d ever given, although
it was wrapped beautifully. It definitely wasn’t
what I expected from a Sunday afternoon, but all
things considered, at least I wasn’t carrying a
freshly severed head in a box.
Things could always be worse.
After scoping out the venue, I was pretty sure
Geographical Oddities was as weird as the rest of
the wedding would get. The hotel for the event
wasn’t all that far from my apartment, but it was
assuredly more posh than my normal hangouts.
Aside from that, I wasn’t overly worried. Well,
unless my perceptions of reality were way off
base, I was ninety percent certain demon weddings
didn’t involve blood sacrifices or summoning
gateways to Hell. If that ended up being the case, I
was going to look very out of place in my sky blue
chiffon.
I took a good hour to mentally prepare myself for
half a day surrounded by demons. I was pretty
practiced at ignoring them in everyday life, but an
exclusive demon party was a definite test of my
ability. Did they act differently around their own
kind? Would they see me as a threat, an invader? I
was excited for George and all, but I was
definitely reaching my limit of tolerance.
The look of disdain on the valet’s face as I
pulled up to the Fairmont was evidence of how out
of place I was, but I smiled as I passed him the
keys to my Accord, hoping for the best. After a
quick check of my dress to make sure the hem was
still at the back of my knees instead of my butt, I
wove between a pair of limos and followed the
signs to the ballroom.
As expected, I fell into a line of non-human
guests and did my best not to squirm. The couple
ahead of me were short and squat, and she was
drenched in cloying rose perfume. Regardless of
that bad decision, the two were clearly very
wealthy. Well, her ridiculous fuchsia hat was clos...