《Shingle》 Time Time Some folks seem to be in it for a good time not a long time. Most of them are kids. Real gothic nihilist hippy party rocker types. All ¡°free love,¡± this and ¡°god is dead,¡± that, with a smidge of ¡°pass me the bong,¡± thrown in for spice. Nah, that¡¯s a lie. They¡¯re all kids. Some of them have just survived it long enough that they can fake ¡°normy,¡± or ¡°adult,¡± or whatever you want to call this generation¡¯s capitalistic nonsense ideal of what a well-adjusted human bean is supposed to look like. And yeah, I said bean. ¡°Being,¡± never did nobody no good. Just sitting there burning entropy. Beans at least jump occasionally when you poke them. And they taste better too if you grill them right. Other folks they¡¯re the opposite. Got those ¡°just got to clean enough toilets and someday when my bones hurt I¡¯ll get to pretend I¡¯m enjoying doing nothing useful and traveling once a year,¡± vibes. Spend thirty years with your soul sold under the company floor and then you get a real pretty watch to get buried with. Beats eight colors of fire out of being homeless though, that I can tell you for a fact.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Me, well thirty eight years later I can tell you I¡¯m here for a time, that¡¯s for sure. Given how often I¡¯ve almost bit the old poison apple I can¡¯t really say if it¡¯s good. Then again with all this rude ¡°refusing to get shot,¡± I keep doing who knows but I¡¯ll see the cold side of eighty before some crotchety fool whose tinder I stole forty years ago catches up to me. I can¡¯t call it good or short or long, and I¡¯ve had too much fun messing with folks to call it bad, so maybe I¡¯ll just call it mine. My time, my tune, my crackling log. My bedroll laying back and watching the stars burn out away from the city lights. It¡¯s mine. And I¡¯ll be frozen before I let anyone else live it but me. My name¡¯s Shingle, and this is my story. Demons Demons The first rule of demon summoning is pretty simple, don¡¯t. They¡¯re tricky little fire eaters the whole mess of them. And before you go on some new-agey rant about stereotypes and nature versus nurture versus napalm you sit down and remember that old Shingle¡¯s been doing this a lot longer than you have and has met at least twice as many of the blighters. If you were even thinking about the rules though then you¡¯d probably gone and ignored the first one already, or were planning to in the none too distant future. In that case rule two moseys on up to the stage. When you go to summon a demon make sure you get somewhere nice and secluded. That way if it gets loose and disembowels you the mess won¡¯t get on nobody¡¯s front lawn and the bloodcurdling screaming won¡¯t disturb no sleep. Just basic politeness that is. Half an hour past ¡°oh god why am I awake,¡± in the morning in the middle of an abandoned grocery store parking lot was about the best I could manage on short notice. Short notice is better than no notice, but it isn¡¯t much. Too often though it¡¯s all the universe gives you before the cold sets in so you get used to thinking on your feet or getting knocked off of them. Sometimes both. Now nothing gets you moving faster than a new project and I¡¯d been rudely woke up about half an hour ago and informed that I was going to have to kill some fool. So there I was, rough faded jeans tucked into work boots, holding my old broken-zipper leather jacket shut against the wind with one hand trying to get my pile of tinder and old newspaper to catch with the other. Fire is the ultimate contradiction in the universe. It exists only by destruction, but it gives heat and warmth, power and magic. Some folks think that magic is a way of breaking the rules. And it is, but mostly it¡¯s just a way of looking at them sideways and seeing if they¡¯ll comp you a drink or two. The one rule that can¡¯t be broke is that nothing¡¯s for free. The energy for anything you want to do has to come from somewhere, and that¡¯s why basically all magic starts with fire. My tiny two-fist fire ate up the tinder I¡¯d sacrificed to breathe its first. It was a good morning for doing something stupid, all steel gray clouds with just enough light to remind me the stars were still up there. I sat there, drinking in the warmth, hiding my hands for a moment or three from the chill air. Then I rose, staring down into the flames, cracked my knuckles, and got to work. Rule three of demon summoning is to be precise, or when you can¡¯t, like on a cold September morning when you¡¯re out of chalk and are drawing your symbols with rain water on cracked concrete, be confident. For all that they¡¯d shiv their own gran for a pint of oil and a piece of wood, demons are people too, and people as a whole are pretty stupid. You act like you done something right, or nothing¡¯s eating at you, or you definitely aren¡¯t crashing this wedding, folks ¡®ll be inclined to believe you. So as I finished the symbols and shoved the heat of my tiny fire into them, I stood up straight and tall like my old dad taught me. Face of granite, eyes of ice, body of power, staring into the center of the circle as it started to dim. Then it flared, jumping into the air as the connection was made, and a booming hollow voice fog-horned out from inside my newly minted portal. ¡°Who dares summon the great and power Slimiantrithax?¡± it demanded. ¡°I shall rend your flesh and dance in your bones. Your house will be my beginning and your fire my feast as the world trembles in awe at my terrible-¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. ¡°Aw, can it Slim,¡± It cut in, smiling a bit despite myself. ¡°I don¡¯t got all day.¡± A small red face revolved into view at the center of the blaze. It was plumper than you would expect from something promising such destruction, and wearing spectacles to boot. ¡°Shingle?¡± It asked in a much more normal tone of voice. ¡°Is that you? You swore we¡¯d never hear from you again.¡± ¡°Yeah, well, I¡¯ve sworn a lot of things this lifetime.¡± I spat over my shoulder, watching the mist curl up from the falling water. ¡°Meant most of them too, but that don¡¯t really count for much. Sometimes the boss lady has different ideas about what my priorities are than I do, you dig?¡± ¡°I dig,¡± Slim replied, wobbling his eyebrows at me like a pair of energetic brown caterpillars. ¡°I vibe, I jive and I even cruise.¡± The full figure of Slim revolved into view, a little over three feet of it complete with 1920¡¯s style purple zoot suit and wide brimmed hat. If you weren¡¯t paying attention you might even miss the forked tail flicking out behind him. ¡®Course not paying attention ¡®round a demon is a real good way to get dead. ¡°How can daddy Slim help out the wizard-man this fine morning?¡± ¡°I aint a wizard Slim,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve just got to get somewhere faster than my burning feet will take me and you got the bad luck to be in my rolodex.¡± Slim waved a long-fingered hand at that. We¡¯d had that argument enough times it wasn¡¯t really worth getting in to. I swear I¡¯m not though. Wizards keep to themselves and sit and think for a decade before they get off their pasty asses and bring the matter to a committee. I¡¯ll freeze before I count myself as one of those useless old men. ¡°Whatever you are,¡± Slim said, smiling down at me, ¡°sounds like you need a ride.¡± He looked over me, muddy boots to patched up jacket to hatless head. ¡°And unless I¡¯m much mistaken you don¡¯t look like you¡¯ve got much left to trade for it either.¡± He flashed his teeth at me eagerly. ¡°You finely ready to give old man Slim that raggedy soul you¡¯ve been holding on to all these years?¡± Another argument me and Slim have had about as long as we¡¯ve known each other. I crooked a grin at him. ¡°Souls are about as real honest politicians Slim, we both know that. I don¡¯t got many lines left, but you should know me better than to think I¡¯d freeze someone on a deal solidly struck.¡± Slim rolled his eyes. ¡°What then?¡± he asked. ¡°You going to offer me your boots for one of my beauties? That doesn¡¯t sound like a very good deal.¡± He shook his round, red, rotten head. ¡°No sir it does not.¡± ¡°Ride for a ride Slim.¡± I said, spreading my arms. ¡°I¡¯ll give you forty days. You keep quiet. I give back the car at the end of it. We both go home happy.¡± Slim stroked his chin with one hand. ¡°Keeping quiet? What kind of fun is that? You can keep the car, but I get partial control. And to sweeten it even further let¡¯s make it twenty days flat.¡± The pointed grin got wider. ¡°Can¡¯t say fairer than that can you?¡± ¡°Can and I will.¡± I retorted. ¡°Make it sixty, I keep the car, and you get to advise only.¡± ¡°Done.¡± The little demon said, so quickly that I knew instantly this was what he was angling for in the first place. So viciously that I knew I¡¯d been had from the start. I¡¯d still be driving though, my will and my steel and fire. I¡¯d be all right, probably. ¡°Done and done.¡± I replied, gritting my teeth and sticking my hand up into the fire. There was a faint rushing roaring sound. As if a thousand folks all whispering at once didn¡¯t quite understand how compound sound worked and thought they were being real stealthy like. The portal disappeared in a tongue of flame that wound its way down my arm and flickered over me from head to toe, the fire slowly disappearing as the last of its warmth was stolen to seal the bargain. In front of me where my fire and circle had been was sleek old red town car. Looked like a Chevy without a nick or a scratch on it, and at least fifty years old or I was a frozen fool. A mite fancy for my taste, but it¡¯d get me where I was going and that¡¯s what counted. Then a voice sounded in the back of my head where I don¡¯t let nobody look. Freeze me but on good days I don¡¯t look back there either. ¡°Alright Shingle,¡± it said. ¡°What kind of unreasonable suicidal nonsense are we going to get up to this time?¡± Speed On one hand Spokane Washington to Vancouver is around two hundred and fifty miles by the wind. Unfortunately if like poor old Shingle you never learned the trick of riding the finnicky blighter you¡¯ll be going another hundred and fifty out of your way to use the solid tar and rock that man put down. When you¡¯ve been given an ultimatum by your lady that you¡¯re frozen if you don¡¯t make that in the next six hours you don¡¯t stop for much, and you sure as sunrise don¡¯t slow down. On the other hand though my daddy was a carpenter and he always told me the fastest way to get a job done was doing it right the first time. I get the feeling sometimes, itching right up my neck hair like the sound of half a dozen police sirens, that if I¡¯d listened to him better I¡¯d have put less tables together twice. Maybe have outstanding warrants in less states too. ¡°Shingle my man,¡± Slim asked curiously as I drove, ¡°are you planning on doing something about all that racket or just hoping they get bored and go home?¡± ¡°I¡¯m thinking, I¡¯m thinking.¡± I growled out, keeping the accelerator floored. ¡°Aren¡¯t these burning cars supposed to be able to outrun anything mortals make anyway? What kind of bum ride did you stick me with Slim?¡± I glared one baleful eyeball at the speedometer which flatly refused to edge its way up over the hundred mile an hour mark. ¡°She¡¯s not a bum ride.¡± The voice in my head sounded mildly offended. ¡°She¡¯s a ¡¯57 Chevy and she¡¯s mint. One of the finest specimens on my lot. I figure I can¡¯t affect the meat suit I¡¯m wearing on this spin but I can at least make sure we¡¯re cruising in style.¡± ¡°And you didn¡¯t add even the littlest bit of extra fire?¡± I asked, exasperated. Slim sniffed, a truly impressive feat as he didn¡¯t have access to anything resembling a nose at the moment. ¡°It would ruin the authenticity.¡± ¡°I swear Slim.¡± I said, the car rattling around me, doing the best it could to keep the pace our pursuers demanded. ¡°I swear by my lady and my fire and the rocks on this road that the next time I phone you up I am writing out a frostbitten contract.¡± ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is you¡¯re going to look me up again?¡± The demon¡¯s voice replied brightly. ¡°Wonderful, we always have such fun on these impromptu trips. I really would suggest doing something though. Soon enough they¡¯re going to call to someone ahead of you on this route and I will be terribly put out if I spend my sixty days in some grody mortal jail.¡± I growled inarticulately and swerved towards the side of the road, beginning to slow. A plan was forming. It wasn¡¯t a good one. It was one of those plans that start with ¡°hold my beer,¡± and end with an emergency room visit from a disappointed parent. Sometimes. Sometimes they just end making conversation with fish while wearing concrete pontoons, but I wasn¡¯t exactly spoiled for choice. ¡°Interesting.¡± Slim said as I coasted to a stop and turned off the car, the sirens blaring around me like a passel of overexcited basset hounds who just heard the W-word. ¡°So our new plan is to let ourselves get caught. That sounds like a wonderful way to get where we¡¯re going on time.¡± ¡°Unless you¡¯ve got something useful to contribute then can it Slim,¡± I replied. ¡°This next bit¡¯s tricky.¡± I said earlier that everything starts with fire, and while that¡¯s technically true it¡¯s only about halfway down the rabbit hole. If you follow Mr. Fuzzy Boots down another foot or two what you realize is that it all starts with heat and fire happens to be a convenient source. Any heat ¡®ll do in a pinch. You can pull it from air, water, metal, even your own body if you happen to be truly desperate and moderately suicidal. But of the utmost interest to old Shingle in this very particular moment was metal. So as the gendarmes closed in and started hooting and hollering loud enough to put Slim¡¯s kin to shame, I closed my eyes and reached for the heat around me. I reached for the overworked engine blocks, the powder in the guns, the tiny electronics in the phones and radios, and even the traces held by the early morning mist just beginning to settle on the concrete. I reached out and I pulled, hard. Now the problem with this absolutely brilliant concoction of mine, was that all that fire I was coaxing had to go somewhere. As the invisible roaring flame leapt out for me from all directions the law man behind me yelled something about my right to remain violent and pulled me bodily around the car towards the trunk so he could frisk me. ¡°Law man,¡± I said, as the temperature in the air around us spiked from September in Washington to Summer in California, ¡°I know you¡¯re just doing your job, but you got to understand that I¡¯m just doing mine. You just let me go my way and everything¡¯ll be breezy.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Now maybe this law man wasn¡¯t the quickest monkey in the banana patch, or maybe he¡¯d just had a bad night, but he wasn¡¯t having none of it. ¡°Are you drunk or something?¡± He yelled. ¡°You threatening an officer? Get your hands behind your back right now.¡± The beefy cop, at this point thoroughly lacking in gruntles, grabbed for my arm with one hand and went for his cuffs with the other. This combined with the continually rising temperature, climbing quickly to levels of, ¡°I¡¯m going to throw up,¡± and beyond that into dangerous, ¡°How high does a fever have to spike before it cooks a human brain?¡± territory, may have made me panic a bit. Not enough to let it all go and cook the frozen fool, but enough that I drew back and cracked him a solid one across the jaw. Old Shingle might not be much to look at, but I¡¯ve been in scraps since I was knee high to a grasshopper, I know how to throw a punch. I may have also channeled a bit of that excess heat into strength, just to give it a little extra Irish. Couple that with the fact that the ground we were standing on was starting to frost over from my pull and experienced law man or not, his feet went out from under him and he went down on his tuchus. His buddies weren¡¯t none too pleased with that, so they all started getting in on the shouting and pulling guns on me. I¡¯m sure there was an awful lot of ¡°Get down on the ground,¡± this and ¡°We will shoot you,¡± that, but I wasn¡¯t real concerned with them just then. I¡¯d pulled way too much heat, way too quickly. My vision started to swim and tunnel and I couldn¡¯t tell if that was the heat-waves I was giving off or my poor noggin threatening to secede from the union. ¡°Shingle?¡± Slim asked, sounding genuinely worried. ¡°My man? Don¡¯t you go dying with me in here. You know how much paper work I have to do if I lose one of you fools during a ride along.¡± Well now, how could I ignore a request phrased that politely? I didn¡¯t have time to make my runes for a real working, and there was no way I could channel what I¡¯d drawn into speed or power before it cooked me. I did the only thing left I could think of, the second thing every kid is taught not to do from the day he gets a mentor in the magic business. I vented. I turned my back to the frazzled policeman and expended all that stored energy and probably some of my own body heat to boot in two roaring gouts of flame. They jumped from my hands like hungry serpents, blistering me as they went. Their force burned, twisted, melted, and otherwise desctructificated the back end of my vehicle accompanied in glorious counterpoint by shrieking sounds of demonic despair and the clack-clack of frozen guns failing to give me a terminal case of high speed lead poisoning. Everyone was screaming. It all seemed to come from an awful distance off though. My skin was halfway between numb and warm and I couldn¡¯t feel it but my blistered hands were trembling. From second degree burns to hypothermia in nothing flat with just a hint of system shock thrown in for spice. I stumbled my technically-not-drunk way back over to my ride, conveniently the only one whose fire I hadn¡¯t stolen, and fumbled with the keys. It took three tries but I got the car started again and turned the heating on inside full blast as I eased my way out in to the blessedly light early morning traffic. The car bumped and crackled and complained, but held together as I made my suddenly sedate way north to keep my appointment. All was quiet on the home front for a ways, violent bouts of shivering that forced me to pull over or take the car off the road completely and returning searing pain in the palms of my hands notwithstanding. Then Slim spoke up, in a quavering almost tearful tone. ¡°Why?¡± He asked. ¡°I mean, I¡¯ve tried to take your soul when I thought I could get it, and I¡¯ve pushed at you once or twice from beyond, but that¡¯s just business. Always thought I treated you pretty fair at the end of the day. So why Shingle? What¡¯d my darlin¡¯ ever do to you to deserve something like that?¡± I chewed the side of my lip, biting down hard to give the pain somewhere else to run so it would stop concentrating in my hands for a moment and let me think. ¡°First off, the car¡¯s mine according to our deal, so if I want to drop it in the nearest trash compactor then by rights that¡¯s where we¡¯re headed.¡± Slim stayed silent at that, and after a moment I continued. ¡°If I shot anywhere else I was going to kill one of those fools. If I shot down then I¡¯d toast my own legs, and if I shot up they wouldn¡¯t be able to fool themselves later into thinking I had a flamethrower or a bomb or something and I¡¯d get in real trouble.¡± Wizards aren¡¯t useful for much, but they got rules about that sort of thing. Much as I¡¯d like to tell them where they can stick those they got me outnumbered by a few orders of magnitude. One of the lessons my daddy did manage to teach me was not to pick fights you can¡¯t win. ¡°Besides,¡± I added, as the demon in my head continued to sulk. ¡°License plates gone now, and it¡¯ll be few hours before they can call in a Chevy with a melted backside. Should be enough time to get me where I¡¯m going. After that¡¯ll have to take care of itself.¡± At that Slim chuckled, and spoke in a voice he rarely bothers with. It¡¯s the one that reminds you as friendly as he might act betimes he¡¯s been around longer than religion or light. It¡¯s flat, and it¡¯s cold, and it don¡¯t sound like nothing that¡¯s even pretending to be human. ¡°Almost forty years of letting tomorrow burn to save today.¡± He said, and those words in that tone froze my blood solid in my veins. ¡°And where¡¯s it got you Shingle? A head full of tricks, a soul full of cracks, and naught to your name but a pair of boots and a half-melted hunk of metal. Drive, human. Accounts will settle themselves in time.¡± What do you say to that? I drove. Appointments Appointments ¡°Passport please.¡± The bored-er guard in the both requested as I rolled on up. I dug into the lining pocket of my jacket and produced the requested documents. Streets teach a lot of lessons, but one of the fastest for those that don¡¯t end up frozen is not to keep anything you care about too far from your skin. It¡¯s bound to wander off when you¡¯re not looking. ¡°Mr. Green?¡± The thick set man in his booth asked, leafing through my documents. ¡°Mr. Fredrick Green?¡± I nodded. Fourth rule of demon summoning, come Fimbulwinter or endless night you don¡¯t let those beasties get a hold of your name. Means if you¡¯re going to be stupid enough to make a habit of it you lose the name your parents gave you early and you make sure it stays lost. The guard nodded back. ¡°Everything seems to be in order here Mr. Green. Just one question before I wave you on your way. What in the blazes happened to your car?¡± I smiled my most endearing, I get asked this all the time, smile and replied, ¡°I got a kid back home who likes to play with fireworks. Frankly sir I¡¯m just glad it was the car that got the worst of it and not one of the poor boy¡¯s hands.¡± My own clenched and unclenched on the steering wheel, sending little spikes of discomfort at the abuse they¡¯d taken not hours before. He laughed and let me through. Boys will be boys as all the world knows. Slim chimed in again as I pulled past the border, having regained at least a semblance of his sense of humor. ¡°You know it¡¯s funny Shingle, if it¡¯d been me telling that story instead of you I¡¯m not even sure it would¡¯ve been a lie. Funny world we live in, funny, funny world.¡± He paused, thinking. ¡°Wasn¡¯t it Brown last time by the way? Oswald Brown I think? What ever happened to him?¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°He died Slim,¡± I said, and it tasted like ashes. ¡°Just like all the rest.¡± ¡°Well obviously.¡± Slim Chuckled. ¡°But why? You seemed pretty well set up the last time we chatted. Nice apartment, nice ride, you even had a girl didn¡¯tcha? What was her name?¡± I grinned at that. Tricksy things demons, always fishing. They can¡¯t help themselves it¡¯s written into their code. ¡°Jessie,¡± I replied, ¡°but she had less magic than your average can of beans Slim, so you got no pull on her.¡± The small smile faded. ¡°And the same thing happened that always happens. I got a call I had to take, and it didn¡¯t go well. Mr. Brown was wanted for murder and I can¡¯t do my job right from the inside of a cell. So I left and he died. End of story.¡± The car was blessedly quiet for a while, all the way down the big roads just starting to get their early morning case of commuters. We¡¯d put the rising sun to our backs and turned onto forested back roads before Slim spoke again. And when he did it was quiet and thoughtful, low and considerate. Frostbitten midge always did know how to twist a knife. ¡°You ever regret it Shingle?¡± he mused. ¡°Choosing the side you did?¡± I thought that one over for a bit as I drifted down the twisting country lanes, eventually pulling to a stop in front of a well appointed townhouse sitting all on its lonesome out in the woods. I had a couple minutes to spare, so I sat and idled the car, mulling over Slims words. Then I rolled my shoulders, shook out my hands, popped the car door, and stepped into the early morning sunlight. There¡¯re few things more beautiful than rising sun coming down through the mist and the tree tops to kiss your face. It¡¯s the kind of vision that reminds you why you¡¯re still kicking the old stone down the road instead of sitting down next to it. So I cracked my best devil may care smile at the demon in my head and said, ¡°It aint polite to ask questions that everybody in the conversation knows the answer to Slim.¡± Then I got on with my job.