The Struggles of Marrying a Demon {Completed}

Spoiled Spells

Of course, there had been a ransom note, and Zephyrine and Thora wouldn't have lied about that, but maybe . . . Ugh. Everything was such a mess, and Mabel could hardly keep up, especially not with a damn head cold.

"Silence!" the woman by Mabel snarled at the young man. "Do not speak!" She turned back to Mabel. "The demon isn't important right now. You, however, are." She exchanged a nod with the man, and he stepped over to the podium.

"Hear this now!" He addressed the other warlocks, his hands held to the ceiling almost reverently, "We will retrieve our spell books this day, and will have our power restored by Death!"

They cheered, and Mabel had the strange thought that it was very similar to a team meeting that might occur before a championship game. She couldn't help a giggle at the image of the warlocks wearing team uniforms, and the entire room shifted to glare it her.

"Sorry," she shook her head, a dazed smile on her lips. "Continue."

With a huff, the man did. "Now, the ceremony will commence! Let us remind ourselves that—" This time he was cut off by a sneeze, and he didn't hide a sneer when he eyed Mabel.

Wishing she could wipe the snot running down her face, Mabel tried to blink the itchiness out of her watery eyes. "Sorry again," her voice was tinny with her suddenly clogged nose.

"What is wrong with you?!" The woman demanded, stepping up to Mabel's side and glaring down at her with disgust. "Be silent and let us do this!"

"Right," Mabel agreed, pausing when an idea finally came to her. "I just didn't want you to make a mistake."

This caught their attention, and—once more—all eyes were on Mabel. "Well," she explained, "you said you needed a pure human, right? I'm not pure right now. Can't you tell? I'm diseased. When was the last time you saw a human look like this?" It was a risky bet, but Mabel was hoping that, since she knew the warlocks had been more-or-less banished to Hell, they wouldn't understand that she only had a cold.

She went silent, letting them assess her and praying that this would work. It had to work.

Finally, the man by the podium spoke up, his voice reluctant. "I do not wish to say this, but the human may be right. We cannot risk another failure; take her back to her room, and we will try again tomorrow."

Mabel hoped her sigh of relief wasn't too obvious. She hadn't bought much time, but it was still time.

Now all she had to do was figure out how to escape.

***

The woman threw Mabel back in her room harshly, slamming the door and stalking off with some muttering about, "foolish, dirty humans."

Mabel flipped her off from behind the door, if only to give herself a little bit of satisfaction. When she spun around, teetering dangerously as she did so, she faltered, her mouth falling open in surprise.

"Oh. My. God. I should have known."

On the other side of the room, drenched in shadows, was the last person she expected to see.

Packer.

The creepy glass repair man.

Figures.

"I knew something was off about you!" She burst, waving her hands around frantically, ignoring the searing pain that vibrated down her throat. "Something didn't feel right! I didn't listen to my gut, but I really should have, because I knew."

Packer took a step towards her, his face the same blank slate she remembered. "I know you did," he confessed, "but I only kept an eye on you because I feared this would happen."

"So . . . what?" She calmed, crossing her arms over her chest and regarding him skeptically, "You had nothing to do with this?"

He replied with a bittersweet smile and the words, "Believe it or not, I tried to stop them from doing this. Unfortunately, no one listens to me. I was one of the few warlocks that Death didn't banish, which is why I can still go to Earth. But that means they no longer trust me."

Mabel didn't want to get her hopes up, but . . . "Can you help me?"

He bowed his head in a half-nod. "I can and will. Take this, and eat all of it," he placed a small packet into her hand. "Give me three hours to find a hole in the barrier. I can't get us all the way back to the protected areas, but I can get us to the edge of the warlocks' territory. Be ready, Mabel." And then he snapped his fingers and faded away into nothingness.

Mabel stared at the vacated spot for several long moments, and then pulled herself out of her trance, analyzing the small bag in her hands cautiously. Upon further inspection, it contained a strong-smelling, vile-looking paste.

But the same gut instinct that had originally told her something was off with Packer was now telling her to trust him, so she angled the packet against her open mouth.

After all, what else could she do?

Here goes nothing.

And she tipped it backwards.

Cheers, I guess. 

A/N: 

Me: Updating on Thursday/Friday will be super easy, honestly, like no issues whatsoever.

Also me: The heck is my calendar trying to feed me this nonsense about it being "Friday"? 

So, late in the day, but it's still Friday! Right? *crickets chirp; babies cry; cat yowls*

*tugs at collar* Erm. Right. 

Welp, as Pele and Mabel would say: Cheers!

A.R.