Flames to Free

Every time I’d ridden the Sky Ride, I’d dreamed of a moment like this one. Every time, especially when I was a kid.

Immediately below us was a performance stage, where a musical event was happening. An audience filled the seating facing it, and the whole outfit was covered with what was essentially a large trampoline to provide shade. Loose change glimmered across the woven black surface, untold wealth that taunted Sky Ride passengers. As a kid, I’d fantasized of scooping it up every time I saw it. Easy money. So easy, all that it would require was jumping onto the stage and collecting the treasure.

But this was about the demon, not the loose change. That galled a bit, that I could finally jump onto the trampoline roof, but couldn’t gather up all that coin. Couldn’t be more than five dollars, but for a kid in the late 90s, that was a lot.

My main focus swiveled to more pressing, life or death matters: I hoped the roof would hold my weight.

Below us, the demon trotted across the springy material on its cloven hoofs.

I landed about seven feet away from it. And Hank crashed down beside me in a way that matched his NYC roughness—meaning, not very graceful.

The moment Hank’s feet hit the black material of the trampoline awning, there was a sound like thunder, of canvas being rent in two as a massive hole appeared beneath us. The demon fell through, along with us.

Shrieks and screams erupted from the audience and the musical performance ground to a halt as panic ensued.

Though it was anything but elegant, our entrance was still somehow kind of epic.   

We might have landed on some people once we tumbled to the ground, it was hard to say. I rolled around, trying to avoid the bony limbs of shrieking women and men as well as not crash into unforgiving benches while I searched for my footing. Even with my eyes wide open, I struggled to tell what was going on.

Thankfully, the whole process of tearing trampoline fabric did slow our fall and I wasn’t hurt too badly. When I got up, Hank was just dusting off.

“You alright?” I asked.

He winced, rubbing his upper arm and looking at me. “Yeah. You? Where’d our pervert demon go?” Initially, the demon had begun to reveal itself to park guests through flashing its junk at them. Almost like it wanted to be seen by normals.

Since it hadn’t done anything else except run from us, I couldn’t figure out what its goals were.

I stretched my neck and shoulders, running a mental body-scan. I was fine, nothing was broken, but I’d have a few bruises later.

Around us people fled in confusion. I surveyed the scene and caught the eye of a park supervisor of some type, dressed in professional-looking clothes and wearing a walkie-talkie on his belt. He wore a grim expression as he trotted toward us, pulling the communication device off its clip and speaking into it.

I peered past Hank and spotted the demon galloping toward the Roller Coaster.

The creature glanced at me with its brilliant eyes, smirked—the audacity!—then sped up, vaulting the iron railing dividers and knocking into people, before leaping onto the  thin railing and running along it like a mountain goat on a tiny ledge. That’s one thing those cloven hooves were good for—precarious balancing—not that anyone would have ever guessed it. At least, I hadn’t. 

“Damn, he’s going for the Roller Coaster,” I said.

“Which one?” Hank asked, still looking at me. He turned to follow my gaze.

“The original Roller Coaster. That’s its name. Over there,” I said. “It’s totally wood.”

“I’ll follow you, Dred,” Hank said, biting back a sarcastic comment. I saw it on his face.

“What?” I asked. “Most modern roller coasters are metal.”

“Nothing.”

I rolled my eyes. Wood. Of course. “You’re like sixteen or something.”

“Occasionally, yes. It’s what makes me so charming.”

The demon was ruining my day. Not that we weren’t crashing the party for the park guests. They clustered around the edge of the stage, talking loudly, consoling each other, searching for answers in the haphazard nonsense. I could imagine the stories they’d have later about the mishap concerning the roof of a venue falling on them. And for some of the luckier ones, human bodies landing on them from the heavens. What a blast! The Torchkeepers  had their work cut out for them today.

The park supervisor reached us before we could get away. I took my Supernatural Relief Guild badge out of my pocket and flashed it at him.

“I’d heard there were police here. Care to explain this?” He scowled and pointed at the torn roof above us.

“We fell out of the Sky Ride.” We weren’t police, but I had no desire to correct him. Flamehearts were often mistaken for police. 

“You know there’s a fine for jumping out of the Sky Ride?” He lifted his walkie-talking to speak into it.

“Hold up.” I showed him the badge again. A fine? That was it? Seemed like a slap on the wrist for such grand destruction.

He paused. Though it wasn’t a police badge, he’d believe that it was due to the badge’s enchantment, and that could get Hank and me away from the conversation. This bottleneck was giving the demon more time to wreak havoc.

I flashed the supervisor an appeasing smile. “You called us. For the demon. And look, I’m sure your insurance can cover the Sky Ride fine while it’s covering the replacement for your stage awning. Tell your guests it was a bowling ball falling from an RC drone, for now. Whatever works. But let them know they’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“RC drones can’t carry a bowling ball.” His eyes narrowed and he frowned.

Hank was watching me with an appraising look on his face, letting me handle the diplomatic efforts.

I stood firm. “Coconuts, then, being dropped by swallows. Doesn’t matter. Be creative. They’ll forget later, and so will you.”

I heard Hank chuckle softly beside me. At least someone appreciated the excellent reference. Mr. Humorless Park Supervisor did not.

He cocked his head and frowned, bracing his hands on his hips. “Why lie? And what are you talking about? Demon?”

The Veil—an ancient spell placed over the world by a group of powerful sorcerers to conceal the hidden world—was working already.

“Oh, look at the time,” I said, backing away. I didn’t even pretend to look at the watch on my arm, “We need to be getting on with our business. We’ve got to go fix this problem for you. My suggestion, get your first aid people here to look after the injured guests. Sorry about that—we really didn’t mean to hurt anyone. No time to chat! We’ve got a demon to catch!”

I turned and took off, heading after the demon before Mr. Park Interrogator could ask another question.

“Wait!” he shouted.

I didn’t wait.

I pushed through the crowds on the Midway and reached the entrance to the Roller Coaster. A large, open dome covered the loading and unloading zone. Iron railings guided guests up the ramp to the ride through a series of switchbacks. The scent of sweat and fried food permeated the air. I placed a hand on the hot railing nearest me and vaulted over it. Indignant guests protested and glared at me. I flashed them my badge, shoved through their ranks, and muttered “excuse me” on my way to the main ride platform. Flames were just beginning to lick the wooden pillars and risers of the roof structure.

Screams were already erupting from the park guests. My heart sank. I bit my lip and hoped the creature hadn’t decided to create mischief like that on the ride itself.

I got through the crowds and took my first full look at the Roller Coaster itself. A breath exploded from me as I slowed to a stop on the metal decking of the platform and stared.

Damn.

We were too late. 

Flames spread along the wooden supports of the ride while the creature danced on the tracks at the top of the first hill, sixty feet up.

Hank skidded to a stop beside me.

“Seriously, Hank, why’s a demon out in the daytime like this? Just to cause trouble? This is the kind of display our usual showoff demons would save for the dark, when the flames are really impressive.”

“What a nasty bugger!” Hank hissed. “I have no idea. But we need to do something. Get the guests out of here.” 

I couldn’t argue that. The demon leapt above a train car full of passengers as they creaked along beneath him. He landed on the middle of the car, and then leapt again, landing skillfully on the tracks as the train finished its ascent. With a thunderous roar and the typical jubilant shrieks from the passengers, it swooped down the largest hill.

A ride operator with a big swoop of blond hair, feathered in a style reminiscent of 80s movies, stopped beside us on the platform. He cursed and began to shout at the portly older kid running the ride at the control panel. Guests screamed over the flames engulfing the dome, the noise reaching a fever pitch. A stampede for the exit began.

“Get everyone out of here,” Hank said to the 80s-hair teenager, flashing his badge. The boy nodded at the instructions. “Have them turn around and follow the line back out onto the Midway, and get the fire department here.”

“And Hank, tell him to shut down the ride,” I said, absently.

“Of course, Dred, that’s what I was about to do.”

“I’m going to follow him out onto the ride.” What else could I do? The demon wanted me to go after him. 

“Hell no! It’s on fire.” Hank sidled up close to me, his aviators focused on me, not the ride. “And since you insist on us not killing the demon, what’s the point? We’re just damage control right now.”

Ignoring the panic and shrieks around me, I pushed through the chaos of normals crowding toward an exit, any exit, and walked down to the edge of the loading platform to watch the demon, debating going after him.

“He’s putting on a good show. A really great show, in the middle of the day,” I mused aloud.

I felt Hank come to stand beside me, his arm bumping into mine. A breeze blew across us. It fanned the flames on the Roller Coaster. I didn’t want the park—the park which I pretty much hated, but still—to lose its oldest attraction. It was a classic roller coaster, the kind you’d see on a postcard of a beach in California from the fifties or sixties. It was vintage.

Sirens wailed to a start in the distance. The Farmington city fire department wasn’t too far away. I assumed Lagoon had its own fire brigade as well, and figured they’d be here taking action soon.

That was when I noticed someone nearby behaving unexpectedly. Someone watching the demon dance. I turned. It was a man. Even more telling: a normal.

Or so he seemed, which was what I assumed everyone was until they proved me wrong. There were no outward signs of being a paranormal human, generally speaking. 

He stood in the line near me, his hands balanced on top of the red railing. The crowd bustled around him as people struggled to get away. But he was motionless, a point of calm in the wild tide of people.

It was like he could see the demon.

I drew a breath, then felt certain.

He can see the demon.

I was sure of it. He wasn’t just staring at the flames. His gaze was intent. He face swung toward me for a moment, and I caught a thoughtful malevolence in his eyes that sent chills rippling across my body. Something in his gaze when our eyes collided seemed to say, “You can see the demon too?”

He wore frameless glasses and a Hawaiian shirt with khaki shorts. Something about his attire clashed with the expression on his face, and the style of glasses he wore. He was also sporting a Panama hat. Like he’d just gotten in from a Florida Keys vacation.

I waited for something to happen between us, a nod of acknowledgment, a smile, anything. But he turned away and continued to watch the spectacle. For all I really knew—my intuition and instincts aside—he was only seeing the flames. Not the demon.

I jabbed Hank with my elbow.

“Hey—” he began, indignant, rubbing his hand across his side like I’d hurt him.

“That guy’s dressed for the weather. You should take a page out of his book.”

My partner glanced where I was looking.

“His glasses aren’t as cool… wait a minute, can he? He can. He can see the demon,” Hank’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Not a normal. A paranormal human.”

I let out a deep breath—things were adding up. Maybe.

Everything about the early afternoon at the smelly amusement park began to make sense. I knew why the demon was dancing in the broad daylight, why it wasn’t hiding out till dark, like most demons.

Most demons that weren’t on a mission. That was the clincher.

Everything clicked and I turned toward Hank, eager to test my hypothesis. “I think I know where to go next.”