by ROCFanKat

Disclaimers: See Chapter 1.

Like the Wizard, Jenner was in no mood to see us, but Sanchez owed me a favor. "He's got quiet time penciled in," she said, "but guess what? Pencil erases. Go right on in."

"Hold his calls?" I asked.

She sighed. "How long have I known you, Dev? I put all the lines on hold the minute you walked in."

It probably was a compliment. So I went on in, Cassie right behind me, the demons right behind her. Monica made sure that she got in ahead of Vanessa, which caused some hissing between them, but Cassie told them in no uncertain terms to save it.

Cripes, she was getting feisty. I made a note not to cross her on purpose any time soon. But as long as she was in a talking-back mood, I could try to make use of it. "Mr. Jenner?"

No sign of the man, and no reply.

"Under the desk?" I suggested.

"Of all people," Vanessa said, impatient, "I would have thought you would have known where to look." She pointed a talon at the coat closet, and the door swung open. "Come out, Nat. There are people here to see you."

"Are they on fire?" he asked.

"Not yet. Now get out here."

He obeyed her, as though he were used to it--not a concept that I wanted to dwell on. Uncertainly, he looked around the room, searching for clues as to what he was in for. "Did I call a meeting?"

"Years ago," I said, reveling in the B-movieness of it all. "Have a seat, Mr. Jenner. We'd like to show you some video."

"Where's Harper? Shouldn't he be here?"

"I imagine he'll be along any time now. Kurt, too. There was a little situation downstairs, but I'm sure this is the first place they'll come when they get everything straight."

"So to speak," Cassie added. "Sit down, Mr. Jenner."

Jenner checked with Vanessa again. She was leaning against the wall, looking implacable; when his eyes wandered, she practically slammed her jacket shut. He tried Monica next, and got a flash of fangs for his trouble.

So he sat.

Good boss. Resisting the urge to pat him on the head, I stuck a tape in the VCR and waited for the monitor to warm up. "Let me bring you up to speed, Mr. Jenner. You weren't supposed to see this until Friday, but things happen. So..."

"What things?"

"Take your pick," I said. "We've got things from wall to wall. Baptists and devils and lunatic clients and girl reporters in closets and your creative director passed out downstairs with my copywriter up his shorts. Where do you want to start?"

His brow furrowed painfully. Too many words. "Miss Wolfe? Do you understand Derry?"

"Yes. But I love her anyway."

I gave her a bad look for that. She just laughed, though, and nodded at the monitor. Conditioned as I was, I half-expected it to start playing all by itself. But it would be best if she never, ever, ever found that out. So I got the remote off Jenner's desk and started the VCR the hard way.

•••

It was child's play after all. Jenner folded like a cheap tent a few seconds into the tape, and he was still in a fetal position several minutes later, when Jack and Kurt finally got there.

"Hello again, Jack," Cassie said. "You look terrible."

He did look terrible. For one thing, his fly was still open, but that was such a small detail. It was all he could do to make it to Jenner's desk. "Call the police, Mr. Jenner."

Jenner didn't hear that. He was curled up tight in his chair, rocking gently, trying to forget.

"Call the police," Jack repeated. "They're witches."

"Demons," Monica growled.

Kurt caught sight of her and yelped. But before he could run, Vanessa pointed at the door, which promptly closed with a bang. For good measure, the deadbolt turned, too.

"Mr. Jenner?" Jack slapped his face, tentatively at first, then harder. "Nat? Are you in there? We've got to call the police."

"The police can't help him," I said. "They can't help you two, either."

Cassie nodded. "Way too late for that."

"Even if they could, they wouldn't believe you." Comfortably, I settled an arm around Cassie, who'd been leaning against my shoulder. "Grown men, seeing demons. Not to mention the part about the possum."

Over in the far corner, Kurt sank to the carpet, clearly in distress. Jack shook Jenner with purpose.

"It looked lovesick to me," Cassie told me. "Didn't you think so, honey?"

"It was certainly in a hurry."

"Snap out of it," Jack urged Jenner. "The police won't come unless you call. Not after the last time."

Cassie was as happy as I'd seen her in days. "He's not listening to us, Devvy. Should we turn them over to the witches?"

"Keep it up, girlie," Monica warned.

"The demons, you mean, sweetheart. We could do that, if you want. Or turn the demons over to them. I don't think it matters now."

"Kurt, goddamn you, call 911!" Jack shouted, still shaking Jenner. "Tell them you're him!"

Kurt didn't answer. He was crouched down in the corner as though it might be safe there.

"Let's give them to Monica," Cassie suggested. "Maybe they'll give her heartburn."

"Or we could keep them as pets."

"Not at my house."

I let it go at that. I'd have a talk with Vanessa later about the logistics of it, though. Maybe she could shrink them down to a size I could keep in a terrarium on my desk. The idea of feeding flies to Kurt with tweezers was weirdly appealing. Not too many flies, though; he could stand to drop a few pounds.

Jack, sweating heavily now, gave Jenner one last slap and then threw his limp body back into his chair. "Dammit, Kerry, what did you do to him?"

"The same thing I'm about to do to you," I said. "Have a chair. Let's see some video."

"What video?"

"The diversity ad, Jack. Surely you remember. Our public service announcement on what is and is not normal. You might want to take notes."

Scowling, he wiped his damp forehead. "Normal? What the hell would you know about it?"

Good thing I already had a grip on Cassie; she almost got loose, and it wouldn't have been pretty. "There's no such thing as normal, Jack. There's only an average of deviance. And around this place, I figure that Cassie and I are it."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Just watch the tape."

Vanessa made a great production of clearing her throat.

"On second thought," I said, watching her carefully, "let's watch it on live TV."

Cassie, who hadn't known about that part, started laughing.

"Who's got the remote?"

"Amateur," Vanessa said, pointing. The TV flashed on and started changing channels. Some cooking show, a cartoon, "I Love Lucy," people throwing chairs around on some talk show...

...and Regis and Kathie Lee.

"No," Cassie said, sounding very definite.

I checked my watch. "Just a few seconds of it. Jack? Can you see all right? How about you, Kurt?"

Neither of them answered. Jack was slumped against the wall, a picture of defeat with hair plugs, and Kurt was still balled up in the far corner of the office, but they were both focused on the TV screen. As the show broke for commercials, their vital signs picked up visibly. You can always tell advertising professionals.

As for Monica, the light had just begun to dawn on her, and by the way she was looking at Vanessa, we were in for a storm. "You can't do this," she told her.

"Of course I can."

"You can't do it," Monica insisted. "Devlin's on that tape too. She can't out herself on purpose. That would make me..."

"Unnecessary," Cassie said. "Yes. We know."

Monica glared at her, then back at Vanessa. "You can't do it. You're a demon. You can't help her. It's not done."

"'Can't' be damned. I never liked you, Monica."

"Break my heart. I never liked you."

"Quiet," I told them, watching the TV. "It's on."

So we all watched. It was nothing outré, really--just a day in the life of J/J/G, complete with bone-sucking, cross-dressing, adultery in a supply room, adultery in a conference room, adultery in a men's room...and a little digitally assisted magic between Jenner and Howard Abner, all of it cut to "I Enjoy Being a Girl." Connie the Barbarian had given me the idea, after all. Critically, I studied the segment in which Jack was dancing with Kester the mortician, wondering whether chiffon had been the wrong fabric for Kester or whether the problem was just the color.

"You can't do this," Monica repeated.

But she--we--already had. The next clip was that damn kiss from the security-camera tape.

"You might want to recut it later, Devvy," Cassie said. "Channel 12 just got some much better film of us."

Suddenly, Monica shrieked, very much like the Wicked Witch of the West. We heard a pop, followed by a wet sound, and she was gone.

"Never liked her much," Vanessa said, casually, wiping her hands.

Instinctively, I turned toward the corner. Kurt looked as though something had gone down the wrong way. His eyes seemed a bit bloodshot, too. But he was still staring at the TV screen, which was showing the final title: WHAT DO YOU ENJOY BEING?

Jack, of course, had fainted again.

Vanessa crossed over to him, nudged him with the pointy toe of her shoe, and smiled in satisfaction. "Well, that was fun. Now who wants to go out for mochaccino?"

"Not so fast," I told her. "We've got to explain all this somehow."

"No, you don't. Besides, where would you start?"

Cassie and I looked at each other for a long time, thinking it over. Where would we start? And what, after all, would be the point?

"She's a demon," Cassie finally said. "We'll let her handle it."

So we let her, and she did.

•••

An hour later, we were standing in the parking lot, waiting for Vanessa. She was just tidying up a few last details in the office, she said, and it wouldn't take a minute.

Finally, we heard a screech of tires, and turned to find Vanessa barreling down on us at the wheel of a bright-red BMW convertible. I gave her the benefit of the doubt for two seconds, then grabbed Cassie and pulled us both to safety.

"Whoops," Vanessa said, while the car rocked to a stop. "Haven't driven one of these in a while. Everyone all right?"

"No thanks to you," I grumbled.

"Oh, stop griping. I fixed everything, didn't I? Anyway, you're on vacation now. Here."

Cassie reached around me and took the tickets, checking the times against her watch. "This is cutting it close, Vanessa. We're barely going to have time to..."

"You're already packed. I handled it. The bags are in your trunk."

"For both of us? For Kansas City, too?"

"I said, I handled it. Now get going. You'll miss your plane."

"Not if I drive," Cassie observed.

Vanessa gunned the motor. "Buckle up, then, Devlin. See you at the beach."

I squinted into the sun after her. It might have been my imagination, but I would've sworn that there was a Jesus fish on the back of Vanessa's car.

•••

(c) 1999, ROCFanKat

Continued - Part 20 (Final)