“No,” Nathaniel said. “It can understand every word we say. And the squeaking is for effect. It can speak English, and just about any other language you can think of.”
I suppressed my revulsion and leaned a little closer. “Who sent you?”
14
THE VOICE THAT CAME FROM THE CREATURE’S MOUTH was high-pitched and eerie. “A horror that you cannot imagine, Madeline Black.”
“Yeah, like I’ve never heard that before,” I said, sitting back on my heels.
Nathaniel pressed down harder on the netting and the demon squealed even louder. “Answer the question.”
“You’re going to squash it,” Jude said mildly, but he didn’t sound like that would be particularly upsetting.
Beezle returned with Samiel in tow. My brother-in-law carried the cheese puff container. A few tiny holes had been punched in the red lid so the monster wouldn’t suffocate.
Samiel opened the top of the jar and kneeled on the floor next to Nathaniel.
Quick as lightning, Nathaniel lifted the racket, grabbed the rat-demon’s tail and dropped it inside the jar. Samiel screwed the top closed while the thing was still scrabbling around inside.
“Who sent you?” I repeated.
The rat-demon ignored me. It bared its teeth and started scraping at the plastic.
“Can it chew its way out?” I asked the room in general.
“Probably,” Beezle said. “A regular Chicago alley rat can chew through concrete.”
“That is disgusting,” J.B. said.
“Yeah, and you’d better wash your hands,” I said to Nathaniel. “The gods know where that thing has been.”
Nathaniel scowled. “I’ll be right back.”
“We really can’t use magic on this thing?” I said.
“It would be pointless,” Beezle said. “It’s too small to be affected.”
“Well, that’s annoying,” I said. “You’re the one who told me that most things don’t like…”
I trailed off, and Beezle’s eyes gleamed.
“Yeah,” he said. “That ought to do it.”
“What?” Jude asked.
“Bring that thing upstairs,” I said to Samiel, and led the parade up to my apartment. Nathaniel joined the crowd in my kitchen a few moments later.
I rummaged through my pantry until I found an old sauté pan that I wouldn’t mind throwing away afterward. Then I put it on my gas stove and turned the flame underneath very high.
“Put the jar in the pan,” I said to Samiel.
He looked slightly revolted, but he did it.
The demon squealed some more, frantically scratching at the sides of the jar with its claws.
“This is going to smell,” J.B. said.
“And it will probably set off the smoke detectors,” Nathaniel added, taking the detector in the hallway down and opening the case to release the batteries.
Jude opened all the windows in the kitchen, letting in the frigid air from outside as the acrid odor of burning plastic filled the air.
“I can’t help but feel like we’ve reached some kind of low,” Beezle said. “We’ve got an angel, a half-breed nephilim, a werewolf, a gargoyle and a couple of Agents of unusual bloodline, and we’re all standing around the kitchen watching a rat-demon get burnt.”
“You’re not wrong,” J.B. said.
“You wouldn’t think it’s a low if that creature had escaped back to its master with information you’d thought was confidential,” Nathaniel said. “Or if it had completed its mission and then returned with the remainder of its nest.”
“I would burn the house down before I would live here with a rat infestation,” I said.
“Given your penchant for burning buildings, this does not surprise me in the least,” Beezle said.
The bottom of the jar started to melt as the heat in the pan increased. The demon screamed as its clawed feet were scorched. The air blowing in from outside barely disguised the stench of burning chemicals mixed with rat. Smoke billowed around the kitchen, and we all covered our faces with our sleeves.
“Let me out, let me out, LET ME OUT!” the demon screamed.
“Who sent you?” I repeated for the third time.
“Antares! Antares!” it said.
“So he is still alive, then,” I said. “Is he working with Azazel? Are they together now?”
The rat screeched in pain as the jar began to melt more rapidly. Hot plastic dripped from the top and sides onto the demon’s scales.
“Let me out, let me out!”
“Where is Antares?” I demanded.
“In the Forbidden Lands!” the rat-demon screamed.
“Is Azazel with him?” I asked.
“No! No! Let me out! Let me out!”
“Where is Azazel?” I asked.
The rat-demon howled. Its legs were almost entirely encased in melted plastic, and I think its feet were attached to the bottom of the pan.
“Where is Azazel?” I repeated.
“I don’t know, I don’t know! I told you what you wanted to know—now let me out!”
“I never said I would let you out,” I said.
The rat-demon’s eyes widened in terror. The six of us stood and watched as Antares’ minion was killed by inches.
It took a long time. Jude went to open more windows.
When it was nothing but a blackened husk, Nathaniel scooped up the pan and took it outside to the Dumpster in the alley.