LITMIR.BIZ

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shook my head for the third time. If I’d learned anything about the Satanists—excuse me, the Army of Darkness—in my breakfast meeting with them two days later, it was that they really liked donuts. A lot. They kept trying to force food on me and seemed particularly fond of the aforementioned Timbits, which were like donut holes except with a cuter name.

      “No thanks.”

      After the donuts, a large part of the meeting focused on me. They all wanted to know who I was, where I’d come from, how my own group operated, etc. I spun lies out as fast as I could, rapidly building up a backstory for my Seattle Satanist group. The Army listened eagerly, and I hoped I’d be able to remember everything I was saying if quizzed afterward.

      “You’ll just have to come visit us sometime,” I said, hoping to allay the questions. “That’s the only way you’ll really understand. For now, I mean, Kristin wanted me to come here to talk about you guys.”

      The mention of Kristin sobered them up. Evan nodded. “Georgina thinks we maybe need to expand our activities.”

      There were six total gathered here, the truly “active” members. They ranged from 20s to 40s in age, and like Evan, they had that same sort of pleasant demeanor that was more suited to helping you pick out a DVD player or lawn mower than sacrifice a goat. Maybe it was just a Canadian thing. One of the members, a tiny blond college student named Allison, frowned. “But why? We’re already doing what the Angel wants.”

      They all looked at me, and I saw conflict on their faces. I’d slept with a man far more moral than Dante last night and was in the full throes of succubus charisma. I could tell it affected them. It was part of why they were so intrigued by me, and it would give me leverage here. Yet, I also realized, no matter how powerful they thought Kristin was and no matter how much they respected her endorsement of me, I was still an outsider and not necessarily to be trusted, appealing or not. Again, I marveled at the strength of their conviction.

      “Well, I don’t want you guys to stop…” That was, of course, exactly what I wanted. “But most of what you’re doing is scaring people.” That wasn’t exactly true, but how else could I describe it? “It seems like now that you’ve established yourselves, you should use that strength to start influencing people toward the Angel’s will. Surely you’ll best do his—her bidding by actually leading people into darkness.” I made eye contact with each person as I spoke, smiling and putting as much coaxing charm as I could into my voice.

      A guy with a shaved head, whose name I’d forgotten, popped a chocolate glazed Timbit into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “That makes sense.”

      Allison didn’t agree. “If that’s what the Angel wanted us to do, we would know. Right now, we need to keep doing just as we have. We are getting strong, and we need to make sure that strength doesn’t wane in the face of our enemies.”

      I forced myself to keep smiling. These people didn’t understand anything, let alone their so-called enemies. I turned toward Evan and looked at him through lowered lashes. “Why settle for one goal, though? Evan, I thought you of all people really wanted to make this group great. I thought you wanted to bring more souls to the Angel’s side.”

      “That’s what we’re already doing,” argued Allison. She didn’t seem to like me using the come-hither eyes on Evan. For his part, Evan didn’t like being caught between us. He started to stammer out something but was interrupted by the shaved-head guy.

      “How?” he asked Allison.

      She frowned. “What do you mean, Blake? How what?”

      “How are we bringing more souls to the Angel’s side?”

      “By striking out at those who deny her greatness.”

      “Yeah…” Blake frowned and finished eating another Timbit. “But I don’t think doing that is bringing more souls to our side.”

      “Are you questioning what we’ve done?”

      “No, I stand by it all. It’s just…” Blake shrugged. “It seems like the things we’re doing aren’t really swaying souls toward the Angel. If anything, it’s just making them take a harder stand against us.” Finally! Finally someone got it. I could have kissed Blake. Maybe I would later. “I mean, I’m not really sure the Zamboni plan is really going to darken souls. It’ll just make people want to defend themselves against us. Maybe it’s time to do the Angel’s will through more subtle means.”

      “Yes,” I cried. “That’s exactly what I—Zamboni?”

      With much enthusiasm, they explained an idea they’d come up with to spray-paint a Zamboni with Satanic messages right before it came out on the ice during a hockey game. Still keeping that idiotic smile on my face, I said in a level voice, “I think maybe you should reconsider that.”

      Debate went on for the next hour or so. I was a bit dismayed that I hadn’t swayed them all to my point of view immediately, but I’d sent enough ripples through them to make a difference. No matter what they claimed, none of them were really sure what exactly the Angel did want, of course, and while some were comfortable in their rut, others were starting to grasp my logic. I took it as a great sign of victory that when we finally got up to go, they’d decided against taking any action—say, like, the Zamboni plan—until they’d met again.

      As we walked out of the restaurant, I caught up with Blake. I’d decided Evan was a lost cause. Blake seemed to be the smartest of the group, and I thought it might be time for a leadership change. With a little help, it wouldn’t take much to topple Evan.

      “Hey,” I said, beaming at Blake. “I really liked what you had to say. Are you busy right now? Maybe we could talk some more.”

      He smiled back at me, genuinely interested. I probably wouldn’t have even needed any succubus glamour to convince him. “I wish I could…but I have to go to work. Are you free later tonight? Like after dinner?”

      “Sure.” We swapped numbers, and as we were about to part, I asked in a low voice, “You don’t think they’ll do something anyway, do you? Despite what they said about…you know, putting the Zamboni plan on hold?”

      His grin broadened. “No, they won’t do the Zamboni plan. I’m sure of it.”

      “How?”

      “Because they’re out of spray paint.”

      “So they’ll get more.”

      He shook his head. “Not without me. I’m their supplier. I work at Home Depot.”

      I again found myself with time to kill in Vancouver. It was a beautiful day, and the temperature was unseasonably warm for April. So, I went and walked along the waterfront. The water seemed bluer than our own Puget Sound back in Seattle, but maybe that was just because the weather tended to be sunnier here. I wandered through Stanley Park afterward and then finally meandered back to my hotel. As I did, I again passed one of the T-shirt shops. They’d changed their display and now showed a shirt with a U.S. map on it that read: Dear Canada, Please Invade.

      Back in my room, I booted up my laptop to check my e-mail. There were a few from the bookstore’s mailing list that I ignored, as well as the usual spam. Along with those messages, I had one from greygoose.com’s mailing list, a picture of a cat with some nonsensical caption that Cody had forwarded me, and a letter from Maddie.

      It was a mass e-mail she’d sent out this morning. It read: Hey, guys! I decided to start a blog. Check it out. A link followed. Even though every instinct told me not to, I clicked it.

      Should have listened to those instincts.

      Pictures of her and Seth bombarded me. They’d gone to the Seattle Aquarium last night and taken assorted photos posing by puffins, squids, and other sea creatures. Worse, Seth’s nieces were with them. That nearly killed me. Seth had five adorable blond nieces, ranging from four to fourteen. I loved them to pieces, and breaking up with him had been like breaking up with them too. The girls all looked reasonably

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