NOT THE PIZZA GIRL by Michelle Ann King
Lisa
floored the van’s accelerator, thrashing the speed limit, weaving in and out of
traffic on the A12 and even slipstreaming an ambulance from Gallows Corner to
Gidea Park. It earned her more than a few angry horn blasts, a lot of
obscenities yelled out of car windows and undoubtedly a shedload of bad karma,
but it also shaved a good ten minutes off the journey. And when you guaranteed
delivery in half an hour, no exceptions, that counted for a lot.
The
customer lived in a good-looking place round the back of the station, with a
massive driveway that was already filled up with cars. Loud, rhythmic music
came from inside, punctuated by the occasional shriek.
Sounded
like quite a party. Lisa parked her van on the road and killed the engine with
her trip timer reading 02:16. She’d cut it fine, but she’d made it. With any
luck, she’d get a decent tip off this one.
She
grabbed the bag from the passenger seat, sprinted for the front door and rang
the bell. On 01:35 it was opened by a dark-haired bloke in grey jeans and a
check shirt. He reeked of wine, sulphur and incense, and his eyes were glowing
red. That didn’t bode well, for either of them. The possessed were never big
tippers.
Lisa
gave him a big smile anyway, and held out the bag. “Delivery, mate.”
He
peered at her. “Huh?”
She
made an effort to keep the smile going. “It’s all paid for on the card, so I
just need you to sign on the little screen here and we’re all done.”
He
stared blankly for a few more seconds before his face cleared. “Oh, right. The
pizzas.”
Lisa
let go of the smile and her hope of a tip.
“No,
mate, I’m not the pizza girl. I’m the emergency magical supplies girl.”
“Huh?”
“I’m
from Eddie’s,” she said. “Eddie’s Ethereal Emporium? I’ve got an order of — ”
she paused, checked her manifest and continued, “pine smudge sticks, black
beeswax tapers, granular frankincense, powdered dragon’s blood, juniper oil and
virgin’s tears, for this address.”
Check
Shirt just blinked those scarlet eyes at her and swayed. Lisa’s timer read
01:13.
Another
shriek came from inside the house, followed by a deep, rumbling snarl. Lisa
shook her head. Bloody amateur magicians, always getting themselves into shit
they couldn’t get out of. She blamed Harry Potter.
“Look,
mate, these are ingredients for a banishing ritual, yeah? So someone here must
have had enough of their right mind left to realise you’ve got an unwanted
guest at the party.”
“Huh?”
Lisa
rubbed her eyes and counted to five. Ten was always better, but she was on a deadline.
“Listen, I know what it’s like when summonings get out of hand — you’ve had a
few drinks, you get a bit sloppy with the Latin, the sigils end up the wrong
way ‘round. You might just be trying to raise an imp to clean up the toilet,
but you end up with the legions of Beelzebub pouring out of the u-bend. Trust
me, I’ve seen it happen.”
Check
Shirt scratched his cheek with a nail that blackened and lengthened into a
claw.
“Huh?”
he said.
A
huge snake-like creature slithered out of the door and over his feet. Lisa
stepped back and it disappeared under the hedge at the side of the house.
She
snapped her fingers in front of Check Shirt’s face. He was drooling slightly.
“You’ve got demons, mate,” she said, speaking very loudly and slowly. “Inside
and out, by the look of it. So I strongly recommend you sign here, then go and
sort it out. Okay?”
Behind
her, a motorbike picked its way through the cars on the drive. “Three large
pepperonis and a garlic bread, for Steve,” the rider called out. “Twenty-five
quid.”
Check
Shirt’s eyes snapped back into focus. He reached into his back pocket and came
out with a wallet.
Typical.
In the battle of man’s stomach versus his immortal soul, the stomach won every
time.
“Oh,
no, you don’t,” Lisa said. The display on her timer showed 00:35, the digits
flashing red. She pointed a warning finger at the bike rider, who was carrying
a stack of red and white boxes. The savoury aroma mixed uneasily with the smell
of brimstone wafting out of the house. “I was here first, mate, you wait your
turn.”
She
threw her bag into the hallway, grabbed Steve’s hand and used a talon to
scribble on the screen. The status changed to Delivered, and the countdown
halted on 00:17.
“Thank
you for using Eddie’s Ethereal Emporium, we hope you enjoy your magical
purchases,” she said. “Preferably as soon as possible, yeah?”
Steve
ignored her, his attention fully focused on the stack of pizza boxes. She
shrugged and headed back to the van.
She’d
just driven off when a huge gout of black smoke boiled out from the house. The
pizza bike, burning merrily, flew over the top of the van and landed in a skip
about twenty yards down. There was a great clap of thunder and an
ear-shattering roar that could never have been produced by a human throat. It
sounded very much like “I hate pepperoni.”
A
smaller fireball, which might have once been a pizza box, shot out of the
swirling black vortex and joined the bike in the skip.
Lisa
picked up her radio. “15 to base,” she said. “Clear from Gidea Park, heading
back to the warehouse now.”
She
kept up a leisurely ten miles an hour above the speed limit. In her rearview
mirror, the cloud of smoke split apart and formed into a writhing mass of
horned, fanged shapes. A few of them disappeared down the chimneys of the
neighbouring houses.
Lisa
got back on the radio. “15 again, base. Eddie, you might want to prepare more
of those banishing kits. I think we could be getting some new orders.”