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By David Berardelli

Demon Chaser series, vol. 2

After successfully sending Gutrillus Canus back to Hell, Tiffany LeBouf and her sidekick Chip, the mischievous inferior demon, are sent to Central Florida on a brand-new assignment--to find a delinquent inferior brought up by Braithwaite, the new super demon who has come up from Hell to replace Balberith.

ISBN 978-1-59431-796-5 humor/fiction

Also Available in RTF and HTML



Chapter 1

Flea Marketing

An endless sea of cars, pickups, and RVs--most carrying out-of-state tags--cluttered the dusty parking lot.

The flea market, a long chain of covered wooden booths, offered everything from oranges to costume jewelry, tools, electronic equipment, clothing, DVDs, guns, ammunition, and lawn furniture. Folks in baggy shorts, tank tops, flip-flops and baseball caps flocked the booths and the fast food plaza.

Dressed in a form-fitting black tee shirt, red shorts and custom-designed black sneakers with a red T stretched over each toe, Tiffany LeBouf inched down the aisle. Her thick honey-blond hair slid quietly across her back like a shimmering curtain of gold.

This was her first time in Florida. It was just as crowded as California, but hotter, brighter, and more humid. As she edged down the congested aisle, the excitement on the faces of the people swarming the booths uplifted her spirits.

Twenty feet ahead, Chip, the weird little guy who'd pulled her out of Hell, checked out a booth selling potted plants. His shock of wild red hair stood out like a roving fireball among the crowd. She'd better keep an eye on him. He'd be in serious trouble if he picked up something and ate it. An inferior demon with the spirit form of a flower, Chip's idea of a happy meal was a plate of crushed eggshells, burnt coffee grounds, and a pitcher of fresh spring water. He had no qualms about grabbing a plug of dirt from a potted plant to suck on, even with the vendor watching.

Earlier this morning, a middle-aged couple had picked up Tiffany and Chip outside Louisville and dropped them off here, just a few miles north of St. Augustine.

The driver's name was Bertram. He and his wife Alice smoked cigarettes and chattered away about their divorced daughter Belinda, who had two small boys, spent a fortune for Day Care and lived a few miles from the high school, where she taught Social Studies, drove a second-hand Toyota Supra, liked Bruce Willis movies and dabbled in gardening.

Bertram let his wife do the talking while he drove. He reminded Tiffany a little of her father.

Chip's tiny green eyes had lit up when he climbed into the back of the light-blue Lincoln Town Car and saw Alice chattering away on a cell phone.

Chip had a strange contempt for cell phones. Thought they were silly. He'd even hinted that they were first thought of in Hell by the demons Balboa Whip and Breath Mint--or whatever those big, nasty jerks called themselves.

Although Tiffany didn't believe cell phones were invented down below, she understood Chip's skepticism about them. He hadn't been up here in fifty years. The last time he'd been sent up, no one had ever heard of a cell phone.

"Give you a good deal on a necklace, young lady."

Tanned and bony in his frayed brown tee shirt, suspenders and patched black corduroys, the gray-haired man winked devilishly. The burning cigarette stuck between his cracked lips framed his seamed face with billowing gray tendrils.

"No thanks."

"It's marked thirty. I'll take twenty." He lifted it carefully from the glass case and handed it to her.

Ignoring the strong mix of cigarette smoke and sweat emanating from him, she took it.

Tiffany had seen tons of jewelry in her short lifetime. In Hollywood, where she'd lived the last four years of her life, you quickly learned what was real. This went for five bucks, tops, in any costume jewelry store. But she didn't want to hurt the man's feelings. She handed it back. "I really don't wear jewelry."

"Fine-looking young lady like you?"