Page 184 of Demons Dig Donuts

“The… spirits.”

Indy lifted his head to see what Mr. Heiss was talking about. “Okay, so, uh, what exactly do you see right now?”

“I see a hellhound chewing on Mr. Mitternacht’s leg, a princess with her tongue wrapped around his throat, and… what I think is a clown? Bouncing up and down on his head?”

“How the fuck?” Indy laughed. “You can see the spirits.”

“I literally just said that.”

“This is crazy.”

“This should not be possible.”

“I let a dragon swallow me down inside a leshy hamster ball like the most demented magical pill pocket of all time. Anything is fucking possible.”

“Hey!” a familiar voice shouted. “Is anyone gonna get me the fuck down?”

Indy stared off at what remained of the club. “Oh shit. Neil is still up there!”

The ground rumbled and the remnants of the first story of the club lumbered that way, words swirling across the shadows of the parking lot.

I WILL GET HIM

I PUT HIM THERE

Murray suddenly roared, and Indy was ready to attack—but it was a sound of relief.

The chains fell away from Murray’s legs as Gammy clapped her hands, and he finally let himself collapse fully, obviously exhausted. The giant wound in his side was halfway closed now, and he shut his eyes, murmuring, “Thank you.”

Dill nodded firmly.

Even though Murray was not an active threat, Mr. Heiss still eyed him warily for a long moment. He turned his attention back to Indy and snapped his fingers. “There.”

Indy found himself clean, dry, and dressed in a soft pink sweater, hot pink capris, and a new pair of pink combat boots. “Wow.”

“What? Surprised I could pick out something so fashionable?”

“Surprised that you waited this long to degunk me.”

“I needed a moment to recover my strength. I have been a bit busy.”

“What you should have summoned is a breath mint because all I want right now is to—”

Mr. Heiss kissed him.

Firm, passionate, and definitely close mouthed.

“Can you summon Tic Tacs? Is that a thing?” Indy mumbled.

“Soon.” Mr. Heiss smiled. “Because once I begin to kiss you with any amount of purpose, I do not intend to stop until you’re a dripping, twitching puddle whose singular function is to scream my name as the sun comes up.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

“I know.” Mr. Heiss took Indy’s hand, leading him to where Lou and the spirits were holding Mr. Mitternacht.

Lou was human once more, standing naked—damn, good for Neil!—and growling in annoyance. “You’re done, demon. It’s over. Funny how none of your little friends came to help you. What a shame. My spirits are still hungry.”

“No, we’re not,” Flanders griped. “I’m tired and I want a nap.”