Free Something Wikkid This Way Comes by Nicole Peeler

works. There’s movement in the corn. The girls have heard me, and, more importantly, “Satan” knows they’ve heard me.
    “Come out,” he barks again. “This woman’s tongue is full of lies. You know your Master!”
    Slowly the girls melt out of the corn. One minute they’re not there, the next they are—the magic of the cornfield. In the far right of my peripheral vision is the hooded figure, the immature gnome who nailed us earlier. It appears to be facing the wrong direction—an amateur mistake. Even an immature gnome is a powerful ally if it’s partially bonded to the land, as this one is, and it’s never a good idea to let your big guns dip into your stash.
    “Howdy, ladies,” I say with a friendly wave. “My name’s Cappie, and I think you’ve been lied to.”
    “Aren’t you the janitor?” one girl asks, her unfocused gaze wandering haphazardly over me. They’re all stoned to the gills.
    “I’m actually a detective,” I say, which is true. Triptych does have a human PI license, even if we don’t need it often.
    “Oh,” she says, then giggles inappropriately before closely examining the back of her hand.
    “Like I said, I’m a detective, but a special kind. I investigate frauds that pass themselves off as magical. Does that sound familiar to you?”
    The girls look around, their expressions confused. Satan tosses his horns.
    “I am no fraud! I am Lucifer!”
    “Oh yeah? The thing is, ladies, I think he is a fraud. I bet he’s not even magical, himself. I bet he’s hooked himself up with someone who is magical, but he’s probably just some schmuck who can’t even shift his own shape. I bet that whole Satan shtick is just a good glamour.”
    “What’s a glamour?” another girl asks vaguely.
    “It’s nothing!” Satan yells. “This is no glamour!”
    “Oh yeah? How can we tell? You’re behind your special little barrier there. I bet the second you were to cross over, you’d be some redneck wearing overalls. Maybe you’re just a kid. I wonder if he’s just a kid?” I turn to Moo, who’s stepped up next to me. “It would explain why he kidnapped all the children.”
    “They’re not children. They’re not kidnapped. And I am the Prince of Darkness.” Satan’s so mad now, his voice isn’t loud. He’s gone all cold and creepy with real rage. Just like I want ’im.
    “Whatever,” I say. “You ladies believe me, right? You’re wondering why he’s still standing there, aren’t you? All he has to do is take one step out and you’d know he was really Satan, but he’s not even budging.”
    Stoned heads swivel toward Satan, including the hooded form of the gnome. Satan hisses.
    “Here!” he shouts, stepping over the invisible boundary that demarcates the immature gnome’s territory, and its power, from us. He’s still Satan, but now I can feel his power. It’s very, very familiar. I smile.
    “Are you happy?” he yells, turning toward me. “Do you see?” He turns back to his minions. “I am your Master!”
    I shake my head, then nod at Moo. The gnome, who’s finally managed to figure out which direction to face, raises a hand in warning, but it’s too late. Like a whip, Moo’s Alfar power lashes out and snares the being in front of us.
    “What the—?” he squeals, struggling. “Let me go! I am Satan! I will crush you!”
    “Yeah, yeah,” I say. “Whatever.”
    Moo pulls Satan well back from the gnome’s boundaries. But we still have that same gnome to deal with.
    It’s turned toward us, watching its “master” avidly from underneath its hood, which tracks my movement as I go to stand in front of it, carefully staying on my side of its territory.
    “So,” I say. “You gonna give up gracefully, or are we gonna have to call in the big guns?” Speaking of big guns, I really want our reinforcements to arrive. If we can’t get the gnome to come out with all the girls still on its side of the barrier, we could be in trouble.
    The figure mumbles