A Feast of Demons

by Joseph Samachson

I came to. "What?"

He was looking at me. He repeated patiently, "The police are looking for me."

I stared. "You?"

"Did you hear about Grand Rapids?"

I thought. "Oh—Wait. A fire. A big one. And that was you?"

"Not me. My demons. Maxwell demons—or Greco demons, they should be called. He talked about them; I use them. When they're not using me. This time, they burned down half the city."

"I remember now," I said. The papers had been full of it.

"They got loose," he said grimly. "But that's not the worst. You'll have to earn your million a year, Virgie."

"What do you mean, they got loose?"

He shrugged. "Controls aren't perfect. Sometimes the demons escape. I can't help it."