“Get out of my house, or I’ll call the police!” She brandished the now-empty bottle as her fuzzy slippers slowly absorbed the puddle of wine.
“Why don’t we start with introductions? Hi, I’m Andromalius, but you can call me ‘Andy’ for short.” He smiled, exposing a row of gleaming white teeth, and held out his hand to shake.
He didn’t seem like a murderer—but then, would he? Erin backed away. “I don’t care what your name is. You need to leave right now.”
He put his hand down. “But you invited me.”
“I invited you?”
“You invited me,” he said, as if he had received an engraved invitation by mail, signature required upon delivery. He seemed hurt.
“How did I invite you?”
“Oh, you remember,” he said, waving his hand airily.
“No. I don’t!”
He sighed and took a small step closer to her.
Nancy Drew, noticing that he had also moved closer to the jar of dog biscuits, approached him expectantly.
“‘The Lord forsake you and the Devil take you,’ remember? Does that ring any bells?”
Erin lowered the wine bottle. “What did you say?”
“I said”—he stood up straight and pointed his finger at her in a way that unmistakably reminded her of herself—“The Lord forsake you and the Devil take you!”
“How did you—is this some kind of joke? Did Mark put you up to this?”
The man looked offended. “He most certainly did not.”
“Who are you?”
“I told you.”
“Andro-something,” said Erin.
“Andromalius, a mighty Great Earl of Hell. But you can call me Andy.” He inclined his head.
“A great earl of what?”
“Hell. Great Earl of Hell. But I don’t believe in standing on ceremony. You don’t need to curtsy, or make a sacrifice, or anything.”
Was he trying to look modest? “You’re not from hell. You’re just some maniac who broke into my house.”
“Is that so? Watch this.” He snapped his fingers and wings—impossibly large, gray wings flecked with white—exploded from behind his shoulders, filling the width of the kitchen and making a sound like an oversized umbrella snapping open.
Erin staggered backward. “Oh, my God!”
“Wrong direction,” said Andromalius, Great Earl of Hell, and pointed downward.
Nancy Drew barked and tottered in a circle.
“Put them away, you’re scaring the dog,” said Erin, her voice shaking.
“Oh! Sorry, dog.” He snapped his fingers and the wings retracted, then disappeared. He retrieved a dog biscuit from the jar and held it out to the dog.
Nancy Drew took it and lay down, crunching the biscuit happily.
