Page 52 of Demons Dig Donuts

“If only there was a way to shut me up. Something to put in my mouth to occupy it—”

“How about your own foot?”

“You know I can do that, but I charge extra.”

“Let’s go.”

Anna Graham’s was a boring brown building with thick black curtains blocking out every window. There was a wooden sign hanging over the door that said Anna Graham’s Magic Shop in big gold letters, and the door itself was a bright shade of red. The inside was filled with row after row of shelves packed with magical items ranging from rare herbs to candles shaped like dicks. There was incense, cauldrons, and a wide range of magical books.

Gammy had always said the books were bullshit and that proper magic should only be recorded in a witch’s personal tomes. Indy had no idea if that was true or not, but he felt it was fair to trust the woman who had beaten death to finish all fifteen seasons of Supernatural.

Indy had been here many times with Gammy, and he led Mr. Heiss through the aisles to grab ingredients. The herbs and spices were hardly comparable to those found in the grocery store and had the price tag to prove it.

The turmeric was prepared by gremlins who composted with troll dung. The garlic came from a rare strain that only grew in caves under the sole illumination of a Tlahuelpuchi’s fireball.

Or some such shit.

Indy located all of the ingredients except the Jubboko sap, finding its spot on the shelf empty. He groaned lightly because that meant he would have to go ask the clerk, Marsha, for help.

And Marsha was…

Well, she was Marsha.

Marsha F. Snart, as a matter of fact—a petite white goth girl who was the cute pastel sort of goth who loved lavender, pink, and wearing fancy sweet Lolita dresses. Indy had asked her once what the F in her name stood for, and she’d giggled and said she’d have to eat his liver if she told him. She was very strange, definitely not human, but had always been nothing but sweet to Gammy and Indy.

Other than the eating liver bit, of course.

She was behind the counter in her usual spot, but she was arguing with a big scruffy man.

He had olive skin, dark hair, and bright hazel eyes. He wore a fluffy bathrobe and cargo shorts no matter the weather, owned an endless wardrobe of ratty band T-shirts, and yet always had on the same black Crocs with crew socks pulled up to his knees.

Fashion fucking disaster and a half.

Indy recognized the hot mess as Adam, Marsha’s brother. Or boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend? Indy wasn’t completely sure, to be honest, but he and Marsha clearly had a rocky relationship, whatever it was. They were fighting every time Indy saw them together, and Gammy’s guess was that they were related. She’d reasoned that only family would fight that much and still continue to see each other.

“—not going to discuss this again,” Marsha growled low, her eyes narrowed to hateful slits as she glared up at Adam. “It’s already done and—” Her face contorted into confusion when she saw Indy and Mr. Heiss, then twisted up into her usual hyper happy smile. “Oh! Hi there! Be right with you!”

“No rush, babe.” Indy smiled politely.

Mr. Heiss, of course, scowled.

Indy’s thumb tingled, and he glanced down to see the glow was black.

Marsha and Adam were from the Other.

Underneath all those pastel ruffles and ugly terrycloth were lots of tentacles and probably too many eyes. Indy wondered if Mr. Heiss sensed it somehow too because as clearly grumpy as he was about having to wait, Mr. Heiss wasn’t exactly jumping into full asshole mode to hurry them along.

The arguably most powerful monsters in existence hailed from the Other, and honestly, Indy was surprised there were so many in the city. Adam and Marsha plus Q. made three, and Indy had thought there was a limit.

Like, too many tentacles, do not pass go, do not come to Somerstown.

Or something.

“I won’t be around forever,” Adam warned her. “You know that, right?”

“How about you have a big ol’ glass of shut up?” Marsha cooed.

“Did you see that in your cards?”