Return to Daemon Hall- Evil Roots by Andrew Nance

Author:Andrew Nance [Nance, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781429975292
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Wow!” Larry said. “Mad Hatter’s is busy tonight!” Larry talked in real life like he did on the radio. Everything ended in an exclamation point.

The Go-To Guy cut off an approaching car to grab a parking space. He ignored the angry honk and pulled his daisy-shaped keychain from the ignition. The old Rambler chugged, coughed, and died. Crossing the parking lot, I saw a 1947 cherry-red Chevy Fleetline in mint condition. I looked in the window at the leather seats, huge dashboard, and wood steering wheel. There was enough room to throw a party.

“This is the kind of car we should be cruising in,” I said, cupping my eyes and pressing my face to the glass.

“Hey, kid!” someone yelled. “Get offa my car!” I turned and saw a guy leaning off Mad Hatter’s porch railing. He wore a cowboy shirt and had a beer belly the size of a beach ball. “Put your damn hands on my car again, and we’re gonna have problems.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Sorry.”

The man turned to someone and said, “Can you believe that stupid kid?”

Embarrassed, I looked at Larry, and he shrugged.

The Go-To Guy, however, stared at the man and chewed on his cigar. Then he started for the restaurant, and we followed. Larry and I waited by the door as the Go-To Guy went in. There were twenty-five or so people ahead of us.

“A long wait,” I said.

“I doubt that!” Larry said, happily.

After a few minutes, the Go-To Guy appeared at the door and waved us in. We followed him to a woman in her mid-twenties. Blond and in a miniskirt, her eyes brimmed with tears. She led us to a booth, placed menus on the table with trembling hands, and hurried away.

“What’s up with her?” I asked, nodding at her back. “She looked scared.”

“Must be a bad trip,” the Go-To Guy said.

Larry’s loony laugh was cool on the radio, but in public, it was embarrassing.

“How’d you get a table so quick?” I asked the Go-To Guy.

He winked and blew smoke at me. “I asked her name, then told her I would get her address and pay her a late-night visit if she didn’t seat us right away.”

“Huh?”

“We’ve learned it’s best,” Larry said in perfect radio vocalese, “not to question how the Go-To Guy gets things done!”

Dinner should’ve been great; Mad Hatter’s makes great burgers. Larry, though, was a bummer. During dinner he quizzed me in his dominating voice, finally turning to girls.

“So who’s the lucky lady you’ll bring to the concert tonight?”

“Uh, well, I don’t have anyone to bring—just us, I guess.”

The Go-To Guy pulled concert tickets from his pocket. “I have four tickets. It’s a magic night, chief. There’s gotta be somebody you’d want to go with.”

“Shelley DeCamp.” Her name fell from my mouth before I realized I’d spoken. “But—uh—there’s no way she’d go out with me. She’s popular, you know?”

“Shelley DeCamp?” the Go-To Guy repeated. “Be right back,” he murmured, and slid from the booth. “Where can I find a phone?” he asked a passing waitress.

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