Jack Long and the Demon’s Deal
L.J. Hamlin © 2024
All Rights Reserved
The twang of the guitar marked the end of the set, and Jack had a beer waiting behind the small backwoods Texas bar for his brother Kris.
“Beer?” Kris asked, leaning heavily against the other side of the bar. He looked bone weary, deep lines around his eyes. Jack was worried that working three jobs was going to run his brother into the grave early, something he’d been deathly afraid of happening from the day he was fourteen and their parents had passed away in an accident.
“You seem a little off tonight.” Jack passed over the cold bottle. It was a local brew.
“Show wasn’t good?” Kris asked, worry showing as Jack picked up a glass to clean. The bar was quiet enough that they could talk. Most people were on the main floor and were still dancing, even though the music had switched from the band to a CD.
“No, you sounded great. I just know you, Kris. You were tense.” Jack was pretty close to his older brother, a man who’d been like a father to him. He could read him fairly well, no matter how much Kris tried to hide his worries.
“I might have to give up the band,” Kris blurted out, and Jack was shocked. He hadn’t been expecting that. His brother loved playing with his laid-back country band.
“Why?” Jack asked.
“Cherry is pregnant. We’ll need more money. I need to find one job that pays well enough to support us, even when she can’t work. I just can’t see the band making enough money for me to justify the time for practicing and performing.”
Jack did his best to hide his shock. “Congratulations, but I thought Cherry couldn’t have kids?”
Kris and Cherry were high-school sweethearts and had married a couple years ago. Jack loved his sister-in-law; they were close, and she’d told him herself about her health issues.
“That’s what her old doctor told her, but she’s at three months now. I waited to tell you, but her new doc says she might need bed rest for some of the pregnancy. Her blood pressure is low and a bunch of stuff I don’t understand, but God, Jack, we want this baby. I’ll pay every doctor’s bill it takes to keep my kid and Cherry safe and happy. I’ll find a way. I can’t lose either of them.” Kris looked like the world was weighing on his shoulders yet again. He hadn’t had an easy life. He deserved a break, and Jack wished he could give him one, but he was just a bartender in a shitty bar. He had no money to spare.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked anyway.
“Win the lottery? Don’t stress about it though, kid. It’s not your job to take care of me.” Kris waved away his offer of help.
“You’re my brother. Cherry is like my sister, and that baby she’s carrying is family. If I can help, I will. I’ll get a second job, help you out,” Jack offered, meaning every word.
“I appreciate it, Jack, but you need to take care of you first. Working too much is no good for you. I don’t want you burning out again. Look, we’re due back on. We’ll talk about it more some other time.” Kris took a swallow of his beer, then turned and left before Jack could argue.
Kris got back up on the small stage with the rest of his band. The CD stopped, and Kris strapped his guitar on and took the mic. He was just over six feet tall, with broad shoulders, a slight beer belly, and a handsome sort of face. He kept his blond hair shaved, a habit from his short time in the army. Jack looked a lot like his brother, except he was a good few inches shorter, with a slimmer frame. Where Kris’s hair was cropped close, Jack let his grow long, golden blond down to his shoulders.
Kris looked at home on stage, dancing lightly in time with the music, crooning his own lyrics and a few covers. He was talented, with an excellent voice and good with the guitar, but he’d never had a break. Jack couldn’t imagine ever getting on that stage himself. He would fall apart, he was sure. Though both he and Kris had been diagnosed with PTSD for different reasons, it didn’t affect them in the same way. Kris was far more confident—at least he was when it came to music. He could be useless at small talk.
“Hey, spaceman, you with me?” a voice called, and Jack shook himself out of his hyper focus on his brother and realized he had a friend at the bar.
Kim Joy stood out in a redneck bar, not just because of their mixed heritage, making them the only Asian in a room full of white people. It was their clothes, their long black skirt and corset, the blue streaks in their black hair, the dramatic eye makeup and dark lipstick, the pentagram on a cord around their neck.
Hazelwood Creek didn’t have many half Chinese, goth, nonbinary femme witches. In fact, it only had Kim Joy, and their little shop had caused quite the stir. Jack personally loved them. They were snarky and sweet, whip smart. And he was lucky enough to call them a friend.
“Sorry, Kim. What would you like to drink?” Jack asked.
“Whisky sour, and I may have overheard a little. Congratulations on becoming an uncle.” Kim Joy smiled, their bright-red lipstick shiny even in the dim bar light.
Jack prepared Kim’s drink. “Know any spells to bring in wealth?”
“None that’ll be what you need, but I do have a suggestion. It’s not something to be taken on lightly though.” Kim took their whisky sour and swirled the plastic stirrer through the liquid. They looked very serious and kept their voice low.
“One second.” Jack had to leave to serve someone quickly, but Kim was still waiting for him when he was finished.
“I was never much of a believer, not before I knew you, so shoot. What is it that you think I should try?” Jack trusted them. If anyone was a real mystic, it was Kim Joy.
“Your life needs more balance, right?” Kim asked seriously.
“I guess my family could use a little more light. This baby is the first miracle in a while, but I’m scared giving up music will kill part of Kris,” Jack admitted.
Kim nodded. “You need to summon a balance demon and make a deal.”
“A balance demon?” Jack was a bit in over his head. He’d seen Kim Joy do small things: blessings that charged the air, simple healings. He’d started lighting the candles they suggested and keeping crystals, but demons? He didn’t even know those were real.
“It’s not for the faint of heart. You have to be willing to make whatever deal is offered. I’ve talked with demons before, and word is, balance demons are the least dark, but still far from light. They can be trusted though, not like tricksters. Their word is their bond,” Kim Joy explained in hushed tones.
“How do I summon one?” Jack asked, out of his depth but willing to try just about anything.
“You need to go to a deconsecrated church ground, like the one on Bishops Hill, in the hour before dawn. Knock three times on the door and say ‘I seek balance,’ then light a candle and wait for it to go out. When it does, the demon will appear.” Kim Joy described the process as if it were simple.
“I get off close to dawn. I could go tonight, but I don’t have a candle in my car.” Jack wanted to act soon. If this failed, which he was almost certain it would, he still needed time to find a way to help Kris.
“I have some in my bag. A white candle would be best.” Kim Joy patted their colorful large bag.
“Is this something an amateur should mess with alone?” Jack wanted to be sure. On Kim’s advice, he’d warded his apartment against evil, little things like that, but summoning a demon was leaping forward about a dozen steps in the witch path.
“Most people I would advise against any dealings with demons, but Jack, you have the purest spirit I have ever encountered, and that will work in your favor. And like I have told you before, you could be a very powerful witch with practice.” Kim Joy’s eyes shone in the dim bar light. Anyone else standing before him, apart from maybe Kris and Cherry, he would have assumed they were trying to trick him somehow, that there was some kind of gain in it for them. But Kim Joy was made of goodness, and Jack trusted them.
“Can I borrow a candle, please?” he asked, mind made up.
“Of course. Here, take it now. I’m not staying much longer. One more quick dance and home for me. I need to charge some moon water. You’re lucky it’s a full moon. The veil is thinner tonight,” Kim Joy said brightly as they opened their bag and passed over a large tea light.
“Do you have a ride home?” Jack asked, worried about them getting home safely.
“A circle member is coming to pick me up, a trusted friend. Don’t you worry, Jack Long. Besides, you should know by now a person would be a fool to cross a witch.” Kim Joy flashed him a wicked smile, reading his concern easily, as they always did.
“Just because I know you can defend yourself from a lot doesn’t mean I want you put in a situation where you have to do so,” Jack told them, firmly putting the candle into his loose work pants pocket.
Kim Joy grinned. “You’re a doll, Jack, but I’m fine. Let me know how it goes.”
“I will.” Jack patted his pocket. Kim Joy took their drink to go dance, and Jack focused on the rest of his shift.
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LJ Is a disabled queer writer in her late twenties, she’s been writing for many years and loves to share her stories she’s never without a few projects on the go and writes as much as her body allows. She is a lover of animals which often shows in her books and her social media.
