I have not done any creative writing in years, but considering that I'm quite pleased with this story. Zomba is quite sure that there is no way Crowley can find a loophole in her plan.
Zomba and Diablo's Plea to Crowley
It was nighttime. The forest was mostly still aside from an occasional gust of wind, until an ear-splitting shriek pierced the silence, “EEEEEEEK!”. Diablo screamed as he felt a sharp jab in his back. He whipped his head around to see his mate pulling her shining stinger out from his back. Lucky for him his body had built up a tolerance for Zomba’s venom since she stung him at least once every day.
She unclenched her teeth from around a small pouch full of candied crickets and placed it gently on the ground. “That’s what you get for stopping short!” Her screeching voice sent some sleeping avian wyrms fluttering away in the treetops above. “We’re in a rush here! I almost dropped our offering and we’re supposed to be there by midnight.”
“Yes, right,” said a slightly worried Diablo. “You’re sure it was midnight, then?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Zomba said with a huff. “You heard Decibelle’s shriek as loud and clear as I did. There’s no way we could have misheard the shriek of an alpha. She said he would meet us there at midnight.”
“Yes… yes that’s true,” Diablo’s mind seemed to be somewhere else. He remained motionless, clearly forgetting Zomba’s impatience.
Zomba fluffed her fur, annoyed with her mate, “What’s your problem?” she asked irritably.
Diablo took in a big breath in and sighed softly, “It’s just… are you sure this is a good idea? Decibelle warned us of Crowley’s... nature. You saw what happened with Chernobyl. Do we really want to risk another situation like that?”
Zomba poised to strike him again, but instead let out an exasperated sigh, “We’re different,” she said. “Crowley gets us. We-, or at least I, am as tough as he is! He will see us in a different way.” She carefully closed her jaws around their offering and pushed herself past Diablo, grumbling something about needing some candied crickets for herself.
Diablo gulped but moved on with his mate. He wasn’t so sure about this whole deal; was bargaining with a demon a really good idea? It’s not like he had any say in the matter, though. If he wanted Zomba to be his mate, he had to agree with her crazy plan.
The two squiggled through the bracken in silence for a few minutes. It was not long before they could see moonlight shining down in a clearing up ahead. “That’s it!” said Zomba through clenched teeth. She squiggled off even faster, Diablo close behind. They reached the very edge of the clearing, just barely out of the shadow of the forest. Zomba carefully placed the bag of candied crickets in front of them.
“So, how long do we wait?” asked Diablo, but Zomba had barely opened her mouth when suddenly they were engulfed by a huge black shadow. The two looked up to see a pair of cold, ice blue eyes that seemed to penetrate their very souls, and a set of gleaming white teeth smiling evilly at them.
“Well now,” spoke the demon, “You must be the two that Decibelle told me about.”
“Y-yes sir,” even Zomba was intimidated by his powerful presence. “I am Zombanox, named for Zomba from ‘The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo’. She was one of the ghosts to wreak havoc on the world when she was released from the Chest of Demons,” Zomba puffed out her chest with pride; Crowley was sure to be impressed that she was named for a demon.
Crowley’s eyes narrowed, “Zomba, eh? If I do recall she was not the brightest of all the ghosts on that show,” he chuckled. Zomba’s chest deflated and her ears flopped over slightly. She was hoping Crowley hadn’t remembered or didn’t know about her namesake’s simplemindedness. Crowley let out a short laugh, “Ha! Well, let’s not let that get in the way of the business we have to attend to,” he turned his attention toward Diablo, who was sheepishly sitting next to Zomba and looking quite pathetic. “And you?” said Crowley, “I suppose you’re the lucky father-to-be?”
“Y-y-yes, I-I’m Devil’s Snare, but just call me Diablo,” he was barely able to get the words out.
“Diablo and Zomba it is then. So tell me, my dears, what is it that I can help you with?” Crowley’s voice resonated softly in the darkness.
Zomba quickly perked back up again at the mention of Crowley’s favor, “Well mister Crowley, we would like to have a child, a very special child. You see, as shriekers we understand you, you know? Like, what you did to Chernobyl? That was HILARIOUS!” Zomba laughed a little too enthusiastically for a moment. “We’re evil just like you, Crowley. I-, I mean we own this forest and the surrounding mountains. No one messes with me- uh, us. No one messes with us.”
Crowley guffawed, “Oh yes, yes, I can clearly see that we are on the same level here. You both are the most evil things I ever set my eyes on!” Crowley wiped back a tear of laughter with a wing feather. It took every ounce of self-control he had to keep himself from bursting out laughing at all of Zomba’s talk, but he pulled himself together. With a small chuckle he asked, “So tell me my evil little dears, what do you need from me?”
“We want our baby to have wings like you, Crowley!” Zomba’s eyes gleamed with excitement, “There are some new shriekers moving in on our territory and we’re having some trouble defending it. They always manage to get away from us, but with a shrieker in the sky to scout out our enemies’ locations we would be unstoppable.”
By this time Crowley had regained his composure “A shrieker to rule the sky, you say? Yes, I’d say that would be the perfect offspring for you two fearsome creatures.” He reached his great head over to his wing and his shining white teeth gently pulled out a small black feather, no bigger than the shriekers’ stingers. He placed it in front of them. From a distance it may have looked quite ordinary, but up close Zomba and Diablo saw that it had a strange iridescence to it. It seemed to be black and all the colors of the rainbow at the same time, as if it were dipped in oil.
Diablo had found his voice again, his eyes wide with awe, “Wow Crowley, I don’t know what to say. You have no idea how grateful we are.” He couldn’t believe he had ever doubted this kind demon.
Crowley flashed his teeth in a smile again, “Oh of course, my darlings. Just put that feather in your nest and you will have everything you want for your baby, and more.”
“Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU Crowley!” shrieked Zomba. She could not stop squiggling, and in her excitement she knocked into the pouch of candied crickets. They spilled out onto the ground between the two shiekers and Crowley.
“Eeeugh!” Crowley drew back his head in disgust, “What in the world is that?”
Zomba stopped bouncing momentarily, “Oh, we brought them for you! Our handler made these candied crickets for us. They’re our favorite food, but we wanted you to have them. It’s the least we could do to thank you!” She carefully nudged them back into the pouch with her snout and placed the pouch in front of Crowley.
Crowley cringed at the scent of the crickets, disgusted. After closing his nostrils slightly he managed to say to the shriekers, “Why, thank you both so much. What a… lovely gift.” He silently thought to himself how the crickets would make a wonderful bribe for Decibelle when he needed a favor. Taking his gaze away from the pouch he rested his cold blue eyes on Zomba and Diablo, “Heed my instructions, my little minions, and you shall get what you most desire.” Without waiting for them to respond Crowley picked up the pouch in his mouth and shot off into the night sky.
Diablo and Zomba looked at each other, both with eyes aglow with happiness. “It looks like you were right, my dear,” Diablo admitted to his mate.
Zomba rolled her eyes “Of course I was right. You never should have doubted me. Now let’s get back to the nest and put this feather to work!” She gingerly picked up the feather in her front teeth and squiggled off into the darkness. Diablo followed her, soothed by Crowley’s kind words. It sounded like everything was going to work out just as Zomba said it would. But somewhere in the back of his head a little voice kept nagging at him, saying that this whole thing was a bad idea. He shook his head and pushed the voice away. If Zomba was happy, he was going to be happy too. After all, Crowley seemed like a nice guy after all. What could possibly go wrong?