“C’mon, man, none of this is illegal!”
“Jell-o may not be, but we both know your famous Phi-G brownies have a few special ingredients on the not-so-legal side of the spectrum. Now, I could book you and bring you in and have you expelled and put in jail for three to five years, but that just sounds like a shitload of paperwork and I’m not here to bust your ass on drug charges. Unless you make me do it. I’m here because some of your recent pledges have been crossing the line on some of their pranks. So just point me in the direction of the brother in charge of pledge initiation and nobody has to go downtown or do any bullshit paperwork. Unless you want to go to prison…”
“Tyson!” Darren all but shouted, breaking the land-speed record for ratting out a frat brother. “Tyson’s in charge of all that stuff. Nobody needs to do paperwork, dude. I swear.”
“Where can we find this Tyson?”
“Philosophy 101 in Kent Hall.”
“He’s at a class?” Prometheus didn’t bother to disguise his surprise.
Darren shrugged. “All the hot freshmen chicks take Intro to Philosophy. Prime hunting ground.”
The future of America, ladies and gentlemen. “Which way is Kent Hall?”
Armed with directions and a description of Tyson as a “tallish dude with an Orioles cap”, Rodriguez and Prometheus set off across the quad.
“Murtaugh and Riggs?” Rodriguez grunted as they dodged a Frisbee. “You didn’t worry he would catch the reference?”
“Nah. Kids these days have no respect for the classics. Besides, I don’t believe in worry. If his smoked-up brain could function well enough to put it together, he deserved to catch us. We aren’t cops.”
“Cops can’t handle demons. But you didn’t have any trouble, did you? I’ve never seen anyone clear a room like that and you didn’t even look like you were trying. Though it would have been nice to question a few of them first. Confirm we have the right summoner.”
“We have the right summoner.”
“How can you be so sure it’s this Tyson guy—aw, shit. You taught the little prick how to do it, didn’t you? He’s summoning sex devils and putting them into the sorority girls, and you knew about it because you orchestrated the whole damn thing.”
“Rodriguez, your lack of faith in me hurts. It really does.”
“Does that mean you didn’t do it?”
“I didn’t orchestrate anything. I’m more of an enabler than a planner.” Though he hadn’t enabled this. He’d enabled the little prick, as Rodriguez so aptly called him, to summon lesser demons to inhabit the freshman frat pledges for two-hour stretches and told him how he might be able to summon corporeal mischief demons if he could get enough focused energy. Fairly harmless in the scheme of college hijinks. This was something else. Someone else had a hand in here. Prometheus just hoped he was wrong about who. The last thing he needed now was the Big Bad Bitch taking an interest in his activities again.
Rodriguez didn’t notice his introspection. He was too busy being disgusted. “Madre de Dios. You have no shame, do you?”
“Shame is for the weak.”
“And the remorseful. Aren’t you supposed to be atoning for your sins?”
“I’m leading you to the kid who summoned all the demons we’ve been chasing, aren’t I? And there he is now.” A kid in a backwards Orioles cap stepped out of the brick hall, oozing earnestness as he walked between two hot young coeds. Prometheus held back, letting the cocky little slimeball work his game until Tyson whipped out his phone and punched in their numbers—no need to add cockblocking to his list of sins. When the pair of blondes had bounced off, he and Rodriguez closed in on the little bastard.
“Tyson. Buddy. Remember me?”
Tyson froze in place—clearly having better predator-sensing instincts than Darren, though the rabbit-like if-I-don’t-move-it-won’t-eat-me response wasn’t the best survival tactic in this case.
“You’ve been busy, buddy.” Prometheus tucked his hands casually into his pockets as Rodriguez folded his arms and glared menacingly from Tyson’s opposite shoulder. Who’d have thought Prometheus would get to be the good cop? Life was full of surprises.
“I didn’t break any of the rules you gave me. I swear.”
“No, strictly speaking, you didn’t. But when did you start summoning nymphs, Tyson? I didn’t give you any instructions on how to do that.” Sex devils were way too close to her territory. Prometheus didn’t touch that shit. “How did you do it?”
“I dunno, it was kind of an accident. What’s the harm, man? We were just having fun. That’s what college is for, right?”
Technically for learning, but why split hairs? “Summoning a nymph to possess a girl so you can have sex with her is rape, douchebag.”
Tyson went white. “Nothing like that happened, dude! I swear. It was just the Jell-o wrestling and the mud wrestling and the wet T-shirt contest.”
“Good.” Prometheus caught his hand like he would shake it, but instead gripped it hard, staring straight into Tyson’s eyes. “And if you’re lying to me and even one girl was touched by one of your frat brothers without her consent, you won’t be able to get it up for a year. And if two girls were harmed, you’ll have a raging case of herpes for the next six months to remind you that this was a bad idea.” He smiled as he flexed his magic, shoving the curse home inside Tyson’s manly parts. He dropped Tyson’s hand and the kid put his hands protectively over his junk—for all the good it would do him now.
Prometheus turned to Rodriguez. “What’s the punishment for summoning without a license?”
“No one said anything about a license!” Tyson yelped.
Rodriguez was silent for a long minute before admitting, “There’s no license. And there’s no punishment. Just don’t do it again, dipshit.”
Prometheus arched his brow. “Don’t do it again? Really? I can do better than that.”
Tyson, who’d looked ready to faint in relief, blanched again. “Please,” he blubbered. “Please, I’m sorry. I swear. I won’t do it again. Like ever.”
“I believe you, Tyson. Now. But memory fades and without concrete consequences for our actions, it’s easy to forget why we shouldn’t do things.”
“I won’t forget, man. Never.”
“Good. But to help you remember…” Prometheus caught Tyson by the back of the neck and stared into his eyes again. “For every summoning you perform, you’ll lose a tooth. Starting with the ones in front. And every time you tell someone else how to perform a summoning, your fingernails will fall off and your skin will break out.” When the curse had set, Prometheus released him and stepped back with an easy smile.
“My teeth?”
“You aren’t vain about your pretty-boy smile, are you, Tyson?”
The kid slapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide.
“Hey, just don’t summon anything else and you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Prometheus glanced over at Rodriguez. “We about done here?”
Rodriguez was studying him, visibly puzzled. “I’d say so.”
“Good. I’m starved.” Nothing worked up the appetite like a good curse.
Rodriguez jerked his head at Tyson. “I’d leave now, kid, before he can think of anything else to punish you for.”
Tyson yelped and took off at a run toward the frat quad. They watched him go, Rodriguez frowning, Prometheus grinning. He could get used to this white hat crap. Justice was fun.