BOTS 2: Laura Bickle

A Salamander Walks into the Paranormal Bar...
by Laura Bickle


A salamander walks up to you in a bar.

You blink, stare at your drink. What was in that? You scrub your eyes.

But the salamander doesn't disappear. He's about five feet long, speckled, and glows with an amber light. He waddles across the dance floor, crawls up to the bar seat next to you. His tail wags slowly behind him. His eyes are opaque black marbles.

"Hey, doll," he says. "You having a good time?"

You're ready to nip this off in the bud. "Look...I don't think you're my type," you blurt.

A hot guy saunters past in a silk shirt unbuttoned to his navel. Your eyes follow him until he disappears on the dance floor. He's pale. Too pale. Probably a vamp who would leave a helluva hickey. You rub your neck self-consciously.

The salamander chuckles. "Hey, baby. Check out these washboard abs."

You can't help but look. The salamander swivels to you, opens his ridiculously tiny arms. By God, he has abs. Lots of them. They extend from his armpits all the way to his hind legs.

"Wow. That's some six pack," you say, lifting an eyebrow.

He rubs his belly with his little T-Rex arms. "Actually, it's a forty-eight pack. But who's counting?"

You're amused. You can't help it. When was the last time you got to talk to a guy with a tail who didn't howl at the moon?

"So...what are you?" you ask.

"I'm a fire salamander. An elemental. I'm the spirit of flame."

"Wow. I've never met one of you guys before."

"We're around, but we like to keep a low profile. We tend to keep pretty busy with work. Don't get out much."

The bartender, unbidden, brings the salamander a white Russian. And he refills your drink. The salamander nods magnanimously and leans over his drink. His tongue slips into the milky liquid, lapping at it like a cat.

"What's your name?" You're curious if he will tell you. You know that names have power, and many magickal creatures won't divulge theirs.

He smiles. You know you're not going to get his real name. "My owner calls me Sparky. After that baseball guy."

You don't push the name issue. "Your owner...sounds kinky."

"Nah. It's not like that. Totally platonic. The official gig I have is as a familiar." He rolls his eyes and smiles. "Witches and wizards tend to think that they can control us."

"They think?"

Sparky leans forward. He smells like sandalwood and wood fires. "Nobody ever successfully controls a fire salamander. It's all voluntary work."

"Like what?" You can't help but dig for magickal secrets. "Who do you belong to?"

"At the moment, I'm with an arson investigator. She's also the rarest kind of medium. A Lantern. Which is a trip."

"I don't know what a Lantern is."

"Where other mediums allow ghosts to use their hands and voices to communicate, my owner devours them." He laps at his drink pensively. "It's not a pretty process."

"I guess not."

"We do some side work with ghost hunters. I like to eat ghosts, too. So it works out."

I wrinkle my nose. "Ugh."

"Hey. Don't knock it 'til you try it. Ectoplasm tastes an awfully lot like chicken."

"You've had...other owners?" You're fishing about for his age.

"Sure. I've been around for a verrrrry long time. I knew Paracelsus when he built his first chemistry set. Ran around Europe with Van Helsing. Was a spy on the Hindenberg." His tail kinks. "Yeah, well. That one didn't work out so well."

You rest your chin on your hand. "Tell me about that."

An angel walks by, wings causing a stir in the bar. But you barely notice him, waiting for Sparky to speak.

Sparky smiles. "Well, the Van Helsing thing started out as a bet in a tavern, not so different than this..."

The bartender grins, murmurs: "Heh. More than anything else, the ladies like a story."


Laura Bickle (a.k.a. Alayna Williams) has worked in library science, criminology, and technology for several years. She lives in the Midwestern U.S. with her chief muse, owned by five mostly-reformed feral cats. Writing as Laura Bickle, she's the author of EMBERS and SPARKS for Pocket - Juno Books. Writing as Alayna Williams, she's the author of DARK ORACLE and ROGUE ORACLE. More info on her writing and general nerdiness is here: www.salamanderstales.com.

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Giveaway

Anya Kalinczyk is the rarest type of psychic medium, a Lantern, who holds down a day job as an arson investigator with the Detroit Fire Department—while working 24/7 to exterminate malicious spirits haunting a city plagued by unemployment and despair. Along with her inseparable salamander familiar, Sparky, Anya has seen, and even survived, all manner of fiery hell—but her newest case sparks suspicions of a bizarre phenomenon that no one but her eccentric team of ghost hunters might believe: spontaneous human combustion.

After fire consumes the home of elderly Jasper Bernard, Anya is stunned to discover his remains—or, more precisely, a lack of them; even the fiercest fires leave some trace of their victims—and she is sure this was no naturally occurring blaze. Soon she’s unearthed a connection to a celebrity psychic who preys on Detroit’s poor, promising miracles for money. But Hope Solomon wants more—she’s collecting spirits, and in a frantic race against time, Anya will face down an evil adversary who threatens her fragile relationship with her lover, her beloved Sparky’s freshly hatched newts, and the wandering souls of the entire city.

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