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bakeries. Replica gas lamps and
bronze statuettes line the street and it hums with activity during
the day and evening.
    Twenty-Second Street was
notorious in northern Utah in the late 1800s. Famous for its
bordellos, opium dens and saloons, not to mention assassinations,
it was a totally lawless place. Troops disembarked at Clarion
Station during World War II and whipped up the street for a
“quickie” before catching the next train. Now it is the place to visit in
downtown Clarion.
    Like all those on Royal’s block, his
building is twenty feet wide but stretches back fifty. He leases
the first and top floors from an art gallery called Bailey and
Cognac, which occupies the ground floor. Sometime in the past,
those upper floors were made into two separate apartments. This
means to get from his living space on the first floor to his
bedroom, office and master-bathroom one floor up, you have to go
outside and climb the enclosed staircase which joins Royal’s
building to another, but this is no more inconvenient than me
taking my stairs to my bedroom. It can be chilly in winter, but
Royal doesn’t feel the cold.
    The walls are of the brick
you see in old buildings of that era, of different shades of brown,
red, cream, black and yellow, and none of them uniform in size or
shape. The polished oak board floors are dark with age. In his
living space, a few truly huge pictures hang on the west wall,
modern art in creams and pale pastels, blotches and squiggles and
splashes of color. If art is supposed to reflect life, I would not
want to live in that world.
    Half a dozen light bulbs with white
shades dangle on long copper chains from the ten-foot-high ceiling,
marching along the length of the room. Two pale-blue leather
couches face across a big wood and leather traveling case used for
a table. You have to lift a flap in the circular black lacquer bar
to get inside, and a gigantic lacquer Buddha crouches in the corner
of the room facing the street. Then there are the five
traditionally decorated Christmas trees in various sizes which line
the east wall, the lights on them twinkling away year long. The
décor is a little unusual, but surprisingly, it all comes
together.
    If you’re wondering what significance
Christmas trees have for a demon, there isn’t one, arcane or
otherwise. Royal thinks they make fine decorations. He likes the
shapes of the trees, the gleaming glass ornaments and twinkling
lights. That’s all there is to it.
    The kitchen space is conventional and
modern, with oak cabinets and stainless-steel appliances. The
dining table is chrome and glass, the chairs chrome with blue
thickly-padded cushions. But the room is so big and sparsely
furnished, going from kitchen to living room areas feels like a
trek, and it has an empty-room echo to it.
    I walked in to see a man
and woman standing at the window, from where they gazed down at the
street. Royal sat on the couch facing away from the window. He had
sounded fine on the phone, but now he sat erect and stiff, looking
uncomfortable. What’s going
on ? I mouthed. He grimaced.
    Although they must have heard me
enter, the visitors did not turn to face us as I stood in front of
Royal, then, becoming impatient, sat next to him. How rude. I
looked the length of the room, drumming the fingertips of my right
hand on the leather of the couch.
    I didn’t hear movement, but suddenly
they stood side by side in front of us. I tensed; every muscle in
my body wanted to lock.
    Only demons moved that
fast.

Chapter Four
     
    They were abnormally fast, but they
were not demons, although to say they were mere human beings
belittles their appearance, for both were striking. Tall, my height
and pale-skinned, the man’s brown hair, of one length brushed
straight back from his forehead, barely touched the collar of a
fine cream linen shirt. His hazel eyes seemed exceptionally clear
beneath narrow arched eyebrows. With a slightly hooked nose, large
moist lips and cleft chin, he had a