Page 33 of Demons Dig Donuts

Dill whined.

Indy frowned, but he opened the drawer of the coffee table.

There was no obvious way to escape this place and no sign of his belongings, including the earrings Gammy was currently attached to. He still had every intention of getting out of here, but he wasn’t leaving without her. That was his Gammy, for fuck’s sake—plus, he would need her help healing himself, what with the whole not having a deal and possibly dropping dead at any second.

So, sure, he’d help the giant pickle leshy monster light this candle.

“Do demons even keep lighters?” Indy muttered as he found nothing but dust in the drawer. “Do they need them? Or do they just fwoosh everything?”

“Lots of fwooshing,” King said, “but I’m fairly certain there’s a box of matches in the library.”

“All right. I’ll go get those then, since you’re just going to sit there,” Indy teased.

“Makin’ fun of the handicapped, are yeh?” King huffed back. “Even if I had legs, I wouldn’t get you matches. Or a pony. Or anything else. Not fuckin’ ever!”

“And here I was wanting a pony to ride!” Indy declared as he strolled back into the hallway.

“No pony for you!”

“Fine!”

Indy didn’t want one anyway.

The only thing he wanted to ride was Mr. Hei—

No.

Fuck him.

But not in the sweaty, orgasmic sense.

Something bad. With hot sauce or whatever.

Indy entered the library and went toward the writing desk since there didn’t seem to be anywhere else where matches or a lighter might be kept. He opened it up and found a collection of incense, a matchbook, and a small round tin.

He grabbed the matches, but he eyed the tin.

He was nosey, so why not take a peek?

There was no telling what sort of oddity he might find inside. He was in the home of a demon mob boss after all. It might be a black magic amulet, a mummified finger, or maybe even a full mummified person, but clearly one who had been shrunk first so they’d fit inside their tiny metal prison.

Inside the tin was a small white feather.

Huh.

Indy picked it up to give it a look, but it appeared to be a perfectly normal feather.

He’d heard Mr. Heiss had an angel working for him, but Indy wasn’t sure if that was true. Even if it was, it didn’t explain why Mr. Heiss would have a feather tucked away like this unless it was some sort of trophy.

Whatever.

Indy returned the feather, closed the desk, and headed back to the parlor.

“—and that’s when they made me their leader,” King was declaring. “From that day forward, I ruled over all the coffee crusts, the dust crumpets, the golf clubs, and oh! Yeah, the cursed musical sheets that almost banjaxed every monster in town.”

Dill was sitting on the edge of the coffee table by the candle, listening to King with wide eyes.

Indy shook the matches. “Hey, coffee crust. Found them.”