"I didn't cast a spell." Abe smiled, but the warmth of it never reached his icy blue eyes. "I broke one."

"I'm sorry?" Roger, as always, keenly trying to understand.

"I told him that she just didn't love him anymore."

"Awww," Liz said. "That's kind of sad ..."

"Mm-hmm," said Hellboy, and left it at that.

Together, they bobbed on the current for a while, while Omar circled and lowered the ladder. Each sifting their own measure of sunshine and melancholy, in the light and shadow of still-abiding Mother Nature.

Taking her course, once again.

Someday it might end. But not today. Magnificent and terrible, life went on. The waves still waved. The sun still shone. All in all, a very beautiful day. Tomorrow, there might even be another.

End.

"I told her there was no more room in the world for monsters," Abe said. Liz just looked from the begrimed amphibian to the homunculus to the wryly smiling devil with whom she shared the raft. "Yes, there is," she said.

Danny Boy.

Ken Bruen.

The robbery happened so fast, it was like jig time.

I was behind the counter, doing my usual mundane boring job when the two guys came roaring in, screaming obscenities and waving sawn-offs though one looked like a pump They scared the be-jaysus out of everyone which was the whole point And they had three bags of serious cash packed and ready to roll in, I'd guess, four minutes, we were lying on the floor Normally, sleepy midwestern towns, we have an old security guard whose toughest task is to stay awake But recently, a young kid named Jason, due to ship out to Iraq, had been doing the job He had long black hair, shades, and a whole attitude of gung-ho He was itching for aggro He got it They'd taken his weapon but this was a kid of the movies, carried an ankle piece, he's shown it to me often enough I didn't like him and he thought I was a nerd He'd go.

"So Danny Boy, ever feel like having a brew or doing some guy stuff?"

The robbers were at the door, the three stashed bags in their arms when Jason got on one knee, no shout of "Freeze motherfuckers."

Nope He just started blasting away The first guy managed to make it out the door, the second guy, did a little dance of dance and I registered the bag of cash fly across the floor and lodge in an alcove, hidden in plain sight almost and the thought came to me "Dare I?"

Jason had taken off after the other guy and I was on me feet, screaming "Everybody out, move move."

They did.

I had about sixty seconds.

I grabbed the bag, vaulted the counter, put it in my locker and then ran out of there like all the other sheep Cop cars were wailing in from everywhere and the second guy got blasted to hell from about six different directions and miraculously, kept driving and got away We were all of course interviewed and offered counseling and the manager confirmed the guy had gotten away with three full bags of serious bills I nearly wet meself Jason was on a jagged rush and didn't seem to notice the third bag had never left the building My whole body was shaking Jason, being congratulated by all, finally got a moment to speak to me, said "Shitting yourself there buddy ... right?"

The prick.

I said.

"That was an amazing display."

He'd been basking in praise from all and said "No biggie, it's what men do."

I bit down on my smile, he might have the glory but me, I had the loot You'll have gathered I'm not American, I'm working on the accent but it ain't coming in so good, its hard to shed a Mick mindset, ask any Brit, they'll endorse that Bill Clinton is a saint in Ireland, never no mind his little peccadilloes, he's good-looking, that's enough for us, reminds us of John F Kennedy and God bless him, he'd initiated a number of schemes whereby we exchanged personnel, especially in the financial sector.

So the Irish banks sent a batch of us stateside and a bevy of Americans came to Ireland.

In my branch In Dublin, everyone wanted.

New York.

Boston.

San Francisco.

Washington.

Who wouldn't.

But the powers that be felt it was important we also gain experience of smalltown America to apply to our minor branches in the less-sophisticated parts of rural Ireland.

Every bastard was praying to God's Mother that they get the plum gigs My prayers were obviously ignored, I got the sticks and this nowhereville and did I hate it Take a wild fucking guess But now, a chance to get free, not only of this shitehole but of banking and all that plain Joe bollocks, I felt the rush of the freedom beckoning I was exhilarated, so excited, that I stopped by Joe's, had two boilermakers and Joe said "On the house after all the ruckus you had today."

Meaning "Tell us the story for the fourteenth time."

I did Got out of there, a little unsteady, I wasn't used to drinking in the afternoon or indeed any other time, I was to pun ... steady I had rented a small house, it was one up, one down as the Brits say I let myself in, contemplating a warm bath and early night and nearly dropped dead of fright Sitting in my armchair was a massive red figure, with what looked like horns on his head and a curiously disfigured right hand, as if someone had attached a distorted hammer on it Boilermakers!

Already in the DTs I shook my head to dispel the vision, opened my eyes and it was still there but smiling now and it spoke, rich baritone masculine voice "Danny, hope I didn't give you too much of a scare but believe me, if I'd have approached you on the street, you wouldn't like the attention.

"I'm Hellboy."

I decided that events of the day had temporarily unhinged me and if I just humored it, he'd simply fade away He shook his huge head, said "My instinct tells me there is going to be serious crap coming down the pike."

I went to the fridge, got some iced tea and asked "Get you something?"

He laughed, if a cackle blended with a gutted larynx can be called that "I'm good ... Well, not always, but that's another dimension."

I sat, a hell of a headache building, a real stormtrooper and he said "That's mild compared to the headache you have coming."

I said "Go fuck yourself."

He made a sound that might have been a snarl, said "It's to prevent you from doing exactly that to yourself that I'm here." I had a pretty good idea of where this was going, well, then, I thought I did, if I really had known, I'd have fled, right then and there He said "All around you the black forces are swirling, you've given them a tiny window, don't make it a portal."

I said "I have no idea what you're talking about."

He leaned over, a languid move, all stealth and dark grace, said "That money already cost one life, the bank is built on the site of an Indian burial ground and the story goes, a shaman blessed it to keep the evil spirits away ... On condition that nothing bad occurred there, even something like stealing money, and the shaman emphasized that if blood was shed on that hallowed ground, then forces would be released that would bring chaos in their wake."

"You're saying it's cursed."

"Bank robber's already suffering thanks to that shaman but we've got it covered ... We can probably prevent it getting out of control, and save your life, if you don't steal the money."

Alas, I choose that moment to look down and saw ... I fucking kid thee not... cloven hooves!

And shuddered, he said "Shudder now, pay later."

Staring more closely at that deformed right hand, for all the world like a slab of granite that some very bad sculptor had tried to insert fingers into and oh fuck, the things on his head were horns, but as if they'd been sawn down, he stood and then he did a little turn, right there in the middle of my room, and I saw a tail, beneath the red mac he was wearing He sat back down, the chair creaking under his weight He asked "You never heard of me?"

I gave him my banker's smile, all malice and bad intent, said "Barney the dinosaur is about our speed here."

He seemed genuinely surprised, said "Guess you don't read Life or People magazines."

"Welcome to Hicksville and dare one ask as to what exactly you hope to accomplish?"

He sighed, sounded more like a bellow, he must have been over seven foot and that massive frame rattled, he said "I work for the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, lately its been quiet so we've been experimenting with pre-recognizance, see if we can avert an event before it happens, your actions are likely to set off some serious murder and mayhem."

What can you say save "Good luck with that."

He reached in his mac, extracted the largest gun I've ever seen, flung it on the table, asked "See if you can lift that."

I tried Couldn't He picked it up like it was a feather, put it in a massive holster, said "The security guard, he's the key to chaos and you and he are linked, this is your opportunity to prevent disaster."

I said "Great story, now if you'll excuse me."

He stood up, his huge presence looming over me, used his other hand to touch those growths on his head, said "It's not too late, I'll be hanging round, see if I might talk some sense into you, my car is parked out back."

He had a car?

I watched him stride out, get into a red '59 ragtop Cadillac, it had huge fins, and I bet it was hell on gas but I doubt if he'd have fit in anything smaller He rolled down the window, shouted Cheerio.

Did he have a Brit accent?

I did what any normal person would do who's just had a chat with Hellboy, I had another drink, okay, drinks but who's counting eh?

As I finally got into bed, I began to plan what I'd do with the money, if it meant having the odd red devil-ed hallucination, cheap at the price Amazing the lies that booze will tell you I didn't touch the money for another four days, the excitement was finally easing down and people were beginning to talk of other stuff, like the Red Sox and Britney Spears, you know, bank stuff.

Jason had a new swagger in his strut, he'd been unbearable before, now he was Dirty Harry in a cheap security uniform. Was it my imagination or was he watching me a lot? I kept my head down and did what I do best Blend If I was a color, I'd be beige On the outside, what lay beneath, ah ...

Whole different animal Seething, uncoiling, longing, resentful and oh, so much smarter than any of those dickheads who'd dismissed me as a geek Beware of geeks bearing stolen cash Come lunch time, I did the same thing I'd done for years, put on my tan raincoat, and headed for Joe's Diner There is no Joe There is certainly a Sandy Oh sweet Jesus A wet dream in a waitress outfit, she ran that diner like clockwork and always, over her top lip, a tiny line of perspiration, I was fascinated by that, dreamt of licking it off, and her body Lush One of her eyes had a slight defect and did that put me off Duh It only accentuated her whole radiance, for three years I'd been trying to work up the courage to ask her out, she called me Mr. D ... I'd asked "Call me Danny."

Licking her tongue along her top gorgeous white teeth, she'd said "I only call guys I'm banging by their first names."

Yeah, a mouth on her Like a fishwife Made me love her all the more One of the tellers, Joan, fifty, bitter, single, and ugly as fuck, said to me one time "That Sandy, she ain't nothing but trailer trash."

Part of the attraction During that four days, when I got back to my home, I'd smell ... cordite? ... a heavy acrid stench ... like brimstone and would chide myself "Get real buddy."

The third day, the remains of a meal left in a mess on my kitchen table and I laughed, shouted "You might at least wash up yah red bastard."

If he heard, he didn't answer The day I finally took the money, the omens were not good, first my boss had told me to "Snap to it."

When I looked at him, he said "You're daydreaming all the time, and don't tell me it's the robbery, look at Jason, more alert than ever so get over it"

And yes, did shout that last bit I saw the smile of sheer malice on Jason's face Lunch time, Sandy served everyone else before me and then Jason sauntered in just as I was about to finally get my order and she literally rushed to hand him a menu and oh fuck Jason.

Any reservations about taking the money evaporated in a cloud of hatred I'd brought my gym bag to work, not that I ever worked out, not that we even had a gym ... and come closing, it was a tight fit but I got the money sack in there, put my bag on my shoulder and near fell under the weight My body was covered in sweat and just as I'd cleared the front door, a voice asked "What's in the bag dude?"

Jason Hand on his holstered gun, his hip stuck out like a hooker I said "All the rubbish that has accumulated over too long."

He moved toward me, said "Lemme give you a hand there."

And I said too quickly "No, I mean, thanks and all but I can manage."

He watched me for a moment, said "Pretty damn jumpy there fellah, hope you're not robbing us, you know how I deal with scum like that."

Then he took a long intense size up of me, said "I thought you Micks were like, party animals, loved to get down but you Danny, you're like some uptight Mormon."

I had no reply to that and started to move toward the street He ... I swear to God ... he made a gun of his right hand and as I walked away, he dropped the hammer I got home, my clothes drenched in sweat, and made a large bourbon rocks, I'd been buying more of the stuff in the last few days, it kind of sneaks up on you I drank off a lethal bourbon, emptied the bag onto the kitchen floor and muttered "Sweet fuck."

As a cashier, I could almost tell how much was there in the hundred-dollar bands, and oh bliss, so many of them I sat down and began to count One to count cadence Took my time and I punctuated the count with frequent trips to the bourbon bottle, my heart was pounding and the plans, getting out of this shithole, moving to Mexico, and best of all, bringing Sandy with me. She'd come, not for me but for the money. I was under no illusion about my appeal but I'd watched her eyes whenever a guy flashed a roll. I was money-dazzled, and bourbon-saturated, I never heard the porch door and nearly jumped out of my skin when a voice said "Oh Danny Boy."

Jason With a smirk as wide as the Grand Canyon He had his new Ruger in his right hand, not pointing, just dangling casually by his right leg He lifted the bourbon bottle, asked "Mind if I join the party."

Took a large swig, then wiping his lips, said "Everyone knows you've been depressed since the robbery, all that macho gunplay too much for your delicate sensibility and it's already known you're hitting the sauce so how surprising is it you shot yourself?"

He produced another gun, a .22, said "Mickey Mouse gun for a Mickey Mouse guy."

A booming voice said "You don't want to do that kid."

There was Hellboy, his gun pointed at Jason Jason asked "The fuck are you, Halloween isn't for another three months."

Hellboy said "Drop the guns."

He did As if pleading, dropped to one knee and I knew, the ankle weapon, and before I could shout, he had it out and Hellboy fired, blew off his gun hand Hellboy looked at me, said over the screaming "Oh Danny boy, them pipes are calling."

Sure enough, the sound of sirens could be heard I pleaded "Get me out of this."

And he smiled, almost a tender one if such a grotesque face could achieve that, said "Now wouldn't that be a hell of a thing."