Elven Blood (Imp Book 3)

by Dunbar, Debra

  It felt just like a human head, I wondered again. Nothing at all to indicate it had ever housed a demon. An odd thought struck me. Nothing at all to indicate it had ever housed a demon. How had Gregory known? Did someone alert the angels to this oddity? Humans wouldn’t have been able to tell. As a demon, I couldn’t tell. Humans died all the time; did angels examine each one of them? Maybe a werewolf had reported it?

  Werewolves. I texted Candy. Might as well have her take a smell before Boomer ate the evidence.

  Can you come by? I need you to sniff a head.

  A few seconds passed before I heard the beep of a message.

  Do u have autocorrect on? You wrote “sniff a head”.

  I wrote back: Seriously. Sniff a head.

  She replied: Intrigued. But not surprised. B there soon.

  Candy arrived, a cream cashmere car coat over her gold and brown tweed pants suit. The werewolf shook her head and a light dust of white fell from her blond hair.

  “Oh, is it snowing?” I asked in delight.

  She ignored my question and stared at the top of my head. “You have road kill in your hair.”

  I reached up a hand. The goo had dried into a stiff mess. “I put the head on top of mine, like a hat. I guess it leaked a bit.”

  Candy curled her lip. “Why in the world would you put a severed head on your hair?”

  “It was funny.”

  Candy shook her head and sniffed.

  “The head is over by the back door,” I directed helpfully.

  “It smells like an orgy at a chocolate factory in here,” she accused.

  Leethu.

  “Uh, yeah. Don’t pay any attention to that. My foster sister is crashing here for a few days and she’s a Succubus.”

  Candy wrinkled her nose.

  “Is that going to affect your ability to smell the head? Should we take it outside?”

  “Probably. It’s going to take me a few moments to get your sister’s smell out of my nose. Someone needs to do an intervention and get her to turn it down. She reminds me of those people that douse themselves with a gallon of perfume. Gives me a headache.”

  We walked toward the back door with Candy pinching her nostrils. I pointed at the head.

  “I’m not picking it up. You’re going to have to carry it and hold it for me. I better not get one speck on my clothes either.”

  I grabbed the thing by the hair and yanked the door open, amused to see Candy carefully avoiding the wet spot on the maple floors. Once outside, she breathed deep, shaking her head to clear Leethu’s smell.

  It was snowing. We never had snow back home in Hel. It was something I truly enjoyed about living here with the humans. A light dusting of it covered the pool furniture, heavy and wet. The ground was too warm to allow it to accumulate much, but my stone patio was coated with a grey slushy sheen. I felt the bite of the flakes on my bare arms and stuck out my tongue to taste it. I loved snow.

  Candy scraped some off a lounge chair and held it up against her nostrils.

  “There. I think I can finally smell again.” She turned to the head in disgust. “So what do you want me to sniff for here?”

  “I think it feels like a normal human head, but Gregory is convinced it’s a dead demon. I wanted your take on it.”

  The werewolf leaned in, as close as she could without risking her cashmere coat, and inhaled. Pulling back a fraction, she scrutinized the head, closed her eyes and inhaled again.

  “It’s human, but it doesn’t smell right. It’s right on the edge of my memory, but I can’t place it.”

  “Demon?” I prompted.

  “Nope. Absolutely not. Not the slightest bit.”

  I had an idea. “Does it smell like those elf guys? The ones who were going to fill you full of arrows when you went through their trap this fall?”

  She looked at me in surprise. “I don’t think so, let me check again.”

  She inhaled deeply, shaking her head. “No. They smell like alfalfa and wild cucumber. This guy smells like a human and something else.” Her eyes popped open.

  “Snow,” she said.

  “Well yeah, we’ve been standing out here and he’s got snow on him. I’d expect him to smell like snow.”

  “Not real snow. When I describe scents to you, I’m comparing them to things you’d be able to smell. When I say you smell like burnt chocolate, that’s the closest equivalent. You smell like you, but that’s the best way I can describe it. Yes, this corpse smells like the snow that’s on his head, but he smells like something else. And it’s sort of like snow.”

  “Have you ever smelled anything similar? Vampires? Angels? Water sprites?”

  “There are water sprites?” she asked, surprised.

  “Not here. Unless they come in through one of the wild gates, that is. So there probably are some here.” I waved my hand. I needed to hurry this up: Boomer was standing at a respectful distance, drool stretched in long strands from his jowls to the slick pavement, patiently waiting for his treat. “Is it like anything you’ve smelled before?”

  She thought carefully and shook her head. “No. It’s a clean, cold smell. It’s even stripped away some of the human smell. Like there is nothing left but raw flesh.”

  Damn. I was hoping Candy would have the answer. She usually had the answer to everything. Normally, I’d just forget about the whole thing—a mystery that would never be solved. But Gregory wouldn’t have asked unless it was important. There were things he wasn’t telling me. How had this head come to his notice? Who had realized there was something wrong with it? Why did a powerful angel give a shit about a dead demon in the form of a human Owned long ago?

  3

  I met Wyatt outside, coming up the driveway as I tried to make a snowman. There wasn’t enough snow yet, so it was a really tiny snowman. At least it was the right consistency for packing together, and hopefully we’d have more. Maryland usually saw several decent snowfalls each winter, although they quickly melted with the mild temperatures. I’d be lucky if my creation lasted more than a day or two.

  “Aren’t you freezing?” Wyatt asked. I was in jeans and a t–shirt.

  “Totally. The skin on my arms is numb, and I can barely move my fingers.” I looked at them, white and shriveled at the end of my palm. “I think at least three are frost bitten.”

  Wyatt grimaced. “They’re going to hurt like crazy when you go inside and they begin to warm up.”

  “I know.” I smiled. “Especially if I put them in warm water. Last year I even got some skin to peel off.”

  “Let’s save that for another day and get you inside.” Wyatt helped me stand, and I stumbled on barely responsive legs up to the house.

  Inside was warm and welcoming, a big contrast from the cold, wet, January evening lurking outside the door. My hands tingled and cramped with pain, and I spread them before me to admire the chapped, white and red skin.

  “I’d make you some coffee” I told Wyatt., “But my fingers don’t work yet. I don’t want to fix them and miss the thawing frostbite agony. Can you put on a pot?”

  Wyatt didn’t respond. His head swiveled as though he were looking for something, his eyes slightly unfocused.

  “I was hoping you could do some research for me. I need. . ..”

  Wyatt grabbed me, cutting off my sentence as his lips claimed mine. He snaked cold hands under my shirt, quickly unhooking my bra as he kissed me. Wow, where had this come from? Frostbite could wait, I thought as I fixed my fingers. I wanted all my nervous system intact for this kind of activity.

  My legs were still numb, and I stumbled backward from Wyatt’s onslaught, stopping abruptly as my rear hit the dining room table. Wyatt didn’t break stride. He picked me up by my waist and sat me on the table, pushing me onto my back and unbuttoning my jeans. I helped by kicking off my shoes and wiggling my shirt and bra off.

  Wyatt was all over me. Hands. Mouth. He was frantic. As much as I enjoyed his crazed lust, I couldn’t manage to get his clothes off with hi
m sprawled all over me. He wasn’t helping move the situation along either. He’d completely ignored his clothing after removing mine and was apparently attempting to penetrate me through his jeans. I’d seen demons do this, but creating an erection strong enough to break through denim required a skill beyond human capabilities.

  “Hold on, you porn star. Let me at least unzip your pants and get your cock out.”

  A wrestling match ensued as I tried to navigate the tangle of Wyatt’s arms, slide a bit from under the press of his chest, and reach his pants. Finally I grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head out of the way. He adapted, running his tongue down my side, nipping sensitive spots with his teeth. Oh, wow. This felt so darned good. But I had a mission to accomplish here, and must not be distracted. I reached my hand forward and stretched as far as I could toward the crotch of his jeans. Just a little bit further.

  A delighted squeal filled the room. “Oh Ni–ni! I thought I heard you talking to someone. You are the best sister ever, providing me with my favorite entertainment! I’ll watch.”

  I glanced around the side of Wyatt’s breathtaking abdomen and saw Leethu, with an enraptured look on her face. Now I understood why Wyatt was so sex crazed. Well, more sex crazed than usual.

  “Leethu, turn it off!” I wasn’t sure I wanted her to turn it off though. It all felt so good, Wyatt’s hands caressing me, his mouth against my waist, the pheromones filling the air. My mind blurred with the intensity of it.

  “But Ni–ni, you are having so much fun. And this human likes you, wants to have sex with you. He is so attractive. And virile too. Can I join in?”

  Oh, that would be lovely. And I got the feeling Wyatt thought so, too. The atmosphere shifted again and Wyatt paused, his mouth leaving my skin as he glanced over his shoulder at the Succubus, considering her request with whatever brain function remained. I envisioned the three of us, a tangle of legs and arms. It wouldn’t be a problem if Leethu joined in, although she’d upstage me as always. I didn’t want Wyatt doing this under the influence though. I didn’t want him to regret it, feel like he’d been forced against his will. Reluctantly, I tried to shake off my desire.

  “Leethu, turn it off now. Wyatt is my boyfriend. This isn’t okay.”

  She looked confused.

  “He’s my toy, my pet human,” I said, trying to think of something she could relate to. “I won’t share him, and I don’t want him having sex with me or anyone else unless he is in full control of his actions.”

  Leethu sulked. “You are so selfish. So greedy. Same as when you were a child.”

  True. But I wasn’t about to break that habit with Wyatt. I looked up at him and saw the lust. Real lust. Not just the lust brought about by the presence of a Succubus. I smiled at him. It was nice to be wanted.

  “Sam, who is this woman and why hasn’t someone bottled her and sold her?” His voice was husky, full of desire.

  “Her name is Leethu. She’s one of my foster sisters. She’ll be staying here a few days.”

  He hadn’t moved. He was still pressing me flat against the table with his hands, holding me in place with his hips.

  “I don’t care if she joins us. Or if she watches,” Wyatt said, dropping his head to my breast.

  I lost all mental capability for a few moments, consumed by the feel of his fingers and his tongue. I was so turned–on, but suddenly I didn’t want Leethu to join in or even watch. Yes, I was worried that Wyatt would regret having a threesome once he was of out of reach of the Succubi pheromones, but it was more than that. I wanted this intimate sharing with Wyatt to remain between the pair of us. At what point had it become more than sex? Pleasing each other in this way confirmed an emotional bond beyond the physical one, and I didn’t want to share it with another. I didn’t want an outsider to soil what had become an act of love.

  I grabbed Wyatt’s hair and yanked him up again. “You have no idea how much I want you to finish me off, here on this table, but I think we should confine our sex to your house for the next couple of days, until Leethu goes home.”

  I glared at her, and the pheromone level in the room dropped significantly.

  “How fast can you make it to my house?” Wyatt asked, still torturing my breast with his skillful fingers.

  “Faster than you,” I told him.

  I beat him there, running naked through the snow with Wyatt hot on my heels. We did it on his dining room table, amid the stale chips and computer cables. Then we did it again on his couch. Then again in his bed. Maybe Leethu could stay a few extra days.

  By three in the morning I was sprawled on the bed in a sex coma. Wyatt was still awake and energetic.

  “Wasn’t there something you wanted to ask me to do?” he asked. “Besides put on a pot of coffee?”

  I was surprised he remembered. I certainly hadn’t remembered.

  “Research.” I tried to focus. “I’m trying to figure out what angels are on the Ruling Council. Names, strengths, areas of responsibility. Anything to help me. I need to be better informed going into these meetings.”

  “Would human stories be of any help? I can’t imagine they’d be accurate.”

  “There is probably some truth to the human stories. I’ve got to start somewhere. I’ll see what the older demons know, although our knowledge is going to be from before the war. Things have probably changed.”

  Wyatt looked thoughtful. “I’m assuming it’s probably seven.”

  “Six,” I corrected. “I make seven.”

  “I’m remembering seven from when I went to church.”

  “Cool,” I pivoted on the mattress to face him. “What are their names?”

  Wyatt grimaced. “I didn’t go to church that much. I remember there was a Gabriel one. A bunch of them looked like fat babies.”

  I stared at him in amazement. Babies? Why would an angel ever want to manifest as a baby? They would have terrible fine motor skills. I couldn’t see any advantage at all in assuming an infant form.

  “I’ll see what I can find,” he said. “Starting tomorrow.”

  He reached out and pulled me toward him, wrapping his legs around mine. Yeah, Leethu definitely needed to stay a while.

  4

  The hiss of Wyatt’s shower penetrated through the fog of my pre–caffeinated brain. I was still sprawled on the bed, hidden under a heap of covers, wondering whether I could sneak in a few more minutes of sleep. It was rent day, and I was already late in making my collection rounds. Stretching, I poked my head from under the blanket and watched a small lizard cross the floor. It had a scorpion tail, pointed ears and crimson eyes that darted intelligently across the room. Those red eyes locked onto the bed just as I realized this wasn’t a lizard. It was a demon—and not the usual Low one either.

  There was a flash, and I rolled across the bed and onto the floor just before the mattress sliced into two smoking sections. Unfortunately I was trapped in a tangle of sheets. Instinctively I converted my form, deconstructing my usual human one into basic atoms and re–assembling into a creature that was small and hard to kill.

  I heard a muffled curse, and felt the sheets snatched from above me. The demon was no longer a lizard; he was bipedal with furry, clawed legs and a scaled torso. Arms hung down past his knees, ending in sharp hooks. His head twisted and turned, forked tongue tasting the air as he searched for me.

  I held my energy tight inside and scuttled into a dusty refuge under the bed. He stomped around the room, kicking a chair and sweeping the alarm clock from the dresser. It clattered to the floor and bounced, coming within inches of my hiding place. I was safe. He’d never find me. Eventually he’d just give up and go away.

  We heard it at the same time. The hiss of Wyatt’s shower, the thump of a dropped shampoo bottle. The demon’s head turned. No. Not Wyatt. No!

  Two steps and I was on him—transformed from cockroach back to human as I emerged from under the bed. Hooked hands dug into my thighs and our momentum smacked his head into the drywall.

  “S
am?” Wyatt called from the shower. “What are you doing in there?”

  His voice galvanized me into action. I drove a stream of energy through the demon as I grabbed his head in an attempt to break his neck. Smoke rose from his skin, and he spun around, slamming my back repeatedly into the wall in an effort to shake me off.

  “Sam?”

  I didn’t respond, all my attention on a formidable foe who was ripping chunks from my thighs. I couldn’t feel my legs. The only thing holding me onto his back were my hands gripped tight around his neck: his thick, solid, unbreakable neck.

  The shower noise stopped. “Sam?”

  Any minute Wyatt would come out half–naked to investigate. One blast, one rake of a clawed foot and he’d be dead. My head spun from repeated violent contact with the wall behind it. I had one last chance. One shot. A blast of energy burst from every pore of my body into the demon. He froze with a gasp then exploded, sending me crashing to the floor in a spray of flesh and blood.

  “Sam?” I heard the bathroom door open, the pad of bare feet on the hardwood floor.

  “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

  I quickly fixed my injuries, but there was nothing I could do about Wyatt’s ruined bed and the gore decorating his walls, floor, and ceiling.

  “Sam!” Wyatt halted at the doorway, his face pale.

  “I’m okay,” I repeated. “It was another demon, but I got him.”

  I was torn between wanting to reassure Wyatt that all was fine, and being honest with him that it most definitely was not fine. This wasn’t a Low. This demon had been fairly close to my level. He’d been able to easily change form, manipulate energy for offense and defense. He knew how to fight. This was really worrying me. What if I hadn’t been here? The demon would have easily gotten to Wyatt before he could get from the bathroom to one of his guns.