by Savoy, Skye
“Lita, you are relieved of guardianship duties. When he’s not working for me, Suriyel will guard and train her for the demon bounty hunters the treasurer is sure to send.”
“Nuh-uh! With all of the d-d-devil’s army after her, she’s gonna need me more than ever.”
“Guess you’ll have to work that out with the boss.”
“Let me get this straight. I have an amulet imbedded between my eyes, and hell’s treasurer is going to want it returned. And, I’m stuck here impersonating my niece while waiting to be summoned into service by whatever stole the amulet. That’s unless I get killed by ‘Dog the Demon Bounty Hunter’ and-or start the end of the world first. This is the big guy’s plan?”
“Pretty much.” Michael shrugged.
“I thought you said you could undo the spell your wife gave you,” I yelled at Suriyel. I really wanted to run and hide but knew better since Big Mama would find me thanks to her GPS.
“Quiet down! You will have the entire cotillion out here,” Suriyel said, wiggling a finger in his ear to stop the ringing. “The only way to break the spell and set your soul free is for the body to die.”
“You were going to kill me?” My fists clenched at my sides.
“No. Just Stacy’s body.”
“Ben says the amulet makes the body immortal at least while it’s in there,” Big Mama explained with a glare at Suriyel that could be interpreted as castrating.
“You are also of Nephilim descent, and that, as Suriyel should have remembered, makes you even harder to get rid of.” Michael shifted on his feet as if impatient to leave for whatever new mission he was assigned.
“Well, I guess you better put your big girl drawers on and deal with it. Come up with another idea.” Big Mama rubbed my arm, not caring that it was unyielding and ready to smack the newly returned life out of one fallen angel.
She turned to Michael and made with the eyelash batting again. “Can you escort a lady home? My ride, uh…overheated.” She hooked her arm through the beaming Archangel’s as they ascended on an invisible escalator into the sky. “I hear Mable Jenkins is redesigning her scooter again. Boy, will she be surprised at the plans I have for my new one.”
A tangle of voices rounded the corner of the side yard. Kitty’s voice led the way into the front gardens. “There she is!”
Suriyel shrank into the shadows of the hedge.
“We will talk later,” I warned, then wished I hadn’t. I only wanted to yell at him a little, then roll around in those black satin wings.
Kitty and Mel body slammed me to the ground in a mass of sopping wet arms and legs.
“Where were you,” Kitty asked, her tone both accused and showed concern as only a mother could sound.
“We’ve been looking all over for you. You should have seen your mama in action.” Mel’s excitement triggered my confused look.
“Your mama and Mel tackled Craig into the fountain,” Mason explained. He and Jimbo stood in front of a posse of pink clad debutantes as if they led the Charge of the Light Brigade.
This explains the smell of pond water and drippy catering uniforms. My head pivoted between Kitty and Mel as I silently commanded an answer.
“When I saw Craig accost you about the house, I ran and got Sheriff Tharp. He and Lorna have a daughter coming out this year, you know. By the time I got Tharp away from the father daughter square dance, Craig was practically sprinting through the tent.”
“I’ve never seen Craig run in my life, but there he was. Somebody ought to tell him to invest in some better toupee glue ’cause that thing was flopping all over the place.” Jimbo’s intolerance of men who bought their own hair was charming.
“I did the only thing I could think of—I tackled him.” Kitty made the motions with her hands.
“Only he went over into the fountain and she’s so scrawny.” Mel ignored Kitty’s indignant cry. “She couldn’t hold him down very well. I jumped in and helped.”
“Yeah, it was like the World Wrestling woman’s smack down of badly dressed old geezers.” Mason’s portrayal made Jimbo honk-laugh, starting a chain reaction of laughter amongst the debutants.
“He almost drown us by the time that lazy Sheriff Tharp got his butt in gear and pulled your ex-uncle out of the water,” Kitty tsked. “I don’t know what your Aunt Ava ever saw in that man.”
We watched safely from the side of the building as Sheriff Tharp and a couple of his ”Keystone Cops” escorted a soggy Craig to the car. His hair piece drooped down over a big black eye.
* * * *
It was way past Ouida Severson’s bedtime when my crew and I finished cleaning and loading. The little old lady and her cross-dressing escort met us in the kitchen, check in hand.
I expected the crotchety woman to give me a piece of her mind. Instead, she handed me the check with an amused smile. She leaned into me like I was her best friend and confidant. I stepped back.
“Just between us, I’ve never been so entertained. Oh, and the food was delightful. You stay in town, and I guarantee you’ll cater the rest of our events as long as I’m in charge.” She stuck her hand out.
Hmm. I won the old lady over and wasn’t even there for most of it. Just think about what would have happened if I had been there the entire time. I shook her hand gently to avoid jarring her dainty bones. “You’ve got a deal.”
“I’m so glad you’re not going back to Nashville,” Kitty said and lovingly rubbed my arm.
“Me too.” I decided to tell her when we were packing the Depression glass vase up.
“So you’re permanently taking over Ava’s business,” asked Mason with barely masked apprehension.
“Yeah, you still want a job?”
Mason grabbed Mel’s hand and pegged me with a look that was somewhere between sheepish and defiant. “I guess so. As long as you’re okay with this.” He held their entwined hands up for my inspection.
“Sure.”
Mel squealed in excitement, and threw her arms around my neck. She whispered so only I could hear, “I wasn’t really going to take the van and leave you, you know.”
“I never believed it for a moment.” It’s better to fib than have my strong friend back slap me into something pointy. I have got to start doing a better job at protecting my borrowed body.
* * * *
Kitty left. Mel hitched a ride with Mason and Jimbo absconded with Ouida’s “cousin” in the hot pink chiffon gown. I searched the mansion hedges for Suriyel.
“Is it safe to be here with you?” His soft, sexy voice made my skin tingle.
My fallen angel wrapped his strong arms around me.
“I don’t know. You were going to kill me.” I pouted and resisted the urge to lick his neck as I nuzzled closer.
“I told you I did not want to undo the curse.” He bent down and captured my lips with his in a brief, tantalizing kiss.
“Yes, but killing me would have freed you to become the warrior you wanted to be.”
“That was before I fell in love with you. Besides, I get to be your warrior now.”
“I don’t care if a legion of demons comes after my amulet or that I might be summoned to fulfill a deal with a demon. I’m stuck in the body of my niece. I have to deal with the dumpster diving Kitty as well as all the other crazies in town who need catering. None of that matters. All I know is I get to be with you now and forever,” I said and claimed his lips in a soul searing kiss. It sent me up in flames like Paula’s Cherries Jubilee with twice the brandy.
We broke for air. My body exceeded super human temperatures from his passionate touch.
“Do fallen angels really have their own piece of the astral plane? Somewhere Michael won’t blast in?”
He scooped me up in his arms and spread his wings. “I do. I mean, we do. Believe me, Michael will not be dropping in without knocking.”
“Our piece of the astral plane, hunh?”
Suriyel rewarded me with a nod and a sexy half smile. We soared past an asteroid belt that made a cameo appear
ance in one very real erotic dream.
My sotto voce was barely audible in the roar of a comet passing by. “You are a bad, bad, fallen angel.”
“You know you love me bad.” His body tensed mid flight as if he anticipated a snarky reply.
“I do—good, bad, dead and especially, alive.” I said and planted a passionate, toe curling, kiss on his lips.
*The End*
About The Author
Skye Savoy writing at an early age in her hometown of Pensacola, Florida. Her first published story about a klutzy Driver’s Ed student appeared in an issue of the evening newspaper. After college, her writing style temporarily transformed into something more professional. It took being pregnant with her daughter to ignite a passion for writing what she calls “southern fried” romantic comedy.
Skye lives just outside of Jackson, Mississippi. She spends her time making up stories about fairies for her daughter and stories about where those new shoes came from for her husband. Occasionally, she enjoys being stereotyped as a dumb blonde in a murder mystery dinner theatre troupe for which she’s written several plays. Skye is working on a third paranormal novel which will be the second in the "Waking Up" series.
Find out more at: www.Skyesavoy.com
Secret Cravings Publishing
www.secretcravingspublishing.com