by Michele Hauf
“Gentlemen!”
Alerted, Max spun to face the shadowed figure of a man, his hand going to his left hip, ready to draw blade. He would not draw the pistol tucked at the back of his waist unless sure of a threat.
It was late, but the city rarely slept. Always the streets were populated and wanderers were not unexpected in the royal garden’s bare-branched straits.
“You two appear in desperate need of lodging and a warm fire.” The man splayed his arms grandly as he approached.
Rainier drew out his pistol. He didn’t cock it, but he did aim at the intruder.
“Oh, no need for weapons,” the man reassured him.
Max decided he was about fifty. The lines cracking his flesh must be from hard labor, he deduced, taking in the man’s twisted, arthritic fingers. He wore dark breeches and a plain shirt beneath a tattered black wool cape. No gloves, which meant he wasn’t well-off. Max was ever aware for small hidden blades or pistols.
“We’ve our own designs for the evening,” Max said. “We thank you for your concern. Be off, old man.”
“I’ve no desire to disturb your evening repast.” The man turned away, but paused, and glanced back. “You look to be discerning gentlemen who know the value of coin.”
Max narrowed a glance toward his partner, who returned the suspicion. For as many times as they’d avoided the trap of dangerous lures, they knew to be cautious now.
Spreading his arms carefully, the man said, “I’ve a business proposition for you.”
Rainier’s brow lifted. Leave it to Rainier to hear the coin clink in any offer, no matter how vague. “What sort of proposition? And who are you?”
“Just a poor old man who’s desperate to satisfy his young lover.”
“If it’s coin you’re looking for, old man—” Max dug into his coat pocket. It was easier to toss the beggars a few coins than talk to them overmuch. “Take this and be gone.”
He tossed a gold ecu through the air, but Rainier caught and pocketed it. His partner gave Max the evil eye. “Man said he had business for us. Let’s hear him out. What kind of satisfaction is your lover looking for?”
“The intimate kind,” the old man said. “I should have known better when I took her to my bed. So young and beautiful. And I…well, you see I am not as hearty as the two of you.”
“She went willingly to your bed?” Rainier asked, disbelief obvious in his tone.
“Oh, indeed.”
“Then you’re not so lacking as you believe,” Max offered. What an odd conversation to have with a stranger. He kept any discussion regarding amorous liaisons strictly between himself and the amour he was liaisoning with. “Perhaps you should take the coin and buy her something fine. Women adore sparkly things.”
“Useless pretties will not please my lover.” The man tilted his head and his face gleamed in the moonlight. One eye winked, or perhaps it was a twitch. “Here is what I ask. I wish the two of you to go to her bed tonight and satisfy her. Completely. Over and over.”
Rainier’s brow rose clear to his hairline. Max recognized the lusty smirk. The man’s mind had already been decided.
“I can do little to please her, you see,” the man continued. “And she is insatiable. Irregularly so. She requires more than one man to be completely satisfied.”
Now Max’s brow lifted as high as his partner’s.
“She’s beautiful, I promise you. You will not regret it should you accept this offer.”
“You want us to…” Max couldn’t finish the question.
He raked fingers through his wet hair. This was a new one. Never in his years had he been propositioned in such a manner.
“What do we get out of it?”
Max chuffed at Rainier’s question. “We’re not interested. I’m sure she’s beautiful, but we don’t have relations with other men’s wives.”
Max avoided looking at what would be a castigating grimace from Rainier. Other men’s wives were fair game—so long as they were dripping in diamonds, jewels, silver and gold in need of removal from their soft skin.
“We’ll do it,” Rainier said.
“He’s drunk,” Max shot out. “Pay no attention to him.”
“I’d hate to leave a female wanting.” Rainier backed into Max and hissed out the side of his mouth, “Why such a quandary?” To the old man he said, “You promise she’s beautiful?”
“Stunning.”
Rainier pocketed his pistol. “What does it pay?”
The old man tilted his head quizzically.
“Hell,” Rainier said. “It should be a holiday making love to a beautiful woman, but if I have to share her—”
“Rainier,” Max chided.
“It pays immortality,” the old man replied.
Now the truth emerged. The man was touched, a lackwit spinning tales to whomever he could find.
“Not sure I can spend immortality,” Max said, barely muffling his chuckle.
“Listen, old man.” Rainier was determined not to lose this one. “Feed us and allow us to bathe and warm ourselves by the fire, and then we’ll talk about this further.”
Rainier looked to Max for approval.
He shrugged, but offered consent. He was tired and hungry, after all, and if the woman was beautiful…? Why the hell not. Pray the man wasn’t an idiot, and there really was a warm bed with a wanting female waiting.
Wanting females. He knew the feeling of want. Too painfully.
Max wanted to get this horned monkey out of his system before it overwhelmed him and he became a demon himself. He didn’t know if it could manifest within him, but he did know it was getting harder to shuck off the shadow after a dream walk.
And he needed to shadow, because it satisfied those aching needs that required fulfillment.
Every man had a few basic needs. When those needs went unmet, life wasn’t worth the trip. Max clung to his sanity with clawed fingers that, at times, seemed greased. Dream walking allowed him to experience those unmet needs, albeit from a distance, as an inactive participant.
He’d take what he could get.
He was exhausted from settling for less than the tangible. Which was why he had to get this thing out of him. Now.
The cat flap set in the lower left corner of the building’s door swung upward. A reddish-brown cat bobbed its head through and scampered to the curb. It sat, curling its tail about its feet, and stared across the street at Max.
“Thrill me,” Max muttered.
He didn’t recognize the breed. It was a lithe, lean feline with extremely short hair and a thin tail. Not that he was an expert, but he had read a few books on cats. What a man won’t do when he has time to kill and a penchant for haunting city libraries during the early morning hours.
“Here, kitty, kitty,” he called.
Thinking to whistle, he then remembered that was for dogs. No need to alert the werewolf if it was lurking nearby.
The cat scampered across the street, looking both ways, then darted around the front of the Mustang. Max remained, not wanting to spook the critter.
The cat mounted the hood with a graceful landing. It padded a few steps, sniffing at the still-simmering engine. Wide green eyes beamed at Max from a narrow, small face.
“You decide to hear me out?”
No response, save to sit and wrap its tail about its feet. Her feet.
“I mean no disrespect,” Max said, “but you’ve not heard my reasons for wanting you to work with me. You’re the only familiar around who has the power to bridge the demon I’m hunting. I’m sorry for calling the wolf your pimp.”
The cat hissed, revealing fangs.
“I said I’m sorry. Listen, let’s talk inside the car.”
He opened his door and got inside. The passenger window was already rolled down. Max watched as Aby sniffed at the hood, taking her time, then leaped out of sight to the roof. The soft pads of her feet tracked across the car. Then the cat landed in the passenger seat.
“Thanks. Uh…”
He shrugged off his coat. “Here’s my coat. I’d prefer to hold a conversation with a woman, not a cat. Nothing against cats, I just don’t speak the language.”
He carefully arranged his coat on the seat before the feline so it formed a cove the cat could sneak inside. Which it did.
Max had seen all variety of shifters change shapes many times. It had ceased to amaze him, and now the process didn’t even quicken his heartbeats.
The coat moved and the cat let out a mewl. Bones sounded as if they broke, but Max knew they were lengthening, reshaping and fitting into cartilage. The intense smell of musk filled the car, but as quickly dissipated.
Aby sat beside him, fully formed in female human shape. She tugged his coat over her shoulders and, knees bent to her chest, arranged the heavy leather duster over her legs. Only her head showed. She was naked beneath the bulk of his coat.
“Thank you,” he said, and nothing more.
He’d work this one carefully, not press as he had in the gallery. But patience had never been his forte. Nor could he recall the last time he’d sat in the car with a naked woman. Knowing her skin touched his coat thrilled him unexpectedly.
“You comfortable?” he asked.
“Are you insane?”
“I gave you my coat.”
“I mean you following me from the show, and then waiting out here. I have rights, you know. And I don’t appreciate my privacy being intruded upon.”
“Man’s got a right to park on a public street.”
“I don’t like you,” she said.
“I’m finding it difficult to warm to you, as well.”
“Then leave.”
“Can’t. I have a demon to summon.”
He shifted on the seat to face her, propping one wrist on the steering wheel. She looked so small and vulnerable tucked inside his big coat. “Maybe we should go inside so you can put on some clothes?”
“You’re not going in my house. Talk. Quickly. I’m getting chilly.”
“It’s seventy degrees out, lady—okay.”
As he turned to switch off the air-conditioning, Max sensed something. A presence. And the irrefutable scent of brimstone.
“Oh, hell, no.”
Aby’s nostrils flared. “What the—?”
A blue-eyed demon manifested above the Mustang. Its curled horns speared the air as it twisted its muscled neck and growled.
“Stay out of sight.” Max swung out the car door. “Shift back, if you can. You can hide better that way.”
Chapter 4
A lash of whip cut the demon’s tail from its body, but the creature didn’t flinch, instead renewing its attack on Max. It swung out an arm bulging with red, leathery muscle, its razor talons scraping the air.
Max dodged. Talons scraped his back, but didn’t cut through his coat. Twisting his wrist and flicking the whip, he delivered another lash. The whip bit the air, cracking near the demon’s face.
It stretched its maw into a gruesome grin and growled, “Missed.”
Out the corner of his eye, Max saw that the familiar had indeed shifted shape. The cat had jumped to the Mustang roof. “Get out of here!”
The demon fixed its glowing blue eyes on the car. Instead of avoiding the feline, it lunged for it.
The cat meowed and sprang for the street. An obsidian demon claw sliced fur.
Drawing the whip around, Max eyed some loose gravel at the curb. He aimed and the frayed end on the whip flung the gravel toward the demon in a hyperspeed spray. The beast took the attack as if from a propulsion of bullets. It writhed and jerked as pebbles pierced its body.
Max searched for the cat. It was nowhere in sight.
Oozing sulfur smoke from its wounds, the demon growled and spun up into the air. Max appreciated when his opponents put space between them and him. His advantage came when he was allowed room to swing the whip and lash out.
The braided leather snapped, the binding sigils glowing, and severed a limb from the demon. The arm landed the tarmac, spilling out a yellow cloud of sulfur. The injury didn’t slow the demon.
“She’s not yours,” the creature rasped.
“I know that. But why do you? Who are you?” Max dashed sideways to stand before the car, now aware Aby had crawled beneath the vehicle. “Who do you work for?”
“Not your concern.”
“And your master wants the familiar?”
“Enough chatter, Highwayman.”
A scythe of talon cut through his cotton shirt and opened the flesh on Max’s shoulder. He took the cut, rolling over on the ground and coming to a stand. Whip swishing the air, he aimed for the demon.
Why a demon would be interested in a familiar was unknown to him. Familiars weren’t the easiest to control. Using her as a means to allow more demons entry into this realm wasn’t practical. Spells were required. Spells only performed by a witch—or a highwayman in the know.
A blur of russet fur scampered across the street. The demon lunged, catching the feline by the tail.
Aby twisted onto her back, hissing and baring tiny claws. One swipe pierced the demon’s distorted black nose. The creature released the cat and relented, but did not retreat.
It paused long enough to allow Max the perfect swing. One lash sliced the razor-lined leather around the demon’s neck. The binding sigils glowed brilliantly, sucking the essence from the creature and disabling it. The beast’s blue eyes glowed madly. A tug pulled the razors through its demonic flesh, gristle and bone, and severed the head neatly.
The cat dodged to avoid the fallen head rocking on the ground. The blue eyeballs melted and dripped from the skull over the red flesh.
A brimstone cloud rose from the demon’s head. The body, still standing, began to quake, and it burst, exploding into a yellow mist that settled to a pile of demon dust. The head did the same.
Max did a periphery scan. Just because he saw no car headlights didn’t mean someone in the nearby houses wasn’t watching. He hated when things went public like this.
He rolled up the whip and hooked it at his hip.
The cat had already fled into the apartment building.
He stalked across the street, but a distant police siren stopped him halfway.
Max backtracked, turned and dashed to his car. Headlights flashing on, he pulled away from the curb and gained half a block before two patrol cars passed him by.
He watched in the rearview mirror as one patrol car stopped right where the demon had been slain. They’d find a pile of dust, which consisted of sulfur, charcoal and some unnamable substance from the demon realm. It was enough to make them curious. And if a neighbor had ID’d Max, getting himself away from the scene of the crime was the smartest course of action.
Talking to Aby would have to wait until tomorrow. But he was concerned she’d been injured by the demon. The familiar couldn’t die before he could use her for his purposes.
He had to figure out a way to see her.
Aby landed on the soft goose-down mattress with two paws, and followed with her rear paws. Safe in her home, she began to shift. Fur retracted through flesh and limbs stretched. It pulled at her muscles, but the shift was never painful, just uncomfortable. Shifting made her appreciate her human form all the more.
She was still shivering when her human limbs had completely formed. But it wasn’t from the change.
The demon had had her by the tail. She could have been toast. Never had she had to fight for her safety against one of the dark denizens.
Tugging the bedsheet about her bare shoulders, Aby coiled forward and concentrated on her breathing. Relax. It was a fluke. It was because the Highwayman was out there. Demons must be attracted to that man for some reason.
And what of the Highwayman?
“He isn’t so quick with the whip as legend tells. I almost lost a tail.”
It wasn’t as though she’d been counting on the Highwayman to protect her while she fled for the safety of her home. Stupid fear had pushed her across the street when she
would have been better off to remain hidden under the car while the big boys battled.
She’d never seen a demon appear like that before. Out in the open. In a neighborhood. And so close to her home.
What would a demon want from her?
She couldn’t conjure a demon without a witch. After her assistant, Jeremy, brought her to climax, a spell was required to complete the bridge to the demonic realm.
Had it been a demon she’d bridged here? Did it have a beef with her?
But that made little sense. Most demons enjoyed wreaking havoc in this realm, and would never purposely return to their own realm, nor would they go near anyone who could make that return happen.
Unless it wanted to bring forth some of its friends?
“No, this is irrational thinking. I should call Severo. He’ll know what to do about this.”
As soon as she stopped shaking she’d call him. If Severo knew she was in danger he’d insist she move back in with him. Now that she had some semblance of independence, she was going to do her best to keep it.
The flashing red lights from the patrol car drove away. The police must have decided whatever it was, it wasn’t worth further investigation.
Who could have called the cops? Mrs. Meyers was on vacation.
Hopefully, no one had witnessed the altercation, and it had merely been a cop out patrolling.
If Aby knew one thing, it was she existed in this mortal realm only because mortals did not believe in her. The day they found proof of her existence was the day she had to go into hiding.
Max slipped quietly into shadow outside the stucco wall at the rear of Aby’s condo. The act of giving way to the demon within was at once exhilarating and also devastating. He was feeding the shadow. A shadow that fought for control, to wander, to peer into dreams and suck life.
Just a few minutes. Then he’d shift back.
The demon shadow was never able to take control, to win over Max’s human form for once and for all—it wasn’t that strong. Even two centuries had not increased the shadow’s strength. Yet every night he allowed it rein, to stroke the night’s depths and creep along the edges of dream. It felt so good. An escape from his wide-awake reality.