by Sam Cheever
“What did it look like?”
Her faded, brown gaze swung toward me. “The creature that took him? It was mostly black, with a gray belly and a bright blue spot above its eyes. It was small, really small, and had ragged, black wings and a sharp looking face.”
“Like a beak?” I frowned, it sounded like a bird demon, but that meant someone had sent it to capture Henry Diamon.
She nodded. “Its little face curved to a sharp point and it had these horrible, red eyes.”
I turned to Bob and Ralph. “Bird demon. Someone wanted her husband very badly. Bird demons are retrieval and abduction demons. Very effective. And very expensive to use.”
“Do you have any idea why someone would want to take your husband, ma’am?”
She shook her head and tears began to flow down her pale, paper-thin cheeks. “I just want my Henry back.”
Ralph threw us a pointed look and stood up to usher Mx. Diamon to his office. “Let’s go get some information down on flash memory and I’ll see that you get back home, Mx. Diamon. Do you have someone who can come stay with you?”
We watched them walk away. The old woman was shaking her head. “Oh no, I’ll be fine.”
“But you can’t stay there alone. It’s not safe.”
Their conversation closed off behind the door to Ralph’s office. I looked at Bob. “What do you think?”
“I think we’ll need to put you on retainer for this one. I know a shifter gang in the city that routinely commits bird demon abductions. They specialize in lending money to humans and going all Lord of the Rings on their asses if they’re so much as a day late with their payments.”
“You’re thinking old Henry might have made some bad investments?”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking. Ralph and I can handle the shifters. But we’ll need your help with that demon.”
I nodded. It sounded like just the thing to keep my mind off my own wide range of problems. “Just tell me what you need from me.”
~SC~
“You want me to what?” Was that me shrieking?
“It’s just for a few days, Astra.”
“She doesn’t want a strange man in her house with her, Phelps. And she doesn’t have any male relatives below the age of sixty. So that just leaves you.” Bob was using his soothe-the-wild-woman voice. Never a good thing.
I shook my head. “I’m not a damn bodyguard, guys. I have a real job. What am I supposed to do in some little old lady’s house? I’m allergic to fluff and I can’t stand tea!”
“We’ll come around every day to relieve you. We just need to tell her you’re the one she’ll get, or she won’t agree to the protection.” Ralph didn’t bother with the crazy-woman tone, he knew it was wasted on me. I was much too crazy to be soothed. I paced away, shaking my head stubbornly and struggling to think of a way to get out of the assignment. I’d already offered to help, so I’d need a good reason to back down. “Little old ladies terrify me” wasn’t a good enough reason. Even if it was the truth. Nothing else came to mind.
“Please, Phelps?” Bob was reduced to pleading.
I turned back and looked at his non-descript but pleasant face. He waggled his eyebrows at me until I laughed.
“We’ll give you ten hours of consultative work in exchange,” Ralph offered.
I thought about that for a long moment. Narrowing my eyes on him, I presented a counter offer. “Twenty hours.” He agreed far too readily and I knew I’d been had. They’d been prepared to go much higher. “You guys suck.”
They chuckled. “Don’t blame us because you’re horrible at negotiating, Phelps,” Ralph said.
~SC~
Mx. Diamon lived in the same sky-bound condo complex as the one where I’d found the dead demon. That was way too much of a coincidence for me. I dropped the Red Knight onto the landing platform at the front of the small, uber-modern home, which had ludicrous additions meant to make it look homey. The efficient lines of the structure had been wrapped in fake vines and doused with flowers. The wide windows were cluttered with lacy type draperies.
Despite the butchering of the home’s recognizable architecture, I felt a sense of déjà vu crawling up my spine. Warning bells were pounding around inside my head, turning my brain to mush.
I climbed out of the Knight and pulled my power forward, checking the knives in my boots to make sure I could get to them easily.
I briefly considered asking for help, but knew I’d never live it down if I requested help with one little old lady. Besides, just because the old woman lived within a few clicks of my other client’s home, that didn’t mean she was a furry, razor-claw wielding shape shifter with a taste for my delectable flesh.
Of course it didn’t mean she wasn’t either.
In my world you could never trust an old woman with wet, brown eyes. Chances were it wasn’t an old lady at all, but something evil in disguise, with big teeth and lethal claws.
Or worse, it could just be an old lady who drank tea and tried to iron your clothes when you weren’t looking. Was it obvious I didn’t grow up in a nurturing environment?
I walked around the small house before knocking on the door, throwing out my sensing power to “taste” the area. Nothing obvious jumped out at me.
Finally, I knocked on the metallic front door, with its ridiculous hanging spray of pink and purple flowers. My suspicious gaze scoured the surrounding area. After a moment the door creaked inward, showing me the wrinkled, seemingly harmless countenance of Mx. Diamon, her rheumy gaze filled with welcome.
“Hello, dear. Thank you for coming.”
I frowned but kept my big mouth shut. It wasn’t as if I was there for a social call.
“Come in, come in. I have your room ready.”
And with those few words my world came crashing down around me. Reality smacked me between my beady green eyes. My heart stopped beating and my lungs clenched. I was gonna have to stay there, in that gingerbread house, with that scary little old lady. My battered brain immediately pictured a huge furnace filled with scorched bones and a platter of cookies cooling on the top. My fingers twitched with the need to pull my power forward. Then I remembered I was supposed protect the woman, not turn her into an old lady toastie.
When had I made it all about me? Weird.
I forced myself to step inside the house and immediately recoiled at the abundance of pinks, purples and swirly type woven things on table surfaces. The walls were decorated with kittens and puppies and small, adorable dragons. The air smelled of lilacs and cinnamon.
My eyes started to burn and I was afraid they’d bleed.
“I’ve made cookies, Mx. Phelps. Follow me.” She marched down a hallway toward the back of the house, her well-padded hips swaying with happy purpose. Glancing back at me with a wispy smile, she added, “I hope you like sugar.”
Shriveling up under saccharine overload, I stumbled after her down the hall, already feeling as if I’d gone twelve rounds with Satan himself. In fact, I realized with a start, I’d rather deal with Satan. Him I understood.
She turned at the end of the hall and disappeared into a brightly lit room that smelled suspiciously tasty. I stopped just outside the door and bent to slide a knife from one boot, keeping my other hand free in case I needed to fling a ball of power at the furry monster I knew was waiting beyond that door.
My muscles taut with expectation, I slid around the corner holding my breath. With a gasp, I came face to face with the monster under my bed.
Mx. Diamon held a small plate of perfect white cookies with crisp golden edges in front of my face, a smile on her pleasant, wrinkled face. “Milk, dear?”
I sagged visibly, dropping heavily into a nearby chair. I would never survive two nights in the woman’s home.
~SC~
An hour later, I was surprised to find that I was still alive...and that I really did like sugar cookies. I sat in a comfortable chair at a small, round table and looked around, feeling as if I’d been taken back in tim
e to the twenty-first century. It was an honest-to-Him kitchen, with a large, cooling apparatus that had actual food in it and lots of devices for preparing and cooking food. Not a food valet in sight.
“What makes you think the kidnappers will be back?”
The old woman settled another pan of cookies onto the top of an enormous metal contraption, which she called an oven, and stood with her back to me, staring at the perfect golden circles on the pan.
“Because they didn’t come for my Henry.”
I stopped chewing, anticipating a revelation I wasn’t going to like.
She turned and fixed me with a brown gaze that sparked with intelligence.
“They came for Betty.”
I blinked. Betty? Why did that name sound familiar?
She nodded, licking her lips in a way that reminded me I was sitting way too close to the oven contraption. “I brought her here to keep her safe. They’re after her.”
I glanced around like a moron, thinking I’d see Betty sitting across the room giving me a little finger wave. I’d been sending my sensing power around the home since I’d arrived and had sensed nothing. “Where is Betty?” At that point of course I was thinking ol’ Mx. Diamon might be just a little bit loop-de-loo.
She crossed the room, pulling thick mitten-type contraptions off her small, gnarled hands. “You don’t need to worry about that. I just want you to keep them out of here. I can take care of Betty.”
“I need to know, in order to protect you.”
The brown gaze sharpened and for a blip in time something dark overlaid her soft features.
Meoowwww.
I leapt from my chair and braced myself for battle in the center of the room. There was a knife in my hand that I didn’t remember pulling. A power ball sizzled in the palm of my hand. Part of me scoffed at my behavior. I mean, jumpy much?
Looking around for my enemy, I found only a surprised looking orange cat that looked familiar.
“It’s just Hammy. I brought her here after the demon broke into Betty’s house.”
I had a lightbulb moment and realized that was where I’d seen the cat before. “Ah, Betty Davis.” I nodded and let my muscles relax slightly. Reluctantly, I slid the knife back into my boot.
“Betty was a client of mine.”
Mx. Diamon’s rheumy, brown eyes looked shrewd. “I know.”
“Of course you did. Betty told you didn’t she?”
The old woman nodded. “She said she’d never met you, but that you came highly recommended.”
“Yes. We only spoke once, on the televisual. Her visual wasn’t working so I only heard her voice. I went to her home and found a dead demon. Something attacked me.”
Mx. Diamon stood and walked across the room. Pulling open the door to the oven, she peered inside at another batch of cookies.
I leaned sideways to peer around her, looking for scorched bones. No bones. But she’d made enough cookies to feed all the inhabitants in Hell. Apparently deciding that the latest batch wasn’t quite ready, she closed the door and settled her large mittens back onto the counter.
I realized she’d probably been looking for me all along. “So when you came to Werever...Whenever you weren’t looking for the guys?”
“It took me a while to find you. I don’t know how you get new clients, dear. You might want to consider signage. Or an office that isn’t located in the center of the earth.”
I shrugged. “Somebody’s trying to kill me. That tends to make me a little jumpy.”
Mx. Diamon nodded. “Yes. I know.”
I couldn’t help wondering if she really did.
CHAPTER SEVEN
My Client Bites!
Danger comes in many forms, and strikes in many ways,
But secrets cause the harshest wounds, when liars start to play.
I lay back against the flowery scented bedspread on the impossibly soft bed. My butt and shoulders sank deep, making me wonder if I’d be able to extract myself in an emergency. Throwing my sensing power around the home again, I satisfied myself that things were secure. Then I set my mind to trying to figure out where Mx. Diamon was hiding that damn Betty. It seemed impossible that the woman could be in the house without me sensing her. Unless they’d somehow cloaked her physical presence from me. Maybe a powerful spell...
I grabbed my pocket televisual from the doily covered table beside the bed and told it to connect to Werever...Whatever.
Ralph answered after several blips, looking slightly harried. “What is it, Astra? Is our client all right?”
“She’s fine, but she’s not really your client, she appears to be mine.”
He frowned, his pretty, hazel eyes turning territorial. “What’s that supposed to mean, Phelps?”
I shook my head. “Never mind. I’ll explain later. When you were taking down background information from Mx. Diamon, was there anything to imply that she was attached in any way to the Angel City Coven? Or that she practiced witchcraft herself?”
Ralph shook his head. “Nothing. She’s just a little old lady, Astra.”
I tried to keep my face neutral. That would be scary enough if it were true. Unfortunately I was beginning to suspect that it was far from the truth. “What did Bob sense when he read her? He looked a little pale for a moment.”
Ralph turned away from the screen and a second later Bob’s face appeared over his partner’s shoulder. “Hey, Astra! I didn’t read anything. She was normal.”
I frowned. “You sure?”
He hesitated just a beat before nodding. “Yeah, just a little old lady.” He grinned. “I’m sorry to report.”
I snorted. “Yeah.” Bob would have been able to interpret my discomfort with Mx. Diamon. And it would be hard not to read something into the fit I pitched when they told me I needed to stay with her for a couple of days. “Thanks.”
I disconnected and lay there, thinking. Where was my client Betty Davis and how was the scary, wrinkly, cookie-baking monster in the house keeping her hidden?
I decided to have another look around and check on said monster, so I started to climb out of the bed. Unfortunately the succubus arms of the old lady mattress weren’t quite ready to let me go. Pushing and shoving, I finally managed to get myself into an upright position. I sat on the edge of the bed, panting from my efforts, and decided I’d be sleeping on the floor that night. I couldn’t be wallowing around on that damn mattress like an entrenched Venusian hippopotamus if the bird demons returned. Standing up, I started for the door. I didn’t get far.
The air before me started to thicken and shimmer and I pulled my power forward.
The shimmering air darkened and solidified into a tall form with long, thick, black hair, broad shoulders and narrow hips. For just a beat in time I thought it was Dialle.
By the time I realized it wasn’t him it was too late for me to fling a power arrow at the son of a bitch.
A large, square hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, putting the magical smack-down on my powers before I could crack him between the eyes with them. He yanked me up close. Way too close. Close enough to feel the suspiciously hard ridge of flesh under his pants.
“Is that a pickle demon in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
He lowered his head and dragged me up his body until the handsome face was a mere breath away from mine, the deep-set eyes surrounded by a thick fringe of midnight lashes. His cruel mouth was turned up in a smile that made my knees weaken.
Unfortunately for me, my Settling roared, sending waves of heat and lust roiling through me. My channel clenched, drenching my panties, and my nipples turned to hard peaks beneath my sweater.
Milc’s nostrils flared in recognition of my lust. “You appear very happy to see me, my queen.”
My fingers twitched in a desire to blast him, but his hand on my wrist made that impossible. My body swayed toward him, my hips arching to increase contact with the enormous ridge beneath his tight, soft pants.
The cruel mouth lowered
to find my throat, tasting me with lips, tongue, and teeth and, against my will, my traitorous head dropped back, giving him free access to the starving flesh.
He wrapped an arm like an iron band around my waist, sliding heated fingertips along my hip and up the side of my body, to skim along the rounded edge of my breast. I sucked in a breath and his mouth captured mine, sending me into sensual overload with a seriously heated kiss. His tongue swept out and tangled with mine. His hand lowered to cup my buttocks, dragging me up tight against his rigid shaft. When he ground himself against me, my Settling exploded, making the air spark in multi-hued flame and the nerve endings in my skin fire with need. A tight coil of lust blossomed in my belly, cranking tighter with every touch of his hot tongue against my skin.
I managed to retain a tiny corner of sanity under the sensual onslaught, but I couldn’t do anything about it because of the hand clamped, unyielding, around my wrist. So as my mind screamed in refusal of the sensations the evil advocate was creating in my traitorous body, my happy place throbbed with need and my lips sought his hungrily.
His body pressed closer to mine, his hand on my back sliding across my buttocks and over my thighs, teasing me with quick forays into the throbbing place between them.
He deepened the kiss until his lips bruised mine, his sharp teeth nipping at the tender flesh of my mouth and piercing it in his fervor. As he sucked the resulting beads of blood, Milc growled low in his throat and jerked his lips from mine. His dark eyes spun with the vivid colors of passion and his wide, cruel mouth was swollen from the violence of our kisses.
Even through the haze of lust consuming me, I could see that he was alarmed by his reaction.
“I don’t know why I did that, scrawny halfling. I don’t even find you all that attractive.”
I frowned, feeling strangely insulted.
His nostrils flared. “It must be the Settling that draws me.”
I knew he was right. It wasn’t that I was so irresistible to everybody I met, but my body was throwing off “come hither” pheromones in massive amounts. No male in his right mind would voluntarily walk away from that.