Demons Like It Hot

by Ayers, Sidney

  He managed to find his voice. “Trust me, there’s more to it than that.”

  Serah yanked herself from his grasp. “There always is.” She leaned against the doorjamb. “Let’s just go home. I’m tired and I have a big day tomorrow.”

  She still plans to try out for that silly show even after their run in with Balthazar? Is she nuts? “You are not auditioning.”

  “I signed a contract. I have to. I doubt I’ll get the show anyway. I’m just a caterer from a small Midwest town. They probably want someone more elegant.”

  She was elegant enough. She could get the job on looks alone. Did the woman not know how beautiful she was? Unfortunately for Matthias, that only added to her innocent charm.

  “Would you like me to audition?” Minerva smiled. “Then again, I never was any good in the kitchen. That was more Edesia’s specialty.”

  “As much as I would love a goddess in the kitchen, I think I can handle it. I’ve got demon-boy here to protect me if anything goes wrong.”

  “What did your friend say about this?”

  “Lucy? She doesn’t know.”

  He didn’t like it one bit. “Why haven’t you told her? Don’t friends share important news like this?”

  Serah twirled a curl around her finger. “The rules of the contest were very specific. I signed a confidentiality agreement. I’m only telling you because, well, you’re my employee.”

  “Fine. But as soon as anything otherworldly happens, I’m pulling the plug.”

  “Fine. As for demons, the shop is warded. And they can’t come in if they aren’t invited. Trust me—I won’t be inviting them in.”

  “Glad you both got that settled. Now, you haven’t got all night,” Minerva said. She held a blue stone, with laces of gray flowing across its surface, in her hand. “Take this stone. It will help you travel.”

  He’d never seen such a beautiful stone. “I’m unfamiliar with this stone.”

  “It’s a fairly new discovery—to humans at least. It’s called angelite.”

  Matthias stifled the cough deep in his throat. He glanced at Serah. She simply rolled her eyes.

  “I should have figured,” Serah said. With a reluctant sigh, she took the stone, allowing Minerva to close her fingers around it.

  Minerva took three slow steps backward and clasped her hands together. “To activate the stone, close your eyes. Take five deep breaths to clear your mind. Then simply visualize yourself where you most want to be.”

  “Nothing is that easy.” Serah let out a hearty chuckle.

  Minerva shrugged. “With that sort of attitude, you’re right.”

  If only Serah would acknowledge just how important she was. How powerful she could be if she just believed in herself. Matthias tamped down the desire to throttle her then and there. He wasn’t angry. He was frustrated. He balled his fists and clenched his teeth. His words, meant to be firm, came out as an angry growl. “Stop trying to fight it, damn it.”

  “Fine!” Anger swirled in her eyes. “But seriously, I might be able to smell demons, but this whole Pure-Blood shit… it’s a bunch of… well, shit.”

  “Try me,” Minerva said with finality.

  Chapter 13

  The words came out like a challenge. Anything to prove this goddess wrong. Then again, her being the goddess of wisdom would only add to the challenge. The anger simmered away, as determination took over. She clenched the stone tight in her hand and slammed her lids shut.

  So she could go anywhere she wanted, eh? She’d always dreamed of lounging on a Tahitian beach sipping mai tais. “I know exactly where I want to be.”

  “Is it just like normal Peragrans?” Matthias asked, as if in tune with her devious thoughts. Then again, the way he invaded her fantasies, he probably was.

  Minerva nodded. “Yes, minus the Ice Capades routine.”

  Oh well. Didn’t hurt to try. The rules of Peragrans were pretty straightforward. You could only teleport to a place or person that you were familiar with. At least she wouldn’t freeze her ass off. “So that means my back-up trip to Matthew McConaughey’s place isn’t going to happen either, huh?”

  Matthias blew out a breath of air. “Correct.” Ice laced his voice.

  “Bummer.”

  She inched an eyelid open and snuck a covert glance at Matthias. Still wearing the wrinkled linen shirt and loose cargoes, he stood tall and proud; his lips remained straight and severe. Biceps bulging, he crossed his arms as he leaned against one of Minerva’s oak bookcases. Her breath caught. Even the loose linen shirt couldn’t hide the pure strength that rippled through his body.

  Who needs Matthew McConaughey?

  What the hell was wrong with her? He was an insufferable asshat. He looked at her like she was his last meal and a leper at the same time. It agitated her beyond words.

  But every time he touched her, it was like molten lava flowing through each and every vein. She should’ve been afraid but instead she was intrigued. Too damn intrigued, and she didn’t like it.

  And from what she could see, he didn’t either.

  Which further fueled her ire.

  “I have a thing for Matthew McConaughey, if you haven’t guessed.”

  “Matthew McConaughey?” Minerva said with a snort. “Actors are so overrated.”

  “Let’s get this over with,” Matthias barked. “I didn’t come here to discuss actors.”

  Wow. The way he barked, you’d almost think he was jealous. Yeah right! “Heck, I didn’t want to come here at all.”

  “Can’t we all just get along?” Minerva grabbed Serah by her sweater sleeve and pulled her to stand next to Matthias. “Time for a group hug.”

  She might have been wise, but Minerva was weird as hell. Bemusement filled Serah’s face and Matthias’s brow scrunched. An awkward minute of silence followed.

  “Too much?” Minerva grinned.

  Matthias offered a slow nod.

  “Oh, well. Maybe next time?”

  “Uhh… sure,” said Serah, stone still secure in her hand, as she patted Minerva’s back. “Next time.”

  “I sense some sarcasm.” Minerva’s lips curved downward into a mock frown.

  “They don’t call you the goddess of wisdom for nothing.”

  “More sarcasm!” Minerva beamed. “A trait often attempted, but only mastered by the truly witty.”

  “Wit and wisdom go hand in hand, huh?”

  “Of course.”

  “Sarcasm and wit serve a purpose, but don’t you have a stone to use?”

  Party-pooping, another one of Matthias’s demonic talents. Despite Minerva’s odd tendencies, Serah liked the goddess. Matthias, on the other hand—it didn’t take a mind reader to see the aura of distrust that swirled around him.

  Then again, he didn’t seem to trust many people. Probably an occupational hazard. Serah blew out a breath of air. Did he trust her? Probably not, or he wouldn’t be hovering over her every move.

  Like she should care.

  “Okay, here goes nothing.” And she meant that in the literal sense. Like a stone could just zap her here and there. Maybe if she was Lucy or Kalli. Not this pure demon detector that they thought she was. But might as well give the demon and goddess a show.

  She closed her eyes again and took in the first breath of air. Nothing funny yet. She exhaled and took two more breaths. Still nothing. Three down, two to go. She took breath four and still felt as normal as she had before she held the stone. No biting cold swirls nipping at her nose. She sucked in as much air as her lungs could hold and blew it out in a slow breath out her nose.

  “There’s no place like home.” All that was missing were the ruby slippers.

  Still nothing. If she had transported herself clear across town, she would have felt something. A pinch? Wind through her hair? A TSA agent giving her a much-too-thorough pat down?

  Slowly and deliberately, she opened her eyes—and wished she kept them closed.

  “Wha’ the hell?” the high-pitched screech pi
erced her eardrums. “Where did ye come frae?”

  There sat Mr. Whiskers on her black Italian leather sofa with a tub of popcorn between his cute kitty legs. One paw held a cigar, smoke wafting from it, and the other held a lowball glass of scotch. Serah just shook her head. She should have known the cat wasn’t normal.

  Interesting mix, though.

  Even more interesting location.

  “No smoking in my house!” She grabbed at the cigar in Mr. Whiskers’s paw. “Cuban cigars? How the hell did you get these? They’re illegal.” She put her hands on her hips. “You can talk? What in the hell are you? The Cheshire Cat?”

  “Guess the moggie is oot o’ the bag. Ah was sent tae tak’ over the chimp’s job.” Mr. Whiskers pinched his cigar out. “Ah’m sorry. Ah thought ye’d be gone fer a while. The packages hae been delivered. Kalli just left.” He shooed his paw at her. “Now move. Yer blockin’ ma view. Mel Gibson is gettin’ ready tae moon the Sassenach dogs.”

  A cat with attitude. Who would’ve known. Then again, he was Scottish.

  “Aren’t you a little shocked that I am standing here?”

  Mr. Whiskers arched a whiskered brow. “Only fer a second. Ah kent ye had it in ye. Ah’m jist a wee pisht ye did it in front o’ the tellie.” He pushed a button on the remote that sat next to him and paused the movie. With a high-pitched sigh, he flicked his now-unlit cigar.

  “At least you have better tastes in movies than my last imp, even if they’re a tad historically inaccurate.”

  “At least they got most o’ the accents right.” He swirled his scotch and took a sip. “Ah love guid Scottish whisky. It’s the water o’ life, ye ken?”

  “I’m more of a Cabernet kind of girl.”

  “Wine is weak.”

  “Whatever, Whiskers.” She plopped into the sofa next to the demon cat and grabbed a handful of popcorn. “What’s your real name?”

  “Farquhar MacTavish, at yer service.”

  Serah cringed. “I could get arrested for saying that name in public.”

  “Jist call me Farquie. That’s wha’ Inanna calls me.”

  “So where is your hot Persian tail? Is she special too?”

  “She is.” He sighed. “She has tae spend time wi’ her human. Who kent keepin’ a secret imp identity could be sae hard? Inanna says she makes her wear silly pirate costumes an’ forces her tae sleep wi’ her.” Farquhar cringed. “Ah tellt her tae start peein’ oot of the box. Mebbe she’d send her tae the beastie shelter.”

  “Ouch. I didn’t realize she had it so bad.”

  Farquhar shrugged. “She’ll be fine. So where’s th’ mercenary turned Paladin?”

  “How long does it take to poof?” She preferred to use the layman’s term. Butchering was an understatement when it came to her speaking Latin.

  “Depends on how far awa’ he is an’ if he’s been here a’fore. Travelin’ tae an unfamiliar place can tak’ a while. Five or ten minutes.”

  Serah relaxed. “Then I have some freedom. Thank God.”

  She threw a popcorn kernel up into the air and opened her mouth to catch it. Instead a sharp burst of wind swirled around and sent the popcorn spinning and pinging against the wall. She slammed her mouth shut, shock pounding through her system.

  “Damn, Serah. He’s guid.”

  Five to ten minutes, her ass.

  And like that, freedom zipped away with each frigid gust.

  She didn’t know whether to be relieved or pissed. And that’s what really pissed her off.

  Chapter 14

  Matthias brushed off chunks of ice and snow from his shoulders. He hated the Peragrans and the brutally icy portals. One of the small sacrifices for a minute or two of travel. It was certainly better than the alternate… especially when you were in a hurry.

  And he’d left her alone too long.

  Then again, she wasn’t completely alone. Sitting next to her on the sofa was her wannabe protector. And to make matters worse, he was sipping scotch and smoking a cigar. Not a bodyguard, more like a sidekick. A very inept one at that.

  “How’d you get here so quick?” Serah asked, pushing a piece of popcorn between her lips.

  “Och aye. How did ye?”

  “I am a trained warrior with over seven hundred and fifty years of experience.”

  “Wha’ever,” the cat meowed out. He set his cigar on an ashtray sitting next to him on the sofa. Taking one final swig of the amber liquid in his glass, he tossed it back. “Ah spoke tae Rafe. He says ye’r clean. I’m still watchin’ ye though.”

  Matthias gritted his teeth. He should have known it was more than a cat. And a Scottish one, to boot. Things couldn’t get any stranger. “Another imp?”

  “Och aye. Farquhar MacTavish at yer service.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Matthias grumbled.

  “Ah guess he’s gettin’ the guest room?” Farquhar narrowed his eyes into a penetrating glare. “Wow. Kickin’ the kitty tae the curb.”

  “You have to start acting like a cat, damn it.”

  “Lickin’ ma crease, pissin’ in a stinky box, an’ chasin’ ma feckin’ tail?” Farquhar puffed up his fur. “I’d say I’m daein’ a damn guid job.”

  “Since when do cats smoke cigars and drink…” She looked at the label on the bottle on the table. “Glenfiddich? Where’d you find the money for that?”

  “Nae jist any Glenfiddich. Forty-year single-malt.” He grinned, whiskers turning upwards. “Ah hae ma ways.”

  This was absolutely ridiculous. How could this pint-sized ball of fur protect her if all he did was sit back with fine scotch and Cuban cigars and watch movies all night. And where was he getting Cuban cigars? Weren’t those illegal?

  Then again, he’d seen Farquhar and his lady friend give him the slicing of the century earlier. That, oddly, counted for something.

  He wouldn’t give the imp the benefit of the doubt.

  “So you got the all clear?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Then you are relieved of your duties. Go, be a cat.”

  “This is crazy.”

  So was talking to a cat. “And meow, damn it.”

  “Meow.” Farquhar extended his middle claw. With a not-so-graceful leap, he plopped to the floor. Tail swishing back and forth, he dropped into the pet bed in the corner. “Dinnae get on ma bad side, Ambrose.”

  “Don’t get on mine, and I won’t get on yours.” He turned back to Serah whose mouth fell open in shock.

  “Wow. Impressive.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Mr. Whiskers—Farquhar doesn’t listen to many people. Not even Rafe.”

  “Just like a cat.”

  Farquhar’s head popped up. “Ah can still hear ye.”

  “Take the guest room. Tonight only.”

  “Fine.” Farquhar moseyed over to the entertainment center, climbed up on his back paws and pressed a button on the DVD player. He pulled the DVD out of the open turntable and spun the disc around a clawed finger. With quick flick, he sent the DVD flipping up in the air and caught the DVD on the tip of his tail. “Gie me ma scotch, buddy.”

  “I think you’ve had enough. You’re a cat.”

  “Ah’m an imp. A powerful one. Dinnae make me go medieval on yer crease.”

  “Here’s your scotch, Farquhar. We’ll talk more about this later.” She laid the bottle in front of him.

  “Wha’ever.” With that, he batted the bottle down the hallway and toward the second door on the right. “Ah’ll still be watching ye.” The door slammed shut behind him.

  “Blood and damnation. I’ve never met a pair of more obstinate beings, human and demon combined.”

  He yearned to sit down next to her and put on a less violent movie. Something more to Serah’s liking. To pluck some popcorn from that bucket and feed it to her one kernel at a time. To pull her close to him and—bloody hell. He moved to take the spot vacated by Farquhar earlier.

  “Pair? You aren’t all that amenable either.”

&nb
sp; With a disgruntled groan, he opted to take the recliner instead. This wouldn’t be easy. “I have reasons. I’ve lived a long life. I’ve seen enough death and destruction. I will not sit idly while the world’s only possible chance at salvation lounges here and ignores her calling.”

  “All I know how to do is cook. How do you expect me to save the world from demons? Feed them to death?”

  This was getting futile. He couldn’t touch her, though. Too many sensations zinged through him. And from the look he glimpsed in her eyes, she felt them too. And then there was the fact that she had touched him. And she still lived.

  “What happened when you touched me earlier?” he asked. Oh, something had happened, all right. But not the normal thing that happened when a human touched a demon without permission—agonizing pain, and sometimes, death.

  “I already told you nothing happened.”

  “Exactly.”

  Serah sank into the sofa and averted his glance. “Maybe Rafe or Lucy put a protection spell on me.”

  “Good try, but no. Enrapturement only works on normal humans.”

  “Maybe you’re wrong and they did cast a charm on me.”

  “Rafael and Lucia gave me their word. You are un-enrapturable.”

  “Maybe I’m not human.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Everything started after Lucy opened the chest. Maybe I’m possessed.”

  “If that were the case, you wouldn’t have demon-sense. Only those who are pure—or blessed—can smell the Infernati odor.”

  Serah leaned in, question flashing in her gaze. “And if you’re not a blessed Paladin yet, how can you?”

  Matthias ground his teeth. He wasn’t proud of his past. He’d done things that would send any respectable person packing. At the time it seemed right. After all, he needed to survive. “I’ve worked for some unsavory people.”

  “You already mentioned it.” Serah leaned back into the sofa. “If you want my trust, then you need to be honest with me. I get the feeling you’re hiding something.”

  “My past is not pretty, Seraphina.” The moment he spoke her real name, his heart plummeted. A frown creased her lips and she exhaled a deep sigh. “I have killed many, Infernati, Paladin, and humans alike.”