With This Ring: Imp Series, Book 11

by Dunbar, Debra

  He’d been scared to go there alone, had thought it was a frightening place. I remembered my first time in Aaru, the first time I’d been forced to shed my corporeal form. It had been one of the most terrifying moments in my life. The thought of Lux alone and scared, wondering where I was, twisted my chest into a tight knot.

  “Ma?”

  It took me a second to realize the voice wasn’t some sort of panic-fueled hallucination. Turning around, I saw my little angel standing in the doorway of our house. Adrenaline abruptly receded, leaving me weak and shaky. I tried to breathe, tried to force my legs to move.

  “Ma!”

  Lux did the moving for me, rushing into my arms. I crumpled to the ground, holding him tight and burying my face in his hair.

  “Ma, where were you? Lost in scary place?”

  Breathe. Breathe. “Yeah, I got a little lost, so I came home. I was getting worried. What took you so long?”

  He laughed. “Lost too! You return ring?”

  The band felt heavy in my pocket. “Yep. Took it back where it belonged. There’s no need to go back.”

  I felt him nod. “Everything is the same there. Nothingness. Itchy skin. Lonely place. Big lonely place.”

  Yes, I’m sure it was. Aaru was huge, and four or six Ancients would never be enough to make it feel less empty.

  I stood up and took his hand. “I’m going to do the next two rings by myself, okay? You take me there, then come straight home and wait here for me. I was very, very worried about you. That place is big and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find you, or that maybe you couldn’t find your way out and back home again.”

  He looked up at me, his blue eyes huge. “I was lost, but a man showed me the way.”

  Remiel? One of the other Ancients? Had Snip gotten one to go to Aaru and retrieve Lux? Although I’d expected they would have been here with him for the reward. “What man showed you the way? What did he look like?”

  Lux shrugged. “Nothing. No body. No voice. Just angel talk.”

  I stared down at the little angel. “No body? Was he fire? Light? A rock? Anything?”

  “Nothing,” Lux insisted. “No body at all.”

  How the fuck could that be? None of the Ancients could shed their physical forms in Aaru and none of the angels who could shed their physical forms there were able to get back in.

  Was someone the exception to that rule? Or had someone been left behind when I’d banished every angel in heaven? Was this “man” even an angel? I’d assumed only angels could exist in Aaru, but honestly that wasn’t a question I’d ever thought to ask.

  I needed to find that out. And I needed to corner Samael and see if there was some way he was able to get in and be without a physical form, because if there was one Ancient who could make that happen, I was betting it was him.

  And it if wasn’t him, then who the fuck had given Lux directions home?

  But all that would need to wait. First I needed a good stiff drink or six. Then I needed to clean up the dead bodies off my driveway before Nyalla got home.

  My phone beeped a reminder. I dug it out of my pocket and glanced down as Lux and I walked back into the house.

  Shit.

  Forget cleaning up the dead bodies. I needed to shower, change my clothes, and grab anyone I could find with a dick, because tonight was the bachelorette party.

  Chapter 20

  “Yeah!” Amber punched the air with her empty shot glass.

  All the ladies wearing felt penis or vagina hats cheered. The rest of the bar cheered, saluting us with beverages of their own. The patrons at Billy Wampus Watering Hole were very entertained by our raunchy drunken antics. The country dive bar was so far off the beaten track that I’d worried half the party would get lost and end up pulling up to the gates of Camp David wearing penis hats and demanding to know where the strippers were.

  Luckily all the locals knew how to get to Billy Wampus, and they’d been more than happy to give directions to women who were ready to Party—with a capital “P.”

  “This is the best Bachelorette party ever,” Amber slurred on Darcie’s shoulder. Darcie teared up and told Amber that she loved her. They both had a drunken argument about who loved each other most while I scowled.

  Where were my hugs and declarations of affection? I was the one who’d chosen this locale. Actually, Wyatt had chosen it. This had been Amber’s favorite party spot when she’d been an underage teen. The locals all knew her and had been thrilled to host her party, happily providing food, shots, and free jukebox selections.

  Sadly, there weren’t many jukebox selections. In a modern age of twangy-pop country music, Billy Wampus’s music hadn’t budged an inch since the sixties. Waylon Jennings. Conway Twitty. Patsy Cline. Loretta Lynn. Merle Haggard. Buck Owens. Johnny Cash. Glen Campbell. Tammy Wynette. The closest thing they had to modern was The Oak Ridge Boys. Not that I was complaining. I swear if someone had queued up Achy Breaky Heart, I might have bludgeoned them with a giant green dildo.

  The booze selection was equally limited, and that I wasn’t happy about. Wyatt hadn’t let me know about that little factoid when I’d been asking for a good place to host the party. No vodka. No gin—not that I drink that Pine-Sol flavored crap. The rum was a bottle of Bacardi Gold that the bartender had to wipe a thick layer of dust from. Billy Wampus was a whiskey bar. Whiskey and more whiskey—ninety percent of it from Kentucky. The one bottle of “import” was Crown Royal, which was doled out with a sneer.

  Luckily I liked Bud Lite, because that was one of eight beer selections, all of them domestic and none of them craft. I asked them what they did for Saint Patrick’s Day, and the manager told me they put green food coloring in a keg of Coors and charged fifty cents extra a glass for it.

  “Strippers!” One of Amber’s friends screamed.

  “They’ll be here soon,” I promised. Then I pivoted so she couldn’t see my smile turn to a grimace. I’d ordered the party favors. I’d gotten Amber a gift I knew she’d love—an all-expenses paid trip for her and Irix to one of the premier sex clubs in Europe. I’d booked this place, threw my credit card on the table and refused to accept donations from the others to help defray the cost.

  But the strippers… None of the delivery guys I’d accosted had been interested. The professional organizations I’d contacted had been booked up through the summer. I’d begged vampires, werewolves, the homeless people camped out at my condemned properties at the end of the canal walk. Finally, out of desperation, I’d asked the one group I knew would enthusiastically be on board with this project, and who would be available.

  The doors of Billy Wampus flung open. “We’re here!”

  I lifted a finger in the air and the jukebox began playing Rhinestone Cowboy as half a dozen Lows swaggered into the bar, wearing only chaps, cowboy hats, and a smile.

  I clapped my hands. I was the only one. The Lows had clearly spent a lot of time and effort choreographing their routine in the thirty minutes between when I’d told them about this gig and their arrival. Their moves were completely synchronized, even though quite a few of them hadn’t mastered the art of creating a convincing human form. Pick sauntered up to a redhead, hopping on his bow legs so that his long thorny member bounced in her face. The woman recoiled, her spine hitting the back of the chair with an audible whack.

  “Uh, Sam?” Nyalla sidled up to me, patting Rutter on the head as he shook his hips at her.

  I waved a hand at her. “Shhh. They’re going to do splits for the finale. Do you know how difficult it is for Lows to achieve that level of flexibility? Quite the thing to watch.”

  “Sam, I adore your Lows, and am especially fond of Snip, but most of Amber’s guests are human, and they don’t find most demons sexy or attractive. Especially Lows.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I pointed at the dancers. “Lows are a fucking blast. They’ll do anything you want them to do. They’re used to being ripped apart by high level demons, so human rough play is nothing to them. They�
�re enthusiastic. Loyal. And available at the last minute because I couldn’t find anyone else willing to do this.” I turned to her. “Do you think a few of the party will fuck them? Because I kind of implied they would. Maybe if the girls had a few more shots of Jim Beam…”

  “I really doubt it, Sam.” Nyalla waved at the crowd. “I mean, do they look like women who want to have sex?”

  They didn’t. They looked like women who were about to flee the room. There was one human, not actually in our party, who was clapping and wiggling her hips over by the bar, but that was it.

  Damn it. I waited for the routine to end in the splits, because I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Then I shooed the Lows over to a corner of the bar, bought them a round of beers and shots, and turned to address the partygoers who were still in a state of silent shock.

  “Okay. Sorry about that. My bad. I’ve been informed the entertainment was a total flop. Hopefully if you all drink a few more shots, you’ll forget all about it.”

  Behind me I heard the door slam open, felt a gust of hot air that was tinged with the faintest odor of brimstone. The women’s expressions went from shocked and disgusted to enthralled.

  “I heard there are some very naughty women at Billy Wampus tonight.”

  The voice was deep, with a rasp like manicured nails on velvet—and I instantly recognized it. I turned and saw before me the Fallen who’d been Aaru’s most beautiful archangel.

  His white-blond hair was tousled under a black Stetson, as if he’d just rolled out of bed and plopped that hat on. He wore chaps and a G-string of black leather that was tight enough to reveal all that lay underneath. Every glistening, darkly tanned muscle was defined along his chest and arms. His pecs firmed as I watched, his biceps rippling as he lifted his arms and pointed at Amber.

  “Especially you. I’ve been told you’re the naughtiest of all.”

  Amber audibly sucked in a breath. “Punish me. Oh God, punish me.

  Samael smiled, and my legs trembled. “I’m not your god, and I don’t punish the naughty, I reward them.”

  He snapped his fingers and Conway Twitty’s “I’d Love To Lay You Down” came on the juke box. Several of the women not in our party screamed. Other’s sighed. All of them, even the men who had been lurking along the walls waiting for a woman drunk enough to possibly take them home, focused their rapt attention on the Fallen angel.

  Samael danced, giving each woman in the party a moment of his smoldering attention before turning to where Amber sat. His eyes were hooded, the blue gaze under the lids intense and focused as he made his way to her. She stared at him breathless, not making a sound as he dug his one hand into her blonde hair and straddled her. The muscles in his thighs bulged as he lowered himself down, grinding against her. Then he jerked her head to the side, roughly kissing her neck.

  That drew a desperate whimper from the bride-to-be’s throat. Thick pheromones filled the air as Amber lost control of her succubus nature. Before the entire bar turned into one giant orgy, Samael slid his hands down to Amber’s hips and spun her sex magic away from the others and into himself.

  He whispered something into her ear, and her head leaned back, eyes closed as she shuddered with orgasm. I’ll admit I was pretty close to the same.

  Then the youngest archangel smiled. Amber slipped down in her chair, eyes dazed and Samael stood and flexed, queueing up another song on the jukebox.

  “I’m here all night ladies,” he said in a husky whisper. Then he reached out and pulled Darcie to him. She grabbed his ass with both hands as they began a slow dance.

  Nyalla chuckled. “Lows. I should have never doubted you, Sam. I can’t believe you actually convinced Samael to do this.”

  I hadn’t. I wasn’t even sure how he’d known about the bachelorette party. Maybe Lux had told him? Maybe he’d figured it out from all the sex toys being delivered to my house. Maybe the Lows had told him. Either way, I was glad he was here totally pulling my ass out of the fire.

  Either way, I was taking credit for this. And I was absolutely getting him to come dance at my bachelorette party as well.

  Chapter 21

  The party went on until the bar closed. I think a few of Amber’s friends may have gotten lucky. I drove all the Lows back home. A few of them threw up in the back of the Suburban. I left it there and went into my house, trying to decide whether I should make the Lows clean it up, or just burn the damned SUV.

  Gregory would have been thrilled, because for once I didn’t bother going to sleep. Instead I made a pot of coffee and watched the sun come up—and watched undead roadkill come out of the hedges and crawl around my driveway.

  Terrelle wandered into the dining room, looking over my shoulder at the zombies. “You really need to do something about those things.”

  “I know.” I drank the rest of my coffee.

  “That party last night fucking rocked.” Terrelle looked at my mug. “Is there more coffee? Did you make breakfast yet? Is your angel-lover here, because he makes damned good pancakes.”

  “Yes. No. No. No.” I patted her on the shoulder as I turned to go into the kitchen. “I’ll get you a mug, but you’re on your own for breakfast.”

  “Splash of milk in my coffee, please,” she called after me.

  I rolled my eyes, filled two mugs of coffee, and reached into the fridge for the milk. I was pretty sure it was expired, but Terrelle probably wouldn’t notice.

  “Oh wow. Cool.” I heard her say.

  I walked in, handed her the coffee, and saw that she was looking at the two rings I’d left on the dining room table.

  “No, not so cool,” I told her. “Lux misunderstood something and stole a few hundred rings and now he has to return them. Since he’s a little guy and I got shot trying to return one, I’ve been helping him.”

  “These aren’t human engagement rings.” Terrelle nudged one aside.

  “No. We returned the human ones already. These are what’s left of the ones Lux is calling super scary.”

  She picked up the one she’d been nudging. “What’s the writing on this one? It looks Elvish, but it’s not.”

  I squinted down at the ring. “No idea.”

  Terrelle pulled out her phone and took a few pictures of the engraving, then texted them to someone. “I wish you’d let me see the others before you returned them. It’s rare for me to get my hands on museum pieces without getting arrested. And I’ll bet you had some sweet magical pieces beyond these two.”

  “Like the one some witchy hag tried to kill me over,” I commented, twisting my engagement ring around my finger.

  “I’m pretty sure this one is Andvari’s ring.” Terrelle picked up the other band and held it up.

  “Who the fuck’s Andvari?” Maybe he wouldn’t be pissed about Lux taking the ring. I was assuming Terrelle knew him, so he was possibly a demon? Maybe one of the Ancients? If so, I hoped he was still slumbering. That would be ideal. I’d just sneak in, plop the ring in his lap, then get the hell out.

  “Andvari is a dwarf. He’s a fish shifter.”

  I had never heard of any of the dwarves being shifters, but I’d recently realized I knew a whole lot less about dwarves than I’d thought.

  “Awesome. So he’s in Hel? Do you know his family name? Which mountain and community he’s a part of?”

  Terrelle shrugged. “No idea. I read about him in a book. He lives in the land of the dark elves.”

  Who the fuck were the dark elves? I thought through all the elven kingdoms, wondering if she meant the elven Kingdom of Klee which was in the mountains. They tended to have much darker skin coloring than the other elves. It made sense. Dwarves lived in mountains. The Klee lived in the mountains. Most of the Klee had declined to make the exodus when the other elves left Hel, so it shouldn’t be too hard to visit them and ask where I could find this Andvari dude.

  “Hopefully if you return the ring it will end the curse.”

  “What curse?”

  “From what I read,
the ring was created to attract wealth, specifically gold. Loki stole it from Andvari, as well as all the dwarf’s gold.”

  I recoiled. “He stole from a dwarf? This dude had the balls to actually steal shit from a dwarf? I’m guessing he’s dead now?”

  “Not really. Loki dies a lot, but he never really dies.”

  Huh. Kinda like me.

  “He’s a trickster god. An imp.”

  I wasn’t liking where any of this was going. I was an imp. I didn’t believe in gods as the humans seemed to, but I knew many beings that the humans called gods were real. Was the mythological Loki actually a demon, an imp, who’d had the balls to steal from a dwarf?

  “Andvari couldn’t do anything about the stolen gold, but he cursed the ring.”

  That sounded right. Dwarves were very good at enchanting things. Usually weapons were their favorite items, but I could totally see one enchanting a ring. And cursing it when it got stolen.

  “So what does it do? I’m assuming it makes the person poor since it was originally meant to attract wealth?”

  “Nope. It brings death and ruin to whoever possesses it.”

  Terrelle sounded far too cheerful for that sort of pronouncement. I looked at the ring that she was still holding. “Sucks to be you. It’s yours now. Enjoy.”

  She dropped the ring on the table. “Oh no. It’s in your house. It’s in your possession. Just because I pick something up to examine it, does not mean I own it. Nope. Nope, nope, nope.”

  “Too late.”

  “You can say that all you want. Doesn’t make it so.”

  Terrelle glared at me. I glared at her. Then I wondered who I could pawn this ring off to before death and ruin showed up on my doorstep.

  Doorstep.

  “Motherfucker!”

  I snatched the ring up off the table and threw it across the room. Then I crawled around looking for it because the only way I’d probably be able to get rid of the zombie shit showing up at my front door would be if I returned it to this Andvari dude.