Justine poked her mom in the back, keeping her hold on his arm. "Stop harassing Derek. You might as well let him enjoy his last few days in the mortal world."
"I guess." Iris threw him another long stare over her shoulder, her eyes dark and threatening. "If you kill my daughter, I'll torture you for all eternity. I have connections, you know."
Her hand moved toward his laptop, and he wondered briefly whether he was about to be pummeled over the head by a piece of expensive technology. He edged toward the table and curved his hand over the computer, tugging it until it was under his arm. "I believe you."
She harrumphed, then turned toward Justine, which suited Derek just fine. There was a dark power rolling off her that was somewhat unexpected and slightly daunting. "Darling, I must run, but I wanted to let you know what Satan said."
Justine tensed against him. "Are you going on a date with Satan?"
"Yes." Iris folded her arms over her chest and dared Justine to challenge her. Like mother, like daughter.
Justine didn't back down. "I'm sick and tired of you guilting me with this Qualifying Incident to save you if you're already planning to go down on him...I mean go down with him. To hell." He set his hand on her back and she moved a little closer to him.
"Who I have sex with is none of your business," Iris replied haughtily. "But if I do decide to have sex with Satan, that doesn't mean I'm going to go to hell and be his mistress. The only way I'll end up in hell is if you don't get yourself together." She shot Derek a hard look for emphasis.
He gave her an innocent smile.
Iris spun away from them and walked through the table to the Treatise. She ran her fingers over the embossed cover, and a wistful longing passed over her features. Then she gave the book a firm slap and faced them. "I need to meet Satan, but I wanted to tell you that Satan's disinherited son Satan Jr. did it."
Justine blinked. "Did what?"
"The Curse, the surfer, all that. He impersonated Satan. Offspring can be tricky like that," she added, eyeing her daughter.
Justine's mouth dropped open and Derek had to concentrate on not doing the same. The son of Satan had stolen the identity of his leader-of-hell-dad and used it for nefarious purposes? Of course. How silly of them not to think of that.
"We have no idea where to find him or what he looks like or anything," Iris continued. "But apparently, he believes he'll win his daddy's love and get Satan to acknowledge him if he can steal Mona." She slanted a curious look at Derek. "We don't know why he cursed the LaValle men, though."
Justine let out a low whistle. "So, Satan knocked up some woman and refused to acknowledge his own son, turning him into a bitter, deprived psycho we have to track down? But you can't give us a single shred of information to help us find Satan Jr.?"
"Exactly. So glad I could be helpful." Iris blew them both a kiss. "I must be off. If you need me, call my cell. We'll be staying at the Waldorf if you need us."
"You're going on a date instead of helping us?" Justine asked. "Can't you at least get Satan to help?"
"We've done all we can. Sometimes parents have to let their children spread their wings and live the life they were destined for. It's up to you. Good luck, sweetie, and don't forget to kill Derek as soon as you can. Derek, lovely to meet you." Then Iris shimmered out of sight with a high-pitched ringing.
"Any bright ideas on how to track down a half-Satan who can hide from his own dad?" Justine tugged the computer out of his grasp and sat down at the table with it, apparently not the least bit stunned or derailed by her mother's announcement. "I don't suppose he'd have a website, or a LinkedIn profile, would he? I mean, that's too obvious, right?"
"Probably." Derek pulled up a chair and sat next to her, shoving aside the feeling of despair hovering at the edges of his soul. He had to focus, and fast, because the clock on his life was ticking quickly. "This is a good thing," he said, trying to recalibrate. "At least now we know where to focus. We can—" He paused as an inky black shape formed on the kitchen floor.
"We can what?" Justine looked up from the screen just as the shape began to take the shape of a woman he knew quite well. His corporate guru, who happened to be Satan's right hand. A woman who was awaiting direct orders to kill him. Justine cursed. "We so don't have time to deal with Becca right now. If she starts telling you to kill me, I swear I'm going to shoot her."
"She could have received her orders to kill me." He slowly eased his chair back from the table, giving himself space to fight.
Justine immediately jumped up and darted across the room to her gun stash. "Derek. Here." She tossed a gun at him, then cocked her own gun and gave him a cheerful smile. "If she orders either of us dead, we'll kill her, okay? No Rivka gets to interfere in our killing game. We're the only ones who get to kill each other, right? Right."
He frowned at the gun in his hand, surprised she'd given him a weapon. "Aren't you afraid I'll use this to shoot you? Render you helpless while I grab a sword to do you in?"
"You're enthralled by my awesomeness, remember? You won't kill me unless you have to." She pointed her gun past his shoulder. "She's almost here."
"Ah, yes, enthralled. Forgot about that." He cocked his gun, but kept it by his side as his CEO took solid form.
Becca was wearing an all-black outfit: jeans, sneakers, T-shirt and a black leather jacket. Her short, dark hair was spiky and her fingernails were painted black, and over her shoulder was a bulky black bag that looked perfect for carrying machine guns or other such friendly accoutrements.
Not the pin-striped professional he knew so well.
She was a shark as a businesswoman. As a Rivka? She was intimidating as hell. "Hello, Becca." He slid his finger over the trigger. "Did I miss a meeting with McDonald's?"
"Probably, but that's not why I'm here," she said. "We have a major problem and it will be here in about two minutes."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Becca slung the duffle bag off her shoulder and dropped it with a thud on the floor. "Goblet Girl, I don't know who you pissed off, but there's an army on its way here to kill you and steal the Goblet. Since you have to live long enough for Derek to kill you and break the Curse, I'm here to help you stay alive."
"An army? How fun!" Justine leapt to her feet, adrenaline racing through her. It had been so long since she'd taken on a decent adversary. Defeating an entire army would be fantastic for proving her worth and awesomeness to the Council and to those in charge of her mom's fate. "Do I need a gun or a sword? What kind of warriors?"
"Male Penyas."
She yelped with alarm. "Did you just say male Penyas?"
"Sure did." Becca bent over to unzip the duffle.
Her mouth went dry. "Are you certain?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. I saw them." Becca pulled out several machine guns. "I rarely get to use these because Satan thinks it makes me scarier when I used fireballs, but I thought you might find them helpful. Much more efficient than a sword or a handgun."
Justine continued to stare at Becca, too shocked to move. Dear God. Not male Penyas, not with Mona's safety at stake. "You must be mistaken," she said faintly.
"Not mistaken." Becca said as she handed Derek bullets. "I'm not a newbie."
Derek slung the gun over his shoulder and accepted the ammo, apparently not the least bit concerned about his CEO's dramatic announcement. "What are Penyas? What are their talents?"
Fear churned in Justine's stomach. "Penyas are an ancient warrior tribe that used to hire themselves out to fight battles. No one uses them much anymore because their magical powers aren't as effective as they once were." No, not effective at all, due to the changes in the moral standards of society. Except for her. She wasn't modern in the right ways. She'd be in big trouble. "They'll work on me, though, so we need to shut them down." She grabbed several guns and would have poached a few hand grenades if Becca hadn't given her a surprised look.
God help her with male Penyas. That wasn't a qualifying incident. This was an "Oh, shit, I'm so screw
ed," moment. Her gun slipped out of her trembling fingers, and she had to wipe the sweat off her palms before she picked it back up. "You think Satan Jr. hired them?"
"In the old days, I would have said no. They don't get into stuff like turf wars over hell." Becca shrugged. "But no one uses them much these days, so they might be willing to lower their standards." She cocked her head at Justine. "You look worried. Really?"
Justine felt her cheeks turn pink. "Yeah, well, maybe."
"Damn, girl. It must suck to be you."
"Thanks for that." She decided not to protect her reputation from Becca any longer, and grabbed two hand grenades, ignoring Becca's sympathetic look.
Derek walked to the window, his gun resting on his shoulder. "There's a string of yellow cabs in the street, lined up in front of the building." He glanced briefly at Becca. "If they're not with Satan Jr., then how would they know where to find Mona?"
"No idea." Becca kicked the bag under the table. "There's a lot of them though, and they must mean business because most of them are half-naked."
Fear ripped through Justine so fiercely that her legs gave out and she had to sit down. "They're half-naked?" Oh, God. She had no chance, did she? "What happened to their full armor? Since when do they go to battle half-naked?"
"Since celebs like Chris Hemsworth started going shirtless in movies. It takes a lot more to get a gal going these days."
Damn Chris and all his hot celebrity friends. Wiping sweat off her forehead, Justine stood up, trying to figure out the best plan. "Derek, you have to take the lead on this one. I'll grab Mona and escape out the back door."
"It's a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree assault," Becca said. "There's no way past them. We have to fight it out."
"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit." What could she do?
Derek looked over at her, and then frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." How was she supposed to tell him? "If it's only male Penyas, you should be fine. Just keep fighting. It'll all be on you." She glanced in the kitchen, where Mona was sitting, dusty and old, as if they never actually drank espresso. "At least they'll be looking for a goblet—"
"They know she's an espresso machine," Becca informed her. "They'll be looking for her."
Mona promptly turned into a bottle of rose-scented massage oil.
Becca raised her brows. "Impressive."
The bottle flashed a hot pink, then returned to a translucent rose color.
"Massage oil?" Justine's hands started to tremble even more. "I don't think sensual oil is the right thing to be when a bunch of half-naked Penyas are on their way here."
Her gut lurched when Mona promptly became a two-liter bottle of massage oil, instead of a six-ounce bottle. Dammit. Mona was in the same situation she was in, wasn't she? "Girl, we're so fucked right now," she whispered.
Mona flashed again, and then changed to a five-liter bottle.
Derek walked away from the window, grasped Justine's arm and turned her toward him. "What's wrong with you? Why are you afraid of the Penyas?" He kept his voice low, so Becca couldn't hear. "What's their power?"
She felt her cheeks heat up. Dammit. She had to tell him, didn't she? It was going to get ugly fast, so he had to know. "Sex," she admitted.
Derek's brows went up? "Sex? What do you mean?"
"They're like one big walking pheromone to anyone attracted to their gender. They're sending men, so it's meant for me." Her heart was racing so hard her chest was beginning to ache.
He frowned. "You're worried that you won't be able to resist them? You're an extremely focused warrior. Nothing can distract you."
She was too tense to smile at his compliment. "They're so powerful that women have been known to kill their own children to have sex with a Penya. The longer you've been celibate, the more power they have." She nodded at the giant bottle of massage oil taking up half the kitchen counter. "It's been a while for Mona."
Understanding dawned on his face. "How long ago did you take the Oath?"
"Two hundred years."
"Shit."
"Yeah."
"Would it help if I kissed you?"
This time, she did smile faintly. "That's super sweet. That won't be enough, but I appreciate your willingness to sacrifice yourself."
"It wouldn't be a sacrifice, trust me."
Warmth rushed through her at the tenderness on his face. "Someday, maybe we'll have a moment—"
A light knock sounded on the front door, making her jump. She spun around, her gun aimed at the front door. "They're here." Dammit. This was so bad.
Becca faced the door, held out her hands, and churned up a few fire balls. "All right, Justine. Let 'em in."
"Me?" God no, she couldn't face Penyas. Not in her state. Damn that Treatise for making her vulnerable.
Derek headed for the door. "I'll do it."
Thank God. Before he could open it, a shriek echoed from the back bedroom. "Theresa!" She'd forgotten all about her roommate! Justine bolted for the back of the loft, even as the knocking on the front door grew louder.
Gun up and ready, she burst into the room, ready to defend…but there were no Penyas in the bedroom. Theresa was on her knees in the middle of a circle of dried fruit and some other chopped up twigs and plants. The dragon was staring at her hand, her eyes wide with stunned astonishment.
"Theresa? What happened?" Justine eased into the room, keeping her gun aimed at the window. Would they be coming through there?
Theresa held her front claw up. "Look at my fingernail."
"Your what?" She took a distracted glance at her roomie's appendage, then gasped in disbelief. On the middle toe of her right hand, the claw had been replaced by a human fingernail, complete with a French manicure. "Holy shit!"
"I know! Can you believe it? It was one of the spells Zeke gave me. It was supposed to do all of me, but this is a start, don't you think?" Therese's eyes filled with tears. "My fingernail is back. It's back."
A lump formed in Justine's throat. "I'm so happy for you, sweetie. Zeke came through for you, didn't he?" What an amazing guy. "Did you tell him yet?"
"No, I just did it—"
A loud thud from the front room made Justine spin around, her heart jumping as she slammed Theresa's door shut. "Shit."
Theresa looked toward the front of their condo, her brow furrowed. "What's going on out there?"
Justine winced. "We're being attacked by half-naked male Penyas."
Theresa's golden eyes widened, and she leapt up. "Penyas? You're so screwed. You need to take Mona and get out of here."
"There's no way out. We're surrounded." She hurried over to the window and peered down, alarm leaping through her when she saw the number of Ubers and yellow cabs unloading men in the street. There were hundreds of them. Hundreds. "We need to fight. Come on!" She hoisted her gun up and sprinted back to the other room, Theresa following right behind her.
They made it to the living room just as the interior door to the condo splintered. In stepped a man wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and the perfect amount of five o'clock shadow. He had muscles in all the right places, and his eyes were a brilliant shade of jade that matched the emeralds in the handle of his sword. He turned toward Justine and Theresa, and flashed them a smile that revealed perfect, white teeth. "Good afternoon, ladies."
Sweet mercy. He was perfect. Heat flooded Justine's belly and she let out a little gasp. "God, he's beautiful," she whispered.
"Stop it!" Theresa smacked her in the side of the head, knocking her sideways.
"I got him!" Becca hurled at a fireball, hitting him right in the chest. The specimen of male perfection immediately exploded in a puff of blue smoke.
Stark disbelief flooded Justine. "He's gone? He's gone? But he was mine!" She whirled toward Becca. "Why would you blow him up? He was so beautiful."
Becca threw a spark at Justine. It hit in her in the cheek, sending a jolt of pain through her. "Ow! What was that for?"
The Rivka raised her brows. "Better?"
Justine realized that she no longer wanted to kill Becca for taking out a Penya. "Yeah, thanks." She glanced toward Derek, who was watching her with a concerned look on his face. "I'm fine, now." She managed a smile. "Totally fine."
"Don't burn up my bestie, Rivka," Theresa growled as she moved between Justine and Becca.
"My name's Becca." She revved up another fireball as the elevator door slid shut to return to the first floor. "Can you shoot flames, Dragon?"
"Better than you can hurl a fireball," Theresa snapped. "And my name's Theresa."
Becca cocked an eyebrow at her. "Have you had sex lately?"
"Several times a day. I'm good."
The Rivka glanced at Justine. "You're in deep shit, aren't you?"
She cleared her throat. "I got this—"
Derek touched her shoulder, making tingling zing through her belly. "You don't need to stay." His voice vibrated with a sexuality she'd never noticed before. "Your vulnerability proves you're a good Guardian."
She shrugged off his touch and shifted restlessly, trying to shake off the urges pulsing through her. "I don't think you should touch me right now." Dammit. Derek wasn't even a Penya. Why was he affecting her like that? "Becca, you might need to burn me again."
"It's going to get much worse, Goblet Girl. I don't know if I can cause you enough pain to keep you sane without actually killing you."
"Just don't cut off my head, and I'll be okay." Justine bit her lip, trying not to notice how delicious Derek smelled, or how muscular his arms were. He had such nice forearms. "Can't you put on a sweatshirt or something?" she snapped. "You're super distracting."
His eyebrows shot up. "Really?" He looked pleased.
"Oh, come on," Theresa interrupted. "Clearly, she can't stay here. She'll be down on her knees offering blow jobs in less than a second."
Heat fused Justine's cheeks. "I will not—"
"You will, but it's nothing to be embarrassed about." Theresa patted her shoulder. "You're like a dried-up old maid, sweetie, and you need to bail."
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