by Linda Wisdom
The giant growled again and took another step toward her, deliberately crowding her personal space.
“It’s all right, Anton.” Declan stood in a doorway that pulsed with tiny red-and-yellow neon lights lining the doorjamb.
“I haven’t searched her for weapons yet.” Anton looked way too happy at the prospect. “It’s obvious she’s carrying many of them.”
“He’s really looking for a whomp upside the head, isn’t he?” Sybil whispered.
“I can search him.” Elle skittered to Maggie’s other shoulder for a better look at Declan. “He does look tasty.”
“Hellion Guards are required to be armed at all times.” Maggie stood her ground as she looked the giant square in the eye and ignored the demon standing behind him. “And even if we weren’t, I wouldn’t give up my weapons to anyone.”
“Anton.” Declan’s quiet voice sliced through the stare down.
The massive creature slowly backed away but didn’t take his eyes off Maggie, who displayed a toothy grin as she and her friend sauntered past the rope.
“I’ve got to give you credit, Declan. You have an excellent security force,” she told him as she and Sybil followed him further into the club.
She was relieved that she had used a noise-dampening spell for her tender eardrums because the hard-core music battered them with the vengeance of an angry boar. She’d advised Sybil to do the same, but the elf insisted she wanted the entire experience. Judging from the pained expression on her face, she wished she’d listened to Maggie.
“You also seem to have a great cleaning service. I’m impressed you got the place up and running so fast.” Maggie looked into the club’s main room, which was packed with dancers and drinkers. She grimaced at the sight of a gremlin dancing on a table.
“The only difference I can see is your bartenders’ uniforms.” She gestured toward the demons manning the bar in blue polo shirts that mirrored the neon-blue lights buried in the black glass counter. She noticed the lights pulsed in time with Disturbed’s “Into The Fire,” which blasted from speakers embedded in the walls.
“Do you think that’s some sort of code?” Sybil stared at the bar with the fascination of one who could be easily hypnotized.
“Could be, so I wouldn’t look at the lights for too long.” Maggie pulled her along and then stopped short when Declan turned around with two champagne flutes in his hands. He smiled and held them out.
“A product of France,” he assured them.
Sybil disregarded Maggie’s look of warning and accepted the flute held in front of her. “As if he’d try something here.” She took a tiny sip and giggled. “The bubbles,” she explained.
Maggie wanted to refuse the champagne, but she knew she couldn’t with her friend sipping away. “I’m usually more a Stoli gal, but you did say the champagne is French.” She took an experimental sip and then another. For a moment, she was transported back to a France of beauty and old-world elegance, where carriages were everyday transport and a lady never revealed a bare limb.
And Madame Guillotine would have had another victim if a rogue of a French pirate hadn’t spirited her away from the dungeons holding the nobles awaiting their death. During that dark time, Maggie had learned that some of the cells below the earth held a magick-dampening effect. The experience had taught her that she liked her head where it was—and that a pirate ship smelled worse than the cell where she’d been incarcerated. Even after all these years, the memory of the stench remained in her olfactory memory.
“What stories do you have to tell?” Declan murmured in a voice that was meant for her ears only. “What adventures have you had over the centuries you’ve wandered this earth?”
“Very boring. I’m sure you have much more interesting stories of your time in the demon realm.” She observed no reaction from him and decided to press further. “Or is that why you chose to come here? For a change of pace? Did you receive the club for good behavior or for your birthday?”
“I earned this club,” he told her. “And I intend to keep it.”
“Dancing, I’m going dancing.” Sybil moved toward an elf that’d given her the eye. She set her champagne flute down on a nearby table as she swiveled her hips his way.
Declan stopped Maggie’s instinctive motion to check out the male her friend was pursuing. “Nothing will happen to her,” he assured her. “By now, everyone in here knows the two of you are under my protection. Although I’m certain you don’t appreciate the gentlemanly gesture,” he teased.
She was chagrined to discover that he had managed to maneuver her away from the dance floor and toward the entrance of a long hallway. Every step of the way, she’d felt the heat of his hand resting lightly against her spine. The moment they passed through the archway, the music became so muted that she had to deactivate the sound-dampening spell.
Declan stopped at some double doors and threw them open.
“Come into my parlor,” Maggie murmured as she brushed past him.
“You surprise me, Maggie.” He opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of champagne, opened it with a thought, and lifted it in a silent question. He topped off her flute and then filled another.
“I’ve been known to throw people off-kilter.” She walked around the office, noting the spare decor and a large desk of highly polished dark wood that boasted only a laptop, a telephone, and a six-inch statue carved from black psilomelane drusy. She wondered how he had obtained such a large chunk of the rich, natural-black metallic mineral. The quartz crystals covering it glimmered in the dim light.
She ran her fingertips across the top of the figurine and then lifted it, rubbing the tip as she gauged the magick that coated the stone. “I will admit curiosity. Why do I surprise you?”
“You were worried for your friend until I guaranteed you she was safe. You trusted me enough that you left Sybil out there. And you didn’t hesitate to come back here with me, where you had to know we’d be alone.”
He perched himself on the arm of a nearby chair, watching her movements with the intensity of a cat stalking its prey. He lifted the glass to his lips and sipped the sparkling liquid.
Except it had been a long time since Maggie had allowed herself to be intimidated.
“So, why are you here? You didn’t come here to dance, and for obvious reasons, Bloaters are no longer allowed in here,” he said.
She nodded. “Good idea, since I’m sure the speed-of-light cleaning service was pretty pricey. Although, with what I saw bellying up to the bar, I’d say you can afford it. Especially since you’re wearing the monochrome wardrobe. What do you do when you get up and get dressed? Just open the closet and say, ‘Oh, I guess I’ll wear… black,’ right?”
His lips curved in a smile. “Would you like to see my closet, Maggie? You might be amazed by what you find.”
She shrugged. “You’ve seen one… you’ve seen them all.” She savored the champagne as she studied the man across the room.
Declan didn’t need to be a half-demon to be sexy. She knew he had what it took no matter what, and it wasn’t just that spicy scent from his skin that she detected.
While his silk button-down shirt was the usual black, she saw a hint of silver gray in the shadow stripes, and the black slacks fit his lower half to the extreme. The two open shirt buttons allowed a hint of golden tanned chest, and she noticed a black fire-opal set in gold on his ring finger.
Hmm, left hand. Does that mean he’s taken? And if he is, why did he march me up that volcano? Plus, is he the type to show he’s committed to one woman?
“Are we through with the small talk?” Declan asked, getting up to refill his glass and then hers. Maggie tried hard to keep her eyes away from his seriously nice ass and the fluid way he moved around the room.
“I guess so. I never was good with small talk. I just like getting down and dirty.” To her horror, she felt a blush creeping up her bare neck as she felt Elle’s tiny chuckle skittering over her skin. Terrific, Maggie, just shove you
r stiletto right smack into your mouth!
Only the tiniest hint of a smile indicated he was tempted to follow up on her faux pas.
“We need to speak to Anna,” she said in her most businesslike manner, deciding it was time to get to matters at hand.
“Not possible.”
Maggie nodded, expecting Declan’s refusal. Not that she’d accept it. Just that she knew he wouldn’t give in too easily.
“It’s obvious she knows about something that could threaten us all.”
“What makes you think that?” This time he moved over to the black leather couch and sat down, leaning back.
Maggie likewise moved to sit in the nearby chair. “This is really comfy.” She shifted her ass into the glove-soft leather. “Although, would it really have hurt you to buy this in, say, white? Or even navy, if you want to stay with the neutrals.”
“Don’t you ever say what’s expected? What kind of witch are you, Maggie O’Malley?”
“I haven’t carried a wand in centuries and never wore a pointy hat. Although my cauldron still gets used on occasion. There are some traditions you can’t give up.”
“But you work as a Hellion Guard, and as you say, you’re never unarmed. I’m sure that puts many males off.” He seemed to keep a wary eye on the glittering spider that now perched on her shoulder and watched him intently.
“They’re not worth my time if they can’t handle it.” She set her glass on the nearby table. “I’m serious about Anna, Declan. The things she said to Sybil when she was first brought in mean something’s going down.”
“Who’s to say it’s not demon-related?” he asked her. “What is that phrase again? Oh yes, ‘Everything isn’t all about you.’” He leaned over and pulled a cigar out of a hand-carved box. He nipped the tip and then puffed on it once before the tip glowed red.
“I gather you also don’t adhere to the no-smoking bans in public places.”
One eyebrow lifted in amusement. “That’s a human law, not mine. As you know, humans aren’t allowed in here.”
Interesting, he says mine and not ours. And they say the Guard is a law unto itself.
“Your predecessor Ratchet allowed them in. He thought they made excellent playthings, even if he knew his activities with them were illegal.” Her eyes flared with anger.
Declan’s features turned to golden stone. “He had his rules. I have mine.” He kept his gaze on Maggie. “Is that why he disappeared? Because he brought humans into the club even though he knew the Guard didn’t allow it? Why didn’t you just shut him down?”
Maggie thought of the horrifying mess she’d found in the middle of the desert with a bloodthirsty Ratchet in the midst of it. That was the night she’d experienced the pure pleasure of dispatching him to the deepest bowels of Hades. She hadn’t regretted her actions since.
To date, no one but her knew exactly what had happened to Ratchet. She preferred to keep it that way.
“We didn’t have to. He did it to himself. Ratchet was the lowest of the low.” She settled back in her chair and crossed her legs, seemingly oblivious to how far her skirt inched up her thighs. Her shoe dangled from her foot. The brilliant emerald set in the broom charm on her gold ankle bracelet winked flashes of color.
“He watered down the drinks, drugged females so they could be used in private sex shows, treated the help more as slaves than employees, and I’m sure he skimmed from the top. Plus the rumors that he murdered many creatures weren’t just idle chitchat.”
Declan sat up, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees, his fingers linked together. “Did you kill him?”
Her eyes didn’t waver from him. “Why would I kill him?”
“Because he did as you said—and much more. Because the demon world won’t argue against a lawful execution done by a member of the Hellion Guard. Because he would have deserved it.” His eyes bore into hers, seemingly in search for answers.
“Was he a friend of yours?” Maggie asked.
Declan’s laughter was harsh to the ear. “Ratchet had no friends, only those who despised him.”
“Yet you inherited his club.”
“I earned this club, and that is all you need to know.” He jumped to his feet. “And as for Anna, no, she will not return to the Guard compound. No, she will not be interrogated by your elf, and no, I will not allow even you to speak to her.”
“What if she gives us a written statement?” she suggested. “Something, or someone, greatly upset her. I need to know what sent her into such terror. Don’t you see, Declan, it could be something that will affect all of us, not just your kind. I am bound to protect everyone, even the demons.”
His lips twitched. “The only ones to protect demons are demons.” His eyes turned even darker with lambent hints of flames in the depths. “But what of you, Margit? Who protects you? Who keeps the night terrors away?”
“I don’t have them.” She stood up, the soft leather of her skirt sliding down her thighs. “I can go over your head and formally request that I have a chance to speak to Anna.”
“No.” For the first time, his ironclad confidence seemed to slip. “Anna has done nothing to deserve your attention.”
“She was picked up because she was distraught and acted as if she were about to do harm.”
“Yet you didn’t bring her to me.”
“Sybil told you we didn’t know she belonged to you.” She still wondered just how much the lovely demon belonged to him. He’d acted like the adoring male with Anna when he left the compound with her in his arms.
“She doesn’t belong to anyone but herself,” he bit out the words. “But Anna is under my protection.”
Maggie admitted she wasn’t surprised often, but she was now, as the realization hit her with the force of a Mack truck.
“She’s in hiding,” she said. “How much danger is she in?”
Declan sliced his hand through the air. “Do not speak that aloud.”
Without looking down, Maggie reached inside her small clutch bag. When she found what she wanted, she brought it to her lips and whispered a few words.
“Sometimes secrets are necessary. I will keep yours.”
“If I give her over to you,” he said bitterly.
She pressed what she took from her bag into his hand. “Have her keep this on her at all times. It won’t make her invisible, but it will keep her under the radar you’re obviously using.”
Declan stared at the small, brown chiastolite sphere that held a black cross in the center. “Protection.”
“I always carry extras, and I added some extra oomph to this one,” she explained. “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll talk to our Seers. If they don’t think I need to speak to her, I won’t push the issue.”
“And if they do?”
“Then I’ll be back, and I won’t be as nice next time.”
“Yes, I can see that.” He continued to stare at the sphere as if he’d find all the answers there. “Why?”
“Over the years, I’ve had to fly under the radar a few, or a thousand, times. Now I’m going to snag my dancing friend and get out of here before something happens that would require my intervention. I really don’t want to have another good outfit ruined.” She walked toward the door.
“Maggie.” He reached the door before she did, turning and leaning against the door frame so she couldn’t leave. “You’re doing this for me, aren’t you?”
“What is it about the male ego that thinks it’s all about them?” She laughed and shook her head in amusement. “As long as you want to protect her, I will help. The minute you try something else, I’ll tear your balls off. It’s been a long day, so I’ll say good night.” With a nudge of her hip, he was gently pushed aside. She pulled open the door, leaving behind the scent of black orchid.
“But I haven’t had a snack yet,” Elle could be heard complaining. “Could we at least stop by the bar? I’m sure I could find some nice insects there.”
***
By the time De
clan reached the main room, Maggie and her friend had reached the exit. He noticed that the pretty elf was smiling and wiggling her fingers in farewell to an elf he knew to be a club regular.
He also knew things about the male elf he didn’t think the elf was aware he knew. He had no doubt that if Maggie learned about his proclivities, she would cheerfully disembowel the male without a second thought.
“What did the witch want this time?” Snips appeared at his side.
Declan kept an eye on Maggie’s slim hips and long legs. “She only wanted to help.”
“The Guard doesn’t help. They only destroy,” the imp sneered.
Declan felt the sphere in his pocket, where his hand now warmed the stone. He felt the heat of her magick in the depths and the sense of safety it offered the owner. It was obvious it would shield Anna better than anything he could have devised.
“I want to know everything you can tell me about the witch. Go back to the day she was birthed.”
“Why?” Snips’s suspicion was at a high level.
Declan kept his expression noncommittal. Snips may have been an excellent personal assistant, and Declan wholly relied on him for the workings of the club, but that didn’t mean that he trusted Snips with anything personal. Snips knew Anna by another name, and Declan made sure her true identity was hidden from the imp. He figured as long as he didn’t slip up where Anna was concerned, Snips wouldn’t discover the truth.
“It’s always best to know all you can about your enemies.”
“You don’t look at her as if she’s an enemy.” Snips’s ugly face showed disdain.
“It’s better to allow her to feel as if she has me under her control.” Declan surveyed the dance floor and bar across the room. Both were filled, as usual. “Use your sources, and if you run into trouble, give them my name. I can’t imagine anyone would let her know I’m looking into her history.”
Snips pulled his PDA out and began tapping the keys. “It will be done.” He started to move away, then paused. “But you be careful of her. Many think she was the one who killed Ratchet,” he spat out the name as if it left a bad taste.