by Sam Cheever
I realized as I reached the door that I’d have to touch the handle to open it. My hands were painted in green demon blood with strings of blackened flesh clinging to them. Touching stuff wasn’t an option. Rage flared again and it ignited my last nerve. I’d have to space shift into my room. I hated to do it, but the alternative was coating everything I touched with disgusting refuse and then having to clean it all up. Besides, my father would know what I’d been up to if I left the demon’s magic signature all over the place. I didn’t think I was up to receiving his knowing looks.
Space shift it was.
Picturing an open area of my bed chamber, I closed my eyes and envisioned my body disintegrating on the air, moving through space to that exact spot, and reintegrating there.
The total silence as I entered my shift was disconcerting. I kept my eyes closed because I still wasn’t used to the lack of movement, or the swirling silver sparkles as the magic altered physical properties and changed their location.
It was a great relief when my feet touched the soft rug of my room and the familiar, sweet scent of Lunar Roses dispelled some of my stink.
I opened my eyes and found that I’d landed exactly where I’d planned. Despite myself I smiled. I was a classic overachiever and nobody was as hard on me as I was when I didn’t live up to expectation.
Heading for the cleansing tube, I gave some thought to removing my clothes first and then decided against it. There was no way I was going to try to peel slimy, wet leather off my body while it was covered in chunks. I stepped into the tube and said, “Pulse on full, soap thirty percent, temp one hundred and four degrees.”
Hot, soapy water rained down on me, hard enough to loosen the chunks and scour off the dried demon blood. I stayed under there for long enough to deplete the hot water supply and then exchanged the water for hot air. By the time my below-the-shoulder length hair was close to dry, my televisual was dinging for my attention.
I thought about ignoring it but, being a bit anal about doing the right thing, a complimentary personality trait to go with the over-achiever in my nature, I headed toward the device with a sigh. “Answer call.”
My sister’s pretty face swam online and I mentally prepared for one of our “conversations”.
Astra’s long auburn hair curled wildly around her face, her green gaze widening as she took me in. “Tough day at the office?”
I frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“You have a large, blue eyeball stuck to the top of your head.”
I gave an embarrassing girly scream and reached up to knock the eyeball loose. Unfortunately, it didn’t budge. It seemed to be molded to the strands of my hair like it had been glued there. “Arghhhh! Ish!!”
Astra twisted her lips, obviously trying not to laugh. “You’ll probably need to cut that out of your hair. Demon parts are like chewing gum. They stick hard.”
I barely squelched the desire to growl. “I’m gonna kill Slayer.”
Both of Astra’s slender auburn eyebrows lifted. “What did he do now?”
“He talked me into blasting a Super Demon but he didn’t mention it would implode all over me.”
Astra gave in to the desire to smile. “Let me guess, he was somewhere far behind you when it happened, not a hair out of place?”
I let the growl loose. I figured my sister would understand.
She chuckled happily.
“I’m really glad you’re entertained.”
She flipped a hand upward. “Remind me to tell you about my visit to a dragon roost with the sexy Slayer sometime. Believe me when I tell you I completely understand.”
Though her words mollified me a tiny bit, I was careful not to let her know. “I doubt you know what it’s like to have an eyeball stuck to your hair.”
She cocked her head, narrowing her gaze. “You’re right. But that finger that’s sticking out of your collar, I’m pretty sure that’s happened to me before.”
I shrieked again, smacking at the cold flesh that was stuck to the collar of my leather jacket and dancing around like a Venutian elephant in a room full of mice. “Get it off!”
Giggling emerged from the televisual.
“I swear to god, Astra. You’re second in line for murdering after Slayer.”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Darma. Just take the jacket off and dump it in the chute.”
“Throw away my Lara Croft original hunting jacket? I think not.”
Shortly after I’d started helping Astra at the Angel Network, I’d discovered the ancient human heroine, Lara Croft Tomb Raider and decided I wanted to be just like her. I promptly got myself some sexy and indestructible leather clothing and started modeling my hunting persona after the feisty female. I was pretty sure Lara wouldn’t throw away a perfectly good jacket just because it had part of a demon stuck to it.
Astra shrugged. “Well, you could always put a sparkly ring on the digit and paint the fingernail a happy pink color.”
I closed my eyes, intending to count to a hundred so I didn’t shriek foul words at the televisual. I think I made it to ten...
“Darma?”
“End call.”
Astra blinked away and I felt instantly better. “If God loved me he would have made me an only child.”
Despite my instant resistance to Astra’s suggestion, I quickly learned that nothing short of cutting off the collar was going to remove the nasty digit from my jacket. Still I couldn’t quite face the idea of throwing it out. So I threw it on the floor, intending to use the laser cutters to remove the collar later. A collarless hunting jacket was better than no jacket at all.
A few snips with the laser scissors severed the eyeball from my hair and I dropped it unceremoniously into the trash chute, hoping my father didn’t go dumpster diving in the basement and find it. On the heels of the thought I realized how pathetic I’d become. I was a thirty year old halfling...by all accounts a very powerful one...and my knees still knocked together at the idea of disappointing my father. But in my defense, he was arguably the second most powerful creature in the universe.
I finished stripping and replaced my battle wear with the soft, unstructured jumpsuit I wore around the castle. Dropping onto my bed, I hit a button on the table next to me and opened a hologram of my emails. I grimaced when I saw how many had arrived since Slayer and I left the office that morning.
It would take me an hour to get through them all.
Maybe father would be home by then and we could have dinner together. With that cheering thought, I set to work, sorting my emails into cyber pockets according to time sensitivity and action required.
The empty castle wrapped around me like a soothing blanket. When I’d first moved back there, after a demon attacked and nearly killed me in my home in downtown Angel City, it had felt weird to be back in my childhood home again. After all, being a thirty-year-old single woman living with her father bore an undeniable stigma. But I settled in fairly quickly, the old castle embracing me within its safe stone walls. And since being an important Seraphim in the Celestial Army was pretty much a twenty-four hour, seven day a week gig, my father wasn’t home all that much.
Which left me to ramble around in the massive home all by myself. I didn’t mind. Though I sometimes thought I’d like to get a dog to keep me company.
Feeling better?
Speaking of dogs. I grimaced at the sound of Slayer’s sexy voice. If you’re smart, which I’m pretty sure you’re not, you’ll slice this communication right now. You ruined a perfectly good leather jacket today.
I’m pretty sure I had nothing to do with that.
Stop talking. What did you want?
Which do you want me to do? Stop talking? Or tell you why I engaged communication?
Silence pulsed through my mind as I seethed. Just to be obstinate, Slayer decided to do as I asked for once. He stopped talking. A full minute later I was forced to grind out a single word through gritted teeth. Talk.
We have a new client.
Why is your voice pitched so high?
I cleared my throat. It’s not high. It’s happy.
You sound like somebody kicked you in the crotch.
I closed my eyes, praying for patience. It didn’t come. Which is exactly what I’m going to do to you if you don’t stop vexing me.
My threat elicited a husky chuckle from my annoying partner. Amazingly, the sound didn’t inspire me to kick him anywhere. In fact it sent heat spiraling through my weary body, energizing me. Obviously it had been too long since I’d had a date.
Send the project report to my televisual and I’ll read through it tonight.
Why can’t I just tell you about it now?
I sighed. Because that’s not the process. We’ve had this discussion before, Slayer. About a thousand times. Unfortunately for me and my organizational skills, my partner preferred doing things in an unstructured, seat of the pants way. He was a twentieth century guy and I was trying to bring him into the twenty-first century. Fill out the client request form and send it to me. Then I’ll read through it and we can discuss it at our morning meeting.
Or I could just tell you about it right now and save all that digital paperwork.
Holy fried pixies the man was stubborn. Slayer...
Our client’s a Hellhound.
My mouth dropped open and I blinked. That’s not funny.
Yeah. It wasn’t so funny for me either when she ambled through the door and snarled at me. But a fee’s a fee, right? Isn’t that what you’re always telling me?
I frowned. It was what I always told him. But I realized in that moment I was stupid. Some fees were obviously less of a fee and more of an “oh hell no”.
Well, you were right about one thing, we are going to save some digital paperwork. Project declined.
I’m glad to hear that. I was really worried you’d decide a fee was actually a fee. I could hear the smile in his voice when he responded.
Unlike my sister, I recognize a mistake when I see it and I’m not afraid to admit it. Gawd! Was that me sounding all snotty?
So you’re going to admit it?
Huh?
Admit you were wrong?
Um.
Were you lying about the admitting thing?
I glared in my mind. I don’t lie.
Well then?
I sighed. Okay, I might have been a tiny...teensy...just the smallest amount...wr...
Go on.
Wro...wr... I cleared my throat and wet my lips. They seemed to be stuck on the word I had no problem uttering. Wr...wro...erm...less than right.
Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Damn him to the innermost circle of Hell, he was laughing at me.
To show him how much I didn’t care, I slammed my mind closed, leaving him in a cold and empty thought world with nobody to torture.
Until he managed to snag some other poor brain to abuse.
Good thing it wasn’t going to be me. My televisual dinged and I turned away, heading out of the room with my chin up. I was done playing thought tootsie with Slayer. If he wanted to be a jerk...well...
My stomach gurgled hopefully so I ran lightly down the wide, stone steps of the castle to the first floor. I’d find something in the kitchen to make for a quick, solitary dinner and then return to my work upstairs. After the day I’d had, the idea of a quiet, comfortable evening alone sounded like just the thing.
So why did the thought send my appetite plunging?
By the time I stood in front of the food valet, perusing the short list of items available for programming, I no longer felt like eating. I blamed it on the meager selection. “If magic could be used for something helpful like restocking the food valet, I might be more prone to using it.”
Aaaand, I was talking to myself. My night was degenerating nicely.
Programming a hot cup of coffee into the valet, I grabbed the steaming mug from under the spout and turned back to find the center of the room shimmering in a space shift. Though my brain told me it had to be my father, my demon PTSD was still riding me hard enough to bring my magic leaping to my fingertips. Sparks sizzled over the surface of the mug I clutched and I frowned. Of all the things in life I didn’t like...and there were lots of them...losing control of my magic was at the top of the list.
I soon realized my magic incontinence was probably the result of a keen sense of danger, rather than nerves. Whatever was joining me in the castle kitchen, it was so not my father.
The air turned opaque, darkening to gray and then midnight black before my eyes. The shape, flickering on the air, was definitely not James Phelps Seraphim-ish.
I dropped the mug, barely noticing the burn of it against my ankles as I pulled my power forward and prepared to send it sizzling toward the monster forming in front of me.
The shimmering stopped and I gasped. I was looking at a full grown Hellhound standing across the room from me, only the relatively insubstantial width of a long, wooden table between us. The thing’s eyes flashed orange and red, the colors of flame, and were glassy with something that looked like pain. Its massive, fangs were covered in pink froth and I realized the beast was wounded. The hound’s haunches, four feet high if an inch, shivered rhythmically, sending the glossy black fur rippling down its long back. Bloody sputum dripped from its open mouth around a tongue that slipped from one side of its wide snout.
It was obviously badly injured.
Please...
The eyes widened slightly and a dull roar filled my head. My fingers twitched as I stepped backward, coming up against the long, stone counter. I shook my head, feeling horror and fear climbing my larynx and sending icy shivers along my spine. I hadn’t known that Hellhounds could communicate through thought.
Please help me.
I realized then the roaring sound I was hearing was the hound’s tortured breaths through massive lungs. I frowned. “Who are you?”
The eyes brightened briefly, flashing fire, but the flame was quickly doused as the creature took a step forward and stumbled to its knees. The broken pieces of glass from my mug tinkled against the stone floor from the impact.
Despite my fear, the Unplanned Care nurse in me couldn’t keep from moving closer to peer over the table at the thing. “What’s wrong with you?”
The beast shook its massive head and, for a beat, its image shifted and I saw long, silky black hair and delicate features.
Gargoyle fang. The hound panted wetly. In my chest.
I let my power sizzle away and took a cautious step forward. Leaning on the table, I could just see the bloody length of a curved fang protruding from the hound’s ribs. Even as my healing energy surged forward, I knew I couldn’t help it. “You came to the wrong place. I’m not equipped to heal a Hellhound.”
The massive head shook again. Bloody spittle flew and I grimaced. Not a hound... The ridiculous denial ended on a long moan of pain.
I suddenly couldn’t stand it. Moving around the table, I circled the creature writhing on the floor and sent a tentative finger of energy toward the fang sticking from its side. The thing wobbled a little but stuck, wedged between two ribs. I realized I’d have to get down on my knees right next to the hound and use both hands to pry it free. I don’t trust you.
Amazingly, a husky chuckle throbbed through my mind. Don’t...blame...you.
That wasn’t exactly the reassurance I was looking for. Shaking my head, I stepped back, crossing my arms. My chin jutted before I could stop it. I hated when my chin jutted.
It totally went against my constant denials to everyone who knew me that I wasn’t stubborn.
“As I said before. I can’t help you.”
The thing lay there panting for a moment and then attempted to rise to its enormous feet. It failed miserably, slamming back to the floor with a yelp of pain.
The healer in me grabbed hold of my lungs and squeezed, screaming at me to stop being such a tight-assed stubborn jerk.
Dang...my healer’s a bitch.
Plea...
Before the hound could even finish the request, it stiffened with a violent jerk, its eyes rolling back in its head and rigid legs flailing wildly. Huge claws ripped tracks in the centuries old wood of the table as if it was butter. I jumped back as a claw came within inches of slicing my thigh open.
The thing was dying. I suddenly realized my healer wasn’t the only bitch in the room. Sighing theatrically, I pulled energy and produced an angel chain. Lassoing the thing’s front legs with the shimmering restraint, I flung it toward a sturdy leg on the opposite side of the big table. The chain wound tightly around the table and the hound’s front limbs stopped flailing, firmly anchored by the heavy wood. I did the same to the back legs, anchoring them to the opposite leg of the table.
Then, before I could change my mind, I dropped to my knees at its belly and grasped the fang with both hands. The creature’s chest heaved so hard and fast it pulled me off the floor and slammed me back hard enough to make my teeth clank together. I skidded across the room and came up hard against the wall.
Crawling back to the hound, I grabbed the fang again and threw energy into it, only to be flung into the air so hard I flipped ass over teakettle and landed on my back ten feet away.
I lay there a moment, waiting out the pain, and realized it was going to be all I could do just to hold onto the frunkin’ thing long enough to heal it.
I needed help. I could either call Slayer or Astra. Neither one appealed.
Astra would be smug about my needing her help and Slayer would...well...he’d just be smug. And sexy. Sexy and smug.