Familiar Demon

by Amy Lane

  But he was beautiful, wanton, generous in bed, and Edward loved him, tail and all.

  Mullins nodded, eyes fluttering shut. “Please,” he whispered, and Edward pushed gently in.

  Ah! Hot! The furnace of his body almost undid him. But Mullins pulled on his thighs and let out a terrible, wonderful keening sound, a begging sound, the kind of inarticulation that begged for more.

  “Good?” Edward asked.

  “Harder,” Mullins begged.

  “Yes!”

  Like a horse let loose on the track, Edward plunged forward, harder, faster, thrusting in to the hilt. Mullins cried out deliciously, needing every inch, every thrust, clenching and rippling around Edward’s hard flesh.

  “Ahh! Please! Everything!”

  Edward couldn’t have held back if he’d wanted to. Again and again, his movements became frenzied, almost violent as Mullins bucked beneath him begging for more.

  Edward slammed forward, stopping deeply embedded in Mullins’s body, and took the hand knotted in the bedding very carefully. “Stroke yourself, beloved,” he urged. “Don’t hold on to the bed or you’ll never fly.”

  Another one of those glorious sounds and Edward watched as Mullins stroked his own cock hard and slow.

  Edward pulled back, back, back… then slammed forward hard, and Mullins broke loose, his hand a blur, spend spurting from his tip.

  “Now!” Mullins begged, and Edward lost himself in the frenzy of the fuck, back and forth, sweat running into his eyes as he performed the sweetest labor of all.

  Mullins’s cry of completion was nearly a scream, and his clench and ripple around Edward’s cock aroused Edward to the point of pain.

  Edward cried out, orgasm blinding him, all sense leaving his limbs. He poured come into Mullins’s spasming heat, rewarded by the hot jet of semen that coated both their chests.

  Edward fell forward, burying his face in Mullins’s neck and letting out a happy, laughing moan.

  “Gah! Beloved! That was glorious. It almost killed me, but it was glorious.”

  Mullins half laughed into his ear. “We’re both dead,” he panted. “Dear hell, that was intense.” Their breathing grew calmer, and Mullins nuzzled his ear. “You didn’t see the tail,” he murmured.

  “Feeling it was the point,” Edward told him, pulling out and rolling to the side. “I know it’s there, Mullins. I’m not frightened yet.”

  Mullins’s eyebrows attempted to knit themselves, reminding Edward of when they’d twitched as a beast’s. Edward laughed and smoothed them back, blushing with the intensity of Mullins’s blue eyes.

  “I’ve killed for you, you know,” Mullins said baldly, as though trying to gauge a reaction.

  “You’re expecting me to be surprised?” Edward had looked up the massacre at the Golden Child after Mullins had let slip that everyone involved was dead. Blamed on a madman with a fistful of knives, the carnage had been horrific.

  But not a working girl had been touched.

  Other crimes, other deaths—traffickers who had gotten away from the Youngbloods and had simply disappeared. Once they had busted a ring belonging to a fairly large crime family in Kansas City. The girls had been freed, and Harry, Francis, and Edward had been in hiding while Edward and Harry tried to hack into the ringleader’s computers and find some way to bring the whole lot of them up on charges.

  An unknown enemy had burst into the boss’s favorite restaurant and taken out every made man, St. Valentine’s Day style.

  Not an innocent person was touched.

  Harry had read the reports and arched eyebrows at Edward, who had shrugged. “He doesn’t like it when we’re threatened,” he said in explanation.

  “Given the lack of collateral damage, we’ll call it good,” Harry replied, and they’d gone back home.

  Now, Edward looked into Mullins’s wide eyes and tried to reconcile that knowledge with what he saw within.

  “You were protecting us,” he said softly, and Mullins bit his lower lip and looked away.

  “My boys,” he said after a moment. Then he smiled slightly, meeting Edward’s eyes again. “My boy. If I’d interceded for good, I would have been taken from you. But vengeance—vengeance is a top-tier sin. Nobody minded if I went in and protected you under the guise of vengeance.”

  Edward felt a wicked smile coming on. “That’s very devious, Mullins.”

  Mullins’s answering smile was freer, bolder—and just as wicked as Edward’s. “Well, I am a demon, you know….”

  Edward leaned over and took his mouth—wide and smiling and unpinched by the worry that seemed to so consume Mullins as a beast. “I never would have known,” he said softly, and then the kiss deepened.

  And they made love again.

  This time Edward got to stroke his tail.

  THE NEXT morning, Leonard showed up at their door in the ancient pickup truck that he kept running with a combination of mechanics, science, and magic.

  Not even Leonard could say how much of which.

  Edward had packed a couple of changes of clothes for them both, and Leonard told them cheerfully that his brothers were packing another new minivan with Edward’s beloved case and plenty of snacks.

  “Beltane went out this morning and came back with several boxes of doughnuts. You should probably eat one just so he can pretend they aren’t all for him.”

  Edward squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “The amount of sugar that boy can put away boggles the mind!”

  “Sugar? I swear, thirty-six ounces of meat last night. Emma said she felt like she’d broiled an entire cow.”

  Mullins chuckled, as he was meant to. “Francis doesn’t eat like that?” he asked curiously.

  “No,” Edward replied in disgust. “Francis only eats fish. From the very beginning—even when we were in the Golden Child. Fish and vegetables. And eggs and milk, but mostly fish. It’s like he really is a cat.”

  Leonard and Mullins made twin grunts of a noncommittal nature, and Edward cocked his head. “That was… disturbing,” he said in revelation. “You both make the same sounds when you’re avoiding talking about something. Did you get that from hell?”

  “Revealing too much about your emotions isn’t prudent in hell,” Leonard said mildly. Then he took a fortifying breath. “You just made another piece of Francis fall into place. Elves are mostly vegetarians, you know.”

  Edward’s eyebrows went up, and he felt a moment of sadness for his littler brother.

  Leonard patted his arm in sympathy. “No worries. I suspect your meeting with the elves might be very productive in more than one way.” Leonard paused in the act of swinging into the pickup truck. “You do know where to find the elves, don’t you?”

  Edward nodded smugly. “Damned straight I do.”

  He and Mullins piled in, Mullins on the outside, head practically hanging out the window.

  “I really do need to see about how to let him shapeshift into a dog,” Edward said, realizing he hadn’t even looked up how that would be done.

  Leonard cocked his head. “It’s not a conscious thing,” he said surprisingly. “I think it’s… compensation. The Goddess’s get can be bitten. With witches and wizards, I think it’s more of a… a predilection, if you will.”

  “Good,” Edward said, liking the idea. “We already have four cats. Two dogs will make us much better balanced.”

  Leonard let out a chuckle, but it sounded strained.

  “What?” Edward demanded.

  “You and Beltane should drive there,” Leonard told him. “Harry needs to sleep.”

  “Is there something wrong?”

  Leonard shook his head but then sighed, indicating the “no” was a lie. “We think it’s just fatigue and healing. He was shot and then dragged through several dimensions. And while Suriel healed him—”

  “Francis healed him,” Edward said, remembering that had been yet another surprise.

  Leonard grunted. “Of course. Of course, that explains it. Francis doesn�
��t know what in the hell he’s doing. He’s never even had a cold.”

  “Harry and I have had plenty,” Edward grunted resentfully.

  “Yes, I know. Very human. Being familiars didn’t spare you both until your human immune systems built up, just like Emma’s. But Francis never suffered what you did—”

  “But he did get sick!” Edward remembered. “Remember—right when we were expanding the house! For about a year he was thin and pale and constantly threatening to puke. You and Emma were at your wit’s end.”

  “I remember,” Leonard said softly. “He got better right after we wallpapered your room. Emma was so excited—she liked the colors and, oh my God!” He shook his head. “Edward, you don’t use guns.”

  “I know,” Edward said, as though speaking to a child. “We have magic.”

  “I mean Francis has never held a gun. Did he touch the bullet in Harry’s shoulder?”

  “No,” Mullins said, like he knew where this was going. “He just pushed it out with his healing.”

  “Elves don’t do lead,” Leonard said simply. “They don’t do guns. It makes them sick. He’s not all elvish—he’s at least half human. It’s probably the only reason he can get in a car. But we painted the house—back then, paint had a considerable bit of lead in it. So he doesn’t understand immune systems. When we heal you boys from bullets, and Suriel as well, I’m sure, we take into account the possibility of infection. Harry’s shoulder was healed of trauma, but his immune system wasn’t.” Leonard shook his head. “Hold on while I talk to your mother.”

  Leonard’s attention turned inward, and Edward and Mullins exchanged glances.

  “Harry is coming with us, right?” Edward said worriedly, after Leonard’s eyes focused on the dirt road again.

  “He was coming anyway,” Leonard replied. “But this way, Emma knows what to send with him so he doesn’t overdo it.”

  “He’ll be all right,” Mullins said softly, and Edward turned to smile at him. It was such a kind thing to say.

  “I’m pretty sure your soul is fine,” he replied, hiding his own worry. Dammit, Harry!

  HARRY WAS getting last-minute instructions from Emma as they drove up to park next to a gleaming white Toyota Sienna. Edward made an unhappy sound.

  “White? Really? It’s so boring. Remember when cars came in colors?”

  Leonard rolled his eyes. “Remember when cars were pulled by horses and this trip would take you boys three weeks instead of two days? Because I do. How do you like our new minivan, son?”

  “It’s glorious, Dad,” Edward said dryly. Mullins smirked as he got out of the car, and both of them walked to where Suriel stood, looking anxious.

  “Every four hours,” Emma warned, waving a small thermos. “Every. Four. Hours. Do not skip. Do not tell Suriel it tastes bad. If you’re feeling queasy, tell Edward to pull over. If you start feeling feverish, Suriel—”

  “I have it right here.” Suriel held up a bag with home-made tablets that Edward remembered from childhood. He also held up a bottle of over the counter ibuprofen, because sometimes science could be fun!

  “Good. Now this trip should only take eight hours. That’s one dose in three hours, one dose an hour before you get there, one dose three hours after you arrive—”

  “I can tell time, Emma—”

  “Shut up, Harry. I don’t care if you’re all in the middle of an elvish orgy, what are you going to do when the alarm on your phone goes off?”

  Edward saw Harry’s body jerk as the obvious adolescent answer almost popped out of his mouth. He took a deep breath, though, and was respectful to his mother. “I shall get up, buck naked, go to the car, and get my medicine,” he responded dutifully.

  Emma shook her head in irritation. “I. Am. Not. Shitting. Around. You were some place the earth was blue and the sky was red—”

  “And the air smelled like barbecue chips and lilies,” Edward supplied.

  Emma grimaced. “See? And you all get here, and nobody bothers to even tell me you were shot and then dragged to an alternate dimension. Just, ‘Oh, Harry’s tired from spellcasting and blood loss,’ and no shit Harry’s tired from spellcasting, that boomerang is not an easy thing, and you were sick, and you’d lost blood, and I’m so angry at you for getting in that car right now I can’t even speak!”

  “As if,” Leonard muttered under his breath, but Harry was up to defending himself too.

  “Elves, Emma,” he said wistfully. “You may be over them, but we’re not. Please?”

  “Fine,” she muttered, kissing him fiercely on the brow. She pulled away and looked at Suriel. “Go get water and give him the febrifuge and ibuprofen now. He’ll sleep the whole way there.”

  Suriel nodded unhappily. “Harry—”

  “Elves,” Harry repeated stubbornly. “Also”—and he looked almost melancholy—“I really would like to know how the brownies are doing. I mean, we’re only guessing they ended up at Green’s.”

  Edward watched as both Suriel and Emma slumped forward in the classic posture of defeat. “Aw, Harry,” Emma said softly, kissing him again, but this time with tenderness. “Take the medicine, get some sleep. You’ll see elves when they get there, I promise.”

  Suriel loaded Harry into the back of the minivan and came out to load backpacks and suitcases—and Emma’s small cooler of food and whatever was in the bottle that she’d insisted he drink.

  “You boys are going to find a place to stay, right?” she nagged, and Edward nodded once, because Harry was out of commission and it was his job now.

  “Yes. Don’t worry.”

  “Oh! Wait!” Emma reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope that she handed to Edward. “It’s a letter, and three strands of my own hair in trade—”

  “Mine or Mullins’s would probably be more appropriate,” Edward said, “but I’ll tell him.” He kissed Emma on the cheek. “We’ll take good care of Harry—”

  “And Francis and Beltane,” she said, looking worried.

  Edward shook his head. “Emma, we’ve done far more dangerous things than—”

  Emma shook her head. “No. You don’t understand. Elves are perilous, Edward. Elves are always perilous. And this is no ordinary elven king. This is Green—a hundred and seventy years ago, he had thirty people to protect. I made some enquiries last night—remember that bloodbath in Redding two years ago?”

  Edward nodded. He’d mentioned it to Mullins.

  “That was Green’s people—and they weren’t killing for sport. They were hunting a rogue vampire—one who turned children.”

  They all shuddered as the implications hit them.

  Emma nodded. “See? Apparently Green turned his best fighters loose on the little vampire kiss in Redding, and only the pure of heart walked away. This is serious. Take this seriously. This isn’t a poor drunken fraternity of brownies in your room. These are elves, and vampires, and for all I know every shapeshifter under the sun, and they work on different rules than we do, and I don’t know how to prepare you.”

  Edward nodded soberly and then grinned. “But then, we’re witch’s familiars. We might be new to them too. And an angel. And a demon. It will be a triumph in interspecies communication.”

  Emma cocked her head and widened her eyes. “So reasonable,” she muttered. “And so deluded. I love you, Edward. Take care of your brothers. And for fuck’s sake, drive safely—if we wreck this one I’m going to have to assume another alias to buy another car.” She looked up suddenly. “Beltane, Francis, come here and hug me. My God, you boys, have you forgotten everything?”

  “Sorry, Mum,” Bel said, lifting his mother up in a rib-cracking hug. Francis waited until he was done, pretending it didn’t matter, but when Emma turned toward him, he launched into her arms, rubbed his cheek against hers, and bussed her on the forehead.

  “Yes, Francis, I still love you,” she said softly. “Keep your brothers safe. And Beltane too.”

  Francis twitched a little when she said it, but neith
er he nor Beltane responded. Emma rolled her eyes—and then hugged him even tighter. “Love you,” she said resignedly, and he smiled as she let him go.

  And finally they were loaded into the minivan, Edward at the wheel. As he pulled onto the road and onto Hwy 1 he felt the tingle of the wards on his parents’ property and then a sudden oppression, hitting his chest hard enough to stop his breath. In the air around the minivan, spots danced, thin places in the membrane between the hell dimension and the earth dimension, showing only the shadow of the grotesque denizens searching the air frantically for them.

  “Wards, everybody!” Harry shouted hoarsely. “Protective magic up! Jesus, can you feel that?”

  Everybody’s personal wards against demons went up so fast the minivan probably glowed from outside.

  Edward kept the van going and felt their shields for gaps because the demonic presence pounded at him, searching, searching, searching for their missing number.

  “Mullins, Harry—pull out.”

  Harry smirked from the back, and Edward felt a flare of anger. “We are not twelve. You are weak, and not only will the shield drain you, they can feel your weakness, so just drop out of the spell. Mullins, if they think it’s you, we’re toast.”

  Their power wavered and then stabilized, and probably thanks to both the van’s movement and the strength of the four people pouring power into the wards, the air around them brightened, became strong again as the dimensional wall was shored up.

  Next to him, Mullins let out a strained breath. “That was bad,” he rasped. “So bad. Do they know where we are?”

  “Nope,” Edward said with grim satisfaction. “They know where we were. And they probably knew that anyway. They couldn’t penetrate the wards of our property, so they were lying in wait.”

  Beltane’s booming laugh was a comfort. “Well they weren’t ready for our shit, that’s for certain. Damn, that was a strong shield. You know, when my class in Oxford tries to do a co-op like that, we usually can’t keep a puddle at bay—that was really amazing.”