Many leaned back and watched as the bride-to-be was helped to the stage by her friends. The beauty put her arms up, swaying to the beat. Her curvaceous body was a temptation, but the buck was so bronzed and toned. A prize that fit had been difficult to find the last time Mammon visited. Now all he had to do to find one was to walk into any gymnasium.
How could he decide? This place was a veritable smorgasbord, and he’d been hungry for so long…
Mammon had been patting himself on the back all week. He’d been on this plane of existence for a few weeks now, and he had only killed and consumed two—no, three—people. Normally, a demon came out of his hell dimension and wreaked bloody havoc. Inevitably, the carnage attracted the attention of some do-gooding witch. Nine times out of ten, the demon’s ass would get booted back to the pit.
Of course, those had mostly been minor demons. Mammon was royalty, one of the seven princes of hell. His strength of will rivaled Lucifer himself, but that remarkable restraint was paying dividends now. Mammon had made it all the way to Sin City, then had set himself up in a very sweet situation at one of the strip’s monstrous hotels—the one with the fountains. The servants there had treated him very well, particularly after he’d hinted he was a very successful Hollywood producer. Mammon didn’t know precisely what a producer did, but he knew humans bent over backward trying to impress them.
He even had staff. Jessica, his lovely birdlike assistant, made calls, scheduling endless ‘interviews’ for him. Gina, the female guard the agency had sent over, stood behind his left shoulder, her presence signaling his stature.
Oh, that’s right—his body count was technically four, but he didn’t think Sam, his first bodyguard, should count toward his tally. That one had been killed for his insolence. True, Mammon had eaten his heart afterward, but, in his mind, a successful producer was like a king. A ruler needed to put down dissent in the ranks as soon as it appeared. Anything else was irresponsible.
Mammon’s remarkable restraint and foresight was going to pay dividends now. He was in a huge metropolis that’s transient population shifted and turned over nightly. If a person went missing here or there, no one would blink an eye. A group of a half-a-dozen women? Sure, the human authorities would take note, but as long as he didn’t indulge like this too often…
He straightened the jacket of his bespoke suit before signaling Gina.
“Invite the ladies to my suite at the Bellagio. Make sure they know I’m interested in casting a couple for a movie.” He handed over his card for her to present. For some reason, humans loved those little squares of cardboard. They accepted anything they read on them as gospel.
With flawless obedience, Gina nodded, sliding through the crowd to approach the group. A minute later, the giggling gaggle hurried toward him.
Excellent. They had taken the bait. Satisfied, he waved over a waiter and ordered a few bottles of champagne for the table.
It wouldn’t do to show his eagerness. He’d have them all to himself soon enough. And, tonight, he would feast.
Mammon aimed carefully. He popped the cork on the champagne, making it hit the roof of his limousine at such an angle that it rebounded, landing in the cleavage of the bustiest bridesmaid.
“I get a hundred points,” he yelled. Cheers and hoots of laughter followed.
Anastasia, the bride to be, grabbed the bottle of champagne—their sixth—out of his hand, then began to chug it.
The situation couldn’t have gone better if he’d planned it. The ladies had responded to his overtures predictably. A few bottles of the best bubbly later, they’d been piling into his limousine with Gina behind the wheel.
Mammon was so taken with his delicious dinner he didn’t look out the window until they were well away from the gridlock of the Strip. By the time he noticed they weren’t near the hotel, the lights of the city were a distant memory.
“Where the hell is that woman taking us?” he muttered.
There was a beat of silence before one of the girls tittered a bit nervously. “We told Gina to take us to the desert. There’s a big bonfire later—some girls we know are organizing it.”
Mammon frowned. “Are they there now?”
He didn’t like to eat in public. And depending on the size, a crowd would hamper his plans for the evening.
“No,” Anastasia said, clutching the bottle’s neck. “But we have enough booze to last us until they arrive. Hope that’s all right…”
Mammon sniffed. He didn’t like to eat and run, but if he got to work quickly, then he didn’t have to alter his dinner plans. The girls resumed chattering, playing a pop tune from one of their little portable telephones. They handed the bottle back and forth, taking sips with lush pink lips. The two across from him began to kiss each other.
Mollified, Mammon took the bottle, relaxing in his seat. “I suppose it’s fine,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on the show. You used to have to force humans to get them to do this. Damn, he loved this century.
In fact, he didn’t mind the bonfire excursion. It was a fortuitous turn of events. By doing his business in the desert, he wouldn’t have to expend any energy on soundproofing or illusion spells for the suite. They were simple rituals, but he didn’t like wasting time. And then he wouldn’t have to barter with that annoying group of gremlins to come in and clean up the mess.
As a prince of hell, Mammon would eventually have staff on hand for that sort of thing. But for the moment, he was still keeping a low profile. The gremlins still thought he was a regular demon. For now, he was willing to let them think that. He didn’t want to expose his new identity in the city just yet. Otherwise, he would have just left the mess in his room and moved on to another set somewhere else. They just kept building new luxury hotels out here anyway. The humans were practically asking for it.
Yes, a trip to the desert was a much better idea. After he killed and ate these sweet young things all up, he could just throw them in the limo and drive them deeper into the desert where they would be harder to find. He might not even have to bury them. Mammon could leave their bones to bleach in the sun, a little decorative touch to remind him of home. No muss, no fuss.
Reaching for one of the champagne bottles, he let one of the glittering beauties rub up against him. Hmm…Well, there was no rule saying he couldn’t have a little bit of fun before his meal. He didn’t normally play with his food. Mammon wasn’t a carnal being. He normally got his thrills the old-fashioned way—through decapitation and dismemberment. But he was going to have to make an exception for these girls. They were all so succulent and sparkly.
He pressed his lips to the woman’s neck, only to have her slide to the floor of the limousine in a sinuous movement. A flare of annoyance had him reaching down to strangle her, but then she reached for his zipper.
Her timing was abysmal. Just then, the vehicle stopped, and his driver came around to open the door. Like a gentleman, Mammon waited until every lady had stepped, or, in some cases, stumbled out of the vehicle before following.
Once outside, the girls ran from the limousine to where Gina stood waiting.
“Where’s the fire, ladies?” he asked, reaching inside for a bottle.
Anastasia shivered, wrapping her bare arms around her middle. “A demon, Gia, really? He’s so—ugh. I’m going to stink of brimstone for a week.”
Confused, he dropped a touch of his glamour. He still looked human, but far less harmless than before.
“What the fuck is this?” he asked. How did they know what he was? This pack of airheads couldn’t find their way out of a paper bag.
Mammon froze in his tracks as his driver and bodyguard removed her glasses. A wave of power rolled over him. It was compelling enough to make him stagger back in surprise. A witch—stronger than any he’d ever encountered before. Fuck, how had he missed it? He should have been able to detect that kind of talent, regardless of whatever spell she’d used to mask it.
“Sorry, Tasha, but it had to be done,” the woman masquerading
as his bodyguard said.
Like nervous chicks, the gaggle of women huddled behind her. She flicked her fingers, sending a ripple along the ground.
Roaring with rage, Mammon dropped the bottle, hurling toward the group.
Gia had shifted the desert floor, drawing the circular demon-trap runes with her talent before she even stopped the car. When Mammon flew across the ground toward the group of nymphs, she tightened the circumference to leave the limo outside of the circle.
The demon hit an unseen barrier, rebounding violently. He landed on his ass, hitting the back of his head against the ground with a loud thunk. She knew he didn’t feel pain, but it was still a satisfying sound.
“Do you want to take the car back to town?” she asked the nymphs, keeping a watchful eye on the demon.
“Ugh, no thanks,” Tasha said, shuddering as the other girls huddled around her. “His scent is all over that thing. It’s probably soaked into the upholstery.”
Another girl—Gia thought her name was Saffron—peeked around the others. “Can’t you just do your mojo thingy to send us back?” she asked, wiggling her fingers.
“Back to the strip, or somewhere else?” Gia asked. She could send them anywhere on the continent. The only question was timing. She didn’t want too many eyes on the spot where they rose from. Luckily, in the desert, she could send a little borrowed wind to go with them, just enough to kick up the sand. It would ensure no one was looking right at the spot they emerged.
“Let’s go to Malibu,” Saffron enthused.
“I want to go back to the strip,” another chimed in.
The demon roared, getting their attention.
“Um, I think I’m going to vote for the strip, too,” Tasha said, clutching the sleeve of Gia’s bodyguard disguise. “That would be the fastest, right?”
“Yes,” she confirmed, patting Tasha’s hand. “Thanks for helping tonight.”
There wasn’t a male alive who could resist a group of nymphs in all their glory. Sure, there had been a lot of ways to trap this particular demon, but Gia was on something of a time constraint.
“Happy to help,” Tasha lied, her head pulling back as the demon continued to roar, banging on the invisible barrier of the circle. “We owed you,” she added, a bit more honestly.
Gia waved her hands, adding more symbols to her pentagram. The howls of the demon died abruptly.
Tasha cleared her throat. “By the way, are we square now?”
She and the other nymphs were paying off a longstanding family debt. Humans were mowing down forests at unprecedented rates. Gia and the other Elementals did their best to stop the incursions, but it had grown damn near impossible in recent years.
But Gia wasn’t the Earth Elemental for nothing. She’d found a solution…of sorts. When she’d been unable to find a way to stop a particularly aggressive group of deforesters, Gia found a more expedient solution—calling on the Mother for a reward. When the gold and gemstones had materialized from the ground, she’d taken them and bought the land, signing it over to Tasha’s grandparents so it would be protected for future generations.
It wasn’t a perfect solution, but until humans relearned to respect nature and the benefits of clean air and water, it would have to do.
“Of course,” she said, touching Tasha’s back lightly and gesturing for the girls to gather in a tighter circle. “I’ll send you back now.”
She was about to call on her magic when Tasha grabbed her hand.
“I shouldn’t have asked that—I know the debt we owe is much greater than this. Whenever you need help again, please let us know. Just…you know…if it’s maybe not a demon next time, that would be great.”
“We love helping! And if it’s at a club again, count us in,” another girl said, shimmying to music Gia couldn’t hear. “But yeah, those demons reek—I thought I was going to hurl in the car.”
A third nymph nodded sagely. “It’s as if a thousand yak butts were collected, doused with gasoline, and thrown into a barrel… and we found the barrel a hundred years later.”
The others agreed. “I can’t understand why the humans don’t run screaming. The stench alone is reason enough.”
“Nymph noses are much more sensitive than humans. I apologize and understand—no more demons, I promise,” Gia said. Although, truthfully, there was little reason to worry. Most of the time, she didn’t need beautiful bait. The events that had led to Mammon’s release from hell weren’t likely to be repeated again anytime soon.
The demon continued to inaudibly wail and punch the barrier, but when Gia opened the earth and the girls disappeared, he quieted down, prowling inside the tight circle like a lion trapped in a cage.
Once they were alone, Gia removed the silencing spell.
“You know, I’ve seen the man you’re wearing in real life before,” she informed him, crossing her arms. The glamour was a good one, but not perfect. “I don’t think you got the hair right, but then your true form doesn’t have hair…more like feathers? Or is the word I’m looking for spikes?”
Technically, they were something in between.
Mammon had taken the form of a young and wealthy man, a hotel owner who lived in Boston, one of the three or four people inadvertently responsible for the demon’s release from hell.
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with, you stupid witch,” the demon spat.
“Mammon, High Prince of Greed and Avarice, purveyor of false dreams and breaker of oaths and promises.” Gia shrugged. “And I’m not a witch.”
The demon sneered, but Gia could see the uncertainty in his borrowed eyes. “Oh, I keep my promises, witch, so believe me when I say I’m going to enjoy ripping your throat out. Then I’m going to pull that pretty head right off and fuck your dead mouth.”
“As appealing as that sounds, we’re going to have to table that because you have to go back to hell now.”
The demon smirked. “You think you can do that, little witch?”
Refusing to let him goad her, Gia kept working. “The spell is rather involved… I won’t lie—there are many other things I’d rather be doing on a Saturday night.”
True, she didn’t love clubs like her younger sister Logan, or diving for lost undersea treasures like her sister, Serin, but Gia still knew how to find plenty of amusements. Chasing down trespassing demons wasn’t one, but, hey, who loved their job a hundred percent of the time?
Technically, Gia had never rid the world of a demon prince, but she’d seen it done. Her mentor—Tarni—had done it twice in her career. The second time, Gia had been there as backup in case things went wrong.
Most lower demons were easy enough to banish. Their bodies didn’t have the strength to leave their plane, so they left them behind, becoming shades. To get around on Earth, they possessed human bodies—or sometimes even animals.
Dealing with lesser demons was straightforward. They had to be bound—both silver and gold restraints worked well. Then one threw a little holy water on them, chanted, and bam—the demon was getting a one-way trip back to their nether region of origin.
A prince of hell, however, was going to take a bit more effort. Unlike lesser demons, they were strong enough to drag their bodies across the barrier between dimensions. A physical door was necessary to get that body back because they were damn hard to kill on this plane.
Calling for her supplies, Gia stood back as a table appeared, one fully laid out with the items she needed. Planning was the key to efficiency. She got to work, mixing ingredients and crushing them in the mortars with her marble pestle. All the while, the demon alternated between hissing and screaming obscenities.
After one particularly colorful epithet, she laughed aloud.
“What is so funny, you fucking witch? The way I’m going to suck the marrow from your bones, or how I’ll use your skull as a toilet?”
“It was the toilet actually,” she said. “Although I can’t say I haven’t heard that one before.”
The demon appeared
confused. “What?”
Gia looked up from her nearly finished mixture. “You’d be surprised at how often someone threatens to rip my head off and defecate in it.”
“So, you make this sort of thing a habit?” The demon was still confused.
Gia added the last drop of mercury to her mix. “Clearly, princes of hell need to get out more. Otherwise, you would have heard of my sisters and me. There isn’t a Supernatural on Earth who doesn’t know what I am, but then you’re a tourist…and it’s about time for you to go home.”
She tossed her spell mix onto the ground, then murmured the words to open a portal to hell.
“It won’t work,” Mammon yelled. “You can’t just open a doorway to my world. No one in their right mind would.”
He had a point. Not only was opening a portal to any dimension incredibly difficult, but doing so to one of the hell dimensions also had an added risk. She had to craft a complicated multilevel spell capable of punching a hole in the universe and close it, making sure there wasn’t a chink or a crack left when she was done. Even a scar would be a disaster. The barrier had to be seamless, as if it had never been opened in the first place, else it was a weak spot, one that could be exploited by others of Mammon’s kind.
And then there’s the time when it’s open. It was like throwing the barn door open to find a pack of starving wolves on the other side, and, for some reason, she was wearing a suit made of dinner bells.
But this wasn’t Gia’s first time at the demonic rodeo. There was one way to make a door damn difficult to enter from the other side.
Raising her hands, she pulled the soil around the opening into a funnel with a ring of dirt that revolved from top to bottom, a fast-moving current that would be impossible to scale without wings.
Well, some of the denizens of hell do, so you better get your butt in gear.
“What the—” the demon sputtered as Gia held up one hand, then pulled the earth out from under his feet. With the other, she reached around the door. Taking care to maintain the perfect circularity of the door, she slowly pushed them together.
The Elementals Collection Page 85